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And, boldly just to Gloriana's fame,

Exalt thy filver urn, and duteous homage claim.

I.

Advanc'd to thy meridian height,

On earth, great God of Day, look down:
Let Windfor entertain thy fight,

Clad in fair emblems of renown:
And whilst in radiant pomp appear
The names to bright Victoria dear,
Intent the long proceffion view :
Confefs none worthier ever wore
Her favours, or was deck'd with more,
Than the confers on Churchill's brow.

II.

But oh withdraw thy piercing rays,
The nymph anew begins to moan,
Viewing the much-lamented fpace,

Where late her warlike William fhone:
There fix'd by her officious hand,
His fword and fceptre of command
To deathless fame adopted rest:

Nor wants three to compleat her woe,
Plac'd with refpectful love below,

The ftar that beam'd on Gloucefter's breast.

III.

O Phœbus! all thy faving power employ, Long let our vows avert the deftin'd woe, Ere Gloriana re-afcends the fky,

And leaves a land of orphans here below!

But

But when (fo Heaven ordains !) her fmiling ray
Diftinguish'd o'er the balance fhall prefide,
Whilft future kings her ancient fceptre fway,
May her mild influence all their councils guide :
To Albion ever conftant in her love,

Of Sovereigns here the best, the brightest star above.

I.

For lawless power, reclaim'd to right, And virtue rais'd by pious arms.

Let Albion be thy fair delight,

And thield her fafe from threaten'd harms:

With flowers and fruit her bofom fill,

Let laurel rife on every hill

Fresh as the first on Daphne's brow:

Inftruct her tuneful fons to fing,

And make each vale with Pæans ring,
To Blenheim and Ramillia due.

II.

Secure of bright eternal fame,
With happy wing the Theban fwan
Towering from Pifa's facred stream,

Infpir'd by thee the song began :
Through defarts of unclouded light,
When he harmonious took his flight,
The gods constrain'd the founding spheres:
Still Envy darts her rage in vain,
The luftre of his worth to ftain,
He growing whiter with his years.

But

III.

But, Phœbus, god of numbers, high to raise
The honours of thy art, and heavenly lyre,
What Muse is deftin'd to our fovereign'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 filence brood o'er ocean, earth, and air,

As when to victor Jove thou fung'ft the giants war.

I.

In fure records each fhining deed,
When faithful Clio fets to view,
Pofterity will doubting read,

And scarce believe her annals true :
The Mufes toil with art to raise
Fictitious monuments of praife,
When other actions they rehearse ;
But half of Gloriana's reign,
That so the rest may credit gain,
Should pafs unregister'd in verse.
II.

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 fcen:
With fair pre-eminence confest
It triumph'd in a private breast,
And made the Princefs more than Queen,

III.

;

O Phœbus! would thy godhead not refuse
This humble incenfe, on thy altar laid;
Would thy propitious ear attend the Mufe,
That fuppliant now invokes thy certain aid
With Mantuan force I'd mount a stronger gale,
And fing the parent of her land, who ftrove
T'exceed the tranfports 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.

I.

Then, Churchill, fhould the Mufe record

The conquests by thy fword atchiev'd ;

Quiet to Belgian states reftor'd,

And Auftrian crowns by thee retriev'd.
Imperious Leopold confefs'd

His hoary majesty distress'd;

To arms, to arms, Bavaria calls,
Nor with lefs terror fhook his throne
Than when the rifing crefcent shone

Malignant o'er his shatter'd walls.

II.

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The warrior led the Britons forth On foreign fields to dare their fate Diftinguish'd fouls of fhining worth, In war unknowing to retreat :

Thou,

Thou, Phoebus, faw'ft the hero's face,
When Mars had breath'd a purple grace,
And mighty fury fill'd his breast:
How like thyself, when to destroy
The Greeks thou didst thy darts employ,
Fierce with thy golden quiver dreft!

III.

Sudden, whilft banish'd from his native land, Red with difhoneft 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 fword he drew, Unus'd to grieve his hoft with long delay; Whilft wing'd with fear the force of Gallia flew ; As when the morning ftar reftores the day, The wandering ghosts of twenty thousand slain Fleet fullen to the shades from Blenheim's mournful plain.

I.

Britannia, wipe thy dufty brow,

And put the Bourbon laurels on ;
To thee deliver'd nations bow,

And blefs the fpoils thy wars have won.
For thee Bellona points her spear,
And whilft lamenting mothers fear,
On high her fignal torch displays;
But when thy fword is fheath'd, again
Obfequious fhe receives thy chain,
And fmooths her violence of face.

II. Parent

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