THE COURT AT KENSINGTON: A POEM ON THE Most Celebrated BEAUTIES there.  
LONDON, Printed, and are to be sold by the Booksellers of London and Westminster, 1700.   

THE COURT AT KENSINGTON.  

GIve me a Genius filled with soft Delight,  
Of Beauteous Forms, blessed Images of Light;  
Teach me, Apollo, some harmonious Song,  
And with thy Heavenly Lays Inspire my Tongue;  
To the dark Shades of Night let satire fly,  
Nor once approach the Lustre of the Beamy Sky;  
But with strict Guard watch o'er my erring Pen,  
Conduct me through the winding Maze of Things and Me;  
Inform my Reason in the labyrinths of the Great,  
And let my Muse discern her Duty in the State:  
Freed from the noxious Fumes that Wine procure,  
And tempted by those Charms that are more pure,  
I to Britania's Court direct my way,  
Urged by Desire to go, by Beauty to to obey.   

Behold the happy Monarch from his Throne!  
Not under the Fatigues and Pressures of a Crown,  
But far more Blessed and Glorious does appear,  
His Guard, a Train of Noble Beauties near,  
That gilled with Radiant Light the Northern Hemisphere.  
So Awful, so Majestic WILLIAM stood.  
Formed like a Man, with all the Lustre of a God,  
Unequalled Great, beyond example Good!  
His every Smile fresh Beams of Joy dispense.  
Whilst all the Beauteous Crowd confess its Influence;  
An Universal Soul of Love sits on His Brow,  
Which kindly does through all the Mechanism flow;  
Softness of Nature in the Depth of Thought,  
The God joined with the Man so interwrought;  
Business and Pleasure both in him agree,  
And make the most delightful Harmony.  
Yet still unshaken does the Hero Reign,  
Midst all the Glories of his Pompous Train;  
With equal balance judging every Sport,  
A very Stoic in the Revels of a Court.  
But tell my Muse how innocence Delights,  
And how 'tis exemplary Majesty invites;  
How when the Awful Monarch moves along,  
How pleasingly appears the Charming Throng:  
And what blessed Scene can more delight the Fair,  
Than smiling Majesty when Regent there:  
Like Phoebus' darting Splendour from His Eyes,  
Whose piercing Beams quick as the Lightning flies:  
Nor do they dazzle less than they amaze,  
All who with Awe and Admiration gaze:  
Yet still with Pleasure view the Royal Man,  
Who bears more Glory that all other Mortals can;  
Replete with Majesty and a Seraphic Mind,  
With Mildness and Eternal Goodness kind:  
Kind as a Monarch to his Subjects dear,  
And as a Hero merciful in War;  
Not as a Courtier false, but as a Friend sincere.  
Prudently wise, not Crafty in the State,  
Nor yet so vain to trust precarious Fate:  
sovereign Commander o'er His own vast Will;  
Slow to Revenge, and sure to act no Ill:  
Tho' Pressed with anxious Cares, yet to the Fair  
Obliging, Affable, all Debonair;  
With cheerful Innocence not lightly gay,  
To Beauty's shrine does some: Oblations pay,  
And squanders a few Hours of Care away.  
Pleasure sits light without, whilst still within  
Somewhat Divine appears more than the King:  
Like th'upper Regions of refined Air,  
B'ove Storms and Tempests still serene and clear;  
Whilst placed below his Subjects, bless their Fate,  
And own Him eminently Good as Great;  
In Justice Rules not wanting, nor Severe  
No way Intemperate, nor yet Austere:  
Born mild by Nature, but by Art improved,  
The Mystery whereby he's feared and loved.   

