Obrazy na stronie


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:
For, oh! who, vanquish'd, loves the victor's faine

to tell ?
Great thanks, captain great in arms! receive
From thy triumphant country's public voice: “ Envy'd Britannia, sturdy as the oak,
Thy country greater thanks can only give

Which on her mountain top she proudly bears,
To Anne, to her who made those arms her choice. Eludes the ax, and sprouts against the stroke;
Recording Schellenberg's and Blenheim's toils, Strong from her wounds, and greater by her wars
We dreaded lest thou should'st those toils repeat: And as those teeth, which Cadmus sow'd in earth,
We view'd the palace charg'd with Gallic spoils, Produc'd new youth, and furnish'd fresh supplies:
And in those spoils we thought thy praise complete. So with young vigour, and succeeding birth,
For never Greek, we deem'd, nor Roman knight, Her losses more than recompens'd arise;
In characters like these did e'er his acts indite. And every age she with a race is crown'd,
Yet, mindless still of case, thy virtue flies

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;
Till the young Austrian on Iberia's strand, 2
Great as Æneas on the Latian coast, /

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,

Vigo, and Gibraltar, and Barcelone,t

As Nancy at her toilet sat,
Their force destroy'd, their privileges sav'dy! Admiring this, and blaming that,
Shall Anna's terrours arfd her mercies own: “ Tell me,” she said ; “but tell me true;
Spajn, from th' usurper Bourbon's arms retriet'd, 3 The nymph who could your heart subdue.
Shall with new life and grateful joy appear, What sort of charms does she possess ?”
Numbering the wonders which that youth achiey'd, 3 “ Absolve me, fair one, I'll confess
Whoin Anna clad in arms, and sent to war; With pleasure," I reply'd. “ Her hair,
Whom Anna sent to claim Iberia's throne

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,
Germania sav'd by Britain's ample shield,

In private state, by friends is seen.
And bleeding Gaul aiflicted by her spear;
Shall bid them mention Marlborough on the shore, Nor fierce nor feeble is their ray ;

Her eyes are neither black nor gray ;
Leading his islanders, renown'd in arms,

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;
Glorious as those of Boyne, and safe as those of

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."
With decent joy shall her deliverer meet; The gipsey, turning to her glass,
Shall own thy arms, great queen, and bless thy Too plainly show'd she knew the face ;

" And which am I most like,” she said,
laying the keys beneath thy subject's feet, “ Your Cloe, or your Nut-brown Maid ?”
Flandria, by plenty inade the home of war,
Shall weep her crime, and bow to Charles restor'd;
With double vows shall bless thy happy care,
In having drawn, and having sheath'd the sword;

From these their sister provinces shall know,
How Anne supports a friend, and how forgives a foe.
Bright swords, and crested helms, and pointed

Beneath a verdant laurel's ample shade,
In artful piles around the work shall lie; (spears, His lyre to mournful numbers strung,
And shields indented deep in ancient wars,

Horace, immortal bard, supinely laid, Blazon'd with signs of Gallic heraldry ;

To Venus thus address'd the song :




Ten thousand little Loves around,
Listening, dwelt on every sound.


Os his death-bed poor Lubin lies;
Potent Venus, bid thy son

His spouse is in despair :
Sound no more his dire alarms.

With frequent sobs, and mutual cries,

They both express their care.
Youth on silent wings is flown :
Graver years come rolling on.

i A different cause," says parson Sly,
Spare my age, unfit for arms:

The same effect may give:
Safe and humble let me rest,

Poor Lubin fears that he shall die;
From all amorous care releas'd.

His wife, that he may

Potent Venus bid thy son
Sound no more the dire alarms.


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 ?”



[ocr errors]
[blocks in formation]


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,

(once squeal.

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.

[ocr errors]


'Twas in a husband little less than ride,
What a frail thing is beauty !” says Baron le He should have sent a night or two before,

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;
When she more confus'd, as more angry she grew, Found every thing contribute to his rest;
By a negligent rage prov'd the maxim too true :

The picquet friend dismiss'd, the coast all clear,
She dropt the eye, and broke it.

And spouse alone impatient for her dear.

But, if these gay reflections come too late,
To keep the guilty Phædra from her fate;

If your more serious judgment must condemn

The dire effects of her unhappy flame:

Yet, ye chaste matrons, and ye tender fair,
Vain the concern which you express,

Let Love and Innocence engage your care:
That uncallid Alard will possess

My spotless flames to your protection take ;
Your house and coach, both day and night,

And spare poor Phædra for Ismena's sake.
And that Macbeth was haunted less

By Banquo's restless spright.
With fifteen thousand pounds a year,

Do you coinplain, you cannot bear

How capricious were Nature and Art to poop
An ill, you may so soon retrieve?

