throw,

And cleave a giant at a random blow,
Slay paynims vile, that force the fair, and tame
The goblin's fury, and the dragon's flanie.
Our eager youth to distant nations run,
To vifit fields, their valiant fathers won; [trace,
From Flandria's fhore their country's fame they
Till far Germania fhows her blafted face.
Th' exulting Briton asks his mournful guide,
Where his hard fate the loft Bavaria try'd :
Where Stepney grav'd the ftone to Anna's fame,
He points to Blenheim, once a vulgar name;
Here fled the household, there did Tallard yield,
Here Marlborough turn'd the fortune of the field,
On those steep banks, near Danube's raging flood:
The Gauls thrice started back, and trembling stood:
When, Churchill's arm perceiv'd, they stood not
long,

But plung'd amidst the waves, a defperate throng, Crowds whelm'd on crowds dash'd wide the wa. tery bed,

And drove the current to its diftant head.

As when by Raphael's, or by Kneller's hands A warlike courfer on the canvas stands, Such as on Landen bleeding Ormond bore, Or fet young Ammon on the Granic fhore; If chance a generous fteed the work behold, He fnorts, he neighs, he champs the foamy gold : So, Hocftet seen, tumultuous paffions roll, And hints of glory fire the Briton's soul, In fancy'd fights he fees the troops engage, And all the tempeft of the battle rage. [bright, Charm me, ye powers, with fcenes lefs nobly Far humbler thoughts th' inglorious mufe delight, Content to fee the honours of the field By ploughfhares levell'd, or in flowers conceal'd. O'er shatter'd walls may creeping ivy twine, And grafs luxuriant clothe the harmless mine. Tame flocks afcend the breach without a wound, Or crop the bastion, now a fruitful ground; While fhepherds fleep, along the rampard laid, Or pipe beneath the formidable fhade.

Who was the man? Oblivion blast his name, Torn out, and blotted from the lift of fame! Who, fond of lawless rule, and proudly brave, First funk the filial subject to a slave, His neighbour's realms by frauds unkingly gain'd, In guiltless blood the facred ermine stain'd, [heart, Laid fchemes for death, to flaughter turn'd his And fitted murder to the rules of art.

Ah, curst ambition to thy lures we owe All the great ills that mortals bear below. Curft by the hind, when to the spoil he yields His year's whole fweat, and vainly ripen'd fields; Curft by the maid, torn from her lover's fide, When left a widow, though not yet a bride; By mothers curft, when floods of tears they fhed, And scatter useless roses on the dead. Oh, facred Bristol then, what dangers prove The arts, thou fmil'st on with paternal love? Then, mix'd with rubbish by the brutal foes, In vain the marble breathes, the canvas glows; To fhades obfcure the glittering fword purfues

The warrior's fury, and controul his rage;
To hear thee speak, might the fierce Vandal ftand,
And fling the brandish'd sabre from his hand.
Far hence be driven to Scythia's ftormy fhore
The drum's har fh mufic, and the cannon's roar;
Let grim Bellona haunt the lawless plain,
Where Tartar clans and grizly Coffacks reign;
Let the fteel'd Turk be deaf to matrons cries,
See virgins ravish'd with relentless eyes,
To death gray heads and smiling infants doom,
Nor fpare the promife of the pregnant womb,
O'er wafted kingdoms spread his wide command,
The favage lord of an unpeopled land.

Her guiltless glory just Britannia draws
From pure religion, and impartial laws,
To Europe's wounds a mother's aid fhe brings
And holds in equal scales the rival kings:
Her generous fons in choiceft gifts abound,
Alike in arms, alike in arts renown'd.

As when sweet Venus (fo the fable fings)
Awak'd by Nereids, from the ocean springs,
With fmiles fhe fees the threatening billows rife,
Spread fmooth the furge, and clears the louring

fkies.

Light, o'er the deep, with fluttering Cupids crown'd,

The pearly couch and filver turtles bound;
Her treffes fhed ambrofial odours round.

Amidst the world of waves fo ftands ferene
Britannia's ifle, the ocean's stately queen;
In vain the nations have confpir'd her fall,
Her trench the fea, and fleets her floating wall:
Defenceless barks, her powerful navy near,
Have only waves and hurricanes to fear.
What bold invader, or what land oppreft,
Hath not her anger quell'd, her aid redrest!
Say, where have e'er her union-croffes fail'd,
But much her arms, her juftice more prevail'd!
Her labours are, to plead th' Almighty's cause,
Her pride, to teach th' untam'd barbarian laws:
Who conquers wins by brutal ftrength the prize;
But 'tis a godlike work to civilize.

Have we forgot how from great Ruffia's throne The king, whofe power half Europe's regions own, Whofe fceptre waving, with one shout rush forth In fwarms the harnefs'd millions of the north, Through realms of ice pursued his tedious way To court our friendship, and our fame survey! Hence the rich prize of useful arts he bore, And round his empire spread the learned store : (T' adorn old realms is more than new to raile, His country's parent is a monarch's praise.) His bands now march in just array to war, And Cafpian gulfs unusual navies bear; With Runick lays Smolensko's forests ring, And wondering Volga hears the mufes fing. Did not the painted kings of India greet Our Queen, and lay their fceptres at her feet? Chiefs who full bowls of hoftile blood had quaff'd, Fam'd for the javelin, and invenom'd fhaft, Whofe haughty brows made favages adore, Nor bow'd to lefs than stars or fun before. Her pitying smile accepts their fuppliant claim,

Bleft ufe of power! O virtuous pride in kings And like his bounty, whence dominion fprings! Which o'er new worlds makes heaven's indulgence fhine,

And ranges myriads under laws divine!
Well bought with all that thofe sweet regions hold,
With groves of fpices, and with mines of gold.

