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With hizzing ftreams of fire the air they ftreak,
And hurl deftruction round 'em where they break,
The skies with long ascending flames are bright,
And all the fea reflects a quivering light.

Thus Etna, when in fierce eruptions broke,
Fills heav'n with ashes, and the earth with smoke:
Here crags of broken rocks are twirl'd on high,
Here molten ftones and fcatter'd cinders fly:
Its fury reaches the remoteft coast,

And ftrows the Afiatic fhore with duft.

Now does the failor from the neighb'ring main

Look after Gallic towns and forts in vain ;

No more his wonted marks he can descry,
But fees a long unmeafur'd ruin lie;

Whilft, pointing to the naked coaft, he shows

His wondring mates where towns and steeples rose,
Where crowded citizens he lately view'd,

And fingles out the place where once St. Maloes stood.
Here Ruffel's actions should my Muse require:
And would my ftrength but fecond my defire,
I'd all his boundless bravery rehearse,
And draw his cannons thund'ring in my verfe;
High on the deck fhould the great leader ftand,
Wrath in his look, and light'ning in his hand;
Like Homer's Hedor when he flung his fire

Amidst a thousand ships, and made all Greece retire.

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But who can run the British triumphs o'er, And count the flames difperft on ev'ry shore? Who can defcribe the scatter'd victory,

And draw the reader on from fea to fea?

Elfe who cou'd Ormond's God-like acts refufe,
Ormond the theme of ev'ry Oxford Mufe?
Fain wou'd I here his mighty worth proclaim,
Attend him in the noble chafe of fame,

Through all the noise and hurry of the fight,
Obferve each blow, and keep him ftill in fight.
Oh, did our British peers thus court renown,
And grace the coats their great fore-fathers won!
Our arms would then triumphantly advance,
Nor Henry be the laft that conquered France.
What might not England hope, if such abroad
Purchas'd their country's honour with their blood:
When fuch, detain'd at home, fupport our ftate
In WILLIAM's stead, and bear a kingdom's weight,
The schemes of Gallic policy o'erthrow,

And blaft the counfels of the common foe;

Direct our armies, and diftribute right,

And render our MARIA's lofs more light.

But ftop, my Muse, 'th ungrateful found forbear,
MARIA's name ftill wounds each British ear:
Each British heart MARIA ftill does wound,
And tears burft out unbidden at the found;

MARIA

MARIA fill our rifing mirth destroys,

Darkens our triumphs, and forbids our joys:

But fee, at length, the British ships appear! Our NASSAU comes! and as his fleet draws near, The rifing mafts advance, the fails grow white, And all his pompous navy floats in fight. Come, mighty Prince, defir'd of Britain, come! May heav'n's propitious gales attend thee home! Come, and let longing crowds behold that look, Which fuch confufion and amazement ftrook Through Gallic hofts: but, oh! let us descry Mirth in thy brow, and pleasure in thy eye; Let nothing dreadful in thy face be found, But for a-while forget the trumpet's found; Well pleas'd, thy people's loyalty approve, Accept their duty, and enjoy their love. For as when lately mov'd with fierce delight, You plung'd amidst the tumult of the fight, Whole heaps of dead encompafs'd you around, And steeds o'er-turn'd lay foaming on the ground; So crown'd with laurels now, where-e'er you go, Around you blooming joys, and peaceful bleflings flow.

A Tran

E

A Tranflation of all

VIRGIL's Fourth Georgic,

Except the Story of ARISTE US.

Thereal fweets shall next my Mufe

engage,

And this, Mæcenas, claims your patronage,

Of little creatures wondrous acts I treat,
The ranks and mighty leaders of their state,
Their laws, employments, and their wars relate.
A trifling theme provokes my humble lays,
Trifling the theme, not fo the Poet's praife,
If great Apollo and the tuneful Nine

Join in the piece, and make the work divine.
First, for your bees a proper ftation find,

That's fenc'd about, and fhelter'd from the wind;
For winds divert them in their flight, and drive

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The fwarms, when loaded homeward, from their hive. Nor fheep, nor goats, must pasture near their stores, To trample under foot the fpringing flowers;

Nor frifking heifers bound about the place,

To fpurn the dew-drops off, and bruife the rifing grafs;
Nor muft the lizard's painted brood appear,

Nor wood-pecks, nor the swallow harbour near.
They waste the swarms, and as they fly along

Convey the tender morfels to their young.

Let

Let purling ftreams, and fountains edg'd with mofs,
And shallow rills run trickling through the grafs;
Let branching olives o'er the fountain grow,
Or palm shoot up and fhade the streams below;
That when the youth, led by their princes, thun
The crowded hive, and fport it in the fun,
Refreshing springs may tempt 'em from the heat,
And fhady coverts yield a cool retreat.

Whether the neighb'ring water ftands or runs,
Lay twigs acrofs and bridge it o'er with ftones;
That if rough ftorms, or fudden blafts of wind
Should dip, or fcatter thofe that lag behind,
Here they may settle on the friendly ftone,
And dry their reeking pinions at the fun.
Plant all the flow'ry banks with Lavender,
With ftore of Sav'ry scent the fragrant air,
Let running Betony the field o'erfpread,
And fountains foak the Violet's dewy bed.
Tho' barks or plaited willows make your hive,

A narrow inlet to their cells contrive;

For colds congeal and freeze the liquors up,

And, melted down with heat, the waxen buildings drop,
The Bees, of both extremes alike afraid,

Their wax around the whiftling crannies spread,
And fuck out clammy dews from herbs and flow'rs,
To fmear the chinks, and plaifter up the pores:

For

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