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AN EPISTLE TO THE King of Sweden, FROM A LADY of GREAT-BRITAIN.

1 TO Thee rude Warrior, whom we once admir'd,
2 And thought thy Actions spoke Thee half inspir'd,
3 While Justice held the Ballance of thy Cause,
4 And ev'ry Language sounded thy Applause:
5 But since Ambition and Revenge prevails,
6 Thy Glories languish, and our Wonder fails;
7 To Thee a Woman sends with Gen'rous Care,
8 And Warns thy Rashness timely to beware.
9 FAME now a Tale of fresher Date has told,
10 Beyond thy mad Romantick Feats of Old:
11 Our Malecontents thy numerous Squadrons boast,
12 Describe thy Penants waving on our Coast,
13 And to the Fearful cry, Britannia's lost!
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14 But we, who know the Genius of our Isle,
15 At their Report, and thy Invasion smile.
16 ARE not our Dames in every Climate fam'd?
17 Les Belles Angloises by ev'ry Nation nam'd?
18 Are not our Youth in foreign Fields admir'd,
19 Alike by Valour and by Love inspir'd;
20 And shall those Fair ones, who the Morning pass,
21 Consulting that dear Friend to Love, the Glass;
22 To set the Favourite, and the Patch to place;
23 To bow, and glance it, with becoming Grace
24 To melt the Hero's Heart and charm his Eyes,
25 Fall to thy Gothick Rage a Sacrifice?
26 No, to thy Terror learn, our British Youth
27 Are fam'd for Honour, Constancy and Truth:
28 Each wou'd as soon consent thy Cause to aid,
29 As yield the Fair to whom his Vows are paid.
30 Unlike the Passive Females of thy Land,
31 The Arbitrators of the War we stand.
32 At Flurt of Fan, our armed Legions fly,
33 And they who dare offend, must dare to die.
34 We know thy daring Heart is nurs'd in Blood,
35 Wild as the fiercest Savage of the Wood;
36 With Fame like this, in Northern Slaughter shine,
37 Rough as the frozen Bear, thy neighb'ring Sign:
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38 But here thy brutal Force no Growns shall gain;
39 By Love, as well as Arms our Monarchs Reign;
40 Can we our GEORGE and His lov'd RACE disown,
41 To find thy barren Chastity a Throne?
42 No! in thy shaggy Rugg rude Slumbers take,
43 And dream of Conquests thou shalt never make;
44 At distance be thy Leathern Doublet worn,
45 Nor risque thy Life to purchase certain Scorn;
46 For now the Wormwood Dam'sels apprehend
47 The dismal Consequence of such a Friend:
48 Begin to tremble at the Truths they hear,
49 And vow their Champions shall for GEORGE declare:
50 They fear thy Tast shou'd lead young James astray,
51 And quite unman their Monarch ev'ry way:
52 In his Excuse they still would have to tell,
53 Tho' War's his Foe, He loves exceeding well;
54 The Proof from whence he sprung, is'not to Fight;
55 His Surgeon proves Hereditary Right.
56 BUT if by thy Example he should grow
57 Cold as thy Rocks of Ice, and Hills of Snow:
58 Shou'd he clean Linnen hold in dire Disgrace,
59 And sable Crape his Ivory Neck enchase:
60 Shou'd he, like thee, on Shives of coarsest Bread,
61 Rudely with dirty Thumbs his Butter spread;
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62 Banish the generous Juice of Grapes away,
63 And with small acid Tiff his Thirst allay;
64 Swallow lean hasty Meals of Tastless Roots,
65 And Eat, and Drink, and Live and Reign in Boots;
66 Shou'd he, like thee regardless of the Fair,
67 Lye down to Sleep, and only wake to War;
68 Cou'd He in Arms, like Gallant Brunswick, Shine,
69 Yet wou'd His Female Friends His Cause decline,
70 Nor justifie a Right so slovenly Divine.
71 CONSULT thy Safety; send no Armies forth
72 Beyond the Confines of thy frozen North:
73 Since of our British Fair this Truth is told,
74 We love the Chaste, but we abhor the Cold:
75 But if thy daring Folly will proceed,
76 Fate drives thee forward, and thy Fall's decreed.
77 EACH lovely Toast her Hero's Soul inspires,
78 Urges the War, and wakes his Martial Fires:
79 Think but what Terrors will thy Spirits seize
80 When thou shalt face such Enemies as these;
81 See a Battalion lac'd with Point d'Espan,
82 And warm in glowing Velvets leads the Van:
83 With Warlike Air, th' embroider'd Chiefs appear,
84 And gracefully the Looms rich Labours wear:
85 In Modish Order, o'er their Sholders fly
86 Deville's Wiggs, or Lockman's smarter Tye;
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87 The Gold-Clock'd Stocking draws the Gazer's Sight,
88 And Verdin's Red-top'd Shoe, stitch'd round with White:
89 Fine Meclin Laces round their Fingers play
90 From Snowy Shirts, at least chang'd twice a Day.
91 THESE well-dress'd Youths to thy Destruction move,
92 And Vict'ry waits upon the Wings of Love,
93 Our Sexes Softness is to thee unknown;
94 What by a Look, or one kind Kiss is done!
95 Thou, who a Stranger art to Love's Delight,
96 Can'st ne'er imagine how these Lovers Fight.
97 These are the Men, who on the Flandrian Plains
98 O'erthrew the Grand Monarch in Ten Campaigns:
99 Will these give way before Thy Vandal Host
100 And yield their former Labours all for lost?
101 No, these for Liberty, and Beauty draw,
102 And all around the Neighb'ring Tyrants awe:
103 These Cock, take Snuff, invoke the darling Fair,
104 And then dispatch the Foe endebonair.
105 AIM then no more, fond Prince, at George's Throne,
106 Wake from the flatt'ring Dream, and guard thy own,
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107 In ev'ry Element alike we Reign,
108 And launch our ready Squadrons on the Main:
109 Our Champions, jocund o'er the flowing Bowl,
110 Reigns in their Wooden Worlds, from Pole to Pole;
111 Fearless of Danger, cut their conqu'ring Way,
112 And from invading Tyrants scour the Sea.
113 Safer thou might'st in Lakes of Sulphur sleep,
114 Than brave these dreadful Masters of the Deep:
115 Beneath their Cannons roar, thy Flaggs must fall,
116 ORFORD presides, and these are Brittons all.
117 These, bold as Lyons, will the Fight maintain,
118 Or drive thee back, or sink thee in the Main:
119 Tho' Boisterous as the Winds at Sea they roar,
120 They're gentle all, as Southern Gales on Shore.
121 Th' Engagement past, the tender Thoughts return,
122 And for the Fair in Love's foft Fires they burn;
123 In Beauty's dear Embraces lull'd they lie,
124 But when their Country calls, Her strongest Foes defie.
125 THESE hoist their Sails, and wait thy Coming o'er,
126 And if thou dar'st to touch Britannia's Shore,
127 Ne'er hope to see thy Native Sweden more.
128 How wilt thou dare these Hearts of Oak to meet
129 Shou'd Young Augustus deign to lead the Fleet?
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130 Augustus! He! who striding o'er the Slain,
131 Hunted thy New Ally o'er Flandria's Plain:
132 The Boy, whose Cause forsaken now by all,
133 Calls for a Madman to prevent his Fall.
134 No Dastard Blood our Princes Veins disgrace,
135 Unlike the Princes of a Former Race,
136 Who wisely Slept or Blubber'd in Distress,
137 He'll Face the Battel, and will force Success.
138 FROM Great Plantagenet Augustus springs,
139 By His Example taught to Conquer Kings.
140 Methinks I see the Royal Warriour stand
141 Dealing amongst his Chiefs thy Forfeit Land;
142 While Thou shalt fall Unpity'd, and Forlorn,
143 All Europe's Terror once, but now all Europe's Scorn.
FINIS.

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Title (in Source Edition): AN EPISTLE TO THE King of Sweden, FROM A LADY of GREAT-BRITAIN.
Themes:
Genres: heroic couplet; occasional poem

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Source edition

Centlivre, Susanna, 1667?-1723. An epistle to the King of Sweden from a lady of Great-Britain. London: printed for J. Roberts, and Arabella Morris, 1717, pp. 5-11. 11,[1]p.; 2⁰. (ESTC T26864; Foxon C93; OTA K032313.000)

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The text has been typographically modernized, but without any silent modernization of spelling, capitalization, or punctuation. The source of the text is given and all editorial interventions have been recorded in textual notes. Based on the electronic text originally produced by the TCP project, this ECPA text has been edited to conform to the recommendations found in Level 5 of the Best Practices for TEI in Libraries version 4.0.0.