Go on my Muse, next to Illustrious Jove,  
Declare Minerva Reigns the Queen of Love;  
bounteous Minerva, whose true Merits claim,  
A larger Character from busy Fame;  
Who conscious of her Gild, yet dare not hid  
Th' attested Goodness which her Actions guide.  
Glorious Examples which to Virtue give,  
Their Lustre and Rewards whereby they live;  
How much engaging then must Beauty be,  
Enriched with such a gracious Deity;  
And with what Pleasure must Mankind adore,  
When Innocence and Virtue have their native Power:  
But when such Excellence Commands my Muse;  
She claps her modest Wings, but can't refuse  
To soar in such a bright exalted Sky,  
Where the vast Height compels her on to fly;  
Forced beyond her own Altitude to rise,  
And view what dazzles still her wondering Eyes:  
With what Celestial Fire does Royalty appear;  
Blest with those Graces that Adorn the Fair,  
And doubly blessed Minerva is beyond compare,  
The Happy Parent of th' Illustrious Heir!  
Born to be Great, and by example Bred;  
Fit for the World's Dictator and Britannia's Head.  
In Virtue's Schools He first learns to obey,  
And then by Honour's Laws how Sceptres he may sway;  
Pregnant in Wit, his eallow Years advance,  
Nor fears the Infant Hero yet the tempered Lance,  
Or His Competitor for Empire Burgundy of France.  
So like our Pious Chief He Virtue's Laws approves,  
And what the common Youth declines, he loves:  
Heroic Actions claim his chief delight,  
Yet Softness guides and melts the Hero quite;  
Beauty so tenderly has touched him every where;  
The God has tasked himself to make a Pair,  
And show a Heroine equally as Fair.  
Ten thousand Graces in his Actions lies,  
And twice Ten thousand wanton in his Eyes;  
Whilst every Charm creates a secret Joy,  
A Venus' self had dressed the Artful Boy:  
Such was Ascanius, when in Aeneas Name,  
He kindled Dido's Breast with Love's soft Flame;  
Such happy Passions from his Nature flow,  
As generous Virtue do innately show:  
A Noble Soul, free from all Courtly Vice,  
Easie, Sincere, and void of Artifice;  
Yet pleasant, gay, with Generous Freedom blest,  
Whilst Reasons, Laws, are gravely on his Mind impressed.   

