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The Meuse and Sambre here united flow,
Nature's defence against th' invading foe:
Industrious Art her strength of walls supplies:
Before the town the British army lies.

The works are mann'd; with fury they contend; These thunder from the plains, these from the walls defend.

Red globes of fire from bellowing engines fly,

And lead a sweeping blaze, like comets, thro' the sky.
The kindled region glows; with deafening sound
They burst; their iron entrails, hurl'd around,
Strow with thick-scatter'd deaths the crimson
ground.

See, where the Genius of the war appears,
Nor shuns the labour, nor the danger fears!
In clouds of sulphurous smoke he shines more bright,
For Glory round him waits, with beams of living light.
At length the widen'd gates a conquest own,
And to his arms resign the yielding town.

Here, from the field return'd, with olive crown'd,
Applauding throngs their welcome prince surround:
Bright honours in his glorious entry shine,
And peace restor'd concludes the great design.

[sea!

Long o'er the figur'd work, with vast surprise, Admiring Neptune roll'd his ravish'd eyes; Then, rising from his throne, thus call'd aloud; "Ye lovely daughters of the briny flood! Haste, comb your silver locks, and straight prepare To fill my train, and gaze in upper air. This day, majestic glories you shall see; Come, all ye watery powers, who under ine Your little tridents wield, and rule the boisterous What god, that views the triumphs here display'd, Can to such worth refuse his heavenly aid?" He said no more-but bade two Tritons sound Their crooked shells, to spread the summons round. Through the wide caves the blast is heard afar; With speed two more provide his azure car, A concave shell; two the finn'd coursers join: All wait officious round, and own th' accustom'd The god ascends; his better hand sustains [sign; The three-fork'd spear, his left directs the reins. Through breaking waves, the chariot mounts him high;

Before its thundering course, the frothy waters fly;
He gains the surface; on his either side,

The bright attendants, rang'd with comely pride,
Advance in just array, and grace the pompous tide.
Meanwhile Britannia's king conspicuous stood,
And, from his deck, survey'd the boundless flood.
Smooth was the glassy scene, the Sun beheld
His face unclouded in the liquid field.
The gazing Nereids, in a shining train,
Enclose the ruler of the British main,
And sweetly sing; suspended winds forbear
Their loud complaints, the soothing lay to hear.
"Hail, sacred charge," they cry; "the beauties we
Of Neptune's court, are come t' attend on thee;
Accept our offer'd aid! thy potent sway,
Unbounded by the land, these watery realms obey;
And we, thy subject-powers, our duteous homage
See Neptune's self, inferior in command, [pay.
Presents his trident to thy honour'd hand!"
They said; the sire approach'd with awe pro-
found;

The rite perform'd, their shells the Tritons sound;
Sell'd with the shrill alarm, the joyful billows

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MAY IT PLEASE YOUR GRACE,

THOUGH the great loss we suffered in the death of the king has been so happily supplied by her majesty's accession to the throne, and her late coronation justly filled the hearts of her subjects with joy: yet so glorious a reign as the last will always be remembered with admiration by all good and wise men; and your grace has given sufficient proofs, that you are of that number. It can never therefore be thought too late to offer a just tribute to his late majesty's memory, and to that of his great ancestors, a race so illustriously distinguished in Europe; though this indeed might sooner have been attempted, but for many interruptions, too inconsiderable for your grace's notice. How I have performed is humbly submitted to your grace's judgment, and to the judgment of all those gentlemen who are used to entertain themselves with writings of this sort. But if, through the author's want of genius, the poem itself should be thought inconsiderable, I am sure it will have some distinction from the great names it celebrates, and the great patron it is inscribed to. And to whom should the praises of eminent virtue be addressed, but to such as are possessed of great virtues themselves? To whom can I better present the chief characters of a noble and ancient family, than to your grace, whose family is so ancient and so noble? And here I am proud to acknowledge, that some of my relations have been honoured with marks of favour from your grace's illustrious ancestors. This I confess has long given me the ambition of offering my duty to your grace; but chiefly that valuable character your grace has obtained among all worthy persons. I have not room to enlarge here, nor is there any need of it on a subject so well known as your grace's merits. Therefore I conclude with my humble request, that your grace would favour this ode with your acceptance, and do me the honour of believing, that, among the crowd of your admirers, there is not one who is more passionately or sincerely so, than

your grace's most humble,

and most obedient servant, JOHN HUGHES,

THE HOUSE OF NASSAU.

