No time, no change, no future flame, fhall move
The well-plac'd bafis of my lafting love.
O powerful virtue! O victorious fair!
At least excufe a trial too severe:

Receive the triumph, and forget the war.

No banish'd man, condemn'd in woods to rove, Entreats thy pardon, and implores thy love: No perjur'd knight defires to quit thy arms, Faireft collection of thy fex's charms, Crown of my love, and honour of my youth! Henry, thy Henry, with eternal truth, As thou may't wifh, fhall all his life employ, And found his glory in his Emma's joy.

In me behold the poter t Edgar's heir,
Illuftrious earl: him terrible in war
Let Loyre confefs, for fhe has felt his fword,
And trembling fled before the British lord,
Him great in peace and wealth fair Deva knows;
For fhe amidft his fpacious meadows flows;
Inclines her urn upon his fatten'd lands;
And sees his numerous herds imprint her fands.
And thou, my fair; my dove, shalt raise thy
thought

To greatness next to empire: fhalt be brought
With folemn pomp to my paternal feat;
Where peace and plenty on thy word fhall wait.
Mufic and fong fhail wake the marriage-day :
And, whilft the priests accufe the bride's delay,
Myrtles and roses shall obftruct her way.

Friendship shall still thy evening feasts adorn;
And blooming peace fhall ever blefs thy morn.
Succeeding years their happy race fhall run,
And age unheeded by delight come on :
While yet fuperior love fhall mock his power:
And when old time fhall turn the fated hour,
Which only can our well-tied knot unfold;
What refts of both, one fepulchre fhall hold.

Hence then for ever from my Emma's breast (That heaven of foftnefs, and that feat of reft) Ye doubts and fears, and all that know to move Tormenting grief, and all that trouble love, Scatter'd by winds recede, and wild in forefts

rove.

EMMA.

O day the faireft fure that ever rofe!
Period and end of anxious Emma's woes!
Sire of her joy, and fource of her delight;
O wing'd with pleasure, take thy happy flight,
And give each future morn a tincture of thy
white.

Yet tell thy votary, potent queen of love,
Henry, my Henry, will he never rove?
Will he be ever kind, and juft, and good?
And is there yet no mistress in the wood?

None, none there is; the thought was rafh and vain;

A falfe idea, and a fancy'd pain.

Doubt fhall for ever quit my ftrengthen'd heart,
And anxious jealoufy's corroding fmart;
Nor other inmate fall inhabit there,
But foft belief, young joy, and pleafing care.
Hence let the tides of plenty ebb and flow,
And fortune's various gale unheeded blow,
If at my feet the fuppliant goddess flands,
And fheds her trcafure with unweary'd hands;

Her present favour cautious I'll embrace,
And not unthankful use the proffer'd grace:
If the reclaims the temporary boon,
And tries her pinions, fluttering to be gone;
Secure of mind, I'll obviate her intent,
And unconcern'd return the goods fhe lent.
Nor happiness can I, nor mifery feel,
From any turn of her fantastic wheel:
Friendship's great laws, and love's fuperior powers,
Muft mark the colour of my future hours.
From the events which thy commands create

I must my bieffings or my forrows date ;
And Henry's will muft dictate Emma's fate.

Yet while with clofe delight and inward pride
(Which from the world my careful foul fhall hide)
I fee thee, lord and end of my defire,
Exalted high as virtue can require;

With power invested, and with pleafuře cheer'd;
Sought by the good, by the oppreffor fear'd;
Loaded and bleft with all the affluent ftore,
Which human vows at fmoking fhrines implore;
Grateful and humble grant me to employ
My life fubfervient only to thy joy;

And at my death to bless thy kindness shown
To her, who of mankind could love but thee alone.

While thus the conftant pair alternate faid, Joyful above them and around them play'd Angels and sportive loves, a numerous crowd; Smiling they clapt their wings, and low they bow'd: They tumbled all their little quivers o'er, To choose propitious fhafts, a precious ftore; That, when their god fhould take his future darts, To ftrike (however rarely) conftant hearts, His happy kill might proper arms employ, All tipt with pleasure, and all wing'd with joy : And thofe, they vow'd, whofe lives fhould imitate These lovers' conftancy, fhould fhare their fate.

