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IT.

e Bellota glows;

ta fears her fate;

a reaties ver after foes;

„ENTTI GAMOS The frang, and quells the great! Haz ok de lader's checks almay'd and pale? Ege meatful know ther now to dread?

male mars. I ven, almal prevail;

As the purus any na recode.

shan kaufen 2 rage proclaims their grief!

Fox, an ais à dry crved around their falling chief.

XVZ

Inail des Fre, adams the fierce Bavar;
Le Boatenger 15's found :

I re him as their thunderbolt of war : –
Tegund Jared be the ground. —
Van with fret opt the hero mounts again
Hy great glor, and with fuller light :
The evening-far e falls into the main,
Terima more prevalently bright.
He res 12, but near, too near his fide,

A good muls grievous lofs, a faithful fervant died.
XVII

Propitious Mars' the battle is regain'd :

The foe with lion'd wrath difputes the o
The Ban fights, by favouring

Freedon med liveş

Vain now the

That ware

La Mar

Lon

POEMS.

Again France flies, again the duke pursues,

And on Ramilia's plains he Blenheim's fame renews.

XVIII.

Great thanks, O captain great in arms receive
From thy triumphant country's public voice:
Thy country greater thanks can only give

To Anne, to her who made thofe arms her choice.
Recording Schellenberg's and Blenheim's toils,
We dreaded left thou should't thofe toils repeat:
We view'd the palace charg'd with Gallic fpoils,
And in thofe fpoils we thought thy praife compleat.
For never Greek we deem'd, nor Roman knight,
In characters like thefe did e'er his acts indite.
XIX.

Yet, mindlefs ftill of ease, thy virtue flies
A pitch to old and modern times unknown:
Thofe goodly deeds which we fo highly prize
Imperfect seem, great chief, to thee alone.

255

Those heights, where William's virtue might have flaud,
And on the subject world look'd fafely down,
By Marlborough pass'd, the props and fteps were mades
Sublimer yet to raise his queen's renowa:

Still gaining more, ftill flighting what he zaind,
Nought done the hero deem'd, while at indone re

main'd.

XX.

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And lives he yet, the great, the loft Bavar,
Ruin to Gallia in the name of friend?
Tell me, how far has Fortune been fevere?
Has the foe's glory, or our grief, an end?
Remains there, of the fifty thousand loft,

To fave our threaten'd realm, or guard our fhatter'd

coaft?

XXI.

To the clofe rock the frighted raven flies,
Soon as the rifing eagle cuts the air :
The fhaggy wolf unfeen and trembling lies,
When the hoarse roar proclaims the lion near.
Ill-ftarr'd did we our forts and lines forfake,
To dare our British foes to open fight:
Our conqueft we by stratagem should make :
Our triumph had been founded in our flight.
"Tis ours, by craft and by furprize to gain :
'Tis theirs, to meet in arms, and battle in the plain.
XXII.

The ancient father of this hoftile brood,

Their boafted Brute, undaunted snatch'd his gods
From burning Troy, and Xanthus red with blood,
And fix'd on filver Thames his dire abodes :
And this be Troynovante, he faid, the feat
By heaven ordain'd, my fons, 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 Peleides' arm, nor Juno's rage, could tame.

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XXIII.

Their Tudors hence, and Stuarts offspring flow
Hence Edward, dreadful with his fable shield,
Talbot to Gallia's power eternal foe,

And Seymour, fam'd in council or in field:
Hence Nevil, great to fettle or dethrone,
And Drake, and Ca'ndish, terrors of the fea:
Hence Butler's fons, o'er land and ocean known,
Herbert's and Churchill's warring progeny:

Hence the long roll which Gallia fhould conceal :
For, oh! who, vanquish'd, loves the victor's fame to

tell?

XXIV.

Envy'd Britannia, sturdy as the oak,
Which on her mountain-top fhe proudly bears,
Eludes the ax, and fprouts against the stroke;
Strong from her wounds, and greater by her wars.
And as thofe teeth, which Cadmus fow'd in earth,
Produc'd new youth, and furnish'd fresh fupplies :
So with young vigour, and fucceeding birth,
Her loffes more than recompens'd arife;

And every age he with a race is crown'd,
For letters more polite, in battles more renown'd.

XXV.

Obftinate power, whom nothing can repel;

Not the fierce Saxon, nor the cruel Dane,

Nor deep impreffion of the Norman steel,
Nor Europe's force amafs'd by envious Spain.

VOL. I.

S

Nor

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Nor France on univerfal fway intent,

Oft' breaking leagues, and oft' renewing wars;
Nor (frequent bane of weaken'd government)
Their own inteftine feuds and mutual jars :
Thofe feuds and jars, in which I trusted more,
Than in my troops, and fleets, and all the Gallic power.
XXVI.

To fruitful Rheims, or fair Lutetia's gate,
What tidings fhall the meffenger convey ?
Shall the loud herald our fuccefs relate,
Or mitred prieft appoint the folemn day?
Alas! my praises they no more must fing;
They to my ftatue now muft bow no more:
Broken, repuls'd is their immortal king :
Fallen, fallen for ever, is the Gallic power.
The Woman Chief is mafter of the war :

Earth she has freed by arms, and vanquish'd Heaven by

prayer.

XXVII.

While thus the ruin'd foe's despair commends
Thy council and thy deed, victorious Queen,
What fhall thy fubjects fay, 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 fister Sculpture let her join
To raise, great Anne, the monument to thee;
To thee, of all our good the facred fpring;

To thee, our dearest dread; to thee, our softer King.

XXVIII. Let

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