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He views that favourite of indulgent Fame,
Whom whilom he had met on Ister's shore

Too well, alas ! the man he knows the same,
Whose prowess there repell’d the Boyan power,
And sent them trembling through the frighted lands,
Swift as the whirlwind drives Arabia's scatter'd sandsa

His former loffes he forgets to grieve ;
Absolves his fate, if with a kinder ray
It now would fhine, and only give him leave
To balance the account of Blenheim's day.
So the fell lion in the lonely glade,
His fide still fmarting with the hunter's spear,
Though deeply wounded, no-way yet dismay'd,
Roars terrible, and meditates new war ;
In sullen fury traverses the plain,
To find the venturous foe, and battle him again..

Misguided prince, no longer urge thy fatey.
Nor tempt the hero to unequal war ;
Fam'd in misfortune, and in ruin great,
Confess the force of Marlborough's stronger star.
Those laurel groves (the merits of thy youth),
Which thou from Mahomet didît greatly gain,
While, bold affertor of refiftless truth,
Thy sword did godlike liberty maintain,
Must from thy brow their falling honours shed,
And their transplanted wreaths must deck a worthier

X. Yet cease the ways of Providence to blame, And human faults withi human grief confess, 'Tis thou art chang'd; while heaven is still the same; From thy ill councils date thy ill success. Impartial Justice holds her equal scales, Till stronger Virtue does the weight incline: If over thee thy glorious foe prevails, He now defends the cause that once was thine. Righteous the war, the champion shall subdue ; For Jove's great handmaid Power muit Jove's decrees pursue.

XI. Hark! the dire trumpets found their shrill alarms! Auverquerque, branch'd from the renown'd Nassaus, Hoary in war, and bent beneath his arms, His glorious sword with dauntless courage

When anxious Britain mourn'd her parting lord,
And all of William that was mortal died;
The faithful hero had receiv'd this sword
From his expiring master's much-lov'd fide.
Oft' from its fatal ire has Louis flown,
Where'er great William led, or Maese and Sambre runi

But brandish'd high, in an ill-omen'd hour
To thee, proud Gaul, behold thy justest fear,
The master-sword, disposer of thy power:
'Tis that which Cæsar gave the British peer.


«He took the gift : Nor ever will I fheathe
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.

And now fierce Gallia rushes on her foes,
Her force augmented by the Boyan bands ;
So Volga's stream, increas'd by mountain snows,
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 lessen'd power retreats

XIV. The rage dispers'd, the glorious pair advance, With mingled anger and collected might, To turn 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 so 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. Bur

But while with fierceft ire Bellona glows ;
And Europe rather hopes than fears her fate ;
While Britain presses her afiliated 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.

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

greater glory; and with fuller light :
The evening-star fo falls into the main,
To rise at morn more prevalently bright,
He rises safe, but near, too near his fide,
A good man's grievous loss, a faithful fervant died.

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


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Again France flies, again the duke pursues,
And on Ramilia's plains he Blenheim's fame renews.

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 fhould'It those toils

repeat :
We view'd the palace charg'd with Gallic spoils,
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.

Yet, mindlefs still of ease, thy virtue Aies
A pitch to old and modern times unknown:
Those goodly deeds which we fo 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 pafs'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 deem'd, while aught undone re-

When swift-wing'd Rumour told the mighty Gaul,
How ļeflen'd from the field Bavar was Aled;
He wept the swiftness of the champion's fall;
And thus the royal treaty-breaker Laid :


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