ON THE MARRIAGE OF KING GEORGE THE THIRD AND QUEEN CHARLOTTE. TO THE QUEEN. Thomas Warton Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
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Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T116245 1122 K093079.001 Pearch, G. A collection of poems in four volumes. By several hands. Vol. I. [The second edition]. London printed for G. Pearch 1770 pp. 227-230. 4v. ; 8⁰.

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ON THE MARRIAGE OF KING GEORGE THE THIRD AND QUEEN CHARLOTTE . BY THE SAME . TO THE QUEEN . WHEN first the kingdom to thy virtues due Rose from the billowy deep in distant view ; When Albion's isles , old ocean's peerless pride , Tower'd in imperial state above the tide ; What bright ideas of the new domain Form'd the fair prospect of thy promis'd reign ! And well with conscious joy thy breast might beat , That Albion was ordain'd thy regal seat : Lo ! this the land where Freedom's sacred rage Has glow'd untam'd , thro' many a martial age . Here patriot Alfred , stain'd with Danish blood , Rear'd on one base the king's , the people's good : Here Henry's archers fram'd the stubborn bow That laid Alanzon's haughty helmet low ; Here wak'd the flame that still superior braves The proudest threats of Gaul's ambitious slaves : Here chivalry , stern school of valour old , Her noblest feats of knightly fame enroll'd ; Heroic champions heard the clarion's call , And throng'd the board in Edward's banner'd hall ; While chiefs , like George , approv'd in worth alone , Unlock'd chaste beauty's adamantine zone . Lo ! the fam'd isle , which hails thy chosen sway , What fertile fields her temperate suns display ; Where Property secures the conscious swain , And guards , while Plenty gives , the golden grain : Hence ripe with stores her villages abound , Her airy downs with scatter'd sheep resound ; Fresh are her pastures with unceasing rills , And future navies crown her darksome hills . To bear her formidable glory far , Behold her opulence of hoarded war ! See , from her ports a thousand banners stream , On every coast her vengeful lightnings gleam ! Meantime , remote from Ruin's armed hand , In peaceful majesty her cities stand ; Whose splendid domes , and tradeful streets declare , Their firmest fort , a king's parental care . And O ! blest queen , if e'er the magic powers Of warbled truth have won thy musing hours ; Here Poesy , from awful days of yore , Has pour'd her genuine gifts of raptur'd lore . 'Mid oaken bowers , with holy verdure wreath'd , In Druid-songs her solemn spirit breath'd : While cunning bards , at ancient banquets , sung Of Paynim foes defy'd , and trophies hung : Here Spenser tun'd his mystic minstrelsy , And dress'd in fairy robes a queen like thee . Here , boldly mark'd with every living hue , Nature's unbounded portrait Shakespear drew : But chief , the mournful group of human woes The daring artist's tragic pencil chose ; Explor'd the pangs that rend the royal breast , Those wounds that lurk beneath the tissu'd vest ! Lo ! this the land , whence Milton's muse of fire High soar'd to steal from heaven a seraph's lyre ; And told the golden ties of wedded love In sacred Eden's amaranthine grove . Thine too , majestic bride ! the favour'd clime , Where Science sits enshrin'd in roofs sublime — O mark how green her wood of ancient bays O'er Isis marge in many a chaplet strays ! Thither , if haply some distinguish'd flower Of these mix'd blooms , from that ambrosial bower , Might catch thy glance , and , rich in Nature's hue , Entwine thy diadem with honour due ; If seemly gifts the train of Phoebus pay , To deck imperial Hymen's festive day ; Thither thyself shall haste , and mildly deign To tread with nymph-like step the conscious plain : Pleas'd in the Muse's nook , with decent pride , To throw the scepter'd pall of state aside , Nor from the shade shall George be long away , Which claims Charlotta's love , and courts her stay . — These are Britannia's praises . Deign to trace , With rapt reflection Freedom's favourite race ! But tho' the generous isle , in arts and arms , Thus stands supreme , in Nature's choicest charms ; Tho' George and conquest guard her sea-girt throne , One happier blessing still she calls her own ; And , proud a fresh increase of fame to view , Crowns all her glory by possessing you .