GODDESS of numbers, and of thoughts sublime! Celestial Muse! whose tuneful song

Can fix heroic acts, that glide along

Down the vast sea of ever-wasting Time,

And all the gilded images can stay,
Till Time's vast sea itself be roll'd away;
O now assist with consecrated strains!

Let Art and Nature join to raise
A living monument of praise

O'er William's great remains.
While Thames, majestically sad, and slow,
Seems by that reverend dome to flow,
Which, new-interr'd, his sacred urn contains.
If thou, O Muse, would'st e'er immortal be,
This song bequeaths thee immortality;
For William's praise can ne'er expire,
Though Nature's self at last must die,
And all this fair-erected sky

Must sink with earth and sea, and melt away in fire.

Begin the spring of virtue trace,
That, from afar descending, flow'd
Through the rich veins of all the godlike race,
And fair renown on all the godlike race bestow'd!
This ancient source of noble blood

Through thee, Germania, wandering wide,
Like thy own Rhine's enriching tide,
In numerous branches long diffus'd its flood.
Rhine, scarce more ancient, never grac'd thee more,
Though mantling vines his comely head surround,
And all along his sunny shore

Eternal plenty 's found.

From Heaven itself the illustrious line began;
Ten ages in descent it ran,

In each descent increas'd with honours new.
Never did Heaven's Supreme inspire
In mortal breasts a nobler fire,
Nor his own image livelier drew.
Of pure ethereal flame their souls he made,
And, as beneath his forming hands they grew,
He bless'd the master-work, and said;
"Go forth, my honour'd champions, go,
To vindicate my cause below!
Awful in power, defend for me
Religion, Justice, Liberty,
And at aspiring Tyranny
My delegated thunder throw!

For this, the great Nassovian name I raise,
And still this character divine,

Distinguish'd through the race shall shine, Zeal for their country's good, and thirst of virtuous praise."

Now look, Britannia, look, and see
Through the clear glass of history,
From whom thy mighty sovereign came,
And take a larger view of far-extended fame.
See, crowds of heroes rise to sight!
Adolphus, with imperial splendour gay:
Brave Philibert, unmatch'd in fight,
Who led the German cagle to his prey,
Thro' Lombardy he mark'd his conquer'd way,
And made proud Rome and Naples own his unresisted

might.

His gallant nephew next appears,

And on his brows the wreaths of conquest wears,
Though streaming wounds the martial figure stain;
For thee, Great Charles', in battle slain,
Slain in all a soldier's pride,

He fell triumphant by thy side,
And falling fought, and fighting dy'd,

And lay, a manly corpse, extended on the plain.

Adolphus the emperor, of the House of Nassau.
Renè of Nassau.
'Charles V.

See next, majestically great,
The founder of the Belgic state!
The Sun of glory, which so bright
Beam'd on all the darling line,
Did, from its golden urn of light,
On William's head redoubled shine;
His youthful looks diffus'd an awe.
Charles, who had try'd the race before,
And knew great merits to explore,
When he his rising virtue saw,
He put in friendship's noble claim;
To his imperial court the hero brought,
And there by early honours sought
Alliance with his future fame.

O generous sympathy, that binds

In chains unseen the bravest minds!

O love to worthy deeds, in all great souls the same!

But time at last brought forth th' amazing day,
When Charles, resolv'd to disengage
From empire's toils his weary age,
Gave with each hand a crown away.
Philip, his haughty son, afraid
Of William's virtue's, basely chose
His father's favourite to depose;

His tyrant reign requir'd far other aid;

And Alva's fiery duke, his scourge of vengeance, rose;
With flames of inquisition rose from Hell,

Of slaughter proud, and insolent in blood.
What hand can paint the scenes of tragic woes?
What tongue, sad Belgia! can thy story tell,
When with her lifted axe proud Murder stood,
And thy brave sons, in crowds unnumber'd, fell!
The Sun, with horrour of the sight,
Withdraws his sickly beams, and shrouds
His muilled face in sullen clouds,

And, on the scaffolds, faintly sheds a pale malignant
light.

6

Thus Belgia's Liberty expiring lay,
And almost gasp'd her generous life away,
Till Orange hears her moving cries;
He hears, and, marching from afar,
Brings to her aid the sprightly War.
At his approach, reviv'd with fresh supplies,
Of gather'd strength, she on her murderers flies.
But Heaven, at first, resolv'd to try
By proofs adverse his constancy.
Four armies lost, two gallant brothers slain,
Will he the desperate war maintain?
Though rolling tempests darken all the sky,
And thunder breaks around his head,
Will he again the faithless sea explore,

And, oft driven back, still quit the shore?
He will his soul averse to dread,
Unwearied, still the spite of Fortune braves,
Superior, and serene3, amidst the stormy waves.

Such was the man, so vast his mind!
The steady instrument of Fate,

To fix the basis of a rising state!

My Muse with horrour views the scene behind,
And fain would draw a shade, and fain
Would hide his destin'd end, nor tell
How he the dreaded foe of Spain,
More fear'd than thousands on the plain,

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By the vile hand of a bold ruffian fell.
No more th' ungrateful prospect let us leave!
And, in his room, behold arise,

Bright as th' immortal twins that grace the skies,
A noble pair', his absence to retrieve!

In these the hero's soul survives,
And William doubly in his offspring lives.

Maurice, for martial greatness, far
His father's glorious fame exceeds:
Henry alone can match his brother's deeds;
Both were, like Scipio's sons, the thunderbolts of war.
None e'er, than Maurice, better knew,
Camps, sieges, battles, to ordain;
None e'er, than Henry, fiercer did pursue
The lying foe, or earlier conquests gain.
For scarce sixteen revolving years he told,
When, eager for the fight, and bold,
Inflam'd by Glory's sprightly charms,
His brother brought him to the field;
Taught his young hand the truncheon well to wield,
And practis'd him betimes to arms.

Let Flandrian Newport tell of wonders wrought
Before her walls, that memorable day,
When the victorious youths in concert fought,
And matchless valour did display!
How, ere the battle join'd, they strove
With emulous honour, and with mutual love;
How Maurice, touch'd with tender care
Of Henry's safety, begg'd him to remove ;
Henry refus'd his blooming youth to spare,
But with his much-lov'd Maurice vow'd to proye
Th' extremes of war, and equal dangers share.
O generous strife! and worthy such a pair!
How dear did Albert this contention pay!
Witness the floods of streaming gore;
Witness the trampled heaps, that chok'd the plain,
And stopp'd the victors in their way;
Witness the neighbouring sea, and sandy shore,
Drunk with the purple life of twice three thousand
slain!

Fortune, that on her wheel capricious stands,
And waves her painted wings, inconstant, proud,
Hood-wink'd, and shaking from her hands
Promiscuous gifts among the crowd,
Restless of place, and still prepar'd for flight,
Was constant here, and seem'd restor❜d to sight:
Won by their merit, and resolv'd to bless
The happy brothers with a long success-
Maurice, the first resign'd to fate:
The youngest had a longer date,
And liv'd the space appointed to complete
The great republic, rais'd so high before;
Finish'd by him, the stately fabric bore
Its lofty top aspiring to the sky:

In vain the winds and rains around it beat;
In vain, below, the waves tempestuous roar,
They dash themselves, and break, and backward fly,
Dispers'd and murmuring at his feet.
Insulting Spain the fruitless strife gives o'er,
And claims dominion there no more.
Then Henry, ripe for immortality,
His flight to Heaven eternal springs,

[wings.

And, o'er his quiet grave, Peace spreads her downy

His son, a second William, fills his place,
And climbs to manhood with so swift a pace,

VOL. X.

? Maurice and Henry.

