On The Queens Visit To London. The Night Of The Seventeenth Of March 1789.

When, long sequesterd from his throne,     George took his seat again,     By right of worth, not blood alone,     Entitled here to reign,     Then loyalty, with all his lamps     New trimmd, a gallant show!     Chasing the darkness and the damps,     Set London in a glow.     Twas hard to tell, of streets or squares     Which formd the chief display,     These most resembling clusterd 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 joind,     And all the banners been unfurld     That heralds eer designd,     For no such sight had Englands queen     Forsaken her retreat,     Where George, recoverd, 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 loved by all beside.     Darkness the skies had mantled oer     In aid of her design     Darkness, O Queen! neer called before     To veil a deed of thine!     On borrowd wheels away she flies,     Resolved to be unknown,     And gratify no curious eyes     That night except her own.     Arrived, a night like noon she sees,     And hears the million hum;     As all by instinct, like the bees,     Had known their sovereign come.     Pleased she beheld, aloft portrayd     On many a splendid wall,     Emblems of health and heavenly 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 those in fable feignd,     And seemd by some magicians art     Created and sustaind.     But other magic there, she knew,     Had been exerted none,     To raise such wonders in her view,     Save love of George alone.     That cordial thought her spirit cheerd,     And, through the cumbrous throng,     Not else unworthy to be feard,     Conveyd 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 viewd 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 previous woe the price!