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Shall now be visible no more ; [flood; When Sambre shall have chang'd her winding And children ask, where Namur stood.
Namur, proud city, how her towers were arm’d,
How she contemn’d the approaching foe:
Till she by William's trumpets was alarm’d,
And shook, and sunk, and fell beneath his blow.
Jove and Pallas, mighty powers,
Guided the hero to the hostile towers.
Perseus seem’d less swift in war,
When, wing'd with speed, he flew through air.
Embattled nations strive in vain
The hero's glory to restrain :
Streams arm'd with rocks, and mountains red with
In vain against his force conspire.
Behold him from the dreadful height appear!
And lo! Britannia's lions waving there.
Europe freed, and France repell’d,
The hero from the height beheld : He spake the word, that war and rage should cease: He bid the Maese and Rhine in safety flow;
And dictated a lasting peace
To the rejoicing world below. To rescu'd states, and vindicated crowns, His equal hand prescrib'd their ancient bounds; Ordain'd, whom every province should obey; How far each monarch should extend his sway;
Taught 'em how clemency made power rever'd ;
And that the prince belov’d was truly fear'd.
Firm by his side unspotted Honour stood,
Pleas'd to confess him not so great as good;
His head with brighter beams fair Virtue deck'd,
Than those which all his numerous crowns reflect:
Establish’d Freedom clapp'd her joyful wings;
Proclaim'd the first of men, and best of kings.
Whither would the Muse aspire With Pindar's rage, without his fire? Pardon me, Janus, ’twas a fault, Created by too great a thought: Mindless of the god and day, I from thy altars, Janus, stray, From thee, and from myself, borne far away. The fiery Pegasus disdains To mind the rider's voice, or hear the reins: When glorious fields and opening camps he views; He runs with an unbounded loose: Hardly the Muse can sit the headstrong horse; Nor would she, if she could, check his impetuous force; With the glad noise the cliffs and valleys ring; While she through earth and air pursues the king
She now beholds him on the Belgic shore;
Whilst Britain's tears his ready help implore,
Dissembling for her sake his rising cares,
And with wise silence pondering vengeful wars.
She through the raging ocean now Views him advancing his auspicious prow ; Combating adverse winds and winter seas, Sighing the moments that defer our ease; Daring to wield the sceptre's dangerous weight, And taking the command, to save the state; Though ere the doubtful gift can be secur'd, New wars must be sustain'd, new wounds endur'd.
Through rough Ierne's camps she sounds alarms,
And kingdoms yet to be redeem’d by arms;
In the dank marshes finds her glorious theme,
And plunges after him thro' Boyne's fierce stream.
She bids the Nereids run with trembling haste,
To tell old Ocean how the Hero past.
The god rebukes their fear, and owns the praise
Worthy that arm, whose empire he obeys.
Back to his Albion she delights to bring
The humblest victor, and the kindest king.
Albion with open triumph would receive
Her hero, nor obtains his leave:
Firm he rejects the altars she would raise;
And thanks the zeal, while he declines the praise.
Again she follows him through Belgia's land,
And countries often sav'd by William's hand;
Hears joyful nations bless those happy toils,
Which freed the people, but return'd the spoils.
In various views she tries her constant theme;
Finds him in councils, and in arms the same;
When certain to o'ercome, inclin'd to save,
Tardy to vengeance, and with mercy brave.
Sudden another scene employs her sight;
She sets her hero in another light:
Paints his great mind superior to success,
Declining conquest, to establish peace;
She brings Astrea down to earth again,
And quiet, brooding o'er his future reign.
Then with unweary wing the goddess soars
East, over Danube and Propontis' shores;
Where jarring empires, ready to engage,
Retard their armies, and suspend their rage;
Till William’s word, like that of Fate, declares,
If they shall study peace, or lengthen wars.
How sacred his renown for equal laws,
To whom the world defers its common cause !
How fair his friendships, and his leagues how just,
Whom every nation courts, whom all religions trust!
From the Maeotis to the Northern sea,
The goddess wings her desperate way;
See the young Muscovite," the mighty head,
Whose sovereign terror forty nations dread,
Enamour'd with a greater monarch's praise,
And passing half the earth to his embrace:
She in his rule beholds his Volga's force,
O'er precipices with impetuous sway
Breaking, and as he rolls his rapid course,
Drowning, or bearing down, whatever meets his
But her own king she likens to his Thames,
With gentle course devolving fruitful streams:
Serene yet strong, majestic yet sedate,
Swift without violence, without terror great.
Each ardent nymph the rising current craves;
Each shepherd's prayer retards the parting waves:
The vales along the bank their sweets disclose:
Fresh flowers for ever rise: and fruitful harvest
Yet whither would th’ adventurous goddess go?
Sees she not clouds, and earth, and main below?
Minds she the dangers of the Lycian coast,
And fields, where mad Bellerophon was lost?
Or is her towering flight reclaim’d,
By seas from Icarus's downfall nam'd?
Vain is the call, and useless the advice:
To wise persuasion deaf, and human cries,
Yet upwards she incessant flies;
Resolv’d to reach the high empyrean sphere,
And tell great Jove, she sings his image here;
To ask for William an olympic crown,
To Chromius' strength and Theron's speed un-
Till, lost in trackless fields of shining day,
Unable to discern the way,
Which Nassau's virtue only could explore,