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He took the gift : Nor ever will I sheathe
This steel (so Anna's high behests ordain'),
The General said, unless by glorious death
Absolv’d, till conquest has confirm’d your reign.
Returns like these our mistress bids us make,
When from a foreign prince a gift her Britons take.

XIII.
And now fierce Gallia rushes on her foes,
Her force augmented by the Boyan bands ;
So Volga's stream, increas'd by mountain (nows,
Rolls with new fury down through Russia's lands.
Like two great rocks against the raging tide
(If Virtue's force with Nature's we compare),
Unmov'd the two united chiefs abide,
Sustain the impulse, and receive the war.
Round their firm fides in vain the tempest beats ;
And still the foaming wave with lefsen'd power retreats

XIV. The rage dispers'd, the glorious pair advance, With mingled anger and collected might, To carn the war, and tell-aggressing France, How Britain's sons and Britain's friends can fight. On conquest fix'd, and covetous of fame, Behold them rushing through the Gallic host: Through standing corn fo runs the sudden flame, Or eastern winds along Sicilia's coast. They deal their terrors to the adverse nation : Pale death attends their arms, and ghastly desolation.'

XV. Bir

XV.
But while with fierceft ire Bellona glows;
And Europe rather hopes than fears her fate;
While Britain presses her afflicted foes ;
What horror damps the strong, and quells the great!
Whence look the soldier's cheeks dismay'd and pale ?
Erst ever dreadful, know they now to dread ?
The hostile troops, I ween, almost prevail ;
And the pursuers only not recede.
Alas! their lessen'd rage proclaims their grief !
For, anxious, lo! they croud around their falling chief.

XVI.
I thank thee, Fate, exclaims the fierce Bavar;
Let Boya's trumpet grateful lö's sound :
I saw him fall, their thunderbolt of war : –
Ever to vengeance sacred be the ground.
Vain wish! short joy! the hero mounts again
In greater glory, and with fuller light :
The evening-star fo falls into the main,
To rise at morn more prevalently briglat,
He rises safe, but near, too near his side,
A good man's grievous loss, a faithful fervant died.

XVII.
Propitious Mars ! the battle is regain'd:
The foe with lessen'd wrath disputes the field :
The Briton fights, by favouring gods sustain'd :
Freedom must live ; and lawless power must yield:
Vain now the tales which fabling poets tell,
That wavering. Conquel ftill desires to rovet
In Marlborough's camp the goddess knows to dwell:
Long as the hero's life remains her love.

T

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 those arms her choice
Recording Schellenberg's and Blenheim's toils,
We dreaded left thou should'It those toils repeat :
We view'd the palace charg’d with Gallic fpoils,
And in those spoils we thought thy praise compleat.
For never Greek we deem’d, nor Roman knight,
In characters like these did e'er his acts indite.

XIX.
Yet, mindlefs still of ease, thy virtue flies
A pitch to old and modern times unknown :
Those goodly deeds which we so highly prize
Imperfect seem, great chief, to thee alone.
Those heights, where William's virtue might have staid,
And on the subject world look'd safely down,
By Marlborough pass’d, the props and steps were made,
Sublimer yet to raise his queen's renown:
Still gaining more, still flighting what he gain'd,
Nought done the hero decm'd, while aught undone re-
main'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 Laid:

And

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zaczciester grief! Frams shoes on their falling chief.

IVI e To, 3:2 se force Barar; Ilo's sound:

rutin sheickelt at sar: Tranzaceste greuzi. – an efter she bord mounts again HERE, ender izght: Tissus to the main,

Bat Bore peraleziły biglato the man, but act, to bear his fide, Agad therous jois, a faizatul servant died.

XVII.
Pensioe Vers' she bartie is regaiad :
The site wei kad wrath disputes show
Tx sans or favouris

Vea now the

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PRIOR'S POEM S.

255
Again France flies, again the duke pursues,
And on Ramilia's plains he Blenheim's famc rcnews.

XVIII.
Great chanks, 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 those arms her choice,
Recording Schellenberg's and Blenheim's toils,
We dreaded left thou should'It those toils repeat :
We view'd the palace charg'd with Gallic fpoils,
And in those spoils we thought thy praise compleat.
For never Greek we deem'd, nor Roman knight,
In characters like these did e'er his acts indite.

XIX.
Yet, mindlefs still of ease, thy virtue fies
A pitch to old and modern times unknown :
Those goodly deeds which we so highly prize
Imperfect seem, great chief, to thee alone.
Those heights, where William's virtue mighe jave stavebng
And on the subject world look'd safely dowl,
By Marlborough pass’d, the props and fieps vere naren
Sublimer yet to raise his queen’s renous :
Still gaining more, still fighting wkar je zani's
Nought done the hero deem'd, wbie z naste za
main'd.

XX.
umour sold.
ald Bava
the chan

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