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To view the Nar, tumultuous in his course, Stern tyrants, whom their cruelties renown,
And trace the smooth Clitumnus to his source, And emperors in Parian marble frown:
To see the Mincio draw his watery store,

While the bright dames, to whom they humbly sued Through the long windings of a fruitful shore, Still show the charms that their proud hearls subAnd hoary Albula's infected tide

dued. O'er the warm bed of smoking sulphur glide. Fain would I Raphael's godlike art rehearse, Fir'd with a thousand raptures, I survey

And show th' immortal labors in my verse, Eridanus through flowery meadows stray,

Where, from the mingled strength of shade and light The king of foods! that, rolling o'er the plains, A new creation rises to my sight, The towering Alps of half their moisture drains, Such heavenly figures from his pencil flow, And proudly swoln with a whole winter's snows, So warm with life bis blended colors glow. Distributes wealth and plenty where he flows. From theme to theme with secret pleasure tost,

Sometimes, misguided by the tuneful throng, Amidst the soft variety I'm lost : I look for streams immortaliz’d in song,

Here pleasing airs my ravish'd soul confound That lost in silence and oblivion lie,

With circling notes and labyrinths of sound; (Dumb are their fountains and their channels dry) Here domes and temples rise in distant views, Yet run for ever by the Muse's skill,

And opening palaces invite my Muse. And in the smooth description murmur still.

How has kind Heaven adorn’d the happy land, Sometimes 10 gentle Tiber I retire,

And scatter'd blessings with a wasteful hand! And the fam'd river's empty shores admire, But what avail her unexhausted stores, That destitute of strength derives its course Her blooming mountains, and her sunny shores, From thrifty urns and an unfruitful source; With gifts that Heaven and Earth impari, Yet sung so often in poetic lays,

The smiles of Nature, and the charms of Art, With scorn the Danube and the Nile surveys; While proud oppression in her valleys reigns, So high the deathless Muse exalts her theme! And tyranny usurps her happy plains ? Such was the Boyne, a poor inglorious stream, The poor inhabitant beholds in vain That in Hibernian vales obscurely stray'd, The reddening orange and the swelling grain And, unobserv'd, in wild meanders play'd ; Joyless he sees the growing oils and wines, Till by your lines and Nassau's sword renown'd, And in the myrtle's fragrant shade repines : Its rising billows through the world resound, Scarves in the midst of Nature's bounty curst, Where'er the hero's godlike acts can pierce, And in the loaden vineyard dies for thirst. Or where the fame of an immortal verse.

O Liberty, thou goddess heavenly bright, Oh, could the Muse my ravish'd breast inspire Profuse of bliss, and pregnant with delight! With warmth like yours, and raise an equal fire, Eternal pleasures in thy presence reign, Unnumber'd beauties in my verse should shine, And smiling Plenty leads thy wanton train; And Virgil's Italy should yield to mine!

Eas'd of her load, Subjection grows more light, See how the golden groves around me smile, And Poverty looks cheerful in thy sight; That shun the coast of Britain's stormy isle, Thou mak'st the gloomy face of Nature gay, Or, when transplanted and presery'd with care, Giv'st beauty to the Sun, and pleasure to the day Curse the cold clime, and starve in northern air. Thee, goddess, thee, Britannia's isle adores; Here kindly warmth their mountain juice ferments How has she oft exhausted all her stores, To nobler tastes, and more exalted scents :

How oft in fields of death thy presence sought, E'en the rough rocks with tender myrtle bloom, Nor thinks the mighty prize too dearly bought! And trodden weeds send out a rich perfume. On foreign mountains may the Sun refine Bear me, some god, to Baia's gentle seats,

The grape's soft juice, and mellow it to wine, Or cover me in Umbria's green retreats;

With citron groves adorn a distanı soil, Where western gales eternally reside,

And the fat olis swell with floods of oil :
And all the seasons lavish all their pride:

We envy not the warmer clime, that lies
Blossoms, and fruits, and flowers together rise, In ten degrees of more indulgent skies,
And the whole year in gay confusion lies. Nor at the coarseness of our Heaven repine,
Immortal glories in my mind revive,

Though o'er our heads the frozen Pleiads shine :
And in my soul a thousand passions strive, 'Tis Liberty that crowns Britannia's isle,
When Rome's exalted beauties I descry

And makes her barren rocks and her bleak mounMagnificent in piles of ruin lie.

tains smile. An amphitheatre's amazing height

Others with towering piles may please the sight, Here fills my eye with terror and delight,

And in their proud aspiring domes delight; That on its public shows unpeopled Rome, A nicer touch to the stretcht canvas give, And held, uncrowded, nations in its womb: Or teach their animated rocks to live : Here pillars rough with sculpture pierce the skies, \ 'Tis Britain's care to watch o'er Europe's fate, And here the proud triumphal arches rise, And hold in balance each contending state, Where the old Romans deathless acts display'd, To threaten bold presumptuous kings with war, Their base degenerate progeny upbraid:

And answer her afflicted neighbor's prayer. Whole rivers here forsake the fields below, [flow. The Dane and Swede, rous'd up by fierce alarms, And wondering at their height through airy channels Bless the wise conduct of her pious arms:

Still to new scenes my wandering Muse retires, Soon as her fleets appear, their terrors cease, And the dumb show of breathing rocks admires : And all the northern world lies hush'd in peace. Where the smooth chisel all its force has shown, Th'ambitious Gaul beholds with secret dread And soften d into flesh the rugged stone.

Her thunder aim'd at his aspiring head, In solemn silence, a majestic band,

And sain her godlike sons would disunite Heroes, and gods, and Roman consuls stand. By foreign gold, or by domestic spite :

But strives in vain to conquer or divide,

That sees her bravest son advanc'd so high, Whom Nassau's arms defend and counsels guide. And Aourishing so near her prince's eye ;

Fir'd with the name, which I so oft have found Thy favorites grow not up by fortune's sport, The distant climes and different tongues resound, Or from the crimes or follies of a court; I bridle-in my struggling Muse with pain, On the firm basis of desert they rise, That longs to launch into a bolder strain. From long-tried faith, and friendship’s holy ties :

But I've already troubled you too long, Their sovereign's well-distinguish'd smiles they Nor dare attempt a more adventurous song.

share, My humble verse demands a softer theme, Her ornaments in peace, her strength in war; A painted meadow, or a purling stream;

The nation thanks them with a public voice; Unfit for beroes: whom immortal lays,

By showers of blessings Heaven approves then And lines, like Virgil's, or like yours, should praise.

Envy itself is dumb, in wonder lost,
And factions strive who shall applaud them most.

Soon as soft vernal breezes warm the sky,
Britannia's colors in the zephyrs fly;
Her chief already has his march begun,

Crossing the provinces himself had won,

Till the Moselle, appearing from afar,

Retards the progress of the moving war.

Delightful stream, had Nature bid her fall

In distant climes far from the perjur'd Gaul; TO HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH, 1705. But now a purchase to the sword she lies,

Her harvests for uncertain owners rise,
-Rheni pacator et letri.

Each vineyard doubtful of its master grows,
Omnis in hoc uno variis discordia cessit

And to the victor's bowl each vintage flows. Ordinibus; lætatur eques, plauditque senator,

The discontented shades of slaughter'd hosis, Votaque patricio certant plebeia favori.

Claud. de Laud. Stilic.

That wander'd on her banks, her heroes' ghosts,

Hop'd, when they saw Britannia's arms appear, Esse aliquam in terris gentem quæ suâ impensa, suo labore ac The vengeance due to their great deaths was near

periculo, bella gerat pro libertate aliorum. Nec hoc finiti-
mis, aut propinquæ vicinitatis hominibus, aut terris conui. The mighty scheme of all his labors cast,

Our godlike leader, ere the stream he past, nenti junctis præstet. Maria trajiciat : ne quod toto orbe terrarum injustum imperium sit, et ubique jus, fas, lex, poten- Forming the wondrous year within his thought; tissima sint.

Liv. Hist. lib. 33. His bosom glow'd with battles yet unfought.

The long laborious march he first surveys, While crowds of princes your deserts proclaim, And joins the distant Danube to the Maese, Proud in their number to enrol your name; Between whose floods such pathless forests grow, While emperors to you commit their cause, Such mountains rise, so many rivers flow: And Anna's praises crown the vast applause; The toil looks lovely in the hero's eyes, Accept, great leader, what the Muse recites, And danger serves but to enhance the prize. That in ambitious verse attempts your fights. Big with the fate of Europe, he renews Fir'd and transported with a theme so new, His dreadful course, and the proud foe pursues ! Ten thousand wonders opening to my view Infected by the burning Scorpion's heat, Shine forth at once; sieges and storms appear, The sultry gales round his chaf'd temples beat, And wars and conquests fill th' important year: Till on the borders of the Maine he finds Rivers of blood I see, and hills of slain,

Defensive shadows, and refreshing winds. An Iliad rising out of one campaign.

Our British youth, with inborn freedom bold, The haughty Gaul beheld, with towering pride, Unnumber'd scenes of servitude behold, His ancient bounds enlarg'd on every side; Nations of slaves, with tyranny debas'd, Pyrene's lofty barriers were subdued,

(Their Maker's image more than half defac'd.) And in the midst of his wide empire stood ; Hourly instructed, as they urge their toil, Ausonia's states, the victor to restrain,

To prize their queen, and love their native soil. Oppos'd their Alps and A pennines in vain,

Still 10 the rising Sun they take their way Nor found themselves, with strength of rocks im- Through clouds of dust, and gain upon the day. mur'd,

When now the Neckar on its friendly coast Behind their everlasting hills secur'd;

With cooling streams revives the fainting host, The rising Danube its long race began,

That cheerfully his labors past forgets, And half its course through the new conquests ran; The midnight watches, and the noon-day heats. Amaz'd and anxious for her sovereign's fates, O'er prostrate towns and palaces they pass Germania trembled through a hundred states; (Now cover'd o'er with woods, and hid' in grass.) Great Leopold himself was seiz'd with fear; Breathing revenge ; whilst anger and disdain He gaz'd around, but saw no succor near ; Fire every breast, and boil in every vein : He gaz'd, and half-abandon'd to despair

Here shatter'd walls, like broken rocks from far, His hopes on Heav'n, and confidence in prayer. Rise up in hideous views, the guilt of war;

To Britain's queen the nations tum ther eyes, Whilst here the vine o'er hills of ruin climbs, On her resolves the western world relies, Industrious to conceal great Bourbon's crimes. Confiding still, amidst its dire alarms,

At length the fame of England's hero drew In Anna's councils, and in Churchill's arms. Eugenio to the glorious interview. Thrice happy Britain, from the kingdoms rent, Great souls by instinct to each other turn, lo sit the guardian of the continent!

Demand alliance, and in friendship burn;

A sudden friendship, while with stretch'd-out rays Nor hazard thus, confus'd in crowds of foes,
They meet each other, mingling blaze with blaze. Britannia's safety, and the world's repose;
Polish'd in courts, and harden'd in the field, Let nations anxious for thy life abate
Renown'd for conquest, and in council skill'd, This scorn of danger, and contempt of fate:
Their courage dwells not in a troubled flood Thou liv'st not for thyself; thy queen demands
Of mountain spirits, and fermenting blood; Conquest and peace from thy victorious hands;
Lodg’d in the soul, with virtue over-rul'd, Kingdoms and empires in thy fortune join,
Inflain'd by reason, and by reason cool'd, And Europe's destiny depends on thine.
In hours of peace content to be unknown,

