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HUMBLY INSCRIBED TO
Be set aside ; and, in the softest lays
wise a Trojan. That this Brute, fourth or Afth Of thy poctic sons, be solemn praise
from Æneas, settled in England, and built Lon. And everlasting marks of honour paid
don, which is called Troja Nova, or Troynovante, To the true lover, and the Nut-brown Maid." is a story which (I think) owes its original, if not
to Geoffry of Monmouth, at least to the monkish writers; yet is not rejected by our great Camden; and is told by Milton, as if (at least) he was
pleased with it, though possibly he does not beAN ODE,
lieve it: however, it carries a poetical authority, which is sufficient for our purpose. It is as cer.
tain that Brute came into England, as that Fneas THE QU}.EN,
went into Italy; and, upon the supposition of
these facts, Virgil wrote the best poem that the ON THE GLORIOUS SUCCESS OF HER MAJESTY'S ARMS,
world ever read, and Spenser paid queen Elizabeth 1706.
the greatest complinicut. WRITTEN IN IMITATION OF SPENSER'S STYLE.
I need not obriate one piece of criticism, that
I bring my hero
From burning 'Troy, and Xanthus red with blood :
whereas he was not born when that city was de. Hor. stroyed. Virgil, in the case of his own Æneas
relating to Dido, will stand as a sufficient proof,
that a man, in his poetical capacity, is not acPREFACE.
countable for a little fault in chronology.
My two great examples, Horace and Spenser, When I first thought of writing upon this occa in many things resemble each other: both have a sion, I found the ideas so great and numerous, height of imagination, and a majesty of expression that I judged them more proper for the warmth in describing the sublime; and both know to temof an ode, than for any other sort of poetry: 1 per those talents, and sweeten the description, so therefore set Horace before me for a pattern, and as to make it lovely as well as pompous: both particularly the famous ode, the fourth of the bave equally that agreeable manner of mixing fourth book,
morality with their story, and that curiosa felicitas Qualem ministrum fulminis alitem, &c.
in the choice of their diction, which every writer
aims at, and so very few have reached : both are which he wrote in praise of Drusus, after his ex- particularly fine in their images, and knowing in pedition into Germany, and of Augustus, upon his their numbers. Leaving, therefore, our two mashappy choice of that general. And in the follow-ters to the consideration and study of those who ing poeni, though I have endeavoured to imitate design to excel in poetry, I only beg leave to add, all the great strokes of that ode, I have taken the that it is long since I have (or at least ought to liberty to go off from it, and to add variously, as have) quitted Parnassus, and all the flowery roads the subject and my own imagination carried me. on that side the country; though I thought my. As to the style, the choice I made of following the self indispensably obliged, upon the present ocode in Latin, determined me in English to the casion, to take a little joumey into those parts, stanza ; and herein it was impossible not to have a mind to follow onr great countryman Speaser; which I have done (as well, at least, as I could) in the manner of my expression, and the turn of
ODE. my number: having only added one verse to his stanza, which I thought made the number more When great Augustus govern'd ancient Rome, harmonious; and avoided such of his words as ! And sent his conquering bands to foreign wars; found 100 obsolete. I have, however, retained
Abroad when dreaded, and belor'd at hoine, some few of them, to make the colouring look He saw his faine increasing with his years ; Enure like Spenser's. Behest, command; band, Horace, great bard! (so Fate ordain'd) arose, army i proces, strength; liceet, I know; 1 zvern,
And, bold as were his countrymen in fight, I think; whilurr, heretofort ; and two or three Snatch'd their fair actions from degrading prose, more of that kind, which I hope the ladies will And set their battles in eternal light: pardon ine, and not judge my Muse less hand. High as their trumpets tune Þis lyre he strung, Sonne, though for once she appears in a farthingale. And with his prince's arins he inoraliz'd his song I have also, io Spenser's manner, used Cæsar for the emperor, Boya for Bavaria, Bavar for that When bright Eliza rul'd Britannia's state, prince, Ister for Danube, Iberia for Spain, &c.
