The remonstrance of T. C. against the profanation of the sabbath by barbers, shoe-cleaners, &c. had better be offered to the society of reformers.'

A learned and laborious treatise upon the art of fencing, returned to the author.'


To the gentleman of Oxford, who desires me to insert a copy of Latin verses, which were denied a place in the university book. Answer: Nonum que prematur in annum. To my learned correspondent who writes against masters' gowns and poke sleeves, with a word in defence of Answer: large scarfs. 6 I resolve not to raise animosities amongst the clergy.'

To the lady who writes with rage against one of her own sex, upon the account of party warmth. Answer: Is not the lady she writes against reckoned handsome?' I desire Tom Truelove (who sends me a sonnet upon his mistress, with a desire to print it immediately) to consider that is long since I was in love.

I shall answer a very profound letter from my old friend the upholsterer, who is still inquisitive whether the king of Sweden be living or dead, by whispering him in the ear, that I believe he is alive,'


Let Mr. Dapperwit consider, of the cuckoldom to me ?,

What is that long story

At the earnest desire of Monimia's lover, who declares himself very penitent, he is recorded in my paper by the name of The faithful Castalio.'

The petition of Charles Cocksure, which the petitioner styles very reasonable,



The memorial of Philander, which he desires may be dispatched out of hand, postponed.'


I desire S. R. not to repeat the expression under the sun,' so often in his next letter.

The letter of P. S. who desires either to have it printed entire, or committed to the flames. Not to be print

ed entire.'

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No. 620. MONDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 1714.

Hic vir, hic est, tibi quem promitti sæpius audis.
VIRG. Æn. vi. ver. 791.

Behold the promis'd chief!

HAVING lately presented my reader with a copy of verses full of the false sublime, I shall here communicate to him an excellent specimen of the true: though it hath not been yet published, the judicious reader will readily discern it to be the work of a master; and if he hath read that noble poem On the Prospect of Peace, he will not be at a loss to guess at the author.*


'WHEN Brunswick first appear'd, each honest heart,
Intent on verse, disdain'd the rules of art;
For him the songsters, in unmeasur'd odes,
Debas'd Alcides, and dethron'd the gods;
In golden chains the kings of India led,
Or rent the turban from the sultan's head.
One, in old fables, and the pagan strain,
With nymphs and tritons, wafts him o'er the main ;
Another draws fierce Lucifer in arms,
And fills th' infernal region with alarms;
A third awakes some druid, to foretel
Each future triumph, from his dreary cell.
Exploded fancies! that in vain deceive,
While the mind nauseates what she can't believe.
My Muse th' expected hero shall pursue
From clime to clime, and keep him still in view:
His shining march describe in faithful lays,
Content to paint him, nor presume to praise;
Their charms, if charms they have, the truth supplies,
And from the theme unlabour'd beauties rise.


By longing nations for the throne design'd,
And call'd to guard the rights of human kind,
With secret grief his godlike soul repines,
And Britain's crown with joyless lustre shines,

Tickell. See No. 523, and No. 532.

While pray'rs and tears his destin'd progress stay,
And crowds of mourners choke their sov'reign's way.
Not so he march'd when hostile squadrons stood
In scenes of death, and fir'd his generous blood;
When his hot courser paw'd th' Hungarian plain,
And adverse legions stood the shock in vain.
His frontiers past, the Belgian bounds he views,
And cross the level fields his march pursues.
Here, pleas'd the land of freedom to survey,
He greatly scorns the thirst of boundless sway.
O'er the thin soil, with silent joy, he spies
Transplanted woods, and borrow'd verdure rise;
Where ev'ry meadow won with toil and blood,
From haughty tyrants, and the raging flood,
With fruits and flowers the careful hind supplies,
And clothes the marshes in a rich disguise.
Such wealth for frugal hands doth Heaven decree,
And such thy gifts, celestial Liberty!
Through stately towns, and many a fertile plain,
The pomp advances to the neighbouring main.
Whole nations crowd around with joyful cries,
And view the hero with insatiate eyes.

'In Haga's towers he waits, till eastern gales
Propitious rise to swell the British sails.
Hither the fame of England's monarch brings
The vows and friendships of the neighb'ring kings;
Mature in wisdom, his extensive mind
Takes in the blended interests of mankind,

The world's great patriot. Calm thy anxious breast,
Secure in him, O Europe, take thy rest;
Henceforth thy kingdoms shall remain confin'd

By rocks and streams, the mounds which Heav'n design'd;
The Alps their new-made monarch shall restrain,
Nor shall thy hills, Pirene, rise in vain.

But see, to Britain's isle the squadron stand,
And leave the sinking towers and less'ning land.
The royal bark bounds o'er the floating plain,
Breaks through the billows, and divides the main.'
O'er the vast deep, great monarch, dart thine eyes,
A watery prospect bounded by the skies:
Ten thousand vessels, from ten thousand shores,
Bring gums and gold, and either India's stores,
Behold the tributes hast'ning to thy throne,
And see the wide horizon all thy own.

Still is it thine; tho' now the cheerful crew Hail Albion's cliffs just whitening to the view.

Before the wind with swelling sails they ride,
Till Thames receives them in his opening tide.
The monarch hears the thund'ring peals around
From trembling woods and echoing hills rebound.
Nor misses yet, amid the deaf'ning train,
The roarings of the hoarse resounding main.

As in the flood he sails, from either side, He views his kingdom in its rural pride; A various scene the wide-spread landscape yields, O'er rich inclosures and luxuriant fields:

A lowing herd each fertile pasture fills,

And distant flocks stray o'er a thousand hills.
Fair Greenwich hid in woods with new delight,
(Shade above shade) now rises to the sight:
His woods ordain'd to visit every shore,
And guard the island which they grac'd before.

The sun, now rolling down the western way, A blaze of fires, renews the fading day; Unnumber'd barks the regal barge enfold, Bright'ning the twilight with its beamy gold; Less thick the finny shoals, a countless fry, Before the whale or kingly dolphin fly; In one vast shout he seeks the crowded strand, And in a peal of thunder gains the land.

Welcome, great stranger, to our longing eyes. Oh! king desir'd, adopted Albion cries, For thee the East breath'd out a prosp'rous breeze ; Bright were the suns, and gently swell'd the seas. Thy presence did each doubtful heart compose, And factions wonder'd that they once were foes; That joyful day they lost each hostile name, The same their aspect, and their voice the same.

So two fair twins whose features were design'd At one soft moment in the mother's mind, Show each the other with reflected grace, And the same beauties bloom in either face; The puzzled strangers which is which inquire; Delusion grateful to the smiling sire.

From that fair hill,* where hoary sages boast To name the stars, and count the heavenly host,

*Flamstead house on Greenwich hill.



By the next dawn doth great Augusta rise,
Proud town! the noblest scene beneath the skies.
O'er Thames her thousand spires their lustre shed,
And a vast navy hides his ample bed-
A floating forest! From the distant strand
A line of golden cars strikes o'er the land:
Britannia's peers in pomp and rich array,
Before their king, triumphant lead the way.
Far as the eye can reach, the gaudy train,
A bright procession, shines along the plain.

So haply thro' the heav'n's wide pathless ways A comet draws a long extended blaze; From east to west burns through th' ethereal frame, And half heav'n's convex glitters with the flame.

Now to the regal towers securely brought, He plans Britannia's glories in his thought, Resumes the delegated power he gave, Rewards the faithful, and restores the brave, Whom shall the Muse from out the shining throng Select, to heighten and adorn her song? Thee, Halifax. To thy capacious mind, O man approv'd, is Britain's wealth consign'd. Her coin (while Nassau fought) debas'd and rude, By thee in beauty and in truth renew'd, An arduous work! again thy charge we see, And thy own care once more returns to thee. O! form'd in ev'ry scene to awe and please, Mix wit with pomp, and dignity with ease; Tho' call'd to shine aloft, thou wilt not scorn To smile on arts thyself did once adorn: For this thy name succeeding time shall praise, And envy less thy garter than thy bays.

The Muse, if fir'd with thy enliv'ning beams, Perhaps shall aim at more exalted themes; Record our monarch in a nobler strain, And sing the op'ning wonders of his reign; Bright Carolina's heavenly beauties trace, Her valiant consort, and his blooming race. A train of kings their fruitful love supplies, A glorious scene to Albion's ravish'd eyes; Who sees by Brunswick's hand her sceptre sway'd, And through his line from age to age convey'd.'

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