The baby was so weak that it was thought it would not live, and at eleven o'clock at night it was baptized by the Bishop of Oxford,[37] and though it survived, its health was so delicate that it was thought advisable, and indeed imperative, to abandon the strict court etiquette dictating that a royal infant must be reared by a lady of good family, and instead "the fine, healthy, fresh-coloured wife of a gardener" was chosen. The woman was proud of her charge, but inclined to independence, and when told that, in accordance with tradition, the baby could not sleep with her, "Not sleep with me!" she exclaimed. "Then you may nurse the boy yourselves!" As she remained firm on this point, tradition was wisely cast to the winds, with the fortunate result that the young Prince throve lustily and soon acquired a sound and vigorous frame of body.[38] [37] The baptism was repeated publicly on July 3, by the Bishop of Oxford (as Rector of St. James's parish) at Norfolk House, when the infant Prince was given the names of George William Frederick. The sponsors, the King of Sweden, the Duke of Saxe-Gotha, and the Queen of Prussia, were represented respectively by Lord Baltimore, the Marquis of Carnarvon, and Lady Charlotte Edwin. [38] Gait: _George III, His Court and His Family_. It would be to throw away an opportunity for mirth to omit the lines with which Whitehead greeted the birth of a son of the Prince of Wales. These were enthusiastically acclaimed by a contemporary as "a beautiful, prophetic compliment to the future monarch," but the present generation may conceivably find another epithet. "Thanks, Nature! thanks! the finish'd piece we own, And worthy Frederick's love, and Britain's throne. Th' impatient Goddess first had sketch'd the plan, Yet ere she durst complete the wond'rous man, To try her power, a gentler task design'd, And formed a pattern of the softer kind.[39] But now, bright boy, thy more exalted ray Streams o'er the dawn, and pours a fuller day: Nor shall, displeased, to thee her realms resign, The earlier promise of the rising line. And see! what signs his future worth proclaim, See! our _Ascanius_ boast a nobler flame! On the fair form let vulgar fancies trace Some fond presage in ev'ry dawning grace; More unconfined, poetic transport roves, Sees all the soul, and all the soul approves: Sees regal pride but reach the exterior part, And big with virtues beat the little heart; Whilst from his eyes soft beams of mercy flow, And liberty supreme smiles on his infant brow. Now, in herself secure, shall Albion rise, And the vain frowns of future fate despise; See willing worlds beneath her sceptre bend, And to the verge of Time her fame extend." [39] A poetic allusion to the Princess Royal. [Illustration: _Photo by Emery Walker_ _From a painting by Richard Wilson_