תמונות בעמוד

Placing the Saint an emblem by his side,
She tells him, Virtue arm’d must conquer lawless Pride.

The Hero bows obedient, and retires :
The queen's commands exalt the warrior’s fires,
His steps are to the filent woods inclin'd,
The great design revolving in his mind;
When to his fight a heavenly form appears ::
Her hand a palm, her head a laurel: wears.

Me, the begins, the fairest child of Jove,
Below for ever sought, and bless’d above ;
Me, the bright source of wealth, and power, and fame,
(Nor need I say, Victoria is my name ;)
Me the great father down to thee has sent;;
He bids me wait at thay distinguish'd tent,
To execute what Anna's with would have :
Her subject thou, I only am her slave.

Dare then, thou much belov’d by smiling Fate, For Anna's sake, and in her

name, be

great :
Go forth, and be to distant nations known
My future favourite, and my darling son,
At Schellenbergh I'll manifest sustain
Thy glorious cause; and spread my wings again,
Conspicuous,o'er thy helm, in Blenheim's plain.
The Goddess said, nor would admit reply ;-
But cut the liquid air, and gain’d the sky..

His high commission is through Britain known,
And thronging armies to his standard run ;.
He marches thoughtful, and he speedy fails :
(Bless him, ye leas! and prosper him, ye gales!)




Belgia receives him welcome to her shores ;
And William's death with lessen'd grief deplores :
His presence only must retrieve that lofs;
Marlborough to her must be what William was.
So when great Atlas, from these low abodes
Recall’d, was gather'd to his kindred-gods ;
Alcides, respited by prudent Fate,
Sustain'd the ball, nor droop'd beneath the weight.

Secret and swift behold the Chief advance ;
Sees half the empire join'd, and friend to France :
The British general dooms the fight ; his fword
Dreadful he draws; the captains wait the word.
Anne and St. George the charging hero cries :
Shrill echo from the neighbouring wood replies
Anne and St. George.--At that auspicious fign
The standards move; the adverse armies join.
Of eight great hours, Time measures out the fands;
And Europe's fate in doubtful balance stands :
The ninth, Victoria comes :-o'er Marlborough's head
Confess'd she fits; the hostile

troops recede : Triumphs the Goddess, from her promise freed.

The eagle, by the British lion's might Unchain'd and free, directs her upward flight : Nor did the e'er with stronger pinions soar From Tyber's bank, than now from Danube's shore.

Fir'd with the thoughts which these ideas raise, And great

ambition of my country's praise ; The English Mufe should like the Mantuan rise, Scornful of earth and clouds, should reach the skies, With wonder (though with envy still) pursued by

human eyes.


But we must change the style - just now I said, I ne'er was master of the tuneful trade ; Or the small genius which my youth could boast, In prose and business lies extinct and loft: Bless'd, if I may fome younger Muse excité ; Point out the game, and animate the flight; That; from Marseilles to Calais, France may know, As we have conquerors, we have poets too; And either laurel does in Britain

grow; That, though among ourselves, with too much heat, We sometimes wrangle, when we should debate; (A consequential ill which freedom draws; A bad effect, but from a noble cause ;) We can with universal zeal advance, To curb the faithless arrogance of France; Nor ever shall Britannia's fons refuse To answer to thy Master or thy Muse; Nor want just subject for victorious strains, While Marlborough's arm eternal laurels gains ; And where old Spenser sung, a new Elisa reigns.


Upon this Passage in the SCALIGERIANA. " Les Allemans ne ce foucient pas quel Vin ils boivent

pourveu que ce soit Vin, ni quel Latin ils parlent pourveu que ce soit Latin."


HEN you with High-Dutch Heeren dine,

Expect false Latin, and stumm'd wine :
They never taste, who always drink;
They always talk, who never think.


Five Years old, 1704 ;
The AUTHOR then Forty.

ORDS, knights, and 'squires, the numerous band, ,

That wear the fair Miss Mary's fetters,
Were summon’d by her high command,
To thew their paffions by their letters.

My pen amongst the rest I took,

Left those bright eyes that cannot read
Should dart their kindling fires, and look
The power they have to be obey'a.

Nor quality, nor reputation,

Forbid'me yet my flame to tell,
Dear five years old befriends my passion,
And I may write till the can spell.

For, while she makes her silk-worms beds

With all the tender things I swear;
Whilst all the house my passion reads,
In papers round her baby's hair ;

She may receive and own my flame,

For, though the strictest prudes should know it;
She 'll pass for a moft virtuous dame,
And I for an unhappy poet.

VI. Then

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Then too, alas ! 'when she shall tear

The lines some younger rival sends ;
She 'll give me leave to write, I fear,

And we shall still continue friends.


For, as our different ages move,

'Tis so ordain’d, (would Fate but mend it!) That I shall be past making love,

When she begins to comprehend it.



F A M E.



H E sturdy Man, if he in lave obtains,

In open pomp and triumph reigns :
The subtile Woman, if she should succeed,
Disowns the honour of the deed.

Though He, for all his boast, - is forc'd to yield,
Though She can always keep the field :
He vaunts his conquests, the conceals her shame ;
How Partial is the voice of Fame !

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