At length the long-disputed pass they gain, And only in the field of battle shown:

By crowded armies fortified in vain; To souls like these, in mutual friendship join'd, The war breaks in, the fierce Bavarians yield, Heaven dares intrust the cause of human-kind. And see their camp with British legions fillid. Britannia’s graceful sons appear in arms,

So Belgian mounds bear on their shatter'd sides Her harass'd troops the hero's presence warms,

The sea's whole weight increas'd with swelling Whilst the high hills and rivers all around

tides; With thundering peals of British shouts resound : But if the rushing wave a passage finds, Doubling their speed, they march with fresh delight, Enrag'd by watery moons, and warring winds, Eager for glory, and require the fight.

The trembling peasant sees his country round So the staunch hound the trembling deer pursues, Cover'd with tempests, and in oceans drown'd. And smells his footsteps in the tainted dews, The few surviving foes disperst in flight, The tedious track unravelling by degrees :

(Refuse of swords, and gleanings of a fight,) But when the scent comes warm in every breeze, In every rustling wind the victor hear, Fir'd at the near approach he shoots away

And Marlborough's form in every shadow fear, On his full stretch, and bears upon his prey. Till the dark cope of night with kind embrace

The march concludes, the various realms are past; Befriends the rout, and covers their disgrace. Th’immortal Schellenberg appears at last :

To Donavert, with unresisted force, Like hills th' aspiring ramparts rise on high, The gay victorious army hends its course. Like valleys at their feet ihe trenches lie; The growth of meadows, and the pride of fields, Batteries on batteries guard each fatal pass, Whatever spoils Bavaria's summer yields,

Threatening destruction ; rows of hollow brass, (The Danube's great increase,) Britannia shares, Tabe behind tube, the dreadful entrance keep, The food of armies and support of wars : Whilst in their wombs ten thousand thunders sleep: Witi, magazines of death, destructive balls, Great Churchill owns, charm'd with the glorious and cannon doom'd to batter Landau's walls, sight,

The victor finds each hidden cavern stor’d, His march o'er-paid by such a promis'd fight. And turns their fury on their guilty lord. The western Sun now shot a feeble ray,

Deluded prince! how is thy greatness crost, And fainily scatter'd the remains of day:

And all the gaudy dream of empire lost, Ev’ning approach'd ; but oh what host of foes. That proudly set thee on a fancied ibrone, Were never to behold that evening close! And made imaginary realms thy own! Thickening their ranks, and wedg'd in firm array, Thy troops, that now behind the Danube join, The close-compacted Britons win their way; Shall shortly seek for shelter from the Rhine, In vain the cannon their throng'd war defac'd Nor find it there! Surrounded with alarms, With tracts of death, and laid the battle waste; Thou hop'st the assistance of the Gallic arms; Still pressing forward to the fight, they broke The Gallic arms in safety shall advance, Through Hames of sulphur, and a night of smoke, And crowd thy standards with the power of France Till slaughter'd legions fill'd the trench below, While, to exalt thy doom, th' aspiring Gaul And bore their fierce avengers to their foe. Shares thy destruction, and adorns thy fall. High on the works the mingling hosts engage;

Unbounded courage and compassion join'd, The battle, kindled into tenfold rage,

Tempering each other in the victor's mind, With showers of bullets and with storms of fire Alternately proclaim him good and great, Burns in full fury; heaps on heaps expire, And make the hero and the man complete. Nations with nations mix'd confus'dly die, Long did he strive th' obdurate foe to gain And lost in one promiscuous carnage lie. By proffer'd grace, but long he strove in vain;

How many generous Britons meet their doom, Till, fir'd at length, he thinks it vain to spare New to the field, and heroes in the bloom! His rising wrath, and gives a loose to war. 'Th'illustrious youths, that left their native shore In vengeance rous'd, the soldier fills his hand To march where Britons never march'd before, With sword and fire, and ravages the land, (O fatal love of fame! O glorious heat,

A thousand villages to ashes turns, Only destructive to the brave and great!)

