Drive down upon them like a double bolt
Of kindled thunder raging thro' the fsky,
On founding wheels; or as fome mighty flood
Rolls his two torrents down a dreadful steep
Precipitant, and bears along the stream

Rocks, woods, and trees, with all the grazing herd,
And tumbles lofty forefts headlong to the plain.
The bold Boruffian, fmoaking from afar,
Moves like a tempeft in a dufky cloud,
And imitates th' artillery of heaven,

The lightning and the roar. Amazing scene!
What showers of mortal hail, what flaky fires
Burft from the darknefs! while their cohorts firm
Met the like thunder, and an equal storm,
From hoftile troops, but with a braver mind.
Undaunted bofoms tempt the edge of war,

And rush on the fharp point; while baleful mifchiefs,
Deaths, and bright dangers, flew across the field
Thick and continual, and a thousand fouls

Fled murmuring thro' their wounds. I ftood aloof,
For 'twas unfafe to come within the wind

Of Ruffian banners, when with whizzing found,

Eager of glory, and profufe of life,

They bore down fearlefs on the charging foes,

And drove them backward. Then the Turkish moons
Wander'd in difarray. A dark eclipse

Hung on the filver crefcent, boding night,
Long night! to all her fons: at length, difrob'd,
The ftandards fell; the barbarous enfigns tern,
Fled with the wind, the fport of angry Heaven}
And a large cloud of infantry and horse,
Scattering in wild diforder, fpread the plain.

Not noife, nor number, nor the brawny limb,
Nor high-built fize prevails. 'Tis courage fights,
'Tis courage conquers. So whole forests fall
(A fpacious ruin) by one fingle axe,

And

And feel well sharpen'd: fo a generous pair
Of young-wing'd eaglets fright a thousand doves.
Vaft was the flaughter, and the flowery green
Drank deep of flowing crimson. Veteran bands
Here made their laft campaign. Here haughty chiefs,
Stretch'd on the bed of purple honour, lie
Supine, nor dream of battle's hard event,
Opprefs'd with iron flumbers, and long night.
Their ghofts indignant, to the nether world
Fled, but attended well; for at their fide
Some faithful Janizaries strew'd the field,
Fall'n in juft ranks or wedges, lunes or fquares,
Firm as they stood; to the Warfovian troops,
A nobler toil, and triumph worth their fight.
But the broad fabre, and keen poll-axe, flew
With speedy terror thro' the feebler herd,
And made rude havock and irregular spoil
Amongst the vulgar bands that own'd the name
Of Mahomet. The wild Arabians fled,

In fwift affright, a thousand different ways,

Thro' brakes and thorns, and climb'd the craggy mountains,
Bellowing; yet hafty_Fate o'ertook the cry,
And Polish hunters clave the timorous deer.
Thus the dire prospect diftant, fill'd my foul
With awe; till the laft relicks of the war,
The thin Edonians, flying, had difclos'd
The ghaftly plain, I took a nearer view,
Unfeemly to the fight, nor to the smell
Grateful. What loads of mangled flesh and limbs
(A difmal carnage !) bath'd in reeking gore,
Lay weltering on the ground; while flitting life
Convuls'd the nerves ftill fhivering, nor had loft
All taste of pain! Here an old Thracian lies,
Deform'd with years and scars, and groans aloud,
Torn with fresh wounds; but inward vitals firm
Forbid the foul's remove, and chain it down

By the hard laws of nature, to sustain

Long torment: his wild eye-balls roll; his teeth,
Gnashing with anguish, chide his lingering fate.
Emblazon'd armour spoke his high command
Amongst the neighbouring dead: they round their lord
Lay proftrate; fome in flight ignobly flain,
Some to the skies their faces upwards turn'd,
Still brave, and proud to die fo near their prince.
I mov'd not far, and lo! at manly length,
Two beauteous youths of richest Ott'man blood
Extended on the field; in friendship join'd,
Nor fate divides them: hardy warriors both;
Both faithful; drown'd in fhowers of darts they fell,
Each with his fhield fpread o'er his lover's heart,
In vain! for on those orbs of friendly brafs
Stood groves of javelins; fome, alas! too deep
Were planted there, and thro' their lovely bofom
Made painful avenues for cruel death.