1

The queen of beauty stopt her bridled doves; Approv'd the little labour of the Loves; Was proud and pleas'd the mutual vow to hear And to the triumph call'd the god of war: Soon as the calls, the god is always near.

Now, Mars, the faid, let fame exalt her voice :
Nor let thy conquefts only be her choice:
But, when the fings great Edward from the field
Return'd, the hoftile fpear and captive fhield
In concord's temple hung, and Gallia taught to
yield;

And when, as prudent Saturn fhall complete
The years defign'd to perfect Britain's state,
The fwift-wing'd power shall take her trump again,
To fing her favourite Anna's wondrous reign';
To recollect unweary'd Marlborough's toils,
Old Rufus' hall unequal to his fpoils ;
The British foldier from his high command
Glorious, and Gaul thrice vanquish'd by his hand:
Let her at least perform what I defire;
With fecond breath the vocal brass inspire;
And tell the nations, in no vulgar strain,
What wars I manage, and what wreaths I gain,
And, when thy tumults and thy fights are paft;
And when thy laurels at my feet are caft;
Faithful may't thou, like British Henry, prove ≈
And, Emma-like, let me return thy love,
E e j

Renown'd for truth, let all thy fons appear; And conftant beauty fhall reward their care.

Mars fmil'd, and bow'd: the Cyprian deity Turn'd to the glorious ruler of the sky; And thou, the fmiling faid, great God of days And verfe, behold my deed, and fing my praise; As on the British earth, my favourite ifle, Thy gentle rays and kindeft influence fmile, Through all her laughing fields and verdant groves, Proclaim with joy these memorable loves. From every annual course let one great day To celebrated sports and floral play Be fet afide; and, in the softest lays Of thy poetic fons, be folemn praise And everlasting marks of honour paid

To the true lover, and the nut-brown maid.

AN ODE,

HUMBLY INSCRIBED TO THE QUEEN,

On the glorious fuccefs of her Majefty's Arms, 1706. WRITTEN IN IMITATION OF SPENSER'S STYLE.

"Te non paventis funera Galliæ, "Duræque tellus audit Iberiæ : "Te cæde gaudentes Sicambri Compofitis venerantur armis.” HOR.

PREFACE.

WHEN I first thought of writing upon this occafion, I found the ideas fo great and numerous, that I judged them more proper for the warmth of an ode, than for any other fort of poetry: I therefore fet Horace before me for a pattern, and particularly his famous ode, the fourth of the fourth book,

for once the appears in a farthingale. I have allo in Spenser's manner, ufed Cæfar for the emperor, Boya for Bavaria, Bavara for that prince, Ifter for Danube, Iberia for Spain, &c.

That noble part of the ode which I just now mentioned,

Qualem miniftrum fulminis alitem," &c. which he wrote in praife of Drufus after his expedition into Germany, and of Auguftus upon his happy choice of that general. And in the following poem, though I have endeavoured to imitate all the great ftrokes of that ode, I have taken the liberty to go off from it, and to add variously, as the subject and my own imagination carried me. As to the style, the choice I made of following the ode in Latin, determined me in English to the ftanza; and herein it was impoffible not to have a mind to follow our great countryman Spenser; which I have done (as well at least as I could) in the manner of my expreffion, and the turn of my number having only added one verfe to his ftanza, which I thought made the number more harmonious; and avoided fuch of his words as I found too obfolete. I have, however, retained fome few of them, to make the colouring look more like Spenfer's. Beheft, command; band, army; prowess, ftrength; I weet, I know; I ween, I think; whilom, heretofore; and two or three more of that kind, which I hope the ladies will pardon me, and not judge my muft lefs handfome, though

where Horace praifes the Romans as being defcended from Æneas, I have turned to the honour of the British nation, descended from Brute, likewife a Trojan. That this Brute, fourth or fifth from Æneas, fettled in England, and built London, which is called Troja Nova, or Troynovante, is a story which (I think) owes its original, if not to Geoffry of Monmouth, at least to the Monkifh writers; yet it not rejected by our great Camden; and is told by Milton, as if (at least) he was pleafed with it, though poffibly he does not believe it however, it carries a poetical authority, which is fufficient for our purpose. It is as certain that Brute came into England, as that Æneas went into Italy; and, upon the fuppofition of thefe facts, Virgil wrote the best poem that the world ever read, and Spenfer paid Queen Elizabeth the greatel compliment.

I need not obviate one piece of criticism, that I bring my hero

"From burning Troy, and Xanthus red with blood:

whereas he was not born when that city was deftroyed. Virgil, in the cafe of his own Æneas relating to Dido, will stand as a fufficient proof, that a man in his poetical capacity is not accountable for a little fault in chronology.

My two great examples, Horace and Spenfer, in many things refemble each other: both have a height of imagination, and a majesty of expreffion, in defcribing the fublime; and both know to temper thofe talents, and fweeten the defcription, so as to make it lovely as well as pompous: both have equally that agreeable manner of mixing morality with their flory, and that Curiofa Felicitas in the choice of their diction, which every writer aims at, and fo very few have reached: both are particularly fine in their images, and knowing in their numbers. Leaving therefore our two masters to the confideration and study of those who defign to excel in poetry, I only beg leave to add, that it is long fince I have (or at least ought to have) quitted Parnaffus, and all the flowery roads on that fide the country; though I thought myself indifpenfably obliged, upon the prefent occafion, to take a little journey into thofe parts.

As the frong eagle in the filent wood, Mindlefs of warlike rage and hoftile care, Plays round the rocky cliff or crystal flood, Till by Jove's high behests call'd out to war, And charg'd with thunder of his angry king, Flis bofom with the vengeful meffage glows; Upward the noble bird directs his wing,

And, towering round his master's earth-born foes, Swift he collects his fatal ftock of ire,

X1.

VI.

Sedate and calm thus victor Marlborough fate, Shaded with laurels, in his native land, Till Anna calls him from his foft retreat, And gives her fecond thunder to his hand. Then, leaving fweet repofe and gentle ease, With ardent speed he feeks the distant foe; Marching o'er hills and vales, o'er rocks and feas, He meditates, and ftrikes the wondrous blow. Our thought flies flower than our general's fame : Grafps he the bolt? we afk-when he has hurl'd the flame.

VII.

When fierce Bavar on Judoign's fpacious plain Did froin afar the Britifli chief behold,

His glorious fword with dauntless courage draws,
When auxicus Britain mourn'd her parting lord,
And all of William that was mortal died;
The faithful hero had receiv'd this sword
From his expiring matter's much-lov'd fide.
Oft' from his fatal ire has Louis flown,
Where'er great William led, or Maefe and Sambre

run.

XII.

But brandish'd high, in an ill-omen'd hour To thee, proud Gaul, behold thy juleft fear, The mafter-fword, difpofer of thy power: 'Tis that which Cæfar gave the British peer. He took the gift: Nor ever will I fheathe This steed (fo Anna's high behests ordain)

The general faid, unless by glorious death Abfolv'd, till conqueft has confirm'd your reign. Returns like thefe our mistress bids us make, When from a foreign prince a gift her Britons take.

XII.

And now fierce Gallia rushes on her foes, Her force augmented by the Boyan bands; So Volga's ftream, increas'd by mountain fnows, Rolls with new fury down through Ruffia's lands. Like two great rocks against the raging tide (If virtue's force with nature's we compare), Unmov'd the two united chiefs abide, Suftain the impulfe, and receive the war. Round their firm fides in vain the tempeft beats; And still the foaming wave with leflen'd power

retreats.

XlV.

The rage difpers'd, the glorious pair advance, With mingled anger and collected might, To turn the war, and tell aggrefling France, How Britain's fons and Britain's friends can fight. On conqueft fix'd, and covetous of fame, Behold them rufhing through the Gallic hoft: Through ftanding corn fo runs the fudden flame, Or eaftern winds along Sicilia's coaft.

They deal their terrors to the adverse nation : Pale death attends their arms, and ghaftly defola

tion.

XV.

But while with fierceft ire Bellona glows, And Europe rather hopes than fears her fate; While Britain preffes her afflicted foes;

What horror damps the ftrong, and quells the great! Whence look the foldiers' checks difmay'd and pale ?

Erft ever dreadful, know they now to dread?
The hoftile troops, I ween, almoft prevail;
And the purfuers only not recede.
Alas! their leffen'd rage proclaims their grief!
For, anxious, lo! they crowd around their falling
chief.

XVI.

I thank thee, fate, exclaims the fierce Bavar;
Let Boya's trumpet grateful lo's found:

I faw him fall, their thunderbolt of war :-
Ever to vengeance facred be the ground-
Vain wifh fhort joy! the hero mounts again
In greater glory, and with fuller light ;
The evening ftar lo falls into the main,
To rife at morn more prevalently bright.
He rifes fafe, but near, too near his fide,

A good man's grievous lofs, a faithful fervant died.

XVII

Propitious Mars the battle is regain'd:
The toe with leflen'd wrath difputes the field:
The Briton fights, by favouring gods fuftain'’d :
Freedom mufi live; and lawles power muft yield.
Vain now the tales which fabling poets tell,
That wavering conquest fill defires to rove!
In Marlborough's camp the goddefs knows to
dwell:

Long as the hero's life remains her love.
Again France flies, again the duke perfues,
And on Ramilia's plains he Blenheim's lame re-

news.

When fwift-wing'd rumour told the mightyGaul, How leffen'd from the field Bavar was fled; He wept the fwiftnefs of the champion's fall; And thus the royal treaty-breaker faid; And lives he yer, the great, the loft Bavar, Ruin to Gallia in the name of friend? Tell me, how far has fortune been fevere? Has the foe's glory, or our grief, an end? Remains there, of the fifty thousand loft, [coaft To fave our threaten'd realm, or guard our flatter'd

XX1.

To the clofe rock the frighted raven flies, Soon as the rifing eagle cuts the air: The fhaggy wolf unfeen and trembling lies, When the hoarfe roar proclaims the lion near. Il-ftarr'd did we our forts and lines forfake, To dare our British foes to open fight: Our conquest we by firatagem should make : Our triumph had been founded in our flight. 'Tis ours by craft and by surprise to gain : 'Tis theirs, to meet in arms, and battle in the plain,

XXII.

The ancient father of this hoftile brood, Their boatted Brute, undaunted fuatch'd his gods From burning Troy, and Xanthus red with blood, And fix'd on filver l'hames his dire abodes: And this be Troynovante, he said, the feat By Heaven ordain'd, my fons, your lasting place: Superior here to all the bolts of late Live, mindful of the author of your race. Whom neither Greece, nor war, nor want, nor flame, [tame, Nor great Pelides' arm, nor Juno's rage, could

XXIII.

Their Tudors hence, and Stuarts offspring flow: Hence Edward, dreadful with his fable fhield, Talbot to Gallia's power eternal foe, And Seymour, fam'd in council or in field: Hence Nevil, great to fettle or dethrone, And Drake, and Ca'ndifh, terrors of the fea;

Hence Butler's fons, o'er land and ocean known, Herbert's and Churchill's warring progeny: Hence the long roll which Gallia fhould conceal : For, oh who, vanquifh'd, loves the victor's fame to tell?

XXIV.

Envy'd Britannia, furdy as the oak,
Which on her mountain top fhe proudly bears,
Eludes the ax, and fprouts against the stroke;
Strong from her wounds, and greater by her wars,
And as thofe teeth, which Cadmus fow'd in
earth,

Produc'd new youth, and furnish'd fresh fupplies:
So with young vigour, and fucceeding birth,
Her loffes more than recompens'd arise;
And every age the with a race is crown'd,

For letters more polite, in battles more renown'd.

XXV.

Obftinate power, whom nothing can repel;
Not the fierce Saxon, nor the cruel Dane,
Nor deep impreffion of the Norman feel,
Nor Europe's force amafs'd by envious Spain.
Nor France on univerfal fway intent,

Oft' breaking leagues, and oft' renewing wars;
Nor (frequent bane of weaken'd government)
Their own inteftine feuds and mutual jars :
Thofe feuds and jars, in which I trufted more,
Than in my troops, and fleets, and all the Gallic
power.