Good Alard, faith, is modester

She was painting her cheeks at the time her nose
By much than you believe.

Lend him but fifty Louis-d'or ;
And you shall never see him inore:

Take the advice; probatum est.
Why do the gods indulge our store,

The female author who recites to day,
But to secure our rest?

Trusts to her sex the merit of her play.
Like father Bayes securely she sits down:
Pit, box, and gallery, 'gad ! all's our own.

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;
TO SMITH'S PHÆDRA AND HIPPOLYTUS, 'Tbo' they could all do something more than sing.

But one exception to this fact we find;

That booby Phaon only was unkind,
LADIES, to night your pity I implore

An ill-bred boat-man, rough as waves and wind.
For one, who never troubled you before :

From Sappho down through all succeeding ages,
An Oxford man, extremely read in Greek, And now on French or on Italian stages,
Who from Euripides makes Phaedra speak; Rongh satyrs, sly remarks, ill-natur'd speeches,
And comes to town to let us moderns know, Are always aim'd at poets that wcar breeches.
How women lov'd two thousand years ago.

Arın'd with Longinus, or with Rapin, no man
“ If that be all,” said I, “e'en burn your play: Drew a sharp pen upon a naked woman.
Egad! we know all that as well as they :

The blustering bully, in qur neighbouring streets,
Show us the youthful, handsome charioteer, Scorns to attack the feinale that he meets :
Firm in his seat, and running his career ;

Fearless the petticoat contemns his frowns :
Our souls would kindle with as generous flames, The hoop secures whatever it surrounds.
As e'er inspir'd the ancient Grecian dames : The many-colour'd gentry there above,
Every Isniena would resign her breast;

By turns are ruld by tumult and by love:
And every dear Hippolytus be blest.

And, while their swecthearts their attention fix,
“ But, as it is, six flouncing Flanders mares Suspend the din of their damn'd clattering sticks
Are e'en as good as any two of thcirs :

Now, sirs-
And, if Hippolytus can but contrive

To you our anthor makes her soft request,
To buy the gilded chariot, John can drive." Who speak the kindest, and who write the best,
Nour of the bustle you have seen to-day,

Your sympathetic hearts she hopes to move,
And Phædra's morals in this scholar's play, From tender friendship, and endearing love.
Something at least in justice should be said ; If Petrarcii's Muse did laura's wit rehearse;
But this Hippolytus sú fills one's head

And Cowley Aatter'd dear Orinda's vcrse ;
Well! Phædra livid as chastely as she cou'd ; She hopes from you—Pox take her hopes and fears!
For she was father Jove's own flesh and blood. I plead her sex's claim; what matters hers?
Her aukward love indeed was orldly fated;

By our full power of beauty we think fit
She and her Poly were too near related ;

To damn the Salique law imposd on wit:
And yet that scruple had been laid aside,

We'll try the empire who so long have boasted;
If honest Thescus had but fairly died:

And, if we are not prais’d, we'll not be toasted.
But when he came, what needed he to know, Approre what one of us presents to night,
But that all matters stood in statu quo ?

Or every mortal woman here shall write:
There was no harm, you sce; or, grant there were, Kural, pathetic, narrative, sublime,
Sbe might want conduct; but he wanted care We'll write to you, and make you write in rhymes


Female remarks shall take up all your time, Courage, friend; for to day is your period of sorrow;
Your time, poor souls! we'll take your very money; And things will go better, believe me, tomorrow."..
Female third-days shall come so thick upon ye, Derry down, &c.
As long as we have eyes, or hands, or breath,

“ 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,
And the king, and the law, and the thief, has bis In vain cold friendship you return;
But my hearers cry out, “ What a duce dost thou Your drops of pity on my fire,

Alas! but make it fiercer burn.
Cut off thy reflections, and give us thy tale."

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.
A Norman, though late, was oblig'd to appear;
And who to assist, but a grave Cordelier?
Derry down, &c.

The squire, whose good grace was to open the

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,
Rely on the aid you shall have from Sajnt Francis: Would not take pains to try for more.
If the money you proniis'd be brought to the chest, Nor sister either had nor brother;
You have only to die : let the church do the rest. They seem'd just tally'd for each other.
Derry down, &c.

Their moral and economy
** And what will folks say, if they see you afraid? Each virtue kept its proper bound,

Most perfectly they made agree:
It reflects upon me, as I knew not my trade : Nor trespass'd on the other's ground,

[ocr errors]
« PoprzedniaDalej »