As if he knew, he had not long to stay:
Such young Marcellus was, the hopeful grace
Of ancient Rome, but quickly snatch'd away.
Breda beheld th' adventurous boy,
His tender limbs in shining armour dress'd,
Where, with his father, the hot siege he press'd.
His father saw, with pleasing joy, [press'd.
His own reflected worth, and youthful charms ex-
But, when his country breath'd from war's alarms,
His martial virtues lay obscure;
Nor could a warrior, form'd for arms,
Th' inglorious rest endure;
But sicken'd soon, and sudden dy'd,
And left in tears his pregnant bride,
His bride, the daughter of Britannia's king;
Nor saw th' auspicious pledge of nuptial love,
Which from that happy marriage was to spring,
But with his great fore-fathers gain'd a blissful seat
above.

Here pause, my Muse! and wind up higher
The strings of thy Pindaric lyre!

Then with bold strains the lofty song pursue;
And bid Britannia once again review

The numerous worthies of the line.
See, like immortals, how they shine!
Each life a history alone!

And last, to crown the great design,
Look forward, and behold them all in one'
Look, but spare thy fruitless tears→→→→
'Tis thy own William next appears.
Advance, celestial form! let Britain see
Th' accomplish'd glory of thy race in thee!
So, when some splendid triumph was to come,
In long procession through the streets of Rome,
The crowd beheld, with vast surprise,
The glittering train in awful order move,
To the bright temple of Feretrian Jove,
And trophies borne along employ'd their dazzled
But when the laurel'd emperor, mounted high
Above the rest, appear'd to sight,

[eyes:

In his proud car of victory,
Shining with rays excessive bright,
He put the long preceding pomp to flight;
Their wonder could no higher rise,

With joy they throng his chariot wheels, and rend
with shouts the skies.

To thee, great prince! to thy extensive mind,
Not by thy country's narrow bounds confin'd,
The Fates an ample scene afford;

And injur'd nations claim the succour of thy sword.
No respite to thy toils is given,

Till thou ascend thy native Heaven:
One Hydra-head cut off, still more abound,

And twins sprout up to fill the wound.

So endless is the task that heroes find

To tame the monster Vice, and to reform mankind.
For this, Alcides heretofore,

And mighty Theseus, travell'd o'er
Vast tracts of sea and land, and slew
Wild beasts and serpents gorg'd with human prey:
And bid the cheerful traveller pass on his peaceful
From stony dens fierce lurking robbers drew,

way.

Yet, though the toilsome work they long pursue,
To rid the world's wild pathless field,
Still poisonous weeds and thorns in clusters grew,
And large unwholesome crops did yield,
To exercise their hands with labours ever new..

C

Thou, like Alcides, early didst begin,
And ev'n a child didst laurels win.
Two snaky plagues around his cradle twin'd,
Sent by the jealous wife of Jove,

In speckled wreaths of Death they strove,
The mighty babe to bind:

And twisted Faction, in thy infancy,

Darted her forked tongue at thee.

But, as Jove's offspring slew his hissing foes;
So thou, descended from a line
Of patriots no less divine,

Didst quench the brutal rage of those,
Who durst thy dawning worth oppose.

The viper Spite, crush'd by thy virtue, shed
Its yellow juice, and at thy feet lay dead.
Thus, like the Sun, did thy great Genius rise,
With clouds around his sacred head,

Yet soon dispell'd the dropping mists, and gilded all the skies.

Great Julius, who with generous envy view'd The statue of brave Philip's braver son, And wept to think what such a youth subdued, While, more in age, himself had yet so little done, Had wept much more, if he had liv'd to see The glorious deeds achiev'd by thee; To see thee, at a beardless age, Stand arm'd against th' invader's rage, And bravely fighting for thy country's liberty; While he inglorious laurels sought, And not to save his country fought; While he-O stain upon the greatest name, That e'er before was known to fame! When Rome, his awful mother, did demand The sword from his unruly hand,

The sword she gave before,

Enrag'd, he spurn'd at her command,

Had not Britannia's chief withstood The threaten'd deluge, and repell'd, To its forsaken banks, th' unwilling flood, And in his hand the scales of balanc'd kingdoms held. Well was this mighty trust repos'd in thee, Whose faithful soul, from private interest free, (Interests which vulgar princes know) O'er all its passions sat exalted high, As Teneriff's top enjoys a purer sky, And sees the moving clouds at distance fly below. Whoe'er thy warlike annals reads,

