Recording Schellenberg's and Blenheim's toils,

We dreaded lest thou shouldst those toils repeat; We view'd the palace charg'd with Gallic spoils, And in those spoils we thought thy praise

complete:

For never Greek we deem'd nor Roman knight, In characters like these did e'er his acts indite.

XIX.

Yet, mindless still of ease, thy virtue flies
A pitch to old and modern times unknown:
Those goodly deeds, which we so highly prize,
Imperfect scem, great Chief, to thee alone,
Those heights, where William's virtue might
have staid,

And on the subject world look'd safely down, By Marlbrô pass'd, the props and steps were made

Sublimer yet to raise his Queen's renown: Still gaining more, still slighting what he gain'd, Nought done the hero deem'd, while ought undone remain'd.

XX.

When swift-wing'd Rumour told the mighty Gaul
How lessen'd from the field Bavar was fled,
He wept the swiftness of the champion's fall,
And thus the royal treaty-breaker said:
And lives he yet, the great, the lost Bavar,
Ruin to Gallia in the name of friend?

Tell me how far has Fortune been severe ?

Has the foe's glory or our grief an end?

Remains there, of the fifty thousand lost,

To save our threaten'd realm or guard our shat

XXI,

[ter'd coast? To the close rock the frighted raven flies,

Soon as the rising eagle cuts the air; The shaggy wolf unseen and trembling lies,

When the hoarse roar proclaims the lion near. Ill starr'd did we our forts and lines forsake, To dare our British foes to open fight; Our conquest we by stratagem should make; Our triumph had been founded in our flight. "Tis ours by craft and by surprise to gain; "Tis theirs to meet in arms and battle in the plain.

XXII.

The ancient father of this hostile brood,

Their boasted Brute, undaunted snatch'd his

Gods

From burning Troy, and Xanthus, red with blood, And fix'd on silver Thames his dire abodes; And this be Trynovante, he said, the seat

By Heav'n ordain'd, my sons, your lasting place; Superior here to all the bolts of fate,

Live mindful of the author of your race,. Whom neither Greece,nor war, nor want,nor flame, Nor great Pelides' arm, nor Juno's rage, could [tame, Their Tudors hence, and Stuarts offspring flow; Hence Edward, dreadful with his sable shield

XXIII.

Talbot, to Gallia's pow'r eternal foe,

And Seymour, fam'd in council or in field;

Hence Nevil, great to settle or dethrone,

And Drake, and Ca'ndish, terrors of the sea; Hence Butler's sons, o'er land and ocean known, Herbert's and Churchill's warring progeny; Hence the long roll which Gallia should conceal, For, oh! who vanquish'd, loves the victor's fame

XXIV.

Envy'd Britannia, sturdy as the oak

[to tell?

Which on her mountain-top she proudly bears, Eludes the axe, and sprouts against the stroke, Strong from her wounds, and greater by her

wars.

And as those teeth which Cadmus sow'd in earth Produc'd new youth,and furnish'd fresh supplies, So with young vigour and succeeding birth

Her losses more than recompens'd arise, And ev'ry age she with a race is crown'd, For letters more polite, in battles more renown'd.

XXV.

Obstinate pow'r, whom nothing can repel,
Not the fierce Saxon nor the cruel Dane,
Nor deep impression of the Norman steel,
Nor Europe's force amass'd by envious Spain:
Nor France, on universal sway intent,

Oft breaking leagues, and oft renewing wars, Nor (frequent bane of weaken'd government)

Their own intestine feuds and mutual jars; Those feuds and jars in which I trusted more Than in my troops, and fleets, and all the Gallic pow'r.

XXVI.

To fruitful Rheims or fair Lutetia's gate
What tidings shall the messenger convey?
Shall the loud herald our success relate,

Or mitred priest appoint the solemn day?
Alas! my praises they no more must sing;
They to my statue now must bow no more:
Broken, repuls'd is their immortal king:

Fallin, fall'n for ever is the Gallic pow'rThe Woman-chief is master of the war: Earth she has freed by arms, and vanquish'd Heav'n by pray'r,

XXVII.

While thus the ruin'd foe's despair commends Thy council and thy deed, victorious Queen, What shall thy subjects say, and what thy friends! How shall thy triumphs in our joy be seen? Oh! deign to let the eldest of the Nine

Recite Britannia great and Gallia free; Oh! with her sister Sculpture let her join

To raise, great Anne, the monument to thee; To thee, of all our good the sacred spring; To thee, our dearest dread; to thee, our softer

XXVIII.

[King. Let Europe, sav'd, the column high erect, Than Trajan's higher or than Antonine's, Where sembling art may carve the fair effect, And full achievment of thy great designs. In a calm heav'n and a serener air

Sublime the Queen shall on the summit stand,

From danger far, as far remov'd from fear,

And pointing down to earth her dread command. All winds, all storms, that threaten human woe, Shall sink beneath her feet, and spread their rage [below. Their fleets shall strive, by winds and waters tost, Till the young Austrian on Iberia's strand, Great as Æneas on the Latian coast,

XXIX.

Shall fix his foot; and this, be this the land, Great Jove, where I for ever will remain,

(The empire's other hope shall say) and here Vanquish'd, intomb'd I'll lie, or crown'd I'll reign

O Virtue, to thy British mother dear! Like the fam'd Trojan suffer and abide; For Anne is thine, I ween, as Venus was his guide.

XXX.

There, in eternal characters engrav'd,

Vigo, and Gibraltar, and Barcelone, Their force destroy'd, their privileges sav'd, Shall Anna's terrors and her mercies own: Spain, from th' usurper Bourbon's arms retriev'd, Shall with new life and grateful joy appear, Numb'ring the wonders which that youth achiev'd Whom Anna clad in arms, and sent to war, Whom Anna sent to claim Iberia's throne, And make him more than king in calling him her

XXXI.

[son. There Ister, pleas'd by Blenheim's glorious field, Rolling, shall bid his eastern waves declare