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I grant, old friend, old foe, (for such we are And all must weep sad captives to the Seine, Alternate as the chance of peace and war) C'nless unchain'd and freed by Britain's queen. That we poetic folks, who must restrain
The valiant sovereign calls her general forth; Our measur'd sayings in an equal chain,
Neither recites her bounty, nor his worth : Have troubles utterly unknown to those,
She tells him, he must Europe's fate redeem, Who let their fancy loose in rambling prose. And by that labour merit her esteem :
For instance, now, how hard is it for me She bids him wait her to the sacred hall; To make my matter and my verse agree! Shows hin prince Edward, and the conquer'd " In one great day on Hochstet's fatal plain,
She tells him, Virtue arm'd must conquer lawless Of these twelve hundred, of those thousands ten. The hero bows oberlient, and retires : (Pride. Tents, ammunition, colours, carriages,
The queen's commands exalt the warrior's fires;
When to his sight a heavenly form appears :
“ Me," she begins,“ the fajrest child of Jore, Why, faith! Desprcaux, there's sense in what | Below for ever sought, and bless'd above; I told you where my difficulty lay: (you say : Me, the bright source of wealth, and power, and So vast, so numerous, were great Blenheim's spoils,
fame, They scorn the bounds of verse, and mock the (Nor need I say, Victoria is my name) Muse's toils.
Me the great father down to thee has sent: To make the rough recital aptly chime,
He bids me wait at thy distinguish'd tent, Or bring the sum of Gallia's loss to rhyme,
To execute what Anna's wish would have : 'Tis mighty hard : what poet would essay
Her subject thou, I only am her slave. To count the streamers of my lord mayor's day? “Dare then, thou much belor'd by smiling Fate, To number all the several dishes drest
For Anna's sake, and in her name be great : By honest Lamb, last coronation feast?
Go forth, and be to distant nations known
My future favourite, and my darling son:
Tly glorious cause; and spread my wings again, That I had shar'd a portion of thy skill;
Conspicuous o'er thy helin, in Blenheim's plain.” Had this poor breast receiv'd the heavenly beam ; The goddess said, nor would admit reply ; Or could I hope my verse might reach my theme; | But cut the liquid air, and gain’d the sky. Yet, Boileau, yet the labouring Muse should strive His high commission is through Britain known, Beneath the shades of Marlborough's wreaths to And thronging armies to his standard run; live;
He marches thoughtful, and he speedy sails : Should call aspiring gols to bless her choice, (Bless him, ye seas! and prosper him, ye gales !) And to their favourite strains exalt her voice, Belgia rcccives him welcome to her shores; Arms and a queen to sing ; who, great and good, And William's death with lessen'd grief deplores : From peaceful Thanies to Danubc's wandering tlood His presence only must retrieve that loss ; Sent forth the terrour of her high commands, Marlborough to her must be what William was To save the nations from invading hands,
So when great Atlas, froin these jow abodes To prop fair Liberty's declining cause,
Recall’d, was gather'd to his kindred gods; And fix the jarring world with equal laws.
Alcides, respited by prudent Fate, The queen should sit in Windsor's sacred grore, Sustaind the ball, nor droop'd beneath the weight. Attended by the gods of war and love :
Secret and swift behold the chief advance; Both should with equal zeal her smiles implore, Sees balf the empire join'd and friend to France : To fix her joys, or to extend her power.
The British general dooms the fight; his sword Sudden, the Nymphs and Tritons should appear; Dreadful he draws; the captains wait the word. And, as great Anna's smiles dispel their fear, “ Anne and St. George !" the charging hero cries: With active dance should her observance claim; Shrill Echo from the neighbouring wood replics, With vocal shell should sound her happy name; “ Anne and St. George."--At that auspicious sign Their master Thames should leave the neighbouring The standards move; the adverse armies join. shore,
Of eight great hours, Time measures out the sands j By his strong anchor known and silver oar; And Europe's fate in doubtful balance stands : Should lay his ensigns at his sovereigu's feet; The ninth, Victoria comes ;-o'er Marlborough's And audience inild with humble grace mtreat.
l'nchain'd and free, directs her upward flight: His brethren Macse, and Waal, and Rhinc, and Nor did she e'er with stronger pinions soar Saar,
I'rom Tyber's bank, than now from Danube's Feel the hard burthen of oppressive war;
shore. That Danube scarce retains his rightful course Fird with the thoughts which these ideas raise, Against two rebel armies neighbouring force; And great ambition of my country's praise,
The English Muse should like the Mantuan rise, Then too, alas! when she shall tear
And we shall still continue friends.
