As when Hyperion with victorious light Expels invading Pow'rs of gloomy night, And vernal nature youthful dress'd and gay, Salutes the radiant power that forms the day; The mounting Lark exalts her joyful note, And strains with harmony her warbling throat: So now my muse that hopes to see the day, When cloudy faction, that do's Britain sway, Shall be o'ercome by reason's dazling ray; Applauding senates for their prudent choice, The will of Heaven by the Peoples voice, First greets you Sir, then gladly do's prepare, In tuneful verse, your welcome to the chair. Awful th' assembly is, august the Queen, In whose each day of life are wonders seen: The nation too, this greatest of all years, Who watch to see blest turns in their affairs, Slighting the tempest on the Gallic shore, Hope from the senate much, but from you more: Whose happy temper judgment cultivates, And forms so fit to aid our three estates. The change of ministry late ordered here, Was fated sure for this auspicious year; That you predestin'd at a glorious hour, To be chief judge of legislative power, Might by your skill that Royal right asserts, Like Heaven, reconcile the jarring parts. Nor shines your influence, Sir, here alone, The Church must your unequall'd prudence own, Firm to support the cause, but rough to none. Eusebia's sons, in laws divine possest, Can learn from you how truth should be exprest; Whether in modest terms, like balm, to heal; Or raving notions, falsly counted zeal. Our holy writ no rule like that allows, No people an enrag'd apostle chose, Nor taught Our Saviour, or St. Paul, like those. Reason was mild, and calmly did proceed, Which harsh might fail to make transgressors heed; This saint your rhet'ric best knows how to prove, Whose gracious method can inform, and move; Direct the elders that such errors make, And shew both how to preach, and how to speak. Oh! sacred gift! in public matters great, But in religious tracts divinely sweet; Since to this grace they only have pretence Whose happy learning join with a cælestial sense. That Sir, you share both these, the muse forgive, If I presume to write what all believe, Your candour too, and charming courtesy, Rever'd by them is justly so by me, Let me not then offend your modesty, If now my genius to a height I raise, Such parts, and such humanity to praise. This ancient [1]Baginton can witness well, And the rich [2]library before it fell; The precious hours amongst wise authors past, Your Soul with their unvalued wealth possest; And well may he to heights of knowledge come, Who that Panthæon always kept at home. Thus once, Sir, you were blest, and sure the fiend That first entail'd a curse on human-kind, And afterwards contriv'd this fatal cross, Design'd the public, by your private loss. Oh! who had seen that love to learning bore,