THE ROYAL VOYAGE. BY THE SAME. I. HIGH on the bounding bark the Royal Fair Mounts o'er the billows of the watery way; Serene as Cynthia thro' the fields of air, Queen of the Night extends her cloudless ray, When all the forests tremble to the gleam, And the transparent seas reflect the silver beam. But see the whitening surge, the gathering clouds; Hark! the winds whistle thro' the shrowds, They bow the mast, they rend the sail, The sea-worn mariner is pale, And views the blackening storm, and hears th' increasing gale. But not, O Royal Maid, Let Fear thy breast invade: Know, happy Fair! approv'd by heaven, To thee the empire of the Main is given, In vain loud winds the deep deform, Love shall triumphant ride the storm. Peace! every roaring child of troubled air: Unmov'd the Queen of sea-girt Albion sings; Her flying fingers touch the strings; Around their Queen the trembling train repair: Her courage lifts their own; Her music sooths their care. II. Happy Queen of Albion's isle, On whom the Loves and Graces smile: Haste from Germania's plain, and death-devoted shore, Soon thy weary steps shall try A happier land, a milder sky, Where no din of arms shall roar, Nor winds, nor swelling seas assault thee more. Thus, 'midst the storms which blow O'er Thracian hills of snow, Orpheus tun'd the golden lyre, And saw the beasts of death retire. Thus fearless of the night, and watery grave, Leander's bosom met the wave, While Love before him flew his way to guide, And thro' the foaming tide Gave to his nervous arm redoubled power, While Hymen shook the torch bright on the distant tower. Hail! happy fires of mutual love unknown, To purchas'd dalliance and tumultuous joy; True Pleasure sits on Virtue's awful throne; There all the Loves their golden shafts employ: Mild and unclouded the eternal flame, Reward of virtuous Love, and Heaven's best blessing came. III. Swift the wing'd Hours shall urge their stealing way, Nor oft the waning moon shall know decay Ere a new race shall rise of scepter'd kings. From thee, Strelisian Fair, the future hero springs. See, the long lines of royal youths extend, To Britain's throne new subjects bend; Where'er her glittering standards rise, In other seas, in other skies, Shall spread the godlike fame of mildest victories. Auspicious youths be born! Arise! O haste! your native soil adorn! Not valorous arms alone Shall guard the regal throne; But shining arts, and holy laws, And ancient Freedom's well-defended cause, Shall lift secure your praise sublime Thro' all the radiant paths of time. On Dorubernian cliffs the Muse hath told, Prophetic child of Druids old, Whereon she sits, and hears from either pole In every wind victorious thunders roll.