For, as our different ages move,
'Tis so ordain'd, (would Fate but mend it!)
That I shall be past making love,
When she begins to comprehend it.
The subtle woman, if she should succeed,
Disowns the honour of the deed.
Though he, for all his boast, is forc'd to yield, Norever shall Britannia's sons refuse
Though she can always keep the field : To answer to thy master or thy Musc;
He vaunts his conquests, she conceals her chaines Nor want just subject for victorious strains,
How partial is the voice of Fame !
FOR THE PLAN OF A FOUNTAIN,
ON WHICH ARE
UPON THIS PASSAGE IN
THE EFFIGIES OF TIIE QUEEN ON A TRIUMPHAL ARCII i THE SCALIGERIANA.
THE FIGURE OF THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH BE
NEATH, AND THE CHIEF RIVERS OF THE WORLD Les Allemans į ne ce soucient pas quel vin ils
ROUND THE WHOLE WORK. boivent, pourveu que ce soit vin, ni quel Latin Ye active streams, where'er your waters now, ils parlent, pourveu que ce soit Latin.
Let distant climes and furthest nations know, When you with High-Dutch Heeren dine,
What ye from Thames and Danube have been
taught, Expect false Latin, and stunnı'd wine :
How Anne commanded, and how Marlborough
Quocunque æterno properatis, Aumina, lapsu,
Anna quid imperiis potuit, quid Marlburus armis.
To have no colorirs of his own; Were suinmon'd by her high command,
But borrows from his neighbour's hue To show their passions by their letters.
His white or black, his green or blue; My pen amongst the rest I took,
And struts as much in ready light,
Which credit gives him upon sight, Lest those bright eyes that cannot read
As if the rainbow we re in tail Should dart their kindling fires, and look
Settled on him and his heirs male; The power they have to be obey'd.
So the young 'squire, when first he como Nor qnality, nor reputation,
From country school to Will's or Tom's, Forbid me yet my tlame to tell;
And equally, in truth, is fit Dear five years old befriends my passion,
To be a statesman, or a wjt; And I may write till she can spell.
Without one notion of bis own, For, while she makes her silk-worms beds
He saunters wildly up and down, Il'ith all the tender things I swear;
Till some acquaintance, good or bad,
Takes notice of a staring lad, Whilst all the house my passion reads,
Admits him in among the gang; In papers round her baby's hair;
They jest, reply, dispute, harangue: She may receive and own my flame,
He acts and talks, as tiney befriend hiin, For, though the strictest prudes should know it, Smear'd with the colours which they lend him. She'll pass for a most virtuous dame,
Thus, merely as his fortune chances, And I for an unhappy poete
His merit or his vice advances.
If haply he the sect pursues,
There, Thomas, didst thou nerer seo That read and comment upon news;
('Tis but by way of simile) He takes up their mysterious face;
A squirrel spend his little rage, He drinks his coffee without lace;
In juniping round a rolling cage; This week his mimic tongue runs o'er
The cage, as either side turn 'd up, What they have said the week before;
Striking a ring of bells at top ?His wisdom sets all Europe right,
Mov'd in the orb, pleas'd with the chimes, And teaches Marlborough when to fight.
The foolish creature thinks he climbs :
But here or there, turn wood or wire,
So fares it with those merry blades,
That frisk it under Pindus' shades. He learns how stocks will fall or rise ;
In noble song, and lofty odes, Holds poverty the greatest vice;
They tread on stars, and talk with gods ; Thinks wit the bane of conversation ;
Still dancing in an airy round, And says that learning spoils a nation.
Still pleas'd with their own verses' sound; But if, at first, he minds his hits,
Brought back, how fast soe'er they gą,
Always aspiring, always low.
A fly upon the chariot-pole
Cries out, “ what blue-bottle alive
Did over with such fury drive ?"(At Barthol'mew he did not much appear,
“ Tell, Beelzebub, great father, tell,”
(Says t'other, perch'd upon the wheel) So peevish was the edict of the mayor);
“ Did ever any mortal fly At Southwark, therefore, as his tricks he show'd,
Raise such a cloud of dust as I?
“My judgment turnd the whole debate : His left was with a good black-pudding fill'd.
My valour sav'd the sinking state."
So talk two idle buzzing things;
Toss up their heads, and stretch their wings
But, let the truth to light be brought, * Why how now, Andrew !" cries his brother droll:
This neither spoke, nor t’ other fought: “ To-day's conceit, methinks, is something dull :
No merit in their own behaviour:
Both rais'd, but by their party's favour.
PARAPHRASE FROM THE FRENCH, With very good design, but little wit,
grey-baird Celia's wither'd arms Blaming or praising things, as I thought fit.
As mighty Lewis lay, I for this conduct had what I deserv'd;
She cry'd, “ If I have any charms, And, dealing honestly, was almost starv'd.
My dearest, let's away! But thanks to my indulgent stars, I eat;
For you, my love, is all my fear, Since I have found the secret to be great."
Hark how the drums do rattle ; “ O, dearest Andrew,” says the humble droll,
Alas, sir! what should you do here " Henceforth may I obey, and thou control;
In dreadful day of battle? Provided thou impart thy useful skill.”
Let little Orange stay and fight, " Bow then," says Andrew;“and, for once, I will
For danger's his diversion ;
Not to expose your person :
Nor vex your thoughts how to repair
You ought to leave so mean a care
To those who pen your story. But when he heard him gire this golden rule,
Are not Boileau and Corneille paid * Drive on,” he cried; “ this fellow is no fool.”
For panegyric writing?
Without the help of fighting.
When fues too saucily approach,
'Tis best to leave them fairly; Dear Thomas, didst thou never pop
Put six good horses in your coach, Thy head into a tinman's shop?
And carry me to Marly,
ON THE SAME PERSON.
A BALLAD OF THE
Let Bouflers, to secure your fame,
Go take some town, or buy it;
Wme, faster than his costive brain indites,
Phoebus, give Philo o'er himself command;
Quicken bis senses, or restrain his hand;
Let him be kept from i aper, pen, and ink : By native heat asserts his dreadful sire.
So may he cease to write, and learn to thinko Nourish'd pear shady rills and cooling streams, He to the nymphs avows his amorous Aamcs. To all the brethren at the Bell and Vine, The moral says; mix water with your wine,
QUID SIT FUTURUM CRAS FUGE
May spoil what you tonight propose : '
England may change; or Cloe stray :
Love and life are for today.
WRITTEN THREE HUNDRED YEARS SINCE'
Be it ryght, or wrong, these men among, on women To John I ow'd great obligation;
do complayne ;
[vayne, But John unhappily thought fit
Affyrmynge this, how that it is a labour spent in To publish it to all the nation:
To love them wele; for never a dele they love a Sure John and I are more than quite
man agayne :
[tayne, For late a man do what he can, theyr favour to atYet, yf a newe do them pursue, theyr fyrst true lover than
(a banyshed man. Yes, every poet is a fool,
Laboureth for nought; for from her thought he is By demonstration Ned can show it, Happy, could Ned's inverted rule
B. Prove every foul to be a poet.
I say nat, nay, but that all day it is bothe writ and sayd,
(decayed: That womens fayth is, as who sayth, all utterly
But, neverthelesse, ryght good nytnèsse in this case Tay nags, the leanest things alive!
might be layed,
(browne inayde; So very hard thou lov'st to drive;
That they love true, and continue; recorde the NotI heard thy anxious coachman say,
Which, when her love came, her to prove to her It cost thee more in whips than hay,
to make his mone,
(hym alone. Wolde nat depart; for in her hart she loved but
A TO A PERSON WHO WROTE ILL, Than betwayne us let us dyscus what was all the
(and fere, AND SPOKE WORSE AGAINST MF.
Betwayne them two; we wyll also tell all the payne, LY, Philo, untouch’d, on my peaceable shelf; That she was in: nowe I begyn, so that ye me anNor take it amiss, that so little I heed thee :
[an ere :I've no envy to thee, and some love to myself :
Wherefore, all ye, that present be, I pray you gyre Then why should I answer; since first I must I am the knyght; I come by nyght, as secret as I read thee?
Sayinge, “ Alas, thus standeth the case, I am a Drunk with Helicon's waters and double-brew'd Be a linguist, a poet, a critic, a wag;
(bub, To the solid delight of thy well-judging club, And I your wyll for to fulfyl in this wyll nat refuse;
To the damage alone of thy bookseller Brag. Trustynge to shewe, in words fewe, that men have Pursue me with satire: what harm is there in't?
an yll use
(lesse them accuse:
(To theyr own shame) women to blame, and cause. But from all viva voce reflection forbeas: There can be do danger from what thou shalt print: Therefore to you I answere nowe, all women to ex
cuse; There may be a little from what thou may'st swear.
"So Prior.-First printed about 1521, says Capela
Myne owne hart dere, with you what chere? I pray
n. you, tell anone; Tor, in my mynde, of all mankynde, I love but you
I counceyle you, remember howe it is no mayden's lawe,
Nothyne to dout, but to renne out to wode with an A.
For ye must there in your hand bere a bowe, redy It standeth so; a dede is do, whereof grete harm to drawe;
[and awe; shall growe;
And, as a thefe, thus must you lyve, ever in drede My destiny is for to dy a shamefull deth, I trowe; Wherby to you grete harme myght growe: yet had Or elles to fie: the one must be; none other way I lever than,
(man. I knowe,
(my bowe. That I had to the grene wode go, alone, a banyshed But to withdrawe as an outlawe, and take me to Wherföre, adue, my owne hart true! none other
B. rede I can;
(man. I I say nat, nay, but as ye say, it is no mayden's lore: For I must to the grene wode go, alone, a banyshed But love may make me, for your sake, as I have
[in store; B.
To come on fote, to hunt, and shote, to get us mete O Lorde, what is this worldys blysse, that chaungeth For so that I your company may have, I aske no as the Mone!
[ony stone; The somers day in Justy May is derked before the From which to part, it maketh my hart as cold as I here you say, “ Farewell!” Nay, nay, we départ For, in my mynde, of all mankynde, I love but you not so sone:
alone. Why say ye so? wheder wyll ye go? alas, what have
A. All my welfare to sorowe and care sholde chaunge,
For an outlawe, this is the lawe, -that men hym yf ye were gone; (alone. take and bynde;
[wynde. For, in my mynde, of all mankynde, I love but you without pytė, hanged to be, and waver with the
Yf I had neede, (as God forbede !) what socours A.
coude ye fynde? [drawe behynde: I can beleve, it shall you greve, and somwhat you For sothe I trowe, ye and your bowe for fere wolde dystrayne;
(or twayne And no mervayle; for lytell avayle were in your But, aftyrwarde, your paynes harde within a day councele than:
(nyshed man. Shall sone aslake, and ye shall take comfort to you Wherfore I'll to the grene wode go, alone, a ba
agayne. Why sholde ye ought? for, to make thought, your
B. labour were in vayne.
Right wele knowe ye, that women be but feble for And thus I do; and pray you to, as hartely as I can'; to fyght;
(knyght: For I must to the grene wode go, alone, a banyshed No womanhede it is, indeede, to be bolde as a
Yet, in such fere yf that ye were with enemyes day B.
(with my myght, Now, syth that ye have shewed to me the secret of I wolde withstande, with bowe in hande, to helpe you your mynde,
[fynde: And you to save; as women have from deth many a I shall be playne to you agayne, lyke as ye shall me one;
(alone. Syth it is so that ye wyll go, I wolle not leve be- For, in my mynde, of all mankynde, I love but you hynde; [her love unkynde :
[frost, the rayne, For, in my mynde, of all mankynde, I love but you The thornic wayes, the depe valèies, the snowe, the
The colde, the hete: for, dry or wete, we must lodge A.
on the playne;
[twayne : Yet I you rede to take good hede what men wyll And, us above, none other rofe but a brake, bush, or thynke and say:
[away: Which sone sholde greve you, I beleve; and ye Of yonge and olde it shall be tolde, that ye be
wolde gladly than,
[man. gone Your wanton wyll for to fulfill, in grene wodle you That I had to the grene wode go, alone, a banyshed to play; [make delay :
B. And that ye myght from your delyght no lenger Rather than ye sholde thus for me be called an yll Syth I have here been partynère with you of joy womàn,
and blysse, Yet wolde 1 to the grenie wode go, alone, a banysbed | I must also parte of your wo endure, as reson is:
Yet am I sure of one pleasure; and, shortely, it is B.
(fare amysse. Though it be songe of olde and yonge, that I sholde That, where ye be, me someth, pardė, I coude not bc to blame,
[of my name: Without more speche, I you beseche that we were Therrs be the charge that speke so large in hurtynge
(alone. For I wyll prove, that faythfull love it is devoyd For, in my mynde, of all mankynde, I love but you of shame; (the same;
A. In your distresse, and hevynesse, to part wyth you, To shewe all tho that do nat so, true lovers are they Yf ye goo thyder, ye must consider,--whan ye have (alone. lust to dyne,
(ale, ne wine; Por, in my mynde, of all mankynde, I love but you | There shall no mete, be for to gete, neyther bere