In crackling fames a thousand harvests burns. Arter such toils o'ercome, such dangers past, To the thick woods the woolly flocks retreat, Stretch'd on Bavarian ramparts breathe their last : And mixt with bellowing herds confus'dly bleat; But hold, my Muse, may no complaints appear, Their trembling lords the common shade partake, Nor blot the day with an ungrateful tear: And cries of infants sound in every brake: While Marlborough lives, Britannia's stars dispense The listening soldier fixt in sorrow stands, A friendly light, and shine in innocence.

Loth to obey his leader's just commands; Plunging through seas of blood his fiery sleed, The leader grieves, by generous pity sway'd, Where'er his friends retire, or foes succeed: To see his just commands so well obey'd. Those he supports, these drives to sudden flight, But now the trumpet terrible from fa: And turns the various fortune of the fight. In shriller clangors animates the war;

Forbear, great man, renown'd in arms, forbear Confederate drums in fuller concert beat, To brave the thickest lerrors of the war,

And echoing hills the loud alarm repeat.

Gallia's proud standards, to Bavaria's join'd, In joys of conquest he resigns his breath,
Unfurl their gilded lilies in the wind;

And, fill'd with England's glory, smiles in death.
The daring prince his blasted hopes renews, The rout begins, the Gallic squadrons run,
And, while the thick embattled host he views Compellid in crowds to meet the fate they shun;
Stretcht out in deep array, and dreadful length, Thousands of fiery steeds with wounds transfix'd,
His heart dilates, and glories in his strength. Floating in gore, with their dead masters mixt,
The fatal day its mighty course began,

'Midst heaps of spears and standards driven around That the griev'd world had long desir'd in vain; Lie in the Danube's bloody whirlpools drown'd. States that their new captivity bemoan'd, Troops of bold youths, born on the distant Soane, Armies of martyrs that in exile groan'd,

Or sounding borders of the rapid Rhône, Sighs from the depth of gloomy dungeons heard, Or where the Seine her flowery fields divides, And prayers in bitterness of soul preferr'd, Or where the Loire through winding vineyards Europe's loud cries, that Providence assail'd,

glides, And Anna's ardent vows at length prevailid; In heaps the rolling billows sweep away, The day was come when Heaven design'd to show And into Scythian seas their bloated corpse convey. His care and conduct of the world below.

From Blenheim's towers the Gaul, with wild affright, Behold in awful march and dread array Beholds the various havoc of the fight; The long-extended squadrons shape their way! His waving banners, that so oft had stood Death, in approaching, terrible, imparts

Planted in fields of death, and streams of blood, An anxious horror to the bravest hearts ;

So wont the guarded enemy to reach, Yet do their beating breasts demand the strife, And rise triumphant in the fatal breach, And thirst of glory quells the love of life. Or pierce the broken foe's remotest lines, No vulgar fears can British minds control : The hardy veteran with tears resigns. Heat of revenge, and noble pride of soul,

Unfortunate Tallard! Oh, who can name O'erlook the foe, advantag'd by his post,

The pangs of rage, of sorrow, and of shame, Lessen bis numbers, and contract his host; That with mixt tumult in thy bosom swell’d, Though fens and floods possest the middle space, When first thou saw'st thy bravest troops repellid, That unprovok'd they would have fear'd to pass ; Thine only son pierc'd with a deadly wound, Nor fens nor floods can stop Britannia's bands, Chok'd in his blood, and gasping on the ground, When her proud foe rang’d on their borders stands. Thyself in bondage by the victor kept!

