This occasional poem, written in the measure of Milton's L'Allegro, that catalogues the residents at the Tunbridge resort and extends good wishes to all, including the fallen minister (and Sir Joseph's sometimes opponent) Lord North: "And happy be the statesman's lot, | (His war and politicks forgot)! | To North again his eye-sight give; | And may he ever chearful live." The poet had been for many years a popular politician in London.
Headnote: "Mr. Urban, Whatever errors were committed by Lord North, late Earl of Guildford, as a Minister, (and they were such as will not be soon forgotten), it is certain, that in private life he was social, good-humoured, amiable, witty, and entertaining. The compliment paid him in the Ode which follows, by one, who for thirty years together in Parliament, was his political enemy, and who more than once, in the House of Commons, expressed a wish for impeachment, does equal honour to both. The reader should be told, that, at Tunbridge Wells, it has been usual to insert poetical pieces, usually of the complimentary style, in a book, kept by a bookseller there, which lies open for the inspection of all who frequent his shop; in such book was inserted the following Ode" p. 748.
G. F. Russell Barker: "Joseph Mawbey of Botleys, Surrey, malt distiller and vinegar manufacturer. He was M.P. for Southwark from April 1761 to September 1774, and for Surrey from June 1775 to June 1790. He was created a Baronet on 30th July 1765. He died on 16th June 1798, and was buried t Chertsey" Walpole, Memoirs of George III (1894) 1:285n.
Goddess of the crystal spring!
Quickly haste, and with thee bring
All that brightens gloomy day,
All that makes the seasons gay!
Banish from the circling hours
Cold, and sleet, and wintry show'rs!
Give to lovely Rutland ease,
Who ne'er wants the wish to please!
Clanirckarde's tender frame improve,
Thrice happy in domestic love!
To Mawbey's modest worth impart
Health, to gladden every heart!
On Hamilton thy gifts bestow,
And bid her cheeks with roses glow!
And, tho' hard it be to name
The tender, gentle Ashburnham,
Give her, what surpasses wealth,
Blissful hours, and blooming health!
And happy be the statesman's lot,
(His war and politicks forgot)!
To North again his eye-sight give;
And may he ever chearful live,
Surrounded by the blooming fair,
Devoid of pain, and free from care!
Around thy social table sit,
Delighting all by mirth and wit!