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Whence look the soldiers' cheeks dismay'd and Ill-starr'd did we our forts and lines forsake, pale ?
To dare our British foes to open fight: Erst ever dreadful, know they now to dread? Our conquest we by stratagem should make: The hostile troops, I ween, almost prevail; Our triumph had been founded in our flight. And the pursuers only not recede.
'Tis ours by craft and by surprise to gain : Alas! their lessen'd rage proclaims their grief! 'Tis theirs, to meet in arms, and battle in the For, anxious, lo! they crowd around their falling plain.
chief. “I thank thee, Pate!" exclaims the fierce Bavar; Their boasted Brute, undaunted snatch'd his gode
“ The ancient father of this hostile brood, Let Boya's trampel grateful lö's sound : saw him fall, their thunderbolt of war:
From burning Troy, and Xanthas red with blood,
And fix'd on silver Thames his dire abodes : Ever to Vengeance sacred be the ground.” Vain wish! short jov! the hero mounts again
‘And this be Troynovante,' he said, the seat
py Heaven ordain'd, my sons, your lasting place: In greater glory, and with fuller light :
Superior here to all the bolts of Fate The evening star so falls into the main,
Live, mindful of the author of your race, To rise at morn more prevalently bright.
Whom neither Greece, nor war, nor want, nor He rises safe; but near, too near his side,
flame, A good man's grievous loss, a faithful servant died.
Nor great Pelides'arm, nor Juno's rage, could tame.' Propitious Mars! the battle is regain'd : The foe, with lessen'd wrath, disputes the field:
“ Their Tudors hence, and Stuarts offspring flow : The Briton fights, by favouring gods sustain'd:
Hence Edward, dreadful with his sable shield, Freedom must live; and lawless Power must yield. Talbot to Gallia's power eternal foe, Vain now the tales which fabling poets tell,
And Seymour, fam'd in council or in field:. That wavering Conquest still desires to rove! Hence Nevil, great to settle or dethrope, In Marlborough's camp the goddess knows to dwell: And Drake, and Ca'ndish, terrours of the sea : Long as the hero's life remains her love.
Hence Butler's sons, o'er land and ocean known, Agaju France flies, again the duke pursues,
Herbert's and Churchill's warring progeny : And on Ramilia's plains he Blenheim's fame re
Hence the long roll which Gallia should conceal:
to tell ?
Which on her mountain top she proudly bears,
For letters more polite, in battles more renown'd A pitch to old and modern tiines unknown:
Obstinate power, whom nothing can repel; Those goodly deeds, which we so highly prize,
Not the fierce Saxon, nor the cruel Dane, Imperfect seem, great chief, to thee alone.
Nor deep impression of the Norman steel, Those heights, where William's virtue might have
Nor Europe's force amass`d by envious Spain, staid,
Nor France, on universal sway intent, And on the subject world look'd safely down,
Oft breaking leagues, and oft renewing wars, By Marlborough pass'd, the props and steps were
Nor (frequent bane of weaken'd gorernment) made
Their own intestine feuds and mutual jars : Sublimer yet to raise his queen's renown:
Those feuds and jars, in which I trusted inore, Still gaining more, still slighting what he gain'd,
Than in my troo, s, and feets, and all the Gallie Nought done the hero deem'd, while aught undone
power. remain'd. When swift-wing'd Rumour told the mighty Gaul,
“ To fruitful Rheims, or fair Lutetia's gate, How lessen'd from the field Bavar was flerl;
What tidings shall the messenger convey? He wept the swiftness of the champion's fall;
Shall the loud herald our success relate, And thus the royal treaty-breaker said :
Or mitred priest appoint the solemn day? " And lives he yet, the great, the lost Bavar,
Alas! my praises they no more must sing; Ruin to Gallia in the name of friend?
They to my statue now must box no more: Tell me, how far has Fortune been severe?
Broken, repuls'd is their immortal king : Has the foe's glory, or our grief, an end?
Fall'n, fall’n for ever, is the Gallic power! Remains there, of the fifty thousand lost,
The woman chief is master of the war: To save our threaten 'd realm, or guard our shatter'd
Earth she has freed by arms, and vanquish'd Heacoast?
ven by prayer." " To the close rock the frighted raven flies, While thus the ruin'd foe's despair commends Soon as the rising eagle cuts the air :
Thy council and thy deed, victorious queen, The shaggy wolf, unseen and trembling, lies, What shall thy subjects say, and what thy friends? When the hoarse roar proclaims the lion near. How shall thy triumphs in our joy be seen?
Oh! deign to let the eldest of the Nine
And standards with distinguish'd honours bright, Recite Britannia great, and Gallia free:
Marks of high power and national command, Oh! with her sister, Sculpture, let her join Which Valois' sons, and Bourbon's bore in fight, To raise, great Anne, the monument to thee; Or gave to Foix', or Montmorency's hand : To thee, of all our good the sacred spring; Great spoils which Gallia must to Britain yield, To thee, our dearest dread'; to thee, our
From Cressy's battle said to grace Ramilia's field. king.