O my dear native land! forgive the tear

I dropp'd on their wan cheeks, when ftrong compassion . Forc'd from my melting eyes the briny dew,

And paid a facrifice to hoftile virtue.

Dacia, forgive the figh that wish'd the fouls
Of those fair infidels fome humble place
Among the blefs'd.

Sleep, fleep, ye hapless pair!" Gently I cry'd; worthy of better fate,

And better faith.' Hard by the general lay,
Of Saracen defcent, a griefly form
Breathlefs; yet pride fat pale upon his front
In difappointment, with a furly brow
Louring in death, and vex'd; his rigid jaws
Foaming with blood, bite hard the Polish fpear:
In that dead visage my remembrance reads
Rafh Carraccas. In vain the boasting slave
Promis'd, and footh'd the fultan, threatening fierce,
With royal fuppers and triumphant fare

Spread

Spread wide beneath Warfovian filk and gold:
See on the naked ground all cold he lies,
Beneath the damp, wide covering of the air,
Forgetful of his word. How Heaven confounds
Infulting hopes! With what an awful fmile
Laughs at the proud, that loosen all the reins
To their unbounded wishes, and leads on
Their blind ambition to a fhameful end!

But whither am I borne? This thought of arms
Fires me in vain to fing to fenfeless bulls

What generous horfe should hear. Break off, my fongs
My barbarous Mufe, be ftill. Immortal deeds
Muft not be thus profan'd in ruftick verfe;
The martial trumpet, and the following age,
And growing fame, fhall loud rehearse the fight
In founds of glory. Lo! the evening-star
Shines o'er the western hill-My oxen, come,
The well-known ftar invites the labourer home.

THE KNIGHTS

OF THE BATH.

A TALE.

INSCRIBED TO HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF MONTAGUE.

BY MR. COOKE.

AY, fhall the brave like common mortals die,
And acts of virtue in oblivion lie?
The Muse forbids; who, in recording lays,
Gives ever to defert the fong of praise.
What, tho' the tale is not to Anftis known,
Whate'er the Mufe recalls fhe makes her own:

Who, conscious of thy worth, would give to Fame

Thy charms, Matilda, and Carvilior's flame.

Attend, my lord, while I the tale restore;
Protect the poet, and he asks no more ;
Refuse not to regard this humble strain,
Thou juft prefider o'er th'illuftrious train.
Ere the firft Cæfar did our ifle fubdue,
When Britons nought but British virtue knew;
Cingetorix, in his domains content,
Confin'd his empire to the bounds of Kent.
No luft of pow'r drives him to realms unknown,
To rob his neighbours, and enlarge his own.
At home no fear his peace of mind molests;
He rules, no tyrant, over loyal breasts.
Thrice happy land! 'tis here the Druids fing,
And are companions only for the king.
Far hence away the fons of battle rage,
Unknown, O Albion! to thy golden age.

One only daughter was this prince's care,
Chafte as Diana, and as Venus fair ;

When in the woods the nymph delights to rove,
Matilda walks the Dian of the grove;

Or if the regal dome is her resort,
Matilda fhines the Venus of the court;
If in the grove or in the court fhe moves,
She's still attended by a thousand loves;
Each from her eyes a thousand arrows darts,
And leads in triumph each a thousand hearts.
All eyes which fee her once confess her sway,
And her bright image never fades away.

Among the youths, who dar'd avow their flame,
A poor, but gallant prince, Carvilior, came;
He walk'd a god amidft th' admiring throng,
The darling fubject of the Druid's fong.
To all the beauties of a form, were join'd
Th' unfully'd virtues of a foul refin'd.
His ev'ry act, his ev'ry word, could move;
Mafter of all the rhetorick of love.

Of