The Night of the Tenth of March, 1789.
When, long sequester'd from his throne,
George took his seat again,
By right of worth, not blood alone,
Entitled here to reign!
Then Loyalty, with all her lamps,
New trimm'd, a gallant show,
Chasing the darkness and the damps,
Set London, in a glow.
'Twas hard to tell, of streets, of squares,
Which form'd the chief display,
These most resembling cluster'd stars,
Those the long milky way.
Bright shone the roofs, the domes, the spires,
And rockets flew, self-driven,
To hang their momentary fires
Amid the vault of heaven.
So, fire with water to compare,
The ocean serves on high,
Up-spouted by a whale in air,
To express unwieldy joy.
Had all the pageants of the world
In one procession join'd,
And all the banners been unfurl'd
That heralds e'er design'd,
For no such sight had England's Queen
Forsaken her retreat,
Where George recover'd made a scene
Sweet always, doubly sweet.
Yet glad she came that night to prove,
A witness undescried,
How much the object of her love
Was lov'd by all beside.
Darkness the skies had mantled o'er
In aid of her design—
Darkness, O Queen! ne'er call'd before
To veil a deed of thine!
On borrow'd wheels away she flies,
Resolved to be unknown,
And gratify no curious eyes
That night, except her own.
Arriv'd, a night like noon she sees,
And hears the million hum;
As all by instinct, like the bees,
Had known their sov'reign come.
Pleas'd she beheld aloft portray'd,
On many a splendid wall,
Emblems of health and heav'nly aid,
And George the theme of all.
Unlike the enigmatic line,
So difficult to spell,
Which shook Belshazzar at his wine,
The night his city fell.
Soon watery grew her eyes, and dim,
But with a joyful tear!
None else, except in prayer for him,
George ever drew from her.
It was a scene in every part
Like that in fable feign'd,
And seem'd by some magician's art
Created and sustain'd.
But other magic there she knew
Had been exerted none,
To raise such wonders to her view,
Save love to George alone.
That cordial thought her spirit cheer'd,
And, through the cumb'rous throng,
Not else unworthy to be fear'd,
Convey'd her calm along.
So, ancient poets say, serene
The sea-maid rides the waves,
And, fearless of the billowy scene,
Her peaceful bosom laves.
With more than astronomic eyes
She viewed the sparkling show;
One Georgian star adorns the skies,
She myriads found below.
Yet let the glories of a night
Like that, once seen, suffice!
Heaven grant us no such future sight—
Such precious woe the price!
[481] The translation of Aristotle.
[482] Private correspondence.
[483] We regret that we have not succeeded in procuring any traces of these poems of Cowper's brother.
[484] Private correspondence.
[485] The daughter of General Goldsworthy.
[486] Tour to the Hebrides.
[487] Rev. John Newton.
[488] The distinguishing merit of Boswell's Life of Dr. Johnson is precisely what Cowper here states. In perusing it we become intimately acquainted with his manner, habits of life, and sentiments on every subject. We are introduced to the great wits of the age, and see a lively portraiture of the literary characters of those times. However minute and even frivolous some of the remarks may be, yet Boswell's Life will never fail to awaken interest, and no library can be considered to be complete without it.