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Obtain'd of Venus his desire,
Howe'er irregular his fire:
Nature the power of love obey'd,
The cat became a blushing maid;
And, on the happy change, the boy
Employ'd his wonder and his joy.
Take care, O beauteous child, take care,
Lest thou prefer so rash a prayer:
Nor vainly hope, the queen of love
Will e'er thy favourite's charms improve.
O quickly from her shrine retreat;
Or tremble for thy darling's fate.
The queen of love, who soon will see
H. r own Adonis live in thee,
Will lightly her first loss deplore;
Will easily forgive the boar:
Her eyes with tears no more will flow;
With jealous rage her breast will glow :
And, on her tabby rival's face,
She deep will mark her new disgrace.
How long, deluded Albion, wilt thou lie
In the lethargic sleep, the sad repose,
By which thy close, thy constant enemy,
Has softly lull'd thee to thy woes?
Or wake, degenerate isle, or cease to own
What thy old kings in Gallic camps have done;
The spoils they brought thee back, the crowns they
William (so Fate requires) again is arm'd; [won:
Thy father to the ficla is gone:
Again Maria weeps her absent lord,
For thy repose content to rule alone.
Are thy enervate sons not yet alarm'd?
When William fights, dare they look tamely on,
So slow to get their ancient fame restor'd,
As nor to melt at Beauty's tears, nor follow Valour's
See the repenting isle awakes, Her vicious chains the generous goddess breaks: The fogs around her temples are dispell'd ; Abroad she looks, and sees arm'd Belgia stand Prepar'd to meet their common Lord’s command; Her lions roaring by her side, her arrows in her hand : And, blushing to have been so long with-held, Weeps of her crime, and hastens to the field. Henceforth her youth shall be inur'd to bear Hazardous toil and active war; To march beneath the dog-star's raging heat, Patient of summer's drought, and martial sweat; And only grieve in winter's camps to find Its days too short for labours they design'd: All night beneath hard heavy arms to watch; All day to mount the trench, to storm the breach; And all the rugged paths to tread, Where William and his virtue lead.
Silence is the soul of war; Deliberate counsel must prepare The mighty work, which valour must complete: Thus William rescued, thus preserves the state, Thus teaches us to think and dare.
As whilst his cannon just prepar'd to breathe
Avenging anger and swift death, -
In the tried metal the close dangers glow,
And now, too late, the dying foe -
Perceives the flame, yet cannot ward the blow ;
So whilst in William's breast ripe counsels lie,
Secret and sure as brooding Fate,
No more of his design appears,
Than what awakens Gallia's fears;
And (though Guilt's eye can sharply penetrate)
Distracted Lewis can descry
Only a long unmeasur'd ruin night
On Norman coasts and banks of frighted Seine
Lo the impending storms begin
Britannia safely through her master's sea
Plows up her victorious way.
The French Salmoneus throws his bolts in vain,
Whilst the true Thunderer asserts the main.
'Tis done ! to shelves and rocks his fleets retire,
Swift Victory in vengeful flames
Burns down the pride of their presumptuous
They run to shipwreck to avoid our fire,
And the torn vessels that regain their coast
Arc but sad marks to show the rest are lost:
All this the mild, the beauteous queen has done,
And William's softer-half shakes Lewis' throne:
Maria does the sea command -
Whilst Gallia flies her husband's arms by land.
So, the Sun absent, with full sway the Moon
Governs the isles, and rules the waves alone:
So Juno thunders when her Jove is gone.
Mo Britannia! loose thy ocean's chains,
Whilst Russel strikes the blow thy queen ordains :
Thus rescued, thus rever'd, for ever stand,
And bless the counsel, and reward the hand,
Io Britannia! thy Maria reigns.
From Mary's conquests, aud the rescued main,
Let France look forth to Sambre's armed shore,
And boast her joy for William's death no more.
He lives ; let France confess, the victor lives;
Her triumphs for his death were vain,
And spoke her terrour of his life too plain.
The mighty years begin, the day draws nigh,
In which that one of Lewis' many wives,
Who, by the baleful force of guilty charms,
Has long enthrall'd him in her wither'd arms,
Shall o'er the plains, from distant towers on high,
Cast around her mournful eye,
And with prophetic sorrow cry:
“Why does my ruin'd lord retard his flight 2
Why does Despair provoke his age to fight?