Widely distributing her high commands, That noble part of the ode which I just now And boldly wise, and fortunately great, mentioned,
Frecd the glad nations from tyrannic bands;
An equal genius was in Spenser found;
To the high theine he match'd his poble lags :
He travellid England o'er on fairy ground, where Horace praises the Romans as being de. In mystic notes to sing his monarch's praise : s'ended from neas, I have turned to the honour Reciting wondrous truths in pleasing dreams, of the British nation, descended from Brute, likc- He deck'd Eliza's head with Gloriana's beains
But, greatest Anna! while thy arms pursue Those laurel groves, (the merits of the south) Paths of renown, and climb ascents of fame, Which thou froin Mahomet didst greatly gain, Which nor Augustus, nor Eliza knew;
While, bold assertor of resistless truth, What poet shall be found to sing thy name? Thy sword did godlike liberty inaintain,
What numberz'shall record, what tongue shall say, Must from thy brow their falling honours shed, + Thy wars on laud, thy triumphs on the main? And their transplanted wreaths must deck a wor• O fainest model of imperial sway!
thier head. What equal pen shall write thy wondrous reign? Who shall attenupts and teats of arms rehearse,
Yet cease the ways of Providence to blame, Nor yet by story told, nor parallel'd by verse?
And human faults with human grief confess;
"Tis thou art chang'd, while Heaven is still the same; Me all too mean for such a task I weet:
From thy ill councils date thy ill success. Yet, if the sovereixn lady reigns to smile,
Impartial Justice holds her equal scales, C
Till stronger virtue does the weight incline:
He now defends the cause that once was thine. And smit with pleasure of my country's praise, Righteous the the champion shall subdue; Stretching the plumes of an uncommon wing,
For Jove's great handmaid, Power; must Jove's deHigh as Olympus I my flight will raise;
crees pursue. And latest times shall in my numbers read Anna's immortal fame, and Marlborouch's hardy
Hark! the dire trumpets sound their shrill alarms! 1. derd.
Auverquerque, branch'd from the renown'd Nassaus,
Hoary in war, and bent beneath his armis, As the strong eagle in the silent wood,
llis glorious sword with dauntless courage draws. Mindless of warlike rage and hostile care,
When anxious Britain mourn'd her parting lord, Plavs round the rocky elitf or crystal tool,
And all of William that was mortal died; . Till by Jove's high behests call'd out to war, The faithful hero had receiv'd this sword c. And charg'd with thunder of his angry kind, From his expiring master's much-lov'd side. His busoin with the vongrful message glows; Oft from its fatal ire has Louis flown, l'pward the noble bird directs his wing,
Where'er great William led, or Maese and Sambre And, towering round his master's earth-born foes, Swift he collects his fatal stück of ire, Lifts his fierce talon high, and darts the forked fire.
But brandish'd high, in an ill-omen'd hour
To thee, proud Gaul, behold thy justest fear, Sedate and calm thus victor Marlborough sate, The master-sword, disposer of thy power: Shaded with laurels, in his native land,
"Tis that which Cæsar gave the British peeros Till Anna calls him from his soft retreat,
He took the gift: “ Nor ever will I sheathe And gives her second thunder to his hand.
This steell (so Anna's high behests ordain)," Then, leaving sweet repose and gentle case, The general said, “ unless by glorious death With ardent speed he seeks the distant foe; Absolv'd, till conquest has confirm'd your reign. Marching o'er bills and rales, o'er rocks and seas, Returns like these our mistress bids us inake, He ineditates, and strikes the wondrous blow. When from a foreign prince a gift her Britons taka" Our thought flies slower than our geberal's fame: Grasps he the bolt? we ask-wheu he has hurl'd And now fierce (iallia rushes on her foes, the flame.