But O, my Muse, what numbers wilt thou find The chief, the father, and the captive, wept. To sing the furious troops in battle join'd! An English Muse is touch'd with generous woe, Methinks I hear the drums tumultuous sound, And in th' unhappy man forgets the foe! The victors' shouts and dying groans confound, Greatly distrest! thy loud complaints forbear, The dreadful burst of cannon rend the skies, Blame not the turns of fate, and chance of war; And all the thunder of the battle rise. (prov'd, Give thy brave foes their due, nor blush to own 'Twas then great Marlborough's mighty soul was The fatal field by such great leaders won, That, in the shock of charging hosts unmovid, The field whence fam'd Eugenio bore away Amidst confusion, horror, and despair,

Only the second honors of the day. Examin'd all the dreadful scenes of war:

With floods of gore, that from the vanquish'd fell, In peaceful thought the field of death survey'd, The marshes stagnate, and the rivers swell. To fainting squadrons sent the timely aid, Mountains of slain lie heap'd upon the ground, Inspir'd repuls'd battalions to engage,

Or 'midst the roarings of the Danube drown'd; And taught the doubtful batile where to rage. Whole captive hosts the conqueror detains So when an angel by divine command

In painful bondage, and inglorious chains ; With rising tempests shakes a guilty land, Ev'n those who 'scape the fetters and the sword, Such as of late o'er pale Britannia past,

Nor seek the fortunes of a happier lord, Calm and serene he drives the furious blast; Their raging king dishonors, to complete And, pleas'd th' Almighty's orders to perform, Marlborough's great work, and finish the defeat. Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm. From Memminghen's high domes, and Augs But see the haughty household troops advance!

burg's walls, The dread of Europe, and the pride of France. The distant battle drives th' insulting Gauls; The war's whole art each private soldier knows, Freed by the terror of the victor's name, And with a general's love of conquest glows; | The rescu'd states his great protection claim; Proudly he marches on, and void of fear Whilst Ulme th' approach of her deliverer waits, Laughs at the shaking of the British spear : And longs to open her obsequious gates. Vain insolence! with native freedom brave,

The hero's breast still swells with great designs, The meanest Briton scorns the highest slave: In every thought the towering genius shines : Contempt and fury fire their souls by turns, If to the foe his dreadful course he bends, Each nation's glory in each warrior burns; O'er the wide continent his march extends ; Each fights, as in his arm th' important day If sieges in his laboring thoughts are form’d, And all the fate of his great monarch lay: Camps are assaulted, and an army storm'd ; A thousand glorious actions, that might claim If to the fight his active soul is bent, Triumphant laurels, and immortal fame,

The fate of Europe turns on its event. Confus'd in crowds of glorious actions lie, What distant land, what region, can afford And troops of heroes undistinguish'd die.

An action worthy his victorious sword? O Dormer, how can I behold thy fate,

Where will he next the flying Gaul defeat, And not the wonders of thy youth relate! To make the series of his toils complete ? How can I see the gay, the brave, the young,

Where the swoln Rhine, rushing with all its force Fall in the cloud of war, and lie unsung!

Divides the hostile nations in its course,

While each contracts its bounds, or wider grows, Such are th' effects of Anna's royal cares :
Enlarg'd or straiten'd as the river flows,

By her, Britannia, great in foreign wars,
On Gallia's side a mighty bulwark stands, Ranges through nations, wheresoe'er disjoin'd,
That all the wide-extended plain commands ; Without the wonted aid of sea and wind.
Twice, since the war was kindled, has it tried By her th' unfetter'd Ister's states are free,
The victor's rage, and twice has chang'd its side; And taste the sweets of English liberty :
As oft whole armies, with the prize o'erjoy'd, But who can tell the joys of those that lie
Have the long summer on its walls employ'd. Beneath the contant influence of her eye!
Hither our mighty chief his arms directs,

Whilst in diffusive showers her bounties fall Hence future triumphs from the war expects; Like Heaven's indulgence, and descend on all, And though the dog-star had its course begun, Secure the happy, succor the distrest, Carries his arms still nearer to the Sun:

Make every subject glad, and a whole people blest Fixt on the glorious action, he forgets

Thus would I fain Britannia's wars rehearse, The change of seasons, and increase of heats ; In the smooth records of a faithful verse; No loils are painful that can danger show, That, if such numbers can o'er time prevail, No climes unlovely, that contain a foe.