Behold reviv'd our valiant Edward's deeds.
Great Edward and his glorious son'
Will own themselves in thee outdone,
Though Crecy's desperate fight eternal honours won.
Though the fifth Henry too does claim

A shining place among Britannia's kings,
And Agincourt has rais'd his lofty name;
Yet the loud voice of ever-living Fame
Of thee more numerous triumphs sings.
But, though no chief contends with thee,
In all the long records of history,

Thy own great deeds together strive,
Which shall the fairest light derive,
On thy immortal memory;
Whether Seneff's amazing field
To celebrated Mons shall yield;

Or both give place to more amazing Boyne; Or if Namur's well-cover'd siege must all the rest outshine!

While in Hibernia's fields the labouring swain
Shall pass the plough o'er skulls of warriors slain,
And turn up bones, and broken spears,
Amaz'd, he'll show his fellows of the plain,
The reliques of victorious years;

Hurl'd at her breast the impious steel, and bath'd it in And tell, how swift thy arms that kingdom did re

her gore.

Far other battles thou hast won,

Thy standard still the public good:
Lavish of thine, to save thy people's blood:
And when the hardy task of war was done,
With what a mild well-temper'd mind,
(A mind unknown to Rome's ambitious son)
Thy powerful armies were resign'd;
This victory o'er thyself was more,
Than all thy conquests gain'd before:
"Twas more than Philip's son could do,
When for new worlds the madman cry'd;
Nor in his own wild breast had spy'd
Towers of ambition, hills of boundless pride,
Too great for armies to subdue.

O savage lust of arbitrary sway!
Insatiate fury, which in man we find,
In barbarous man, to prey upon his kind,
And make the world, enslav'd, his vicious will obey!
How has this fiend, Ambition, long defac'd
Heaven's works, and laid the fair creation waste!
Ask silver Rhine, with springing rushes crown'd,
As to the sea his waters flow,
Where are the numerous cities now,
That once he saw, his honour'd banks around?
Scarce are their silent ruins found;
But, in th' ensuing age,

Trampled into common ground,

fing rage.

Will hide the horrid monuments of Gaul's destroyAll Europe too had shar'd this wretched fate,

And mourn'd her heavy woes too late,

Flandria, a longer witness to thy glory,

With wonder too repeats thy story; How oft the foes thy lifted sword have seen

In the hot battle, when it bled

[gain.

At all its open veins, and oft have fled,
As if their evil genius thou hadst been:
How, when the blooming Spring began t' appear,
And with new life restor'd the year,
Confederate princes us'd to cry;

"Call Britain's king-the sprightly trumpet sound,
And spread the joyful summons round!
Call Britain's king, and Victory!"

So when the flower of Greece, to battle led
In Beauty's cause, just vengeance swore
Upon the foul adulterer's head,

That from her royal lord the ravish'd Helen bore,
The Grecian chiefs, of mighty fame,
Impatient for the son of Thetis wait:

At last the son of Thetis came;

Troy shook her nodding towers, and mourn'd th' im pending fate.

O sacred Peace! goddess serene! Adorn'd with robes of spotless white, Fairer than silver floods of light! How short has thy mild empire been! When pregnant Time brought forth this new-bor At first we saw thee gently smile [age On the young birth, and thy sweet voice awhile Sung a soft charm to martial rage:

Edward III. and the Black Prince,

[mane.

But soon the lion wak'd again, And stretch'd his opening claws, and shook his grisly Soon was the year of triumphs past;

And Janus, ushering in a new,

With backward look did pompous scenes review;
But his fore-face with frowns was overcast;

He saw the gathering storms of war,
And bid his priests aloud, his iron gates unbar.

But Heaven its bero can no longer spare,
To mix in our tumultuous broils below;
Yet suffer'd his foreseeing care,
Those bolts of vengeance to prepare,
Which other hands shall throw;
That glory to a mighty queen remains,
To triumph o'er th' extinguish'd foe;
She shall supply the Thunderer's place';
As Pallas, from th' ethereal plains,
Warr'd on the giants' impious race,

[low.