Her force augmented by the Boyan bands; Wh:n fierce Bavar, on Judoign's spacious plain,
So Volga's stream, increas'd by mountain snows, Did from afar the British chief behold,
Robi with new furt down through Russia's lands. Betwixt despair, and rage, and hope, and pain, Like two great rocks against the raging tide, Something within his warning bosom rollid:
(If Virtue's force with Nature's we compare) Ile views that farourite of in.lulgent Fame,
l'nmov'd the two united chiefs abide, Whom whilom he had met on Işter's shore;
Sustain the impulse, and receive the war. Too well, alts! the man he know's the samne,
Round their firın sjdes, in vain, the tempest beats; Whose prowess there repellil the Boyan power,
And still the foailing wave, with lessen'd power, And sent them trembling through the frighted lands,
retreats. Swift as the whirlwind drivcs Arabia's scatter'd The rage dispers’d, the glorious pair/advance, ! sands.
With mingled anger and collected might, His forider losses he forgets to grieve :
To turn the war, and tell aggressing France, Absolves his fate, if, with a kinder rav,
How Britain's sons and Britain's friends can fighte It now would shine, and only give himn leave On conquest fix'd, and covetous of fame, To balance the account of Blenheim's day. Behold thein rushing through the Gallic host: So the fell lion in the lonely glade,
Thmugh standing corn so runs the sudden flarne, His sicle still smarting with the hunter's spear, Or eastern winds along Sicilia's coast. Therugh deeply wounded, no way yet dismay'd,
They deal their terrours to the adverse nation: Roars terrible, and meditates new war;
Pale Death attends their arms, and ghastly Delo sullen fury traverses the plain,
sulation. To find the renturous foc, and battle him again.
But while, with fiercest ire, Bellona glows, Misguided prince, no longer urge thy fate, And Europe rather hopes than fears her fate; Nos teinpt the hero to unequal war;
While Britain presses her aftlicted foes; Pam'd in misfortune, and in ruin grcat,
What horrour damps the strung, and quells the Confess thc force of Marlborough's stronger star.
Whence look the soldiers' cheeks dismay'd and Ill-starr'd did we our forts and lines forsake, pale ?
To dare our British foes to open fight: Erst ever dreadful, know they now to dread? Our conquest we by stratagem should make: The hostile troops, I ween, almost prevail; Our triumph had been founded in our flight. And the pursuers only not recede.
'Tis ours by craft and by surprise to gain : Alas! their lessen'd rage proclaims their grief! 'Tis theirs, to meet in arms, and battle in the For, anxious, lo! they crowd around their falling plain.
chief. “I thank thee, Pate!" exclaims the fierce Bavar; Their boasted Brute, undaunted snatch'd his gode
“ The ancient father of this hostile brood, Let Boya's trampel grateful lö's sound : saw him fall, their thunderbolt of war:
From burning Troy, and Xanthas red with blood,
And fix'd on silver Thames his dire abodes : Ever to Vengeance sacred be the ground.” Vain wish! short jov! the hero mounts again
‘And this be Troynovante,' he said, the seat
py Heaven ordain'd, my sons, your lasting place: In greater glory, and with fuller light :
Superior here to all the bolts of Fate The evening star so falls into the main,
Live, mindful of the author of your race, To rise at morn more prevalently bright.
Whom neither Greece, nor war, nor want, nor He rises safe; but near, too near his side,
flame, A good man's grievous loss, a faithful servant died.
Nor great Pelides'arm, nor Juno's rage, could tame.' Propitious Mars! the battle is regain'd : The foe, with lessen'd wrath, disputes the field:
“ Their Tudors hence, and Stuarts offspring flow : The Briton fights, by favouring gods sustain'd:
Hence Edward, dreadful with his sable shield, Freedom must live; and lawless Power must yield. Talbot to Gallia's power eternal foe, Vain now the tales which fabling poets tell,
And Seymour, fam'd in council or in field:. That wavering Conquest still desires to rove! Hence Nevil, great to settle or dethrope, In Marlborough's camp the goddess knows to dwell: And Drake, and Ca'ndish, terrours of the sea : Long as the hero's life remains her love.
Hence Butler's sons, o'er land and ocean known, Agaju France flies, again the duke pursues,
Herbert's and Churchill's warring progeny : And on Ramilia's plains he Blenheim's fame re
Hence the long roll which Gallia should conceal:
to tell ?
