William Whitehead

R. S., "To the Laureat at Bath" London Chronicle (27 August 1761) 200.

Olympus shone, the Gods were met,
With most uncommon splendor;
Of CHARLOTTE was their heavenly chat,
And GEORGE our Faith's Defender.

Behold, said Jove, a godlike youth,
In whom all virtures center;
Religion, freedom, honour, truth,
The wisdom of a Mentor.

Well may Britannia's sons rejoice,
Since GEORGE their love engages;
'Twas I and Fate approv'd the choice,
Fame — tell it future ages—

To Him the spacious globe shall bow,
And pay obedient duty;
With Victory be wreath'd His brow,
His bed adorn'd with Beauty.

That task, imperial Juno, cry'd,
Her eyes with ardour glowing,
That task be mine — all else beside
Be, Jove, of thy bestowing.

To bless thy fav'rite Monarch's arms,
(Such worth should be requited)
Majestick grace, and heavenly charms,
In STRELITZ I united.

The dimpled Joys around her bed
Shall fix their happy station,
My genial influence I'll shed,
To bless the English nation.

Phoebus, the bridal song inspire;
Assist him, all ye Muses:—
Goddess, in vain I tune my lyre;
WHITEHEAD his aid refuses.

Apollo cry'd — far, far from home,
By lordly VILLIERS taken,
In Bath, my Laureat loves to roam,
My sweeter streams forsaken.

With him the harp and vocal shell
(And you, ye Gods, all know it)
The harmony of numbers dwell,
Your darling He, and Poet.

Almighty Jove he gave the nod;
Call'd Hermes to dispatch him:
Adown the sky the winged God,
He flew away to fetch him.

O! Maia's son, your message spare,
In duty ever steady;
My song, demand the Royal Pair:
See here, I have it ready.

Take it, melodious WHITEHEAD, cry'd;
There, Mercury, peruse it:
My verse by heaven approv'd and try'd,
What critick dare abuse it?

Back Hermes flew with lightning speed;
His rhimes the Gods admiring,
With one loud plaudit all agreed,
Were of their own inspiring.
Bath, Aug. 20, 1761.