« PreviousContinue »
The queen should fit in Windsor's facred grove,
Attended by the Gods of War and Love :
Both should with equal zeal her smiles implore,
To fix her joys, or to extend her power.
Sudden, the Nymphs and Tritons should appear ;
And, as great Anna's smiles dispel their fear,
With active dance should her observance claim;
With vocal shell should found her happy name;
Their master Thames should leave the neighbouring shore,
By his strong anchor known, and silver oar;
Should lay his ensigns at his sovereign's feet;
And audience mild with humble grace intreat.
To her, his dear defence, he should complain, That, while he bleffes her indulgent reign, Whilst furthest feas are by his Acets survey'd, And on his happy banks each India laid ; His brethren Maese, and Waal, and Rhine, and Saar, Feel the hard burthen of oppreffive war ; That Danube scarce retains his rightful course Against two rebel armies neighbouring force ; And all must weep sad captives to the Seine, Unless unchain'd and freed by Britain's queen.
The valiant fovereign calls her general forth i Neither recites her bounty, nor his worth : She tells him, he must Europe's fate redeem, And by that labour merit her esteem : She bids him wait her to the sacred hall; Shows him prince Edward, and the conquer'd Gaul ; Fixing the bloody cross upon his breast, Says, he must die, or succour the distress'd;
Placing the Saint an emblem by his fide,
She tells him, Virtue arm’d must conquer lawless Pride.
The Hero bows obedient, and retires :
The queen's commands exalt the warrior's fires,
His steps are to the silent woods inclin'd,
The great design revolving in his mind;
When to his fight a heavenly form appears :
Her hand a palm, her head a laurel wears.
Me, she begins, the fairest child of Jove,
Bclow for ever sought, and bless’d above;
Me, the bright source of wealth, and power, and fame,
(Nor need I say, Victoria is 'my name ;)
Me the great father down to thee has fent;
He bids me wait at thy distinguish'd tent,
To execute what Anna's wish would have :
Her subject thou, I only am her llave.
Dare then, thou much belov’d by smiling Fate,
For Anna's sake, and in her name, be great:,
Go forth, and be to distant nations known
My future favourite, and my darling fon,
At Schellenbergh I'll manifest sustain
Thy glorious cause; and spread my wings again,
Conspicuous o'er thy helm, in Blenheim's plain..
The Goddess said, nor would admit reply ;
But cut the liquid air, and gain'd the sky.
His high commission is through Britain known,
And thronging armies to his standard run;
He marches thoughtful, and he speedy fails:
(Bless him, ye fcas ! and profper him, ye gales!)
Belgia receives him welcome to her shores ;
And William's death with lessen'd grief deplores :
His presence only must retrieve that loss;
Marlborough to her must be what William was.
So when great Atlas, from these low abodes
Recalld, was gather'd to his kindred gods ;
Alcides, respited by prudent Fate,
Sustain’d the ball, nor droop'd beneath the weight.
Secret and swift behold the Chief advance ;
Sees half the empire join'd, and friend to France :
The British general dooms the fight; his sword
Dreadful he draws; the captains wait the word.
Anne and St. George the charging hero cries :
Shrill echo from the neighbouring wood replies
Anne and St. George.-At that aufpicious fign
The standards move; the adverse armies join.
Of eight great hours, Time measures out the fands;
And Europe's fate in doubtful balance stands :
The ninth, Victoria comes:-o'er Marlborough’s head
Confess'd she fits; the hostile troops recede :-
Triumphs the Goddess, from her promise freed.
The eagle, by the British lion's might Unchain'd and free, directs her upward Aight : Nor did she e'er with stronger pinions foar From Tyber's bank, than now from Danube's Thore.
Fir'd with the thoughts which these ideas raise, And great
ambition of my country's praise ; The English Muse should like the Mantuan rise, Scornful of earth and clouds, should reach the skies, *With wonder (though with envy still) pursued by
But we must change the style - just now I said,
I ne'er was master of the tuneful trade;
Or the small genius which my youth could boast,
In prose and bufiness lies extinct and loft:
Bless’d, if I may
Point out the game, and animate the flight;
That, from Marseilles to Calais, France may know,
As we have conquerors, we have poets too;
And either laurel does in Britain grow;
That, though among ourselves, with too much heat,
We sometimes wrangle, when we fhould debate;
(A consequential ill which freedom draws;
A bad effect, but from a noble cause ;)
We can with universal zeal advance,
To curb the faithless arrogance of France ;
Nor ever shall Britannia's fons refuse
To answer to thy Master or thy Muse;
Nor want just subject for victorious strains,
While Marlborough's arm eternal laurels gains ;
And where old Spenser sung, a new Elisa reigns,
Upon this Passage in the SCALIGERIANA. * Les Allemans ne ce soucient pas quel Vin ils boivent
pourveu que ce soit Vin, ni quel Latin ils parlent
“pourveu que ce soit Latin.”
WHEN you with High-Dutch Heeren dine,
Expect false Latin, and stumm’d wine :
They never taste, who always drink;
They always talk, who never think.
To a CHILD of QUALITY,
Five Years old, 1704 ;
The AUTHOR then Forty.
LORDS, knights, and” quires, the numerous band,
That wear the fair Miss Mary's fetters,
Were summond by her high command,
To shew their passions by their letters.
My pen amongst the rest I took,
Lest those bright eyes that cannot read
Should dart their kindling fires, and look
The power they have to be obey'd.
III. Nor quality, nor reputation,
Forbid me yet my flame to tell, Dear five
old befriends my passion, And I may write till she can spell.
For, while she makes her filk-worms beds.
With all the tender things I swear;
Whilst all the house my passion reads,
In papers round her baby's hair ;
She may receive and own my flame,
For, though the striétett prudes should know ito
She 'll pass for a most virtuous dame,
And I for an uzhappy poet.