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, Or wake, degenerate ifle, or cease to own won: William (fo fate requires) again is arm'd; Thy father to the field is gone: Again Maria weeps her abfent lord, Are thy enervate fons not yet alarm'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, Weeps off her crime, and haftens to the field: To march beneath the dog-ftar's raging heat, Where William and his virtue lead.. III. Silence is the foul of war; Deliberate counsel must prepare The mighty work, which valour must compleat: As whilft his cannon just prepar'd to breathe In the tried metal the close dangers glow, And And now, too late, the dying foe Perceives the flame, yet cannot ward the blow; No more of his design appears, 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 The French Salmoneus throws his bolts in vain, Burns down the pride of their prefumptuous names: And the torn veffels that regain their coast All this the mild, the beauteous, Queen has done, Whilft Gallia flies her husband's arms by land. Io lo Britannia! loofe thy ocean's chains, Whilft Ruffel ftrikes the blow thy queen ordains: V. From Mary's conquefts, and the rescued main, 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, Yon' hero, crown'd with blooming victory, And yet unbreath'd from battles gain'd. 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; VI. Now from the dubious battle's mingled heat, Let the pale coward leave his wounded king, To live with fhame in dread of glorious death! |