ODE On the Marriage of the Right Hon. Francis Hastings Rawdon, Earl of Moira, Commander in Chief of his Majesty's Forces in Scotland, with the Right Hon. Flora Campbell, Countess of Loudoun. BY THE REV. HENRY BOYD, &c. FROM Holstein to Almada's heights* 1 There let him tune, with heart forlorn, Though meanest of the Muses choir, Hail to the hymeneal star That breaks thro' Danger's darkest shade, Of triumph to the BLENDED ROSE. Hail Caledon, which oft beheld When thund'ring down with measur'd tread, Like meteors from a low hung cloud, What spirits light on ARTHUR'S SEAT! With WALLACE in his airy shrowd, The CAMPBELLS and MONTGOMERIES meet, And DOUGLAS scorning Gallia's threat; To spousal warblings tune their lays, And viewless Minstrels sing the LINE, No, while a son of Charlemagne (c) Halloos his mercenary band To slaught'rous deeds, and lines the strand With crazy hulls that dread the deep; Britannia's sons the fight demand On level shore or beacon'd steep. No trivial cause inspires the flame, No trivial pledge the realm secures, Combin'd with Freedom's antient claim, Religion's aid our strength assures. Whether upon the rolling floors Of England's barques, they mount the tide, Or discipline her files enures By land, to check the Invader's pride. When mimic royalty, forlorn Of Heaven and Fortune, disappears Like yonder cloudy crown of Mourne Disperst, by Sol, in pearly tears Long as he leads the dance of years, Or Youth admires, exalt your race. (ABC) Lineally descended from the Emperor Charlemagne long before the Imperial title was difgraced. The EARL of MOIRA is consequently allied to the House of Bourbon, and more immediately by his descent from the antient Kings of Navarre. It is well known, that the families of Hastings and Bruce were nearly related, and both derived from the royal stem of Scotland. It is almost unnecessary to add, that his Lordship numbers in his pedigree the Houses of York and Lancaster, the white and red rofe. See the English and Scots Peerage, &c. &c. EPITAPH ON THE AUTHOR OF THE SEASONS. OTHERS to marble may their glory owe, ODE TO FRIENDSHIP. Ou thou, renown'd in classic lore, And grant me, soft in sylvan bow'rs, For there in tranquil shades withdrawn, Where, form'd to raise, exalt the mind, The Muse instinctive glows; The Muse, where Petrarch 'plain'd and stray'd, "Tis thus, ordain'd o'er earth to rise, While Peace extends her fost❜ring arms, |