May tell posterity the wondrous tale. The roving Gaul, to his own bounds restrain'd, When actions, unadorn'd, are faint and weak, Learns to encamp within his native land,

Cities and countries must be taught to speak; But soon as the victorious host he spies,

Gods may descend in factions from the skies, From hill to hill, from stream to stream he flies : And rivers from their oozy beds arise ; Soch dire impressions in his heart remain Fiction may deck the truth with spurious rays, Of Marlborough's sword and Hochtste's fatal plain : And round the hero cast a borrow'd blaze. In vain Britannia's mighty chief besets

Marlborough's exploits appear divinely bright, Their shady coverts, and obscure retreats; And proudly shine in their own native light, They fly the conqueror's approaching fame, Rais'd of themselves their genuine charms they That bears the force of armies in his name.

Austria's young monarch, whose imperial sway And those who paint them truest praise them most
Scepires and thrones are destin'd to obey,
Whose boasted ancestry so high extends
That in the pagan gods his lineage ends,
Comes from afar, in gratitude to own

The great supporter of his father's throne:
What tides of glory to his bosom ran,

Clasp'd in th' embraces of the godlike man!
How were his eyes with pleasing wonder fixt,

KNELLER, with silence and surprise
To see such fire with so much sweetness mixt,

We see Britannia's monarch rise, Such easy greatness, such a graceful port,

A godlike form, by thee display'd So turn'd and finish'd for the camp or court!

In all the force of light and shade ; Achilles thus was form'd with ev'ry grace,

And, aw'd by thy delusive hand, And Nireus shone but in the second place;

As in the presence-chamber stand. Thus the great father of almighty Rome

The magic of thy art calls forth (Divinely flusht with an immortal bloom,

His secret soul and hidden worth, That Cytherea's fragrant breath bestow'd)

His probity and mildness shows, In all the charms of his bright mother glow'd.

His care of friends, and scorn of foes, The royal youth by Marlborough's presence In every stroke, in every line, charm'd,

Does some exalted virtue shine, Taught by his counsels, by his actions warm'd, And Albion's happiness we trace On Landau with redoubled fury falls,

Through all the features of his face. Discharges all the thunder on its walls,

O may I live to hail the day, O'er mines and caves of death provokes the fight, When the glad nation shall survey And learns to conquer in the hero's sight.

Their sovereign, through his wide command The British chief, for mighty toils renown'd,

Passing in progress o'er the land ! Increas'd in titles, and with conquests crown'd, Each heart shall bend, and every voice To Belgian coasts his tedious march renews,

In loud applauding shouts rejoice, And the long windings of the Rhine pursues,

Whilst all his gracious aspect praise, Clearing its borders from usurping foes,

And crowds grow loyal as they gaze. And blest by rescued nations as he goes.

The image on the medal plac'd, Treves fears no more, freed from its dire alarms; With its bright round of titles grac'd, And Traerbach feels the terror of his arms :

And stampt on British coins shall live, Seated on rocks her proud foundations shake,

To richest ores the value give, While Marlborough presses to the bold attack.

Or, wrought within the curious mould, Plants all his batteries, bids his cannon roar,

Shape and adorn the running gold. And shows how Landau might have fall'n before. To bear this form, the genial Sun Scar'd at his near approach, great Louis fears

Has daily since his course begun Vengeance reserv'd for his declining years,

Rejoic'd the metal to refine, Forgets his thirst of universal sway,

And ripend the Peruvian mine. And scarce can teach his subjects to obey ;

Thou, Kneller, long with noble pride, His arms he finds on vain attempts employ'd,

The foremost of thy art, hast vied Th' ambitious projects for his race destroy'd,

With Nature in a generous strise, The works of ages sunk in one campaign,

And touch'd the canvas into life. And lives of millions sacrific'd in vain.

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