And, as fine Art the spaces may disposer 1 Let Europe sav'd the column high erect,
The knowing thought and curious eye shall see 2 Than Trajan's higher, or than Antoninc's; Thy emblèm, gracious queer, the British rose, i Where sembling Art may carve the fair effect Type of sweet rule and gentle majesty: 2 And full achievement of thy great designs.
The northern thistle, whom no hostile hands In a calm heaven, and a serener air,
l'nhurt too rudely may provoke, I ween;
8 Sublime the queen shall on the summit stand,
Hibernia's harp, device of her command, From danger far, as far remov'd from fear, And parent of her, mirth, shall there be seen: And pointing down to Earth her dread command. Thy vanquish'd lilies, France, decay'd and torn, 5 All winds, all storms, that threaten human woe, Shall with disorder'd pomp the lasting work adorn. Shall sink beneath her feet, and spread their rage Beneath, great queen, oh! very far beneath, A below.
Near to the ground, and on the humble base, & Their fleets shall strive, by winds and waters tost,' To save herself from darkness and from death, A
That Muse desires the last, the lowest place;
Who, tho’unmeet, yet touch'd the trembling string, 3 Shall fix his foot : “ and this, be this the land, For the fair fame of Anne and Albion's land, A
Who durst of war and martial fury sing ;3 Great Jove, where I for ever will remain,” 3 (The empire's other hope shall say) “and here ht
And when thy will, and when thy subject's hand, Vanquish'd, entomb'd' I'll lie; or, crown'd, I'll
Had quell'd those wars, and bid that fury cease, s. o virtue, to thy British mother dear! [reign ! Hangs up her grateful harp to conquest, and to s Like the fam'd Trojan suffer and abide; 5
peace. For Anne is thine, i ween, as Venus was his guideš There, in eternal characters engrav'd,
HER RIGHT NAME.
As Nancy at her toilet sat,
In ringlets rather dark than fair, And made him more than king, in calling him her Does down ber ivory bosom roll, son. 2
And, hiding half, adorns the whole. There Ister, pleas'd by Bļenheim's glorious field, Love sits in open triumph crown'd;
In her high forehead's fair half-round Rolling shall bid his eastern waves declare
He in the dimple of her chin,
In private state, by friends is seen.
Her eyes are neither black nor gray ;
Their dubious lustre seems to show Through climes, where ne ver British chief before
Something that speaks nor Yes, nor No. Or pitch'd his camp, or sounded his alarms;
Her lips no living bard, I weet, Shall bid them bless the queen, who made his streams
May say, how red, how round, how sweet;
Old Homer only could indite
Their vagrant grace and soft delight : Brabantia, clad with fields, and crown'd with They stand recorded in his book, towers,
When Helen smil'd, and Hebe spoke."
" And which am I most like,” she said,
Beneath a verdant laurel's ample shade,
Horace, immortal bard, supinely laid, Blazon'd with signs of Gallic heraldry ;
To Venus thus address'd the song :
SET BY MONSIEUR GALLIARD.
Ten thousand little Loves around,
A REASOVABLE AFFLICTION,
Os his death-bed poor Lubin lies;
His spouse is in despair :
With frequent sobs, and mutual cries,
They both express their care.
i A different cause," says parson Sly,
The same effect may give:
Poor Lubin fears that he shall die;
His wife, that he may
ANOTHER REASONABLE AFFLICTION,
FROM her own native France as old Alison past, “ Yet Venus, why do I each morn prepare
She reproach'd English Nell with neglect or with
malice, The fragrant wreath for Cloe's hair?
That the slattern bad left, in the hurry and haste, Why do I all day lament and sigh, Unless the beauteous majd be nigh?
Her lady's complexion and eye-brows at Calais. And why all night pursue her in my dreams, Through flowery meads and crystal streams."
Her eye-brow box one morning lost,
("The best of folks are oftenest crost) Thus sung tive bard; and thus the goddess spoke: Sad Helen thus to Jenny said, “ Submissive bow to Love's imperious yoke : (Her careless but afficted maid) Every state, and every age,
“ Put me to bed then, wretched Jane ; Shall own my rule, and fear my rage:
Alas! when shall I rise again? Compelld by me, thy Muse shall prove,
I can behold no mortal now : That all the world was born to love.
For what's an eye without a brow ?”
PHYLLIS'S AGE. Ten months after Florimei happen'd to wed, How old may Phyllis be, you ask, And was brought in a laudable manner to bed,
Whose beauty thus all hcarts engages? She warbled her groans with so charming a voice,
To answer is no casy task: That one half of the parish was stunn'd with the
For she has really two ages. noise. But, when Florimel deign'd to lie privately in,
Stift in brocade, and pinch'd in stays, Ten months before she and her spouse were a kin;
Her patches, paint, aud jewels on; She chose with such prudence her panys to con
All day let Envy view her face, cral,
and Phyllis is but twenty-one. That her mirse, nay her midwife, scarce heard her Paint, patches, je'wcis laid aside, Learn, husbands, from hence, for thc peace of your At night, astronomers agree, lives,
The crening has the day bely'd; That maids make not half such a tumult as wives. And Phyllis is some forty-three.