As well the wolf may venture to engage
The angry lion's generous rage;
The ravenous vulture, and the bird of night,
As safely tempt the stooping eagle's flight;
As Lewis to unequal arms defy -
Yon' hero, crown'd with blooming victory,
Just triumphing o'er rebel-rage restrain'd,
And yet unbreath'd from battles gain'd.
See all yon' dusty field's quite cover'd o'er
With hostile troops, and Orange at their head;
Orange, destin'd to complete
The great designs of labouring Fate;
Orange, the name that tyrants dread:
He comes; our ruin'd empire is no more ;
Down, like the Persian, goes the Gallic throne;
Darius flies, young Ammon urges on.”
Now from the dubious battle's mingled heat,
Let Fear look back, and stretch her hasty wing,
lmpatient to secure a base retreat:
Let the pale coward leave his wounded king,
For the vile privilege to breathe,
To live with shame in dread of glorious death !
In vain: for Fate has swifter whogs than Fear,
She follows hard, and strikes him in the rear;
Dying and mad the traitor bites the ground,
His back transfix’d with a dishonest wound ;
Whilst though the fiercest troops,and thickest press,
Virtue carries on success;
Whilst equal Heaven guards the distinguish'd brave,
And armies cannot hurt whom angels save.
Virtue to verse immortal lustre gives,
Each by the other's mutual friendship lives;
+neas suffer'd, and Achilles fought,
The hero's acts enlarg’d the poet's thought,
Or Virgil's majesty, and Homer's rage,
Had ne'er like lasting nature vanquish'd age.
Whilst Lewis then his rising terrour drowns
With drums' alarms, and trumpets' sounds,
Whilst, hid in arm'd retreats and guarded towns,
From danger as from honour far,
He bribes close murder against open war:
In vain you, Gallic Muscs, strive
With labour'd verse to keep his fame alive :
Your mouldering monuments in vain ye raise
On the weak basis of the tyrant's praise:
Your songs are sold, your numbers are profane,
'Tis incense to an idol given,
Meat offer'd to Prometheus' man
That had no soul from Heaven.
Against his will, you chain your frighted king
On rapid Rhine's divided bed;
And mock your hero, whilst ye sing
The wounds for which he never bled;
Falsehood does poison on your praise diffuse,
And Lewis' fear gives death to Boileau's Musé.
On its own worth true majesty is rear'd,
And Virtue is her own reward ;
With solid beams and native glory bright,
She neither darkness dreads, nor covets light;
True to herself, and six'd to inborn laws,
Nor sunk by spite, nor lifted by applause,
She from her settled orb looks calmly down,
On life or death, a prison or a crown.
When bound in double chains poor Belgia lay,
To foreign arms and inward strife a prey,
Whilst one good inan buoy'd up her sinking state,
And Virtue labour'd against Fate;
When Fortune basely with Ambition join'd,
And all was conquer'd but the patriot's mind;
When storms let loose, and raging seas,
Just ready the torn vessel to o'erwhelm,
Forc’d not the faithful pilot from his helm,
Nor all the syren songs of future peace,
And dazzling prospect of a promis'd crown,
Could lure his stubborn virtue down;
But against charms, and threats, and hell, he stood,
To that which was severely good;
Then, had no trophiesjustified his fame,
No poet blest his song with Nassau's name, .
Virtue alone did all that honour bring,
And Heaven as plainly pointed out The King,
As when he at the altar stood
In all his types and robes of power,
Whilst at his feet religious Britain bow'd, o
And own'd him uext to what we there adore,
Say, joyful Maese, and Boyne's victorious flood,
(For each has mixthis waves with royal blood)
When William's armies past, did he retire,
Or view from far the battle's distant fire *
Could he believe his person was too dear?
Or use his greatness to conceal his fear 2-
Could prayers or "hs the dauntless hero move 2
Arm'd with Heaven's justice, and his people's love,
Through the first waves he wing'd his venturous
And on the adverse shore arose, [way,
(Ten thousand flying deaths in vain oppose).
