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But, greatest Anna! while thy arms pursue Those laurel groves, (the merits of the youth) Paths of renown, and climb ascents of fame, | Which thou from Mahomet didst greatly gain, Which nor Jugustus, nor Eliza knew;

| While, bold assertor of resistless truth, What poet shall be found to sing thy name? Thy sword did godlike liberty maintain, What numbers shall record, what tongue shall say, Must from thy brow their falling honours shed, Thy wars on land, thy triumphs on the main? And their transplanted wreaths inust deck a worO fairest model of imperial sway!

thier head. What equal pen shall write tby wondrous reign? Who shall attempts and feats of arms rehearse,

Yet cease the ways of Providence to blame, Nor yet by story told, nor parallela by verse?

And human faults with human grief confess;

"Tis thou art chang'd, while Heaven is still the same; Me all too mean for such a task I weet:

From thy ill councils date thy ill success. Yet, if the sovereign lady deigns to smile,

Impartial Justice holds her eqnal scales,
I'll follow Horace with impetuous heat,

Till stronger virtue does the weight incline:
And clothe the verse in Spenser's native style. If over thee thy glorious foe prevails,
By these examples rightly taught to sing,

He now defends the cause that once was thine.
And sunit with pleasure of my country's praise, . Righteous the war, the chan.pion shall subdue;
Stretching the plumes of an uncoipinon wing, For Jove's great handmaid, Power, must Jove's de-
High as Olympus I my flight will raise;

crees pursue. And latest tiines shall in my numbers rtad Anna's immortal fame, and Marlborough's hardy

Hark! the diretrumpets sound their shrill alarms! derd.

Auverquerque, branch'd from the renown'd Nassaus,

Hoary in war, and bent beneath his arnis, As the strong eagle in the silent wood,

His glorious sword with dauntless courage draws. Mindless of warlike rage and hostile care,

When anxious Britain mourn'd her parting lord, Plays round the rocky clil' or crystal food,

And all of William that was mortal died;
Till by Jove's high behests call' ont to war, The faithful hero had receiv'd this sword
And charg'd with thunder of his angry kind, From his expiring master's much-lov'd side.
His bosum with the vepyeful message glows; Oft from its fatal ire has Louis flown,
l'paard the noble bird directs his wing,

Where'er great William led, or Mae se and Sambre And, towering round his master's earth-born foes,

run. Swift he collects his fatal stock of iro, Lifts his fierce talon high, and darts the forked fire. But brandish'd high, in an ill-omen'd hour

To thee, proud Gaul, behold thy justest fear, Sedate and calm thus victor Marlborough sate, The master-sword, disposer of thy power: Shaded with laurels, in his native land,

'Tis that which Cæsar gave the British peer. Till Anna calls him from his soft retreat,

He took the gift: “Nor ever will I sheathe And gives her second thunder to his hand.

This steell (so Anna's high behosts ordain),” Then, leaving swept repose and gentle ease,

The general said, “ unless by glorious death With ardent speed he seeks the distant foe; Absolv'd, till conquest has confirm'd your reign. Marching o'er 'hills and vales, o'er rocks and seas, Returns like these our mistress bids us make, He ineditates, and strikes the wondrous blow. When from a foreign prince a gift her Britons take." Our thought flies slower than our general's fame: Grasps he the bolt? we ask-when he has hurl'd And now fierce Gallia rushes on her foes, the flame.

Her force augmented by the Boyan bands; When fierce Barar, on Judloign's spacious plain,

So Volga's stream, increas'd by mountain snows, Did froin afar the British chicf behold,

Rolls with new fury down through Russia's lands. Betwixt despair, and rage, and hope, and pain,

Like two great rocks against the raging tidle, Something within bis warning bosom roll'd:

I (If Virtue's force with Nature's we compare) He views that favourite of indulgent Fame,

l'nmov'd the two united chiefs abide, Whom whilom he had met on Ister's shore;

Sustain the impulse, and receive the war. Two sell, alas! the man he knuir's the same,

Round their firin sides, in vain, the tempest beats, Whose prowess there repellid the Boran power,

And still the foaming wave, with lessen'd power,

retreats. And sent them trembling through the frighted lands, Sailt as the whirlwind drives Arabia's scatter'd The rage dispers’d, the glorious pair adrance, sands.

With mingled anger and collected might, His former losses he forgets to grieve :

To turn the war, and tell aggressing France, Absolves his fate, if, with a kinder ras',

How Britain's sons and Britain's friends can fight. It now woull sbine, and only give hinn leave On conquest fix'd, and covetous of fame, To balance the account of Blenheim's day.

Behold them rushing through the Gallic host : So the fell lion in the lonely glade,

Through standing corn so runs the sudden flame, His side still smarting with the hunter's spear,

Or eastern winds along Sicilia's coast. Though deeply wounded, no way yet dismay'd,

They deal their terrours to the adverse nation: Roars terrible, and meditates new war;

Pale Death attends their arms, and ghastly DeIn snllen fury traverses the plain,

solation. To find the venturous foe, and battle bim again. But while, with fiercest ire, Bellona glows,

Misguided prince, no longer urge thy fate, | And Europe rather hopes than fears her fate; Nor tienpt the hero to unequal war;

While Britain presses her amicted focs; Fam'd in misfortune, and in ruin great,

What horrour damps the strong, and quells the Contess the force of Marlborough's stronger star.

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Whence look the soldiers' checks dismay'd and I-starr'd did we our forts and lines forsake,

| To dare our British foes to open tight:
Erst ever dreadfil, know they now to dread ? Our conquest we by stratagem should make:
The hostile troops, I ween, almost prevail; Our triumph had been founded in our flight.
And the pursuers onls not recede.

'Tis ours by craft and by surprise to gain : Alas! their lessen'd rage proclaims their grief! | 'Tis theirs, to meet in arms, and battle in the For, anxious, lo! they crowd around their falling

plain. chief.

“ The ancient father of this hostile brood, “I thank thee, Fatc!” exclaims the fierce Bavar;

Their boasted Brute, undaunted snatch'd his gode " Let Boya's trumpet grateful lö's sound : I saw him fall, their thunderbolt of war:-

I'rom burning Troy, and Santhus red with blood,

And lix'd on silver Thaines his dire abodes: Ever to Vengeance sacred be the ground.”

* And this be 'Troynorante,' he said, 'the seat Vain wish! short joy! the hero mounts again

Hy leaven ordain'd, my sons, your lasting place: In greater glory, and with fuller light:

Superior here to all the bolts of Fate The evening star so falls into the main,

| Live, mindful of the author of your race, To rise at morn more prevalently brig'it.

Whom ncither Greece, nor war, nor want, nor Ha rises safe; but ncar, too near his side,

flame, A good man's grievous loss, a faithful servant died.

Nor great Pelides’arm, nor Juno's rage,could tame.' Propitious Mars! the battle is regain'd: The five, with lessen'd wrath, disputes the field:

“ 'Their Tudors hence, and Stuarts offspring flow : The Briton fights, by favouring godis sustain'd:

Hence Felwarı, dreadful with bis sable shicld, Freedom must live; and lawless Power must yield. | Talbot to Gallia's power eternal foc, . Vain now the tales which fabling poets tell,

And Seymour, fam'd in council or in field: That wavering Conquest still desires to rove!

Hence Nevil, great to settle or dethrone, In Marlborough's cainp the goddess knows to dwell: And Drake, and Ca'ndish, terrours of the sea : I ong as the hero's life remains her love.

Hence Butler's sons, o'er land and ocean known, Again France flies, again the duke pursacs,

Herbert's and Churchill's warring progeny : And on Ramilia's plains he Blenheim's fame re

| Hence the long roll which Gallia should conceal : news.

