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When thy * young Mufe invok'd the tuneful Nine, To say how Louis did not pass the Rhine;

What work had we with Wageninghen, Arnheim,
Places that could not be reduc'd to rhyme!
And, though the Poet made his last efforts,
Wurts-who could mention in heroic-Wurts?
But, tell me, hadft thou reason to complain
Of the rough triumphs of the laft campaign?
The Danube rescued, and the Empire fav'd,
Say, is the majefty of verfe retriev'd?
And would it prejudice thy fofter vein,
To fing the princes, Louis and Eugene?
Is it too hard in happy verse to place

The Vans and Vanders of the Rhine and Maefe?
Her warriors Anna fends from Tweed and Thames,
That France may fall by more harmonious names?
Canft thou not Hamilton or Lumley bear?
Would Ingoldfby or Palmes offend thy ear?
And is there not a found in Marlborough's name,
Which thou and all thy brethren ought to claim,
Sacred to verfe, and fure of endless fame?

Cutts is in metre something harsh to read;
Place me the valiant Gouran in his ftead:
Let the intention make the number good:
Let generous Sylvius fpeak for honeft Wood.

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And though rough Churchill scarce in verfe will ftand, So as to have one rhyme at his command;

*"En vain, pour te louer, &c." Ep. 4.

With ease the bard, reciting Blenheim's plain,
May close the verse, remembering but the Dane.

I grant, old friend, old foe (for fuch we are Alternate as the chance of peace and war), That we poetic folks, who must restrain Our meafur'd sayings in an equal chain, Have troubles utterly unknown to those, Who let their fancy loofe in rambling profe. For instance now, how hard is it for me To make my matter and my verse agree! "In one great day on Hochftet's fatal plain, "French and Bavarians twenty thousand slain : "Push'd through the Danube to the fhores of Styx "Squadrons eighteen, battalions twenty-fix: "Officers captive made, and private men,

"Of these twelve hundred, of those thousands ten.
"Tents, ammunition, colours, carriages,
"Cannon, and kettle drums!"-fweet numbers thefe!
But is it thus you English bards compofe?
With Runic lays thus tag infipid profe?

And, when you should your Hero's deeds rehearse,
Give us a commiffary's lift in verse ?

Why, faith! Defpreaux, there's fenfe in what you say:

I told you where my difficulty lay:

So vast, so numerous, were great Blenheim's spoils, They scorn the bounds of verfe, and mock the Mufe's toils.

To make the rough recital aptly chime,

Or bring the fum of Gallia's lofs to rhyme,

'Tis mighty hard: what Poet would effay

To count the streamers of my lord mayor's day?
To number all the feveral dishes dreft

By honeft Lamb, last coronation feast?
Or make Arithmetic and Epic meet,

And Newton's thoughts in Dryden's ftyle repeat?
O Poet, had it been Apollo's will,

That I had shar'd a portion of thy skill;
Had this poor breast receiv'd the heavenly beam;
Or could I hope my verse might reach my theme;
Yet, Boileau, yet the labouring Muse should strive
Beneath the shades of Marlborough's wreaths to live;
Should call afpiring Gods to bless her choice,
And to their favourite ftrains exalt her voice,
Arms and a Queen to fing; who, great and good,
From peaceful Thames to Danube's wondering flood
Sent forth the terror of her high commands,
To fave the nations from invading hands,
To prop fair Liberty's declining caufe,
And fix the jarring world with equal laws.
The
fhould fit in Windfor's facred grove,
queen
Attended by the Gods of War and Love :
Both fhould with equal zeal her smiles implore,
To fix her joys, or to extend her

power.

Sudden, the Nymphs and Tritons should appear; And, as great Anna's fmiles difpel their fear, With active dance fhould her obfervance claim; With vocal fhell fhould found her happy name; Their mafter Thames should leave the neighbouring fhore, By his ftrong anchor known, and filver oar;

Should

Should lay his enfigns at his fovereign's feet;
And audience mild with humble grace intreat.

To her, his dear defence, he should complain,
That, while he bleffes her indulgent reign,
Whilft furtheft feas are by his fleets furvey'd,
And on his happy banks each India laid;
His brethren Maefe, and. Waal, and Rhine, and Saar,
Feel the hard burthen of oppreffive war;
That Danube scarce retains his rightful course
Against two rebel armies neighbouring force;
And all muft weep fad captives to the Seine,
Unless unchain'd and freed by Britain's queen.
The valiant fovereign calls her general forth;
Neither recites her bounty, nor his worth :
She tells him, he muft Europe's fate redeem,
And by that labour merit her esteem:
She bids him wait her to the facred hall;
Shows him prince Edward, and the conquer'd Gaul;
Fixing the bloody crofs upon his breast,

Says, he must die, or fuccour the diftrefs'd;
Placing the Saint an emblem by his fide,

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 fteps are to the filent woods inclin❜d,
The great defign revolving in his mind;
When to his fight a heavenly form appears :
Her hand a palm, her head a laurel wears.
Me, she begins, the fairest child of Jove,
Below for ever fought, and bless'd above;

Me,

Me, the bright fource of wealth, and power, and fame (Nor need I fay, Victoria is my name);

Me the great father down to thee has fent :
He bids me wait at thy distinguish'd tent,
To execute what Anna's wifh would have:
Her fubject thou, I only am her flave.

Dare then, thou much belov'd by fmiling Fate,
For Anna's fake, and in her name be great :
Go forth, and be to distant nations known
My future favourite, and my darling fon :
At Schellenbergh I'll manifeft fuftain

Thy glorious caufe; and fpread my wings again,
Confpicuous o'er thy helm, in Blenheim's plain.
The Goddess faid, nor would admit reply;
But cut the liquid air, and gain'd the sky.
His high commiffion is through Britain known,
And thronging armies to his standard run ;
He marches thoughtful, and he speedy fails:
(Blefs him, ye feas! and profper him, ye gales!)
Belgia receives him welcome to her shores;
And William's death with leffen'd grief deplores :
His presence only must retrieve that loss;
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, refpited by prudent Fate,

Suftain'd the ball, nor droop'd beneath the weight.

Secret and fwift behold the Chief advance; Sees half the empire join'd and friend to France:

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The

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