Like the great ruler of the day,
With strength and swiftness mounting from the
sea : Like him all day he toil'd ; but long in night The god has eas'd his wearied light, Ere vengeance left the stubborn foes, Or William's labours found repose When his troops faulter'd, stept not he between 2 Restor'd the dubious fight again, Mark'd out the coward that durst fly, And led the fainting brave to Victory 2 Still as she fled him, did he not o'ertake Her doubtful course, still brought her bleeding back 2 By his keen sword did not the boldest fall 2 Was he not king, commander, soldier, all 2– His dangers such as, with becoming dread, His subjects yet unborn shall weep to read: And were not those the only days that e'er. The pious prince refus’d to hear His friends' advices, or his subjects' prayer?
Where'er old Rhine his fruitful water turns,
Or fills his vassals' tributary urns;
To Belgia's sav'd dominions, and the sea,
Whose righted waves rejoice in William's sway;
Is there a town where children are not taught,
Here Holland prosper'd, for here Orange fought;
Through rapid waters, and through flying fire,
Here rush'd the prince, here made whole France
By different nations be his valour blest, [retire?
In tifferent languages confest;
And then let Shannon speak the rest:
Let Shannon speak, how on her wondering shore,
When Conquest hovering on his arms did wait,
And only ask'd some lives to bribe her o'er ;
The god-like man, the more than conqueror,
With high contempt sent back the specious bait;
And, scorning glory at a price too great,
With so much power, such piety did join,
As made a perfect virtue soar
A pitch unknown to man before ;
And lifted Shannon's waves o'er those of Boyne.
Nor do his subjects only share The prosperous fruits of his indulgent reign ; His enemies approve the pious war, Which, with their weapon, takes away their chain. More than his sword his goodness strikes his foes; They bless his arms, and sigh they must oppose. .Justice and freedom on his conqu, sts wait; And 'tis for man's delight that he is great: Succeeding times shall with long joy contend, If he were more a victor, or a friend : So much his courage and his mercy strive, He wounds, to cure; and conquers, to forgive.
Ye heroes, that have fought your country's cause, Redress'd her injuries, or form'd her laws,
To my adventurous song just witness bear,
Assist the pious Muse, and hear her swear,
That 'tis no poet's thought, no flight of youth,
But solid story, and severest truth,
That William treasures up a greater name,
Than any country, any age, can boast:
And all that ancient stock of fame
He did from his fore-fathers take,
He has improv’d and gives with interest back;
And in his constellation does unite
Their scatter'd rays of fainter light:
Above or Envy's lash, or Fortune’s wheel,
That settled glory shall for ever dwell :
Above the rolling orbs, and common sky,
Where nothing comes that eer shall die.
And in the sea of William's praises lost?
Nor let her tempt that deep, nor make the shore,
Where our abandon'd youth she sees,
Shipwreck'd in luxury, and lost in ease;
Whom nor Britannia's danger can alarm,
Nor William's exemplary virtue warm :
Tell them, howe'er, the king can yet forgive
Their guilty sloth, their homage yet receive,
And let their wounded honour live:
But sure and sudden be their just remorse;
Swift be their virtue's rise, and strong its course;
For though for certain years and destin'd times,
Merit has lain confus'd with crimes;
Though Jove seem'd negligent of human cares,
Nor scourg'd our follies, nor return'd our prayers,
His justice now demands the equal scales,
Sedition is suppress'd, and truth prevails:
Fate its great en's by slow degrees attains,
And Europe is redeem’d, and William reigns.
Light of the world, and ruler of the year,
With happy speed begin thy great carcer;
And, as thou dost thy radiant journies run,
Through every distant climate own
That in fair Albion thou hast seen
The greatest prince, the brightest queen,
That ever sav’d a land, or blest a throne,
Since first thy beams were spread, or gesial power
So may thy godhead be confest,
So the returning Year be blest,
As his infant Months bestow
Springing wreaths for William's brow;
As his Summer's youth shall shed
Eternal sweets around Maria's head.
From the blessings they bestow,
Our times are dated, and our eras move t
They govern and enlighten all below,
As thou dost all above.
Let our hero in the war
Active and fierce, like thee, appear:
Like thee, great son of Jove, like thee
When, clad in rising majesty,
THE LADY'S LOOKING-GLASS... LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP. 139
Thou marchest down o'er Delos' hill confest, With all thy arrows arm'd, in all thy glory drest. Like thee, the hero does his arms employ,
The raging Python to destroy,
And give the injur'd nations peace and joy.
