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O D E;

In Imitation of HORACE, 3 Od. ii.

Written in 1692.

I.

How long, deluded Albion, wilt thou lie

In the lethargic fleep, the fad repofe,
By which thy clofe, thy conftant enemy,
Has foftly lull'd thee to thy woes?

Or wake, degenerate ifle, or cease to own
What thy own kings in Gallic camps have done;
The spoils they brought thee back, the crowns they

won:

William (fo fate requires) again is arm'd;

Thy father to the field is gone:

Again Maria weeps her abfent lord,
For thy repofe content to rule alone.

Are thy enervate fons not yet alarm'd?
When William fights dare they look tamely on,
So flow to get their ancient fate reftor'd,

As nor to melt at Beauty's tears, nor follow Valour's

fword?

II. See

II.

See the repenting ifle awakes,

Her vicious chains the generous goddefs breaks; The fogs around her temples are dispell'd; Abroad she looks, and fees arm'd Belgia ftand Prepar'd to meet their common Lord's command; Her lions roaring by her fide, her arrows in her hand: And, blushing to have been fo long with-held,

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Weeps off her crime, and haftens to the field:
Henceforth her youth fhall be inur'd to bear
Hazardous toil and active war:

To march beneath the dog-ftar's raging heat,
Patient of fummer's drought, and martial fweat;
And only grieve in winter's camps to find
Its days too fhort for labours they defign'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..

III.

Silence is the foul of war;

Deliberate counsel must prepare

The mighty work, which valour must compleat:
Thus William refcued, thus preferves the ftate;
Thus teaches us to think and dare.

As whilft his cannon just prepar'd to breathe
Avenging anger and swift death,

In the tried metal the close dangers glow,

And

And now, too late, the dying foe

Perceives the flame, yet cannot ward the blow;
So whilft in William's breast ripe counfels lie,
Secret and fure as brooding fate,

No more of his design appears,
Than what awakens Gallia's fears;

And (though Guilt's eye can sharply penetrate), Diftracted Lewis can defcry

Only a long unmeasur'd ruin nigh.

IV.

On Norman coafts and banks of frighted Seine
Lo! the impending ftorms begin:
Britannia fafely through her mafter's fea,
Plows up her victorious way.

The French Salmoneus throws his bolts in vain,
Whilft the true Thunderer afferts the main :
'Tis done! to fhelves and rocks his fleets retire,
Swift victory in vengeful flames

Burns down the pride of their prefumptuous names:
They run to fhipwreck to avoid our fire,

And the torn veffels that regain their coast
Are but fad marks to fhew the reft are loft:

All this the mild, the beauteous, Queen has done,
And William's fofter half shakes Lewis' throne:
Maria does the fea command

Whilft Gallia flies her husband's arms by land.
So, the Sun abfent, with full fway the Moon
Governs the ifle and rules the waves alone:
So Juno thunders when her Jove is gone.
VOL. II.
I

Io

lo Britannia! loofe thy ocean's chains,

Whilft Ruffel ftrikes the blow thy queen ordains:
Thus refcued, thus rever'd, for ever stand,
And bless the counfel, and reward the hand,
Io Britannia! thy Maria reigns.

V.

From Mary's conquefts, and the rescued main,
Let France look back to Sambre's armed fhore,
And boast her joy for William's death * no more.
He lives; let France confefs, the victor lives:
Her triumphs for his death were vain,
And spoke her terror 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 diftant towers on high,

At the battle of Boyne King William being flightly wounded with a cannon ball, a report was fpread which reached France, that he was killed; "And upon it," fays Bishop Burnet," there were more public rejoicings, than "had been ufual upon their greatest victories: Which gave "that court afterwards a vaft confufion, when they knew "that he was still alive; and saw, that they had raised in "their own people a high opinion of him by their inhu"man joy, when they believed him dead. HISTORY OF "HIS OWN TIMES, Vol. 3. p. 6.3.

Caft

Caft around her mournful eye,

And with prophetic forrow cry: "Why does my ruin'd lord retard his flight? Why does defpair 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 fafely tempt the ftooping eagle's flight;
As Lewis to unequal arms defy

Yon' hero, crown'd with blooming victory,
Juft triumphing o'er rebel-rage reftrain'd,

And yet unbreath'd from battles gain'd.
See! all yon' dufty field's quite cover'd o'er
With hoftile troops, and Orange at their head;
Orange, deftin'd to complete

He

The

great defigns of labouring Fate; Orange, the name that tyrants dread:

comes; our ruin'd empire is no more;

Down, like the Perfian, goes the Gallic throne;
Darius flies, young Ammon urges on."

VI.

Now from the dubious battle's mingled heat,
Let Fear look back, and ftretch her hafty wing,
Impatient to fecure a base retreat :

Let the pale coward leave his wounded king,
For the vile privilege to breathe,

To live with fhame in dread of glorious death!
In vain: for Fate has fwifter wings than Fear,
She follows hard, and strikes him in the rear;

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