Full Citation

  • Title Windsor: an ode; sacred to the birth-day of Her Royal Highness, Charlotte, Augusta, Matilda, Princess Royal of England. September XXIX. 1778
  • Author Cosens, John
  • Imprint Brentford : printed by P. Norbury; and sold by G. Robinson, No. 25, Pater-Noster-Row, London; T. Ansell, George-Street, Richmond, Surrey; and Mr. Blakeney, near the Market-Place, Windsor., [1778].
  • Pages 10
  • Language English
  • Microfilm Reel # 1463
  • Physical Description 12p. ; 4°
  • ESTC Number T52554
  • Source Library British Library
W I N D S 0 R An O D E; /e SACRED TO THE BIRTH-DAY OF HER ROYAL HIGHNESS, Charlotte, Augusta, Matilda, Princess Royal of England. SEPTEMBER XXIX. 1778. Auditis ? An me ludit arnabilis. Infania ? Audire,. et videor pios, Errare per Lucos, amoenae Q os et Aque fubeunt et Aure.. HOR.. B R E N T F O R D: PRINTED BY P.. NORBURY;. And Sold by G. R O B I NS O N, No.. 25, Pater-Nofter-Row, London;: T. A N S E L L, George-Street, Richmond, Surrey; And Mr. B L A K E N E Y, near the Market-Place, Windsor.. WIN D SOR: An O D E; Sacred to the Birth-day of Her Royal Highness, CHARLOTTE, AUGUSTA, MATILDA, Princess Royal of England. I. O H ! for the living Lyre, that COWLEY bore Entranc'd there ruthy-fringed Banks along; Or DENHAM! thine, what Time the Mountain hoar Re-echo'd to the Pleasings of thy Song; Or POPE's majestic Verse, which all the Nine With all their Fire inform, and all their Art refine. II. 'Twas here they thought, here built th' immortal Rhyme, Heroic WINDSOR heard their sacred Rage; And, would they deign. revisit mortal Clime, Her old, patrician Groves must frill engage: Come then, illustrious Bards ! resume the Lay, And consecrate to Fame AUGUSTA's natal Day. III. IIl. Hlark! hark! they come ;---or does Delusion bland Steal on my ravifh'd Soul ? Yes, now I seem To hear alternate Strains; and lo ! their Hand Sings to their dulcet Voice. On such a Theme, More than Obtmipic Candidates for Praise, Each to his golden Lyre warbles his willing Lays. IV. D E N H A M. Parody. ' Waked to new Glories by the best of Kings, ' WINDSOR ! all hail !'---the lofty Denham sings--- ' Mars with Afira now inhabits here, ' Valour with Juffice; the romantic Spear ' Is raised no more to make the guiltless bleed: ' So GEORGE and genuine Honor have decreed. On this auspicious Day, at least, content ' To be at once joyful and innocent, ' I refalute thee from the Elysian Bowers, c And fee more bright aspire thy Domes and Towers, c The mighty Master's Emblem, in whose Face, ' Sits Meekness heightened with majestic Grace. ' Oh! ( Oh! could I rife like Them, in Wit supreme, ' Their great Example I, as they my Theme, ' Tho' lofty, clear, tho' bold, yet accurate, ' Strong, but not coarse, without exceeding, great; ' Then all their Echoes, burfing into Song, ( Should gratulate, at once, the festive Throng. ' But ah ! it may not be.---Yet hear my Vow,--- c A Wish, a Prayer is all my Powers allow--- c May, ROYAL GENTLENESS! Improvement wait, ' And sacred Science, Handmaids of THY State: ' And when Perfebtion shall her Work survey, ' And with another CHARLOTTE bless the Day; ' Then may THY Praife---I prophecy it will--- ' Outlive THY Windsor and my Cooper's Hill. V. C W L E Y. Anacreontic. I. ' Haunts! which all the Muses love, ' What new Diana trips the Grove ?