From fairest Years, and Time's more happy stores,
Gather all the smiling Hours;
Such as with friendly care have guarded
Patriots and kings in rightful wars;
Such as with conquest have rewarded
Triumphant victors' happy cares;
Such as story has recorded
Sacred to Nassau's long renown,
For countries sav'd, and battles won.
March them again in fair array, And bid them form the happy day, The happy day, design'd to wait On William's fame, and Europe's fate. Let the happy day be crown'd With great event, and fair success; No brighter in the year be found, But that which brings the victor home in peace.
Again thy godhead we implore, Great in wisdom as in power; Again, for good Maria's sake, and ours, Choose out other smiling Hours; Such as with joyous wings have fied, When happy counsels were advising; Such as have lucky omens shed O'er forming laws, and empires rising; Such as many courses ran, Hand in hand, a goodly train, To bless the great Eliza's reign; And in the typic glory show What fuller bliss Maria shall bestow.
As the solemn Hours advance, Mingled zond into the dance Many fraught with all the treasures, Which thy eastern travel views; Many wing'd with all the pleasures, Mian can ask, or Heaven diffuse: That great Maria all those joys may know, Which, from her cares, upon her subjects flow.
For thy own glory sing our sovereign's praise,
God of verses and of days:
Let all thy tuneful sons adorn
Their lasting work with William's name;
Let chosen Muses, yet unborn,
Take great Maria for their future theme:
Eterual structures let them raise
On Willian's and Maria's praise:
Nor want new subject for the song,
Nor fear they can exhaust the store,
Till Nature's music lies unstrung;
Till thou, great god, shalt lose thy double power,
And touch thy lyre, and shoot thy beams no more.
THE LADY'S LOORING-GLASS. IN 1..MITATION OF A GREEK ilry LLIUM. Cria and I, the other day, Walk"d o'er the sand-hills to the sea: The setting Sun adorn'd the coast, His beams entire, his fierceness lost;
And, on the surface of the deep,
The winds lay only not asleep: t
The nymph did like the scene appear,
Serenely pleasant, calmly fair:
Soft fell her words, as flew the air.
With secret joy I heard her say,
That she would never miss one day
A walk so fine, a sight so gay.
But, oh the change! the winds grow high;
Impending tempests charge the sky;
The lightning flies, the thunder roars,
And big waves lash the frighten’d shores.
Struck with the horrour of the sight,
She turns her head, and wings her flight:
And, trembling, vows she'll ne'er again
Approach the shore, or view the main.
“Once more, at least, look back,” said I,
“Thyself in that large glass descry:
When thou art in good-humour drest;
When gentle reason rules thy breast;
The Sun upon the calmest sea
Appears not half so bright as thee:
'Tis then that with delight I rove
Upon the boundless depth of Love:
I bless my chain; I hand my oar;
Northink on all I left on shore. -
“But when vain doubt and groundless fear
Do that dear foolish bosom tear;
When the big lip and watery eye
Tell me, the rising storm is nigh;
'Tis then, thou art yon' angry main,
Beform'd by winds, and dash’d by rain;
And the poor sailor, that must try
Its fury, labours less than I.
“Shipwreck'd, in vain to land I make,
While Love and Fate still drive me back:
Forc'd to doat on thee thy own way,
I chide thee first, and then obey.
Wretched when from thee, vex'd when nigh,
I with thee, or without thee, die.”
LOPE AND FRIENDSHIP: A paston AL. BY Mrs. Elizabeth sinceR, ArtERwan Ds Rowe, AMARY Llls.
While from the skies the ruddy Sun descends,
And rising night the evening shade extenis;
While pearly dews o'erspread the fruitful field,
And closing flowers reviving odours yield:
Let us, beneath these spreading trees, recite
What from our hearts our Muses may indite.
Nor need we, in this close retirement, fear,
Lest any swain our anorous secrets hear.
o sy Lvi A. To every shepherd I would mine proclaim, Since fair Aminia is my softest theme: A stranger to the loose delights of Love, My thoughts the moolerwarmth of Friendship prove; And, while its pure and sacred fire I sing, Chaste goddess of the groves, thy succour bring.
Propitious god of love, my breast inspire With all thy charms, with all thy pleasing fire;