XXVI.

To fruitful Rheims, or fair Lutetia's gate, What tidings fhall the meffenger convey? Shall the loud heraid our fuccefs relate, Or mitred priest appoint the folemn day? Alas my praises they no more muft fing; They to my ftatue now muft bow no more: Broken, repuls'd is their immortal king ; Fall'n, fall'n for ever, is the Gallic power.The woman chief is master of the war : Earth fhe has freed by arms, and vanquish'd Heaven by prayer.

XXVII.

While thus the ruin'd foe's defpair commends Thy council and thy deed, victorious queen, What shall thy fubjects fay, and what thy friends? How shall thy triumphs in our joy be seen? Oh deign to let the eldest of the nine Recite Britannia great, and Gallia free Oh! with her fifter Sculpture let her join To raife, great Anne, the monument to thee; To thee, of all our good the facred spring; To thee, our dearest dread; to thee, our fofter king.

XXVIII.

Let Europe fav'd the column high erect, Than Trojan's higher, or than Antonine's; Where fembling art may carve the fair effect And full atchievement of thy great defigns. In a calm heaven, and a ferener air, Sublime the queen fhall on the fummit ftand, From danger far, as far remov'd from fear, And pointing down to earth her dread command. All winds, all ftorms, that threaten human woe, Shall fink beneath her feet, and spread their rage below.

XXIX.

Their flects fhall strive, by winds and waters toft,
Till the young Auftrian on Iberia's strand,
Great as Æneas on the Latian coaft,
Shall fix his foot: and this, be this the land,
Great Jove, where I for ever will remain,
(The empire's other hope fhall fay) and here
Vanquish'd, intomb'd I'll lic; or, crown'd, l'a
reign-

O virtue to thy British mother dear!
Like the fam'd Trojan suffer and abide;

For Anne is thine, I ween, as Venus was his guide,

XXX.

There, in eternal characters engrav'd, Vigo, and Gibraltar, and Barcelone, Their force destroy'd, their privileges fav'd, Shall Anna's terrors and her mercies own: Spain, from th' ufurper Bourbon's arms retriev'd, Shall with new life and grateful joy appear, Numbering the wonders which that youthatchiev'd, Whom Anna clad in arms, and fet to war; Whom Anna fent to claim Iberia's throne; And made him more than king, in calling him

her fon.

XXXI.

There Ifter, pleas'd by Blenheim's glorious field Rolling fhall bid his eastern waves declare Germania fav'd by Britain's ample fhield, And bleeding Gaul afflicted by her spear; Shall bid them mention Marlborough on that shore, Leading his islanders, renown'd in arms, Through climes, where never British chief before Or pitch'd his camp, or founded his alarmis; Shall bid them blefs the queen, who made his freams [Thames, Glorious as thofe of Boyne, and fafe as thofe of

XXXII.

Brabantia, clad with fields, and crown'd with

towers,

With decent joy fhall her deliverer meet;
Shall own thy arms, great queen, and blefs thy

powers,

Laying the keys beneath thy subject's feet.
Flandria, by plenty made the home of war,
Shall weep her crime, and bow to Charles reftor'd;
With double vows fhall blefs thy happy care,
In having drawn, and having fheath'd the fword;
From these their fifter provinces fhall know,
How Anne fupports a friend, and how forgives
a foc.

XXXIII.

Bright fwords, and crested helms, and pointed fpears,

In artful piles around the work fhall lie;
And fhields indented deep in ancient wars,
Blazon'd with signs of Gallic heraldry;
And standards with distinguish'd honours bright,
Marks of high power and national command,
Which Valois' fons, and Bourbon's bore in fight,
Or gave to Foix', or Montmorancy's hand :
Great fpoils, which Gallia muft to Britain yield,
From Creffy's battle fav'd to grace Ramilia's field,

XXXIV.

And, as fine art the spaces may difpofe, The knowing thought and curious eye fhall fee