TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS The DUKE of CUMBERLAND, &c.
[5]TWelve Times hath Sol his annual Race begun,
Since Jove deſcended from his radiant Throne.
Around the pendent Globe the God purſu'd
His circling March, and human Actions view'd,
But griev'd that Virtue droop'd her languid Head,
While Vice from Clime to Clime contagious ſpread.
Back to his native Seat he ſternly flies,
And ſends an Edict thro' the ſpacious Skies,
To call th'ethereal Pow'rs ſwift flew his Word,
Th'ethereal Pow'rs as ſwift attend their Lord.
[6] Upon Olympus' Top the Synod met,
Where high inthron'd the thund'ring Monarch ſat,
And with a Nod that ſhook the Spheres, he ſwore
The Minor Gods ſhould viſit Earth no more.
What muſt your earthly Sons, Minerva cry'd,
Explore their doubtful Way without a Guide?
If Pallas muſt no more to Mortals go,
Let Pallas beg a Subſtitute below.
Worthy to rule the World, whoſe noble Mind
May copy out the Gods to human Kind.
She lowly bow'd, and Jove conſenting ſmil'd,
Go form ſaid he, this new imagin'd Child.
Collect the beſt Materials where you will,
And let us ſee for once Minerva's Skill.
He ſaid, ſhe haſtens o'er the bright Abodes,
Selecting each Perfection of the Gods.
From Mars ſhe warlike Strength and Courage took,
But ſoften'd them with Venus' graceful Look.
To theſe ſhe added Hermes' Eloquence,
And crown'd it with her own ſuperior Senſe.
[7] Some of Apollo's piercing Rays ſhe ſtole,
And while the Muſes play'd ſhe form'd a Soul.
When thus compos'd the bright Ingredients lay,
She nobly dreſt 'em in ethereal Clay.
Jove touch'd the Maſs with his enliv'ning Hand,
And vital Warmth inſpir'd a CUMBERLAND.
FINIS.