And laid their huge demolish'd works in smoky ruins Then Anne's shall rival great Eliza's reign;

And William's Genius, with a grateful smile, Look down, and bless this happy isle; And Peace, restor'd, shall wear her olive crown again.

ODE

ON THE DEATH OF A FRIEND.

APOLLO, god of sounds and verse,
Pathetic airs and moving thoughts inspire!
Whilst we thy Damon's praise rehearse:
Damon himself could animate the lyre.

Apollo, god of sounds and verse,
Pathetic airs and moving thoughts inspire!
Look down! and warm the song with thy celestial fire.

Ah, lovely youth! when thou wert here, Thyself a young Apollo did appear;

Young as that god, so sweet a grace,
Such blooming fragrance in thy face;
So soft thy air, thy visage so serene,
That harmony ev'n in thy look was seen.
But when thou didst th' obedient strings command,
And join in consort thy melodious hand,
Ev'n Fate itself, such wondrous strains to hear,
Fate had been charm'd, had Fate an ear.
But what does Music's skill avail?
When Orpheus did his loss deplore,
Trees bow'd attentive to his tale;
Hush'd were the winds, wild beasts forgot to roar;
But dear Eurydice came back no more.

Then cease, ye sons of Harmony, to mourn;
Since Damon never can return.

See, see! he mounts, and cleaves the liquid way!
Bright choirs of angels, on the wing,

For the new guest's arrival stay,

And hymns of triumph sing.

They bear him to the happy seats above,
Seats of eternal harmony and love;

Where artful Purcell went before.

Cease then, ye sons of Music, cease to mourn:
Your Damon never will return,

No, never, never more!

* ANACREON.

ODE THE THIRD.

Their various cares in soft repose,
Ar dead of night, when mortals lose

I heard a knocking at my door:
"Who's that," said I, "at this late hour
Disturbs my rest?"-It sobb'd and cry'd,
And thus in mournful tone reply'd:
"A poor unhappy child am I,
That's come to beg your charity;
Pray let me in!-You need not fear;
I mean no harm, I vow and swear;
But, wet and cold, crave shelter here;
Betray'd by night, and led astray,
I've lost-alas! I've lost my way."

Mov'd with this little tale of fate,
I took a lamp, and op'd the gate;
When see a naked boy before
The threshold; at his back he wore
A pair of wings, and by his side
A crooked bow and quiver ty'd.

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My pretty angel! come," said I, "Come to the fire, and do not cry!" I strok'd his neck and shoulders bare, And squeez'd the water from his hair; Then chaf'd his little hands in mine, And cheer'd him with a draught of wine. Recover'd thus, says he; "I'd know, Whether the rain has spoiled my bow; Let's try"-then shot me with a dart. The venom throbb'd, did ake and smart, As if a bee had stung my heart.

66

Are these your thanks, ungrateful child, Are these your thanks?"-Th' impostor smil'd: "Farewell, my loving host," says he; "All's well; my bow's unhurt, I see; But what a wretch I've made of thee!"

THE STORY OF

PYRAMUS AND THISBE.

FROM THE FOURTH BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.

WHERE Babylon's proud walls, erected high
By fam'd Semiramis, ascend the sky,
Dwelt youthful Pyramus, and Thisbe fair;
Adjoining houses held the lovely pair.
His perfect form all other youths surpass'd;
Charms such as hers no eastern beauty grac'd.
Near neighbourhood the first acquaintance drew,
An early promise of the love t' ensue.
Time nurs'd the growing flame; had Fate been kind,
The nuptial rites their faithful hands had join'd;
But, with vain threats, forbidding parents strove
To check the joy; they could not check the love.
Each captive heart consumes in like desire;
The more conceal'd, the fiercer rag'd the fire.
Soft looks, the silent eloquence of eyes,
And secret signs, secure from household spies,
Exchange their thoughts; the common wall, be-

tween

Each parted house, retain❜d a chink, unseen,
For ages past. The lovers soon espy'd
This small defect, for Love is eagle-ey'd,
And in soft whispers soon the passage try'd.

Vicem gerit illa Tonantis: the motto on her Safe went the murmur'd sounds, and every day majesty's coronation medals.

A thousand amorous blandishments convey;

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