And now, too late, the dying foe
Perceives the flame, yet cannot ward the blow ;
So whilft in William's breaft ripe counfels lie,
Secret and fure as brooding fate,
No more of his defign appears,
Than what awakens Gallia's fears ;
And (though Guilt's eye cam fharply penetrate),
Diftra&ted Lewis can defcry
Only a leng unmeafur'd ruin nigh.
IV.
On Normam coafts and banks of frighted Seine
Lo! the impending ftorms begin:
Britannia fafely through her mafter's fea,
Plows up her vi&torious 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 vi&ory in vengeful fames

Burns down the pride of their prefumptuous names:

They run to fhipwreck to avoid our fire,

And the torn veffels that regain their coaft

Are but fad marks to fhew the reft are loft :

All this the mild, the beauteous, Queen has done,

And William*s fofter half fhakes Lewis', throne :

Maria does the fea command

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

Vol. II. I Io ,

Io Britannia! loofe thy ocean's chains,
Whiift Ruffel ftrikes the blow thy queen ordains:
Thus refcued, thus rever'd, for ever ftand,
And blefs the counfel, and reward the hand,

Io Britannia! thy Maria reigns.

V.

From Mary's comquefts, and the refcued maim,
Let Frange look back to Sambre's armed fhore,
And boaft her joy for William's death * no more.
He lives; let France confefs, the vi&tor lives:
Her triumphs for his death were vain,
And fpoke 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 charmis,
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 flightky wounded with a camnom ball, a report was fpread which reached France, that he was killed ; ** And upon it,'* fays Bifhop Burnet, ** there were more public rejoicings, than •* had been ufua} upom their greate(t vi&ories: Which gave * that court afterwards a vaft confufion, when they knew •* that he was ftill alive ; and faw, that they had raifed in es 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. 68.

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 vi&tory, 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 The great defigns of labouring Fate ; Orange, the name that tyrants dread : He comes ; our ruin'd empire is no more ; Down, like the Perfian, goes the Gallic throne ; Darius flies, young Ammon urges om.” VI. Now from the dubious battle's mingled heat, Let Fear look back, and ftretch ber hafty wing, Impatient to fecure a bafe 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, i She follows hard, and ftrikes him in the rear ; . I 2 Dying

Dying and mad the traitor bites the ground,
His back tranfix'd with a difhoneft wound ;

While through the fierceft troops, and thickeft preß,

Virtue carries on fuccefs ; Whilft equal Heaven guards the diftingui{h'd brave, And armies cannot hurt whom angels fave.

VII.

Virtue to verfe immortal luftre gives,
Each by the other's mutual ftiendfhip lives ;
AEneus fuffer'd, and Achilles fought,
The Hero's a&ts enlarg'd the Poet's thought,
Or Virgil's majefty, and Homer's rage,
Had ne'er like lafting nature vanquifh'd age.
Whilfi Lewis then his rifing terror drowns

With drum's alarms, and trumpets* founds,
Whilft, hid in arm'd retreats and guarded towns,

From damger as from honour far,
He bribes clofe murder againft open war:

In vain you Gallic Mufes ftrive
With labour'd verfe to keep his fame alive :
Your mouldering monuments in vain ye raife
On the weak bafis of the tyrant's praife :
Your fongs are fold, your numbers are profane,

*Tis incenfe to.an idol given,

Meat offer'd to Prometheus* man

That had no foul from Heaven.

Againft his will, you chain your frighted king
On rapid Rhine's divided bed ; :
And

And mock your hero, whilft ye fing The wounds for which he never bled; Falfhood does poifon on your praife diffufe, And Lewis' fear gives death to Boileau's Mufe. [VIII. . Cn its own worth true majefty is rear'd And virtue is her own reward ; With folid beams and native glory bright, She neither darknefs dreads, nor covets light ; True to herfelf, and fix'd to inborn laws, Nor funk by fpight, nor lifted by applaufe, : She from her fettled orb looks calmly down, On life or death, a prifon or a crown. When bound in double chains poor Belgia lay, To foreign arms and inward ftrife a prey, Whifft one good man buoy'd up her finking ftate, And Virtue labour'd againft Fate ; When Fortune bafely with Ambitiom join'd, And all was conquer'd but the patriot's mind ; When ftorms iet loofe, and raging feas, Juft ready the torn vefiel to o'erwhelm, Forc'd not the faithful pilot from his helm, Nor all the Syren fongs offuture peace, And dazzling profpe&t of a promis'd crown, Could lure his fubborn virtue down ; ' ' But againft charms, and threats, and hell, he ftood, To that which was feverely good ; I 3 Then,