EPILOGUE TO PHÆDRA AND HIPPOLYTUS. 18$
'Twas in a husband little less than ride,
Upon his wife's retirement to intrude Perceiving his mistress had one eye of glass : (Cras, That he would come exact at such an hour; And scarcely had he spoke it,
Then he had turn'd all tragedy to jest;
The picquet friend dismiss'd, the coast all clear,
And spouse alone impatient for her dear.
But, if these gay reflections come too late,
If your more serious judgment must condemn
The dire effects of her unhappy flame:
Yet, ye chaste matrons, and ye tender fair,
Let Love and Innocence engage your care:
My spotless flames to your protection take ;
And spare poor Phædra for Ismena's sake.
By Banquo's restless spright.
A CRITICAL MOMENT.
How capricious were Nature and Art to poop
She was painting her cheeks at the time her nose
EPILOGUE TO MRS. MANLEY'S LUCIUS.
The female author who recites to day,
Trusts to her sex the merit of her play.
In ancient Greece, she says, when Sappho writ,
By their applause the critics show'd their wit,
They tun'd their voices to her lyric string;
But one exception to this fact we find;
That booby Phaon only was unkind,
An ill-bred boat-man, rough as waves and wind.
From Sappho down through all succeeding ages,
Arın'd with Longinus, or with Rapin, no man
The blustering bully, in qur neighbouring streets,
Fearless the petticoat contemns his frowns :
By turns are ruld by tumult and by love:
And, while their swecthearts their attention fix,
To you our anthor makes her soft request,
Your sympathetic hearts she hopes to move,
And Cowley Aatter'd dear Orinda's vcrse ;
By our full power of beauty we think fit
To damn the Salique law imposd on wit:
We'll try the empire who so long have boasted;
And, if we are not prais’d, we'll not be toasted.
Or every mortal woman here shall write:
A BALLAD: TO THE TUNE OP
Female remarks shall take up all your time, Courage, friend; for to day is your period of sorrow;
“ To mortow!” our hero replied, in a fright: We'll look, or write, or talk you all to death,
“ He that's hang'd before noon, ought to think of Unless you yield for better and for worse:
to night." Then the she-Pegasus shall gain the course;
(truss'd up, And the grey mare will prove the better horse.
“Tell your beads," quoth the priest, “and be fairly For you surely to night shall in Paradise sup."
Derry down, &c, “Alas !” quoth the squire,“ howe'er sumptu.
ous the treat, THE THIEF AND THE CORDELIER, Parbleu! I shall have little stomach to eat;
I should therefore esteem it great favour and grace,
Would you be so kind as to go in my place.” KING JOHN AND THE ARBOT OF CANTERBURY.
Derry down, &c. W#0 has e'er been at Paris, must needs know the “ That I would,” quoth the father, “and thank Greve,
you to boot; The fatal retreat of th' unfortunate brave;
But our actions, you know, with our duty must suite Where Honour and Justice most oddly contribute The feast I propos'd to you, I cannot taste; To ease heroes' pains by a halter and gibbet. For this night, by our order, is mark'd for a fast.” Derry down, down, hey derry down,
Derry down, &c. There Death breaks the shackles which Force
Then, turning about to the hangman, he said, had put on,
“ Dispatch me, I pr’ythee, this troublesome blade; And the hangman completes what the judge but for thy cord and my cord both equally tie, begun;
And we live by the gold for which other men dic." There the squire of the pad, and the knight of the
Derry down, &c. post,
(no more crost. Find their pains no more balk'd, and their hopes Derry down, &C.
TO CHLOE. Great claims are there made, and great secrets are known;
Whilst I am scorch'd with hot desire,
Alas! but make it fiercer burn.
Ah! would you have the flame supprest, Derry down, &c.
That kills the heart it heats too fast, "Twas there then, in civil respect to harsh laws, Take half my passion to your breast; And for want of false witness to back a bad cause,
The rest in mine shall ever last.
Stet quicunque volet potens Seem'd not in great haste that the show should
Aulæ culmine lubrico, &c.
Senec begin: Now fitted the halter, now travers'd the cart;
IsTERR'd beneath this marble stone And often took leave, but was loth to depart
Lie sauntering Jack and idle Joan. Derry down, &c.
While rolling threescore years and one
Did round this globe their courses run; “What frightens you thus, my good son!” says If human things went ill or well, the priest :
If changing empires rose or fell, “ You murder'd, are sorry, and have bern confest." The morning past, the evening came, “ O father! my sorrow will scarce save my bacon; And found this couple still the same. For 'twas not that I murder'd, but that I was taken." They walk'd, and eat, good folks: what then? Derry down, &c.
Why then they walk'd and eat again :
They soundly slept the night away ; Pough! prythee ne'er trouble thy head with They did just nothing all the day: such fancies:
And, having bury'd children four,
Their moral and economy
Most perfectly they made agree: