Welcome great stranger to Britannia’s throne! Nor let thy country think thee all her own. Of thy delay how oft did we complain! Our hope reach’d out and met thee on the main. With pray’r we smooth the billows for thy feet, With ardent wishes fill thy swelling sheet; And when thy foot took place on Albion’s shore, _We, bending, bless’d the Gods and ask’d no more!_ What hand but thine should conquer and compose, Join those whom interest joins, and chase our foes, Repel the daring youth’s presumptuous aim, And by his rival’s greatness give him fame? Now, in some foreign court he may sit down, And quit without a blush the British crown; Secure his honour, though he lose his store, And take a lucky moment to be poor. This sneer at the Pretender is as contemptible as the flattery of George is gross; and the picture of an entire nation on its knees, blessing Olympus, and bidding the gods to restrain all further gifts, is as magnificent a mixture of bombast and blasphemy as ever was made up by venal poet. But here is more of it:-- Nor think, great sir, now first at this late hour, In Britain’s favour you exert your power; To us, far back in time, I joy to trace The numerous tokens of your princely grace; Whether you chose to thunder on the Rhine, Inspire grave councils, or in courts to shine, In the more scenes your genius was display’d The greater debt was on Britannia laid: They all conspired this mighty man to raise, And your new subjects proudly share the praise. Such is the record of a rhymer: Walpole, in plain and truthful prose, tells a very different story. He informs us that the London mob were highly diverted at the importation by the King of his uncommon seraglio of ugly women. ‘They were food,’ he says, ‘for all the venom of the Jacobites,’ and so far from Britain thanking him for coming himself, or for bringing with him _these_ numerous tokens of his princely grace, ‘nothing could be grosser than the ribaldry vomited out in lampoons, libels, and every channel of abuse, against the sovereign and the new court, and chanted even in their hearing about the public streets.’ Mademoiselle von Schulemberg (_sic_) was created Duchess of Kendal. ‘The younger Mademoiselle von Schulemberg, who came over with her, and was created Countess of Walsingham, passed for her niece, but was so like the King, that it is not very credible that the duchess, who had affected to pass for cruel, had waited for the left-handed marriage.’ Lady Walsingham, as previously said, was afterwards married to the celebrated Philip Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield.