The Hero bows obedient, and retires; The Queen's Commands exalt the Warrior's Fires. His Steps are to the filent Woods inclin'd, The great Design revolving in his Mind: When to his Sight a Heav'nly Form appears, Her Hand a Palm, her Head a Lawrel wears.

Me, fhe begins, the fairest Child of Jove, Below for ever fought, and bless'd above; Me,the bright Source of Wealth,and Power, and Fame; (Nor need I fay Victoria is my Name) Me, the great Father down to Thee has fent, He bids me wait at Thy diftinguish'd Tent, To execute what Anna's With 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 Fav'rite, and my darling Son.

At

At Schellenberg I'll manifeft fuftain

Thy glorious Cause, and spread my Wings again Confpicuous o'er thy Helm, in Blenheim's Plain.

The Goddess faid, nor would admit Reply, But cut the liquid Air, and gain'd the Sky.

His high Commiffion is thro' Britain known,
And thronging Armies to his Standard run.
He marches thoughtful, and he fpeedy fails;
(Blefs him, ye Seas! and profper him, ye Gales!)
Belgia receives him welcome to her Shores,

And William's Death with leffen'd Grief deplores.
His Prefence only muft retrieve that Lofs:
Marlbro to her must be what William was.

So when great Atlas, from these low Aboads
Recall'd, was gather'd to his Kindred Gods,
Alcides refpited by prudent Fate,

Suftain'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 English General dooms the Fight: His Sword Dreadful he draws: The Captains waft the Word: Anne and St. George, the charging Hero cries; Shrill Eccho from the neighb'ring Wood replies Anne and St. George z- -at that aufpicious Sign

The Standards move, the adverse Armies join.

Of eight great Hours Time measures out the Sands,

And Europe's Fate in doubtful Ballance stands; The ninth Victoria comes-o'er Marlbro's HeadConfefs'd fhe fits, the Hoftile Troops recedeTriumphs the Goddess, from her Promise free'd.

The Eagle, by the British Lions Might Unchain'd and free, directs her upward Flight; Nor did fhe e'er with stronger Pinions foar From Tyber's Banks, than now from Danube's Shoar.

Fir'd with the Thoughts which these Idea's raise, And great Ambition of my Country's Praise, The British Mufe fhould like the Mantuan rife, ? Scornful of Earth and Clouds, fhould reach the Skies, With Wonder (tho' with Envy ftill) purfu'd by human Eyes.

But we must change the Stile-just now I said, I ne'er was Mafter of the tuneful Trade,

Or the small Genius which my Youth could boast

In Profe and Business lyes extinct and loft ;

Blefs'd, if I

may fome younger Muse excite, Point out the Game, and animate the Flight:

That from Marseilles to Calais France may know
As we have Conqu'rors we have Poets too;

And either Laurel does in Britain grow.

That tho' amongst our felves, with too much Heat,
We sometimes wrangle when we should debate;
(A confequential Ill which Freedom draws;

A bad Effect, but from a Noble Caufe:)
We can with univerfal Zeal advance,
To curb the faithlefs Arrogance of France.
Nor ever fhall Britannia's Sons refuse
To answer to thy Mafter, or thy Mufe;
Nor want juft Subject for victorious Strains,
While Maribro's Arm eternal Laurel gains,
And where old Spencer fung, a new Elifa reigns

LOVE Difarm'd,

B

Eneath a Myrtle's verdant Shade
As Cloe half afleen was laid,
Cupid perch'd lightly on her Breaft,
And in that Heav'n defir'd to reft;
Over her Paps his Wings he spread,
Between he found a downy Bed,
And neftl'd in his little Head.

Still lay the God: The Nymph furpriz'd,

Yet Mistress of her felf, devis'd

How the the Vagrant might inthral,

And Captive Him who Captives all.

About his Arms fhe flily caft

Her Boddice half way

fhe unlac'd,

}

The filken Bond, and held him fast.

The God awak'd, and thrice in vain He ftrove to break the cruel Chain,

And