For, oh! sbo, vanquish'd, loves the victor's fame

to tell ? Great thanks, O) captain great in arms! receive Trom thy triumphant country's public voice: I “ Envy'd Britannia, sturdy as the vak, ' Thy country greater thanks can only give Which on her mountain top she proudly bears, To Anne, to her who made those arms her choice. Fludes the ax, and sprouts against the stroke ; Recording Schellenberg's and Blenheim's toils, | Strong from her wounds, and greater by her wara, We dreaded lest thou should'st those toils repeat: And as those tectlı, which Cadmus sow'd in earth. We view'd the palace charg'd with Gallic spoils, . | Produc'd new youth, and furnish'd fresh supplies : Aud in those spoils we thought thy praise complete. So with young vigour, and succeeding birth, For never Greek, we deein'd, nor Ronan knight, Her losses more than recompens'd ariso; In characters like these did e'er his acts indite. And every age she with a race is crown'd, Yet, mindless still of case, thy virtue flics

For letters more polite, in battles more renown'da A pitch to old and modern times unknown:

“Obstinate power, whom nothing can repel; Those goodly deeds, which we so highly prize,

Not the fierce Saxon, nor the cruel Dane, Imperfect stem, great chief, to thee alone.

Nor deep inpression of the Norman steci, Those heights, where William's virtue might have

Nor Europe's force amass'd by envious Spain, staid,

| Nor France, on universal sway intent, And ou the subject world look'd safely down,

Oft breaking leagues, and oft renewing wars, By Marlborough pass'd, the props and steps were

Vor (frequent bane of weaken'd governincnt) made

| Their owu inte tinc feuds and inutual jars : Sublimer yet to raise his quecn's renown:

Those feuds and jars, in which I trusted more, Still gaining more, still slighting what he gain'd,

| Than in my trou s, and fleets, and all the Gallic Nought done the hero deein’d, while aught undone

power. remain'd. When swift-wingid Rumour told the mighty Gaul,

"To fruitful Rheins, or fair Lutetia's gate, How lessen'd froin the field Bavar was fieri; What tidings shall the messenger convey? He wept the swiftness of the champion's fall; Shall the loud herald our success relate, And thus the royal treaty-breaker said:

Or mitred priest appoint the solemn day " And lives he yet, the great, the lost Bavar,

Alas! my praises they no more must sing; Ruin to Gallia in the name of frienci?

They to my statue nos must bow no more e Tell me, how far has Fortune been severe ?

Broken, repulsid is their immortal king : Has the foe's glory, or our grief, an end?

Fall'n, fallin for ever, is the Gallic power ! Remains there, of the fifty thousand lost,

The woman chief is master of the war: To save our threaten'd rcalı, or guard our shatter'd Earth she has freed by arms, and vanquish'd Hea, coast?

ven by prayer.” “To the close rock the frighted raven flies, While thus the ruin'd foe's despair commende Soon as the rising eagle cuts the air :

Thy council an: thy derd, victorious queen, The sbaggy wolf, unseen and trembling, lies,

What shall thy subjects say, and what thy friends Wben the hoarse roar proclaims the lion nrar. | How shall thy triumphs in our joy be scen!


Gh! deign to let the eldest of the Nine

And standards with distinguish'd honours bright, Recite Britannia great, and Gallia free:

Marks of high power and national command, Oh! with her sister, Sculpture, let her join

Which Valois' sons, and Bourbon's borc in fight, To raise, great Anne, the monument to thee; Or gave to Foix', or Montinorency's band : To thee, of all our good the sacred spring;

Great spoils, which Gallia inust to Britain yield, To thee, our dearest dread; to thee, our softer From Cressy's battle sav'd to grace Ramilia's field.

And, as tine Art the spaces may dispose, Let Europe sav'd the column high erect, The knowing thought and curious eye shall see Than Trajan's higher, or than Antonino's;

Thy emblem, gracious queen, the British ruse, Where sembling art may carve the fair ellect Type of sweet rule and gentle maj sty: And full achievement of thy great designs.

The northern thistle, whorn no hostile hand In a calm heaven, and a serener air,

Unhurt too rudely may provoke, I ween; Sublime the queen shall on the summit stand, Hibernia's harp, device of her command, From danger far, as far remov'd from fear,

And parent of her mirth, shall there be seen: And pointing down to Earth her drcad command. Thy vanquish'd lilies, France, decay'd and torn, All winds, all storms, that threaten human woe, Shall with di order'd pomp the lasting work adorn, Shall sink beneath her feet, and spread their rage Beneath, great queen, oh ! very far beneath, below.

Near to the ground, and on the humble base,

To save herself from darkness and from death, Their fleets shall strive, by winds and waters tost, Till the young Austrian on Iberia's strand,

That Muise desires the last, the lowest place;

Who, tho’unmeet, vet touch'd the trembling string, Great as Encas on the Latian coast,

For the fair fame of Anne and Albion's land, Shall fix his foot : “ and this, be this the land,

Who durst of war and martial fury sing; Great Jove, wbere I for ever will remain,"

And when thy will, and when thy subject's hand, (The empire's other hpe shall say) “ and bere Vanquish'd, entomb l'Il lie; or, crown'd, I'll |

Had quelld those wars, and bid that fury cease, virtue, to thy British mother dear! (reign!”

Haugs up her grateful harp to conquest, and to Like the faind Trojan suffer and abide;

peace, For Anne is thinc, i ween, as Venus was his guide, There, in eternal characters engrav'd,

Vigo, and Gibraltar, and Barcelone,

As Nancy at her toilet sat,
Their force destroy'd, their privileges sav'd, | Adiniring this, and blaming that,
Shall Anna's terrours and her mercies own:

Tell me," she said; “but tell me true; Spain, from th' usurper Bourbon's arms retriev'd, The nymph who could your heart subdue.--Shall with new life and grateful joy appear,

What sort of charms does she possess ?Numbering the wonders which that youth achiey'd, “ Absolve me, fair one, I'll contess Whoin Anna clad in arms, and sent to war;

With pleasure," I reply'd. “ Her hair, Whom Anna sent to claim Iberia's throne;

In ringlets rather dark than fair, And made him more than king, in calling him her | Does down her ivory bosom roll,

And, hiding half, adorns the whole.

In her high forehead's fair half-round There Ister, pleas'd by Blenheim's glorious field,

Love sits in open triumph crown'd; Rolling shall bid his eastern waves declare

He in the dimple of her chin, Germania sav'd by Britain's ample shield,

In private state, by friends is seen. And bleeding Gaul aillicted by her spear;

Her eyes are neither black nor gray ; Shall bid them mention Marlborough on the shore,

| Nor fierce nor feeble is their ray; Lading his islanders, renown'd in arms,

Their dubious lustre secms to show Through climes, where never British chief before

Something that speaks nor Yes, nor No. Or pitch'd his camp, or sounded his alarıns;

Her lips no living bard, I weet, Shall bid them bless the queey, who made bis streams

May say, how red, how round, how sweet; Glorious as those of Boyne, and safe as those of

Old Ilomer only could indite

Their vagrant grace and soft delight: Brabantia, clad with fields, and crown'd with They stand recorded in his book, towers,

When Helen snuild, and Hebe spoke." With decent joy shall her deliverer meet;

The gipsey, turning to her glass, Shall own thy arms, great queen, and bless thy | Too plainly show'd she knew the face ; powers,

“ And which am I most like," she said, laying the keys beneath thy subject's feet, “ Your Cloe, or your Nut-brown Maid ?” Flandria, by plenty made the home of war, Shall weep her crime, and bow to Charles restor'd; With double vows shall bless thy happy care, lo having drawn, and baving sheath'd the sword;

CANTATA. From these their sister provinces shall know,

SET BY MONSIEUR CALLIARD. How Anne supports a friend, and how forgives a foc.

RECIT. Bright swords, and crested helms, and pointed | Beneath a verdant laurel's ample shade , la artful piles around the work shall lie; (spears, His lyre to mournful numbers strung, And shields indented deep in ancient wars,

Horace, immortal bard, supinely laid, Blazon'd with signs of Gallic heraldry;

To Venus thus address'd the song :

Ten thousand little Loves around,
Listening, dwelt on every sound.


Os his death-bed poor Lubin lies; ARIET. “ Potent Venus, bid thy son

· His sponse is in despair : Sound no more his dire alarms.

With frequent sobs, and mutual cries,
Youth on silent wings is flown :

They both express their carc.
Graver years come rolling on.

“ A different cause,” says parson Sly, Spare my age, unfit for arms:

The same effect may give :
Safe and humble let me rest,

Poor Lubin fears that he shall dio;.
From all amorous care releas'd.

His wife, that he may live.”
Potent Venus bid thy son
Sound no more the dire alarms.


From her own native France as old Alison past, " Yet Venus, why do I each morn prepare

She reproach'd English Nell with neglect or with The fragrant wreath for Cloc's hair?

malice, Why do I all day lament and sigh,

That the slattern had left, in the hurry and haste, Unless the beauteous maid be nigh?

Her lady's complexion and eye-brow's at Calais, And why all night pursue her in my dreams, Through flowery meads and crystal streams!”


Her eye-brow hox one morning lost,

(The best of folks are oftenest crost)
Thus sung the bard; and thus the goddess spoke: Sad Helen thus to Jenny said,
“ Submissive bow to Love's imperious yoke : (Her careless but atricted maid)
Every state, and every age,

“ Put me to bed then, wretched Jane; Shall own my rule, and fear my rage:

Alas! when shall I rise again? Compellid by me, thy Muse shall prove,

I can behold no mortal now : That all the world was born to love.

For what's an eye without a brow?"
“ Bid thy destin'd lyre discover

Soft desire and gentle pain :

In a dark corner of the house
Often praise, and always love her :

Poor Helen sits, and sobs, and cries;
Through her ear, her heart obtain.

She will not see her loving spouse,
Verse shall please, and sighs shall move her ; | Nor her more dear picquet allics :
Cupid does with Phabus reign.”

Unless slie find her eye-brows,
She'll e'en weep out her eyes.

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PHYLLIS'S AGE. Tev months after Florimel happen'd to red,

How old may Phyllis be, you ask, And was brought in a laudable manner to bed,

| Whose beauty thus all hearts engages? She warbled her groans with so charining a voice,

To answer is no casy tank : That one half of the parish was stunn'd with the

For she has really two ages. noise. But, when Florimel deigu'd to lie privately in,

Still in brocade, and pinch'd in stars, · Ten monthis before she and her spouse were a kin;

Her patches, paint, and jewels on; She chose with such prudence her pan's to cron. | ll day let Envy View ber face, coal,

(once squral.

And Phyllis is but twenty-one, That her nurse, nay her midwife, scarce heard her | Paint, patches, jewels laid aside, Learn, husbands, from hence, for the peace of your At night, astronomers agree, lives,

'The evening has the dar belyd; That maids make not half such a tumult as wivis And Phyllis is some forty-three.

FORMA BOVUM FRAGILE.. "Twas in a husband little less than rude, « Waua frail thing is beauty !” says Baron le | He should have sent a night or two before,

Upon his wife's retirement to intrudePerceiving his mistress had one cye of glass : (Cras, That he would come exact at such an hour; And scarcely had he spoke it,

Then he had turn'd all tragedy to jest; When she more confus'd, as more angry she grew, Found every thing contribute to his rest; By a negligent rage pror'd the maxim too true :

The picquet friend dismiss'd, the coast all clear, She dropt the eye, and broke it.

And spouse alone impatient for her dear.

But, if these gay reflections come too late, To keep the guilty Phædra from her fate;

If your more serious judgment must condemn AN EPIGRAM.

The dire effects of her unhappy flame: WRITTEN TO THE DUKE DE NOAILLES.

Yet, ye chaste matrons, and ye tender fair,

Let Love and Innocence engage your care: VAIN the concern which you express,

My spotless flames to your protection take;
That uncall'd Alard will possess

And spare poor Phædra for Ismena's sake.
Your house and coach, both day and night,
And that Macbeth was haunted less

By Banquo's restless spright.
With fifteen thousand pounds a year,

Do you complain, you cannot bear

How capricious were Nature and Art to poor An ill, you may so soon retrieve?

Nell! Good Alard, faith, is modester

She was painting her cheeks at the time her nose By much than you believe.

fell. Lend him but fifty Louis-d'or; And you shall never sce him more:

EPILOGUE TO MRS. MANLEY'S LUCIUS Take the advice; probatum est. Why do the gods indulge our store,

The female author who recites to day,
But to secure our rest?

Trusts to her sex the merit of her play.
Like father Bayes securely she sits down :
Pit, box, and gallery, 'gad! all's our own.

In ancient Greece, she says, when Sappho writ,

By their applause the critics show'd their wit,

They tun'd their voices to her lyric string; TO SMITH'S PH.EDRA AND HIPPOLYTUS, Tho' they could all do something more than sing.

But one exception to this fact we find; SPOKEN BY MRS. OLDFIELD, WHO ACTED ISMENA.

That booby Phaon only was unkind, Ladies, to night your pity I implore

An ill-bred boat-man, rough as waves and wind. For one, who never troubled you before :

From Sappho down through all succeeding ages, An Oxford man, extremely read in Greek,

And now on French or on Italian stages, Who from Euripides makes Phædra speak; Rough satyrs, sly remarks, ill-natur'd speeches, And comes to town to let us moderns know,

Are always aim'd at poets that wear breeches. How women lov'd two thousand years ago.

Arm'd with Longinus, or with Rapin, no man " If that be all,” said I, “ c'en burn your play: Drew a sharp pen upon a naked woman. Egad! we know all that as well as they :

The blustering bully, in our neighbouring streets
Show us the youthful, handsome charioteer, Scorns to attack the female that he meets :
Firm in his seat, and runuing his career;

Fearless the petticoat contemns bis frowns :
Our souls would kindle with as generous flames, The hoop secures whatever it surrounds.
As e'er inspir'd the ancient Grecian dames : The many.colour'd gentry there above,
Every Ismina would resign her breast;

By turns are rul'd by tumult and by love:
And every dear Hippolytus be blest.

And, while their sweethearts their attention fix, " But, as it is, six Aouncing Flanders mares Suspend the din of their damn'd clattering sticks Are e'en as good as any two of theirs :

Now, sirsAnd, if Hippolytus can but contrive

To you our author makes her soft request, To buy the gilded chariot, Joun can drive."

Who speak the kindest, and who write the best, Now of the bustle you have seen to day,

Your sympathe ic hearts she hopes to move, And Phadra's morals in this scholar's play,

Prou tender friendship, and endearing love, Something at least in justice should be said ;

If Petrarc!i's Muse did Laura's wit rehcarse; But this Hippolytus so fills one's head

And Cowley flatterid dear Orinda's rerse; Well! Phædra lir'd as chastely as she cou'd; She hopes fron you-Pox take her hopes and fears! For she was father Jose's own flesh and blood. I pk ad her sex's claim; what matters hers? Her aukward love indeed was oildly fated;

Ry our full power of beauty we think fit She and her Poly were too near relateel;

To damn the Salique law impos'd on wit: And yet that scruple had been laid aside,

We'll try the empire who so long have boasted ; If honest Theseus had but fairly died:

And, if we are not prais'd, we'll not be toasted. But when he came, what needed he to know, Approve what one of us prese its to night, But that all matters stood in statu quo?"

Or every mortal woman here shall write: There was no harm, yon ser; or, grant ther.: mere, 1 Rural, pathetic, narrative, sublime, She might want conduct; but he wanted care. We'll write to you, and inake you write in rhyme

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