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O Poet ! thou hadst been discreeter,
Hanging the Monarch's hat so high; 180
If thou hadst dubb'd thy star a meteor,
That did but blaze, and rove, and die.
To animate the doubtful fight,
Namur in vain expects that ray:
In vain France hopes, the sickly light
Should shine near William's fuller day:
It knows Wersailles, its proper station;
Nor cares for any foreign sphere:
Where you see Boileau's constellation,
Be sure no danger can be near. 140
The French had gather'd all their force;
And William met them in their way:
Yet off they brush'd, both foot and horse.
What has friend Boileau left to say?
When his high Muse is bent upon’t,
To sing her king—that great commander,
Or on the shores of Hellespont,
Or in the valleys near Scamander;
Would it not spoil his noble task,
If any foolish Phrygian there is, 150
Impertinent enough to ask,
How far Namur may be from Paris.
Two stanzas more before we end,
Of death, pikes, rocks, arms, bricks, and fire;
Son gouverneur qui se trouble
S'enfuit sous son dernier mur.
Déjà jusques à ses portes
Je voy monter nos cohortes,
La flame & le fer en main :
Et sur les monceaux de piques,
De corps morts, de rocs, de briques,
S'ouvrir un large chemin. 150
C'en est fait. Je viens d'entendre
Sur ces rochers éperdus
Battre un signal pour se rendre :
Le feu-cesse. Ils sont rendus.
Dépouillez votre arrogance,
Fiers ennemis de la France,
Et desormais gracieux,
Allez à Liege, à Bruxelles,
Porter les humbles nouvelles
De Namur pris à vos yeux. 160
Leave them behind you, honest friend;
And with your countrymen retire.
Your ode is spoilt; Namur is freed;
For Dixmuyd something yet is due:
So good Count Guiscard may proceed; *
But Boufflers, Sir, one word with you— 160
AT HIS ARRIVAL IN HOLLAND, AFTER THE DIsco
very of THE consPIRACY,” MDCXCVI.
Serus in coelum redeas; diuque
Laetus intersis populo Quirini:
Neve te nostris vitiis iniquum
§E careful angels, whom eternal Fate Ordains, on earth and human acts to wait; Who turn with secret power this restless ball, And bid predestin’d empires rise and fall: Your sacred aid religious monarchs own, When first they merit, then ascend the throne: But tyrants dread ye, lest your just decree Transfer the power, and set the people free. See rescu'd Britain at your altars bow; And hear her hymns your happy care avow: 10 That still her axes and her rods support The judge's frown, and grace the awful court; That Law with all her pompous terror stands,
To wrest the dagger from the traitor's hands;
And rigid justice reads the fatal word,
Poises the balance first, then draws the sword.
Britain her safety to your guidance owns,
That she can sep'rate parricides from sons;
That, impious rage disarm’d, she lives and reigns,
Her freedom kept by him, who broke her chains.
And thou, great minister, above the rest 21
Of guardian spirits, be thou for ever blest;
Thou, who of old wert sent to Israel's court,
With secret aid great David's strong support;
To mock the frantic rage of cruel Saul,
And strike the useless javelin to the wall.
Thy later care o'er William's temples held,
On Boyne's propitious banks, the heav'nly shield;
When power divine did sovereign right declare,
And cannons mark'd whom they were bid to spare,
Still, blessed angel, be thy care the same ! 31
Be William's life untouch'd, as is his fame !
Let him own thine, as Britain owns his hand:
Save thou the king, as he has sav'd the land 1
We angels' forms in pious monarchs view;
We reverence William ; for he acts like you;
Like you, commission'd to chastise and bless,
He must avenge the world, and give it peace.
Indulgent Fate our potent prayer receives;
And still Britannia smiles, and William lives. 40
The hero dear to earth, by heav'n belov'd,
By troubles must be vex'd, by dangers prov'd:
His foes must aid to make his fame complete,
And fix his throne secure on their defeat.
So, though with sudden rage the tempest comes;
Though the winds roar, and though the water foams,