But on, my trifling Muse, lest here thou seem,  
T'abuse with thy unskilful Hand this noble Theme;  
Yet still with sacred Awe approach that Shrine,  
Where such a Gallaxie of Beauties shine;  
Where Virtue, Modesty and improved Wit,  
Do in the presence of bright Honour sit:  
Where Pleasure can not wanton Charms bestow,  
But such as from delightful Innocence do flow;  
And such pure Thoughts as Virgin Hearts may know:  
Free from the Faults of fashionable Vice,  
Yet easy Virtue, not formal or precise:  
So Beauty from its innocence true Lustre gains;  
And tho' once fettered by Inglorious Chains,  
Now absolute, it like a Monarch Reigns.  
Reason has once again possessed her place,  
And banished Folly from the beauteous Race:  
'Tis Vision all, and shuns Diviner Light,  
For Shades must vanish where they shine so bright.  
Pure flames of Love consume the dull desires,  
And melt away the Dross by more Celestial fires.  
Hence the fair Sex like Goddesses appear,  
Whilst Reason for their guide—  
Strict Virtue they as for a Garment wear,  
Mankind their Presence do with Awe revere:  
Whilst Art their modest Excellence displays,  
And Nature shows itself a Thousand ways.  
So O—ds graceful Mean attracts all Eyes,  
And Nature needs not ask from Art supplies;  
An Air of Grandeur shines through every part,  
And in her beauteous Form is placed the noblest Heart:  
In vain Mankind adore, unless she were  
By Heaven made less Virt'ous or less Fair.  
B—y's bright Charms infuses soft Delight,  
And like Prometheus raises Fire at sight;  
Such Goodness dwells within her heavenly Breast,  
As cannot be but by herself expressed:  
No other human Medium can suffice,  
T'express th' Idieas of her beauteous Eyes.  
Such Airs has R—gh to engage Mankind,  
The God no equal to her Charms can find;  
Soft sounds of Harmony run through her Soul,  
And nought but music's voice dare there control:  
By gentle whispers Reason does take place,  
And Beauty plays the Tyrant in her Face.  
G—n has Beauty and a modest Air,  
Like Angels when in Human shapes they'ppear,  
Delude us Mortals but resemble her;  
Like hers their matchless Faces look divine,  
Light shines without, all Goodness dwells within.  
Whilst C-l's shape pursues th'admirer home,  
And animates the Flame where the does come;  
Nor can there be less Beauty reigning there,  
Where no Complexion is more amiably fair.  
The Graces all on S—t attend,  
And Beauty does to Virtue still fresh Honour send;  
The charming Sex are pleased to yield to her,  
That's with the Highest, Noble, Rich and Fair.  
Essential Ornaments that vest the Great,  
And which did ever on the P—ys wait;  
Not in mere Pageantry and public Show.  
But in such Actions as from Virtue flow:  
No servile Greatness does from hence appear,  
But truest Honour spreads its Influence here;  
Nor does the sacred marks of Goodness shine,  
In R—d's Face less Glorious or Divine;  
Graceful her mien is wrought in every turn,  
Charming her Air and elegant her Form:  
Thus moves the Machine in her lofty Sphere,  
Too humble to be proud, too high to fear.  
So C—lls bloom, prides more than Art can grace,  
Whilst Heaven's Brightness glitters in her Face;  
Looks like the blushing Morn her Image bears,  
And winning modesty her Nature wears;  
Gentle to all, obsequious to the Great;  
By Virtues Rules her Bosom does dilate.  
But V—r's Airs a cheerful Soul does raise,  
And elevates my Muse to sing her Praise;  
Sometimes her lovely Eyelids does depress,  
A strange becoming pensive heaviness:  
Yet still the same engaging happy Face,  
Has always some new turns—  
Something that adds a more peculiar Grace.  
W—lg—ve has Wit and Shape, and irresistless Airs,  
Has Dress engaging, void of Artful Cares:  
With such a mien she moves with such a grace,  
'Tis difficult for human Wit t'express,  
Which pleases most, her Looks her Shape, her Dress:  
Nor must we undistinguished pass by Sp—r's mien,  
Sp—r the beauteous Portrait of the Paphian Queen.  
Blessed Soul of Love and Beauties glorious Sun,  
Whose universal Beams on all Mankind have shone;  
Whilst under their kind Influence still we hope in vain,  
The Sex's Guardian Angels Virtue does maintain.  
So B—ng—n the God's peculiar Care,  
In not less Good and Virtuous than she's Fair;  
Becoming Airs from her Indulgence grow,  
And shining Virtues her true Honour show:  
Mildness of Nature in each Feature's dressed,  
And nought but softness dwells within her Breast:  
In every line of her unblemished Face,  
Are lodged the Characters of her Angelic Race  
But whilst each Beauty on as equal claim,  
More than my Muse dare Father upon Fame:  
Endless in Numbers would the Circle prove,  
To trace these beauteous Images of Love.  
How L—e's Complexion, and how H—d's Smile,  
Grace the Fame of Albione happy Isle do  
So L—d—d's killing Eyes, and B—s Air,  
Oblige Mankind to own'em Heavenly Fair.  
Gran—m, M—k—n, S—le, all their Charms dispense,  
Whilst R—ll adds her Powers of Eloquence,  
And C—ven—sh supplies the World with Sense.  
The Beauties that from B—d—ll's Eyes do stray,  
Diffuse their Charms as Orient light the day;  
And V—re deserves more than the World can pay.  
Rob—ts and D—g—y with the brightest Beauties shine,  
And F—ld—g's Goodness makes her form Divine.  
Give C—ter—t Wit, still P—g—t will have sense,  
And R—te—ffe o'er Mankind a kill Influence.  
W—dhm and B—rt—e both exactly Good,  
As in their Virtuous Actions in their Blood.  
G—y, M—yn—d, S—dn—y, F—rm—r, all appear,  
The same by Art what they by Nature are;  
Lovely and Bright as unmixed Honour shines,  
That rises not by proud or servile Arts declines:  
Such blooming Beauty adds a Heavenly Grace,  
To J—ffr—ys smiling look, and Th—p—n's Face;  
As cannot be but by that Grace expressed,  
In P—l—t's mien, and T—lb—t's noble Breast:  
Real Perfections which in both these live,  
Beyond what little Arts of Flattery can give:  
Untainted Honours from their Virtue flow,  
And the true Marks of their Distinction show.  
But was I Paris, I could not declare  
Which is most Noble, Virtuous or most Fair;  
So equal Beauty, Virtue, Honour is destowd,  
No one can here be called more Beauteous or less Good.   
FINIS.