The Virginia Gazette

On the Duke of ARGYLE's Birth-Day
By a young Gentleman of the Army.

When, thro' the Trumpet's Notes, she pours her Charms,
Write, ---- For the Brave, the Great, the Lov'd, the Gay,
Ow'd his first Breath to this important Day----
He, whose wish'd Life deserves unbounded Length,
Whose Form is Musick, and whose Mind is Strength:
He, who both Liberty and Peace befriends,
Yet, on whose Sword expected War depends :
Now, first, with Pain, a People's Love rewards ;
And, by his Sickness, frights the State he guards.
Oh! may he live! --- and let my Pray'r go due,
Solicit Heav'n to brace his Nerves anew !
Satiate, with Hecatombs, thy Grasps, O Death!
But spare ARGYLE, to give a Nation Breath.
This, to my Country. --..- For my private Care,
No Muse can paint it, and no Grief declare.
We, whose young Hopes, dependent on his Hand,
Felt our Chief's Weight, and liv'd for his Command :
What had we lost, an op'ning War so nigh,
E'er form'd to Arms, beneath this Leader's Eye---
Rous'd, and aspiring, proudly to behold
Wonders, so widely, and so warmly told---
Left----at this Height----benighted in our Dawn;
To mourn his Lustre, fatally, withdrawn;
And, in the Gloom, of some o'ercasting Sky,
Fight, without Hope, and without Notice, die.
Youth, whose Muse, whose Voice the Soldier