Tis done. In Sight of these Commanders,
Who neither Fight, nor raise the Siege,
The Foes of France march fafe thro' Flanders i
Divide to Bruxelles, or to Liege.
Send, FAME, this news to Trianon;
That BOUFFLERS may new Honours gain:
He the fame Play by Land has shown,
AS TOURVILLE did upon the Main.
Yet is the Marfhal made a Peer:
O WILLIAM, may thy Arms advance
That He may lofe Dinant next Year,
And fo be Conftable of France.
YE careful Angels, whom eternal Fate
Ordains, on Earth and human Acts to wait;
Who turn with fecret Pow'r this reftlefs Ball,
And bid predeftin'd Empires rife and fall:
Your facred Aid religious Monarchs own;
When first They merit, then ascend the Throne:
But Tyrants dread Ye, left your juft Decree
Transfer the Pow'r, and fet the People free:
See refcu'd BRITAIN at your Altars bow:
And hear her Hymns your happy Care avow:
That ftill her Axes and her Rods support
The Judge's Frown, and grace the awful Court:
That Law with all her pompous Terror stands,
To wreft the Dagger from the Traitor's Hands;
And rigid Juftice reads the fatal Word;
Poifes the Ballance firft, then draws the Sword.
BRITAIN Her Safety to your Guidance owns,
That She can fep'rate Parricides from Sons;
That, impious Rage difarm'd, She lives and Reigns,
Her Freedom kept by Him, who broke Her Chains.
And Thou, great Minister, above the reft
Of Guardian Spirits, be Thou for ever bleit:
Thou, who of old wert fent to ISRAEL'S Court,
With fecret Aid great DA VID's ftrong Support;
To mock the frantick Rage of cruel SAUL;
And strike the useless Jav'lin to the Wall.
Thy later Care o'er WILLIAM's Temples held,
On BoYN's propitious Banks, the heav'nly Shield;
When Pow'r Divine did Sov'reign Right declare;
And Cannons mark'd, Whom They were bid to fpare!
Still, bleffed Angel, be thy Care the fame;
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 fav'd the Land.
We Angels Forms in pious Monarchs view:
We reverence WILLIAM; for He acts like You;
Like You, Commission'd to chastize and bless,
He must avenge the World, and give it Peace.
Indulgent Fate our potent Pray'r receives;
And ftill BRITANNIA fmiles, and WILLIAM lives:
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 compleat,
And fix his Throne fecure on their Defeat.
So, tho' with fudden Rage the Tempest comes;
Tho' the Winds roar; and tho' the Water foams;
Imperial BRITAIN on the Sea looks down,
And smiling fees her Rebel Subject frown:
Striking her Cliff the Storm confirms her Pow'r :
The Waves but whiten her Triumphant Shore:
In vain They wou'd advance, in vain retreat:
Broken They dash, and perish at her Feet.
For WILLIAM ftill new Wonders fhall be shown:
The Pow'rs that refcu'd, fhall preferve the Throne.
Safe on his Darling BRITAIN'S joyful Sea,
Behold, the Monarch plows his liquid Way:
His Fleets in Thunder thro' the World declare,
Whose Empire they obey, whofe Arms they bear.
Blefs'd by afpiring Winds, He finds the Strand
Blacken'd with Crowds; He fees the Nations stand
Bleffing his Safety, proud of his Command.
In various Tongues He hears the Captains dwell
On their great Leader's Praife: by Turns They tell,
And liften, each with emulous Glory fir'd,
How WILLIAM conquer'd, and how FRANCE retir'd
HOW BELGIA freed the Hero's Arm confefs'd,
But trembl'd for the Courage which She bleft.
O Louis, from this great Example know,
To be at once a Hero, and a Foe:
By founding Trumpets, Hear, and ratl'ing Drums,
When WILLIAM to the open Vengeance comes:
And See the Soldier plead the Monarch's Right,
Heading His Troops, and Foremost in the Fight.
Hence then, close Ambush and perfidious War,
Down to your Native Seats of Night repair.
And Thou, BELLON A, weep thy cruel Pride
Reftrain'd, behind the Victor's Chariot ty'd
In brazen Knots, and everlafting Chains.
(SO EUROPE'S Peace, fo WILLIAM's Fate ordains,)
While on the Iv'ry Chair, in happy State
He fits, Secure in Innocence, and Great
In regal Clemency; and views beneath
Averted Darts of Rage, and pointless Arms of Death.
EE, whilst Thou weep'ft, fair CLOE, fee
The World in Sympathy with Thee.
The chearful Birds no longer fing,
Each drops his Head, and hangs his Wing.
The Clouds have bent their Bofom lower,
And fhed their Sorrows in a Show's.
The Brooks beyond their Limits flow;
And louder Murmurs fpeak their Woe.
The Nymphs and Swains adopt Thy Cares:
They heave Thy Sighs, and weep Thy Tears.
Fantastic Nymph! that Grief fhould move
Thy Heart, obdurate against Love.
Strange Tears! whose Pow'r can foften All,
But That dear Breaft on which they fall."
|