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[Page 5]
1785. Morning Herald.
Breetons! boo doon heed, and hail your king;
See! whare with Atlanean shoulder
Amazing each beholder,
Beneath a tott'ring empire's weight,
Full six feet high he stands, and therefore - great!
V!.
Come then, aw ye Poors of vairse!
Gi' me great GEORGE's glories to rehearse;
And as I chaunt his kingly awks,
The list'nan warld fra' me fall lairn
Hoo swyft he rides, hoo slow he walks,
And weel he gets his Queen wi' bairn.
Give me, with all a laureat's art to jumble,
Thoughts that soothe, and words that rumble!
Wisdom and Empire, Brunswick's Royal line,
Fame, Honor, Glory, Majesty divine
Thus, crooned by his lib'ral hand,
Give me to lead the choral band;
Then, in high founding words, and grand,
Aft fall my pipe swell with his pruncely name,
And this eternal truth proclaim :-
GEOURGE, Imperial GEOURGE, who rules BRITANNIA's land!
July 2. PROBATIONARY ODES, No. XIII.
Pinderic, by the Right Hon. HERVEY REDMOND,
LORD VISCOUNT MOUNTMORRES, of Castle Morres, of the kingdom of Ireland, &c. &c. &c.
I.
AWAKE, Hiberian lyre, awake,
To harmony, thy strings attune,
O teche their trimbling tongues, to Spake
The glories of the fourth of June,
Auspicious morn!
When George was born
To grace (by deputy) our Irish throne,
North, south, aiste, west,
Of kings the best,
Sure now he's aqualled by himself alone!
Throughout the astonish'd globe so loud his fame will ring.
The [Dis?] them silves shall bare the strains, the dum shall sing.
II.
Sons of Fadruig*, strain your throats,
In your native Irish lays,
Sweater than the screach owl's notes,
Howl aloud your sov'reign's praise.
Quick to his hallow'd fane be led
A milk-white BULL, on soft potatoes fed,
His curling horns and ample neck
Let wreaths of verdant shamrock deck,
And perfum'd flames to rache the sky,
Let fuel from our bogs supply,
Whilst we to George's health, a'en till the bowl runs o'er,
Rich frames of Usquebaugh and Sparkling Whiskey pour.
III.
Of dithless fame immortal heirs,
A brave and patriotic band,
Mark where Ierne's Voluntares,
Array'd in bright disorder stand.
The Lawyer's corps, red fac'd with black,
Here drive the martial merchants back,
Here Sligo's bold brigade advance,
Their Lim'rick's legions sound their drum,
Here Gallway's gallant squadrons prance,
And Cork Invincibles are overcome,
The Union firm of Coleraine,
Are scatter'd o'er the warlike plain
While Tipperary Infantry pursues
The Clognikelty horse, and Ballyshannon blues.
Ah! should renoned Brunswick chuse,
(The warlike Monarch loves reviews)
To see those haroes in our Phanix fight,
Once more amidst a wond'ring crowd,
Th' enraptur'd prince might cry aloud,
"Oh! Amherst, what a hiv'nly fight!"
The loyal crowd with shouts should rind the skies,
To hare their Sov'reign make a Spaach so wise.
IV.
These were the bands, mid tempests foul,
Who taught their master, somewhat loth,
To grant (Lord love his lib'ral soul!)
Commerce and constitution both.
How pace reitor'd,
This gracious Lord
Would tache them, as the Scriptures say,
At laiste, that if
The Lord doth give,
The Lord doth likewise take away.
Freedom like this who ever faw
We will, hinceforth, for iver more,
Be after making iv'ry law,
Great Britain shall have made before.
V.
Hence, loath'd monopoly
Of av'rice foul, and navigation bred,
In drear gloom,
Of British custom-house long room,
'Mongst cockets, clearances, and bonds unholy,
Hide thy detested head.
But come thou Goddess, fair add free,
Hibernian Reciprocity!
(Which manes, if right I take the plan,
Or ilse the traity Divil burn!
To get from England all we can;
And give her nothing in return:)
Thee, JENKY, skill'd in courtly lore,
To the swate lip'd William bore,
He Chatham's foe, (in George's reign
Such mixture was not held a stain)
Of garish day-light'e eye afraid,
Through the postern-gate convey'd,
In close and midnight, cabinet,
Oft the sacret lovers met.
Haste thee, nymph, and quick bring o'er
Commerce from Britannia's shore,
Manufactures, arts, and skill,
Such as may our pockets fill,
And, with thy left hand, gain by stealth,
Half our Sister's envied wealth,
Till our island shall become
Trade's complate imporium**.
Thase joys, if reciprocity can give,
Goddess, with thee hinceforth let Paddy live!
VI.
Next to great George be peerless Billy [fung?],
Hark, he spakes, his mouth he opes,
Phrases, periods, figures, tropes,
Strame from his mellifluous tongue,
O! had he crown'd his humble supplicant's hopes,
And given him, near his much lov'd Pitt,
Beyond the limits of the bar to fit,
How with his praises had the St. Stephen's rung!
Though Pompey boast not all his patron's pow'rs,
Yet oft have kind Hibernia's Peers
To rade his spaaches lent their ears,
So in the Senate, had his tongue, for hours,
Foremost, amid the youthful yelping pack,
That crow and cackle at the Premier's back,
A flow of Irish rhetorick let loose,
Beneath the Chicken scarce, and far above goose.
* Ancient Irish name given to St Patrick.
§ The celebrated speech of a great Personage, or reviewing the camp at Cox-heath, in the year 1779, when a French invasion was apprehended; the report of which animating apostrophe is supposed to have struck such terror into the breasts of our enemies, as to have been the true occasion of their relinquishing the design.
Vide the Fourth Proposition.
Vide Mr. Ford's Speech's.