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ODE TO THE SUN.
But when (so Heaven ordains !) her smiling ray
Distinguish'd o'er the balance shall preside,
Whilst future kings her ancient sceptre sway,
May her mild influence all their councils guide :
To Albion ever constant in her love,
Of Sovereigns here the best, the brightest star above.
For lawless power, reclaim’d to right,
And virtue rais'd by pious arms.
Let Albion be thy fair delight,
And shield her safe from threaten'd harms :
With flowers and fruit her botom fill,
Let laurel rise on every hill
Freíh as the first on Daphne's brow :
Instruct her tuneful fons to sing,
And make each våle with Pæans ring,
To Blenheim and Ramillia due.
Secure of bright eternal fame,
With happy wing the Theban swan
Towering from Pisa's sacred stream,
Inspir'd by thee the long began :
Through desarts of unclouded light,
When he harmonious took his flight,
The gods constrain’d the founding spheres :
Still Envy darts her rage in vain,
The lustre of his worth to stain,
He growing whiter with his years.
But, Phæbus, god of numbers, high to raise
The honours of thy art, and heavenly lyre,
What Muse is destin'd to our sovereign's praise,
Worthy her acts, and thy informing fire ?
To him, for whom this springing laurel grows,
Eternal on the topmost heights of fame,
Be kind, and all thy Helicon disclose ;
And all intent on Gloriana's name,
Let silence brood o'er ocean, earth, and air,
As when to victor Jove thou sung'st the giants war.
In sure records each shining deed,
When faithful Clio fets to view, ,
Posterity will doubting read,
And scarce believe her annals true :
The Muses toil with art to raise
Fictitious monuments of praise,
When other actions they rehearse ;
But half of Gloriana's reign,
That so the rest may credit gain,
Should pass unregister'd in verse.
High on its own establish'd base
Prevailing virtue's pleas'd to rife;
Divinely deck'd with native grace,
Rich in itself with folid joys :
Ere Gloriana on the throne,
Quitting for Albion's rest her own,
In types of regal power was scen:
With fair pre-eminence confest
It triumph'd in a private breast,
And made the Princess more than Queen,
O Phæbus ! would thy godhead not refuse
This humble incense, on thy altar laid ;
Would thy propitious ear attend the Muse,
That suppliant now invokes thy certain aid ;
With Mantuan force I'd mount a stronger gale,
And sing the parent of her land, who strove
T'exceed the transports of her people's zeal,
With acts of mercy, and majestic love;
By fate, to fix Britannia's empire, given
The guardian power of earth, and public care of heaven.
Then, Churchill, should the Muse record
The conquests by thy sword atchiev'd;
Quiet to Belgian states restor’d,
And Austrian crowns by thee retriev'd.
Imperious Leopold confefs’d
His hoary majesty distress’d;
To arms, to arms, Bavaria calls,
Nor with less terror shook his throne
Than when the rising crescent Ihone
Malignant o'er his fbatter'd walls.
The warrior led the Britons forth
On foreign fields to dare their fate ;
Distinguish'd fouls of shining worth,
In war unknowing to retreat :
Thou, Phæbus, saw'ft the hero's face,
When Mars had breath'd a purple grace,
And mighty fury filld his breast :
How like thyself, when to destroy
The Greeks thou didst thy darts employ,
Fierce with thy golden quiver dreft !
Sudden, whilft banish'd from his native land,
Red with dishonest wounds Bavaria mourn'd,
The Chief, at Gloriana's high command,
Like a rouz'd lion to the Maes return'd;
With vengeful speed the British sword he drew,
Unus'd to grieve his host with long delay;
Whilst wing'd with fear the force of Gallia few;
As when the morning star restores the day,
The wandering ghosts of twenty thousand Nain
Fleetfullen to the shades from Blenheim's mournfulplain.
Britannia, wipe thy dusty brow,
And put the Bourbon laurels on;
To thee deliver'd nations bow,
And bless the spoils thy wars have won.
For thee Bellona points her spear,
And whilst lamenting mothers fear,
On high her signal torch displays ;
But when thy sword is sheath’d, again
Obsequious the receives thy chain,
And smooths her violence of face.
Parent of arms! for ever stand
With large increase of fame rever'd,
Whilst arches to thy saving hand
On Danube's grateful banks are rear’d.
Eugene, inspir’d to war by thee,
Aufonia's weeping states to free,
Swift on th' imperial eagle flies ;
Whilft, bleeding, from his azure bed
Th’asserted Iber lifts his head,
And safe his Austrian lord enjoys.
I Britannia! fix'd on foreign wars,
Guiltless of civil rage extend thy name :
The waves of utmost ocean, and the stars,
Are bounds but equal to thy sovereign's fame.
With deeper wrath thy victor lion roars,
Wide o'er the subject world diffusing fear,
Whilft Gallia weeps her guilt, and peace implores ;
So Earth, transfix'd by fierce Minerva's spear,
A gentler birth obedient did disclose;
And sudden from the wound eternal olives rose.
When with establish'd freedom bless’d,
The globe to great Alcides bow'd,
Whose happy power reliev'd th' oppress’d
From lawless chains, and check’d the proud ;
Mature in fame, the grateful gods
Receiv'd him to their bright abodes :