Which on her mountain top she proudly bears,
For letters more polite, in battles more renown'd A pitch to old and modern tiines unknown:
Obstinate power, whom nothing can repel; Those goodly deeds, which we so highly prize,
Not the fierce Saxon, nor the cruel Dane, Imperfect seem, great chief, to thee alone.
Nor deep impression of the Norman steel, Those heights, where William's virtue might have
Nor Europe's force amass`d by envious Spain, staid,
Nor France, on universal sway intent, And on the subject world look'd safely down,
Oft breaking leagues, and oft renewing wars, By Marlborough pass'd, the props and steps were
Nor (frequent bane of weaken'd gorernment) made
Their own intestine feuds and mutual jars : Sublimer yet to raise his queen's renown:
Those feuds and jars, in which I trusted inore, Still gaining more, still slighting what he gain'd,
Than in my troo, s, and feets, and all the Gallie Nought done the hero deem'd, while aught undone
power. remain'd. When swift-wing'd Rumour told the mighty Gaul,
“ To fruitful Rheims, or fair Lutetia's gate, How lessen'd from the field Bavar was flerl;
What tidings shall the messenger convey? He wept the swiftness of the champion's fall;
Shall the loud herald our success relate, And thus the royal treaty-breaker said :
Or mitred priest appoint the solemn day? " And lives he yet, the great, the lost Bavar,
Alas! my praises they no more must sing; Ruin to Gallia in the name of friend?
They to my statue now must box no more: Tell me, how far has Fortune been severe?
Broken, repuls'd is their immortal king : Has the foe's glory, or our grief, an end?
Fall'n, fall’n for ever, is the Gallic power! Remains there, of the fifty thousand lost,
The woman chief is master of the war: To save our threaten 'd realm, or guard our shatter'd
Earth she has freed by arms, and vanquish'd Heacoast?
ven by prayer." " To the close rock the frighted raven flies, While thus the ruin'd foe's despair commends Soon as the rising eagle cuts the air :
Thy council and thy deed, victorious queen, The shaggy wolf, unseen and trembling, lies, What shall thy subjects say, and what thy friends? When the hoarse roar proclaims the lion near. How shall thy triumphs in our joy be seen?
Oh! deign to let the eldest of the Nine
And standards with distinguish'd honours bright, Recite Britannia great, and Gallia free:
Marks of high power and national command, Oh! with her sister, Sculpture, let her join Which Valois' sons, and Bourbon's bore in fight, To raise, great Anne, the monument to thee; Or gave to Foix', or Montmorency's hand : To thee, of all our good the sacred spring; Great spoils which Gallia must to Britain yield, To thee, our dearest dread'; to thee, our
From Cressy's battle said to grace Ramilia's field. king.
And, as fine Art the spaces may disposer 1 Let Europe sav'd the column high erect,
The knowing thought and curious eye shall see 2 Than Trajan's higher, or than Antoninc's; Thy emblèm, gracious queer, the British rose, i Where sembling Art may carve the fair effect Type of sweet rule and gentle majesty: 2 And full achievement of thy great designs.
The northern thistle, whom no hostile hands In a calm heaven, and a serener air,
l'nhurt too rudely may provoke, I ween;
8 Sublime the queen shall on the summit stand,
Hibernia's harp, device of her command, From danger far, as far remov'd from fear, And parent of her, mirth, shall there be seen: And pointing down to Earth her dread command. Thy vanquish'd lilies, France, decay'd and torn, 5 All winds, all storms, that threaten human woe, Shall with disorder'd pomp the lasting work adorn. Shall sink beneath her feet, and spread their rage Beneath, great queen, oh! very far beneath, A below.
Near to the ground, and on the humble base, & Their fleets shall strive, by winds and waters tost,' To save herself from darkness and from death, A
That Muse desires the last, the lowest place;
Who, tho’unmeet, yet touch'd the trembling string, 3 Shall fix his foot : “ and this, be this the land, For the fair fame of Anne and Albion's land, A
Who durst of war and martial fury sing ;3 Great Jove, where I for ever will remain,” 3 (The empire's other hope shall say) “and here ht
And when thy will, and when thy subject's hand, Vanquish'd, entomb'd' I'll lie; or, crown'd, I'll
Had quell'd those wars, and bid that fury cease, s. o virtue, to thy British mother dear! [reign ! Hangs up her grateful harp to conquest, and to s Like the fam'd Trojan suffer and abide; 5
peace. For Anne is thine, i ween, as Venus was his guideš There, in eternal characters engrav'd,
HER RIGHT NAME.
As Nancy at her toilet sat,
In ringlets rather dark than fair, And made him more than king, in calling him her Does down ber ivory bosom roll, son. 2
And, hiding half, adorns the whole. There Ister, pleas'd by Bļenheim's glorious field, Love sits in open triumph crown'd;
In her high forehead's fair half-round Rolling shall bid his eastern waves declare
He in the dimple of her chin,
In private state, by friends is seen.
Her eyes are neither black nor gray ;
Their dubious lustre seems to show Through climes, where ne ver British chief before
Something that speaks nor Yes, nor No. Or pitch'd his camp, or sounded his alarms;
Her lips no living bard, I weet, Shall bid them bless the queen, who made his streams
May say, how red, how round, how sweet;
Old Homer only could indite
Their vagrant grace and soft delight : Brabantia, clad with fields, and crown'd with They stand recorded in his book, towers,
When Helen smil'd, and Hebe spoke."
" And which am I most like,” she said,
Beneath a verdant laurel's ample shade,
Horace, immortal bard, supinely laid, Blazon'd with signs of Gallic heraldry ;
To Venus thus address'd the song :
SET BY MONSIEUR GALLIARD.
Ten thousand little Loves around,
A REASOVABLE AFFLICTION,
Os his death-bed poor Lubin lies;
His spouse is in despair :
With frequent sobs, and mutual cries,
They both express their care.
i A different cause," says parson Sly,
The same effect may give:
Poor Lubin fears that he shall die;
His wife, that he may
ANOTHER REASONABLE AFFLICTION,
FROM her own native France as old Alison past, “ Yet Venus, why do I each morn prepare
She reproach'd English Nell with neglect or with
malice, The fragrant wreath for Cloe's hair?
That the slattern bad left, in the hurry and haste, Why do I all day lament and sigh, Unless the beauteous majd be nigh?
Her lady's complexion and eye-brows at Calais. And why all night pursue her in my dreams, Through flowery meads and crystal streams."
Her eye-brow box one morning lost,
("The best of folks are oftenest crost) Thus sung tive bard; and thus the goddess spoke: Sad Helen thus to Jenny said, “ Submissive bow to Love's imperious yoke : (Her careless but afficted maid) Every state, and every age,
“ Put me to bed then, wretched Jane ; Shall own my rule, and fear my rage:
Alas! when shall I rise again? Compelld by me, thy Muse shall prove,
I can behold no mortal now : That all the world was born to love.
For what's an eye without a brow ?”
PHYLLIS'S AGE. Ten months after Florimei happen'd to wed, How old may Phyllis be, you ask, And was brought in a laudable manner to bed,
Whose beauty thus all hcarts engages? She warbled her groans with so charming a voice,
To answer is no casy task: That one half of the parish was stunn'd with the
For she has really two ages. noise. But, when Florimel deign'd to lie privately in,
Stift in brocade, and pinch'd in stays, Ten months before she and her spouse were a kin;
Her patches, paint, aud jewels on; She chose with such prudence her panys to con
All day let Envy view her face, cral,
and Phyllis is but twenty-one. That her mirse, nay her midwife, scarce heard her Paint, patches, je'wcis laid aside, Learn, husbands, from hence, for thc peace of your At night, astronomers agree, lives,
The crening has the day bely'd; That maids make not half such a tumult as wives. And Phyllis is some forty-three.