-- ' Innocent and chaste as ihe, ' That graced the Plains of he5ffaly, ' Whom Whom of old Latona bore ' On Delos' fea-encircled Shore. This Isle, that gave HER Beauty Birth, O'er every Isle shall raise its Worth, ' Till Worlds remote revere and love The Progeny of GEORGE and yove. 1 Boon September ! thou shalt be Henceforth the first of Months to me; ' To you I firike the loudest String, You pay the Promise of the Spring, ' Load with burnifh'd Gold the Bough, ' Realising every Vow--- 'Gave to ROYAL CHARLOTTE's Throes ' Pandora, but without her Woes--- ' Gave this welcome Holiday, ' And gave the Giape to make it gay. ' Bring me a Goblet deep and wide, Capacious of the neEar'd Tide, ' Go, the liquid Ruby seek, ' That emulates HER Lip and Cheek ; < O'er ' O'er the gold Brim bid it rife, ' Smiling, sparkling as HER Eyes, Pure as flows HER virgin Thought, c And fragrant as HER Breath the Draught--- Wine that warms the Bosom thro', ( As HER opening Virtues do: ' Pour Libations to HER Birth, And kifs the consecrated Earth. ' Blest, and blessing, may the Fair & All HER Mother's Graces share, t With all the Virtues of her Sire !' He said and smote the founding Lyre. VI. PO P E Cento. In these deep Solitudes and awful Bowers, Where heaven-afpiring WINDSOR lifts her Towers,, And melancholy Silence reign'd so long, What mean this Triumph and the Voice of Song? ' Hark! ' Hark! how the Domes rejoice, and paan'd Air, ' Is Salijbzury reviv'd ?- or CHARLOTTE there ? ' Happy the Man, whom this bright Court approves, ' His Sovereign favours, and his Country loves; ' Such had I been, had Fate my Birth delay'd ' Till GEORGE THE GOOD Britannia's Sceptre fway'd. ' FaSion, be dumb; the Patriot's Name shall hide ' No more thy Envy, Avarice and Pride; ' See, round his Throne the winged Virtues spread, Fair as the numerous Offspring of his Bed. ' Ye sacred Nine, that all my Soul possess'd, ' Whose Raptures sir'd me, and whose Visions blefs'd, Joan, Countess of Salisbury, in the Reign of King Edward the third, a Lady of incomparable Beauty, dropping her Garter as the was dancing, his Majesty took it up from the Floor; at which the Nobles that flood about him fell a laughing. Whereupon the King told them that the Time should shortly come, when the greatest Honor imaginable should be paid to that Garter. Neither need this seem to be a mean Original of the Order, confidering, that as one faith, No!iliias j: 3 amorejacet. Camden. See Rapin. ' Once ' Once more (the hallow'd Hour demands your Aid) Be present while I greet THE ROYAL MAID: Oh! to this Theme your foftefi Numbers bring, What Muse for CHARLOTTE can refuse to sing ? ' Breathe on her Frame each Venus that inspires ' The Painter's Pencil, and the Poet's Fires, Bid her be all, that may the Soul distend, The duteous Daughter, Sifter, Patron, Friend; ' Bid her be all that makes Mankind adore, Rife to Example; flhew her Mother more; ' New Graces yearly let her Form display, ' Soft, without Weakness, without glaring, gay; ' Till each frefll Birth-day, vying with the past, ' Imprint that Chara&er no Time shall blast; Then, oh ye Muses! ihall my Numbers roll, ' Strong as her Charms and gentle as her Soul: ' Fair ! Wife and Good ! resound thro' all my Lays-:- ( Praise less than This were Mockery of Praise. Then 'Then to the female Saint shall Pilgrims come, ' And captive Kings Here wait again'their-Doom,* ( The silver Star less honour'd than HER Charms, And Windsor glory more in Love than-Arms.' VII. And more they sung; but how should simple Swain, For ever studious of his pastoral Care, Have Memory their Raptures to retain? -. Or how repeat their Vows, and not impair . Enough for him, ihould this weak Verse reveal The Depth of his Refpet, and Height of honest Zeal. John, King of France, and David, Kings Scots, were Prisoners herb together, in the Reign of Edwaid the third. The E N . . **,4 '