72
EPISTLES.
Go, Carteret, go: alas, a tedious while Hast thou been absent from thy mother isle; 16A slow-pac'd train of months to thee and thine, A flight of moments to a heart like mine, That feels perfections, and resigns with pain Enjoyments I may never know again. 20
O, while mine eye pursues the fading sails, Smooth roll ye waves, and steddy breathe ye gales, And urge with gentle speed to Albion's strand A houshold fair amidst the fairest land, 24In every decency of Life polite, A freight of virtues, wafting from my sight: And now farewel, O early in renown, Illustrious, young, in labours for the crown, 28 Just, and benign, and vigilant, in power, And elegant to grace the vacant hour, Relaxing sweet! Nor are we born to wear The brow still bent, and give up life to care: 32And thou, mild glory beaming round his fame, Francisca, thou, his first, his latest, flame, Parent of bloom! In pleasing arts refin'd!Farewel thy hand, and voice, in musick join'd, 36
Thy
