Oh! KING, Live for ever!

To Thee within whose Heaven-illumin'd Breast, Resides each Virtue, which adorns the Blest; 'Tis bold Presumption to attune my Lays, Seraphic Notes shou'd hymn sublimer Praise; Angels enthroned, in Bliss with Rapture view Their own Divine Perfections live in You: Say, while you wander, thro' the rural Shade By Saphire Fount, or Flower-enamell'd Mead, By Wisdom nurs'd, by Contemplation fed, By both, to every Art and Science led; While sacred Honour, that immortal Guest Lives in each Action of thy Life confest; Wilt Thou, propitious, while I wake the String, Attentive listen to the Strains I sing; No venal Lay I offer to impart, Accept the Rapture of a grateful Heart. Come, Inspiration, from thy Hermit-Seat, O, give me flowing Numbers sweetly great! Free as his Bounties, beauteous as his Frame, And pure and bright, as his unspotted Fame; For Nature, prodigal to KING, has given All Gifts, admir'd on Earth, and dear to Heaven; Then to Hibernia, lent this sacred Store, Too blest Hibernia, can'st thou wish for more: Philosophers can, from the Noon-tide Sun, Extract one solar Ray, tho' finely spun; Then, in that Ray, the various Colours shew, With which God paints the Rain-foretelling Bow; May I, like them, presume, with happy Art, To trace, distinct, the Virtues of thy Heart, Or turn, astonish'd, from the dazzling Light, And own it too intolerably bright, When every Beam does with full Force unite. Here did I pause, when, lo! the Heaven-born Muse, Who, if aright invok'd, will ne'er refuse Her Aid, appear'd, and said, thy noble Choice May better than the Muse inspire thy Voice: To me eternal Wisdom gave the Care Of KING, no meaner Power could interfere; Pleas'd with the Task, I took the lovely Child, Blooming as Spring, with Looks serenely mild; Hence flows beneficent his boundless Mind, The Joy, the Love, the Friend of Humankind; Modesty, Learning, Genius, Wit, and Taste, By Female Sweetness, manly Virtue grac'd; Hence take their Source, oh Fav'rite of the Skies! To which, tho' late, triumphant shalt Thou rise; There mix with Souls, like Thine, divinely pure, And taste the Rapture fitted to endure: She ceas'd; Thanks heavenly Visitant, I said, To Thee my Gratitude be ever paid; For what, sufficient, may I render Thee, Who rais'd a PATRON that protected me; Who view'd my Anguish with a pitying Eye, When even a Son, and Brother past it by. All-righteous Heaven, attend my ardent Pray'r, Make him thy constant, thy peculiar Care, Whose Mercy, like the Dews that bless the Ground. Silently falls, refreshing all around; While, with such winning Grace, his Bounties flow, They double all the Blessings they bestow; Touch'd with a painful Joy, the lab'ring Heart Struggles its mighty Transport to impart; Meanings crowd thick, the Tongue its Aid denies, And springing Tears the Loss of Speech supplies. The P—rs of Ireland long have been a Jest, Their own, and ev'ry other Climate's Pest; But KING shall grace the Coronet he wears, And make it vie with Britain's noblest Stars; And when, in Time, to grace his nuptial Bed, Some chaste, illustrious Charmer he shall wed: May Love, and Joy, and Truth, the Pomp attend, And deathless Honour to his Race descend.