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The queen should sit in Windsor's sacred grove, Attended by the gods of war and love: Both should with equal zeal her smiles implore, To fix her joys, or to extend her power. Sudden, the Nymphs and Tritons should appear; And as great Anna's smiles dispel their fear, With active dance should her observance claim ; With vocal shell should sound her happy name. Their master Thames should leave the neighboring shore, By his strong anchor known, and silver oar; Should lay his ensigns at his sovereign's feet, And audience mild with humble grace entreat. To her, his dear defence, he should complain, That whilst he blesses her indulgent reign ; Whilst furthest seas are by his fleets survey'd, And on his happy banks each India laid; [Saar, His brethren Maese, and Waal, and Rhine, and Feel the hard burden of oppressive war: That Danube scarce retains his rightful course Against two rebel armies' neighbouring force : And all must weep sad captives to the Seine, Unless unchain’d and freed by Britain's queen. The valiant sovereign calls her general forth; Neither recites her bounty, nor his worth : She tells him, he must Europe's fate redeem, And by that labour merit her esteem : She bids him wait her to the sacred hall; Shows him prince Edward, and the conquer'd Gaul; Fixing the bloody cross upon his breast, Says, he must die, or succour the distress'd :

Placing the saint an emblem by his side,
She tells him Virtue arm’d must conquer lawless
Pride.
The hero bows obedient, and retires:
The queen's commands exalt the warrior's fires.
His steps are to the silent woods inclin'd,
The great design revolving in his mind:
When to his sight a heavenly form appears:
Her hand a palm, her head a laurel wears.
Me, she begins, the fairest child of Jove,
Below for ever sought, and bless'd above;
Me, the bright source of wealth, and power, and
fame ;
(Nor need I say, Victoria is my name)
Me the great father down to thee has sent:
He bids me wait at thy distinguish'd tent,
To execute what Anna’s wish would have :
Her subject thou, I only am her slave.
Dare then, thou much belov’d by smiling fate,
For Anna's sake, and in her name, be great:
Go forth, and be to distant nations known,
My future favourite, and my darling son.
At Schellenbergh I’ll manifest sustain
Thy glorious cause ; and spread my wings again,
Conspicuous o'er thy helm, in Blenheim's plain.
The goddess said, nor would admit reply;
But cut the liquid air, and gain'd the sky.
His high commission is through Britain known :
And thronging armies to his standard run,
He marches thoughtful, and he speedy sails:
(Bless him, ye seas and prosper him, ye gales!)

Belgia receives him welcome to her shores,

And William's death with lessen’d grief deplores:
His presence only must retrieve that loss;
Marlborough to her must be what William was.
So when great Atlas, from these low abodes
Recall'd, was gather'd to his kindred gods;
Alcides respited by prudent fate,
Sustain'd the ball, nor droop'd beneath the weight.
Secret and swift behold the chief advance;
Sees half the empire join'd, and friend to France:
The British general dooms the fight; his sword
Dreadful he draws: the captains wait the word.
Anne and St. George the charging hero cries:
Shrill echo from the neighbouring wood replies,
Anne and St. George.—At that auspicious sign
The standards move ; the adverse armies join.
Of eight great hours, Time measures out the sands;
And Europe's fate in doubtful balance stands;
The ninth, Victoria comes:–o'er Marlborough's
head
Confess'd she sits; the hostile troops recede :
Triumphs the goddess, from her promise freed.
The eagle, by the British lion's might
Unchain’d and free, directs her upward flight:
Nor did she e'er with stronger pinions soar
From Tyber's banks, than now from Danube's
shore.
Fir’d with the thoughts which these ideas raise,
And great ambition of my country's praise;
The English Muse should like the Mantuan rise,

[graphic]

Scornful of earth and clouds, should reach the skies,
With wonder (though with envy still) pursued by
human eyes.
But we must change the style—just now I said,
I ne'er was master of the tuneful trade;
Or the small genius which my youth could boast,
In prose and business lies extinct and lost.
Bless'd if I may some younger muse excite,
Point out the game, and animate the flight;
That from Marseilles to Calais, France may know,
As we have conquerors, we have poets too;
And either laurel does in Britain grow ;
That, though amongst ourselves, with too much
heat,
We sometimes wrangle, when we should debate;
(A consequential ill which freedom draws;
A bad effect, but from a noble cause);
We can with universal zeal advance,
To curb the faithless arrogance of France;
Nor ever shall Britannia’s sons refuse
To answer to thy master or thy muse;
Nor want just subject for victorious strains;
While Marlborough's arm eternal laurels gain;
And where old Spenser sung, a new Eliza reigns,

[graphic]

FOR THE PLAN OF A FOUNTAIN,

On which are the Effigies of the Queen on a Triumphal Arch, the Duke of Marlborough beneath, and the chief Rivers of the World round the whole Work.

YE active streams, where'er your waters flow,

Let distant climes and furthest nations know,

What ye from Thames and Danube have been taught,

How Anne commanded, and how Marlborough fought.

Quacunque aeterno properatis, flumina, lapsu, Divisis laté terris, populisque remotis, Dicite, nam vobis Tamisis narravit et Ister, Anna quid imperiis potuit, quid Marlburus armis.

THE CHAMELEON.

As the Chameleon, who is known
To have no colors of his own :
But borrows from his neighbour's hue
His white or black, his green or blue;
And struts as much in ready light,
Which credit gives him upon sight:

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