Fearless our merchant now purfues his gain,
And roams fecurely o'er the boundless main.
Now o'er his head the polar bear he spies,
And freezing fpangles of the Lapland fkies;
Now fwells his canvas to the fultry line,
With glittering fpoil where Indian grottos fhine,
Where fumes of incenfe glad the fouthern feas,
And wafted citron fcents the balmy breeze.
Here nearer funs prepare the ripening gem,
To grace great Anne's imperial diadem,
And here the ore, whofe melted mafs fhall yield
On faithful coins each memorable field,
Which, mix'd with medals of immortal Rome,
May clear difputes, and teach the times to come.
In circling beams fhall godlike Anna glow,
And Churchill's fword hang o'er the proftrate foe;
In comely wounds fhall bleeding worthies ftand,
Webb's firm platoon, and Lumley's faithful band,
Bold Mordaunt in Iberian trophies dreft,
And Campbell's dragon on his dauntlefs breast,
Great Ormond's deeds on Vigo's fpoils enroll'd,
And Guifcard's knife on Harley's Chili gold.
And if the mufe, O Bristol, might decree,
Here Granville noted by the lyre should be,
The lyre for Granville, and the cross for thee.
Such are the honours grateful Britain pays;
So patriots merit, and fo monarchs praife.
O'er diflant times fuch records fhall prevail,,
When English numbers, antiquated, fail :
A trifling fong the mufe can only yield,
And footh her foldiers panting from the field.
To fweet retirements fee them fafe convey'd,
And raife their battles in the rural shade,
From fields of death to Woodstock's peaceful

glooms,

}

(The poet's hannt) Britannia's hero comes→→
Begin, my mufe, and foftly touch the string:
Here Henry lov'd; and Chaucer learn'd to fing.
Hail, fabled grotto! hail, Elyfian foil!
Thou faireft fpot of fair Britannia's ifle!
Where kings of old, conceal'd, forgot the throne,
And beauty was content to fhine unknown;
Where love and war by turns pavillions rear,
And Henry's bowers near Blenheim's dome ap-

pear;

The weary'd champion lull in fuft alcoves,
The nobleft boaft of thy romantic groves.
Oft, if the mufe prefage, fhall he be feen
By Rofamonda fleeting o'er the green,

In dreams be hail'd by heroes' mighty fhades,
And hear old Chaucer warble through the gludes,
O'er the fam'd echoing vaults his name fhall
bound,

And hill on hill reflect the favourite found.

Here, here at least thy love for arms give o'er, Nor, one world conquer'd, fondly with for more. Vice of great fouls alone! O thirst of fame!

Thy toils be now to chafe the bounding deer,
Or view the courfers ftretch in wild career.
This lovely scene fhall foothe thy foul to rest,
And wear each dreadful image from thy breaft.
With pleasure, by thy conquests shalt thou see
Thy queen triumphant, and all Europe free,
No cares, henceforth, fhall thy repofe deftroy,
But what thou giv'ft the world thyfelf enjoy.
Sweet folitude! when life's gay hours are
paft,

Howe'er we range, in thee we fix at last;
Toft through tempestuous feas (the voyage o'er)
Fale we look back, and bless thy friendly shore.
Our own ftrict judges our past life we scan,
And ask if glory hath enlarg'd the span;
If bright the profpect, we the grave defy,
Truft future ages, and contented die.

[come,

When frangers from far diftant climes fhall
To view the pomp of this triumphant dome,
Where rear'd aloft diffembled trophies ftand,
And breathing labours of the fculptor's hand,
Where Kneller's art fhall paint the flying Gaul,
And Bourbon's woes fhall fill the story'd wall;
Heirs of thy blood shall o'er their bounteous board
Fix Europe's guard, thy monumental sword,
Banners that oft have wav'd on conquer'd walls,
And trumps, that drown'd the groans of gafping
Gauls.

Fair dames fhall oft, with curious eye, explore
The coftly robes that flaughter'd generals wore,
Rich trappings from the Danube's whirpools

brought,

Shall gaze transported on its glittering charms,
And reach it ftruggling with unequal arms,
By figns the drum's tumultuous found request,
Then feck, in ftarts, the hushing mother's breaft.
So, in the painter's animated frame,
Where Mars embraces the foft Paphian dame,
The little loves in fport his fauchion wield,
Or join their strength to heave his ponderous
fhield:

One ftrokes the plume in Tityon's gore embrued,
And one the fpear, that reeks with Typhon's blood:
Another's infant brows the helm fuftain,
He nods his creft, and frights the fhrieking train.
Thus, the rude tempest of the field o'erblown,
Shall whiter rounds of fmiling years roll on,
Our victors, bleft in peace, forget their wars,
Enjoy paft dangers, and abfolve the stars.
But, oh what forrows fhall bedew your urns,
Ye honour'd fhades, whom widow'd Albion mourns!
If your thin forms yet difcontented moan,
And haunt the mangled manfions, once your own!
Behold what flowers the pious mufes ftrow,
And tears which in the midst of triumph flow;
Cypress and bays your envy'd brows furround,
Your names the tender matrons heart fhall
wound,

Who nobly perifh'd in their fovereign's caufe:
For thou in pity bid'ft the war give o'er,
Mourn' thy flain heroes, nor wilt venture more.
Vaft price of blood on each victorious day!
(But Europe's freedom doth that price repay)
Lamented triumphs! when one breath must tell,
That Marlborough conquer'd, and that Dormer
fell.
[narchs pale,
Great Queen whofe name strikes haughty mo-
On whofe juft fceptre hangs Europa's scale,
Whose arm like mercy wounds, decides like fate,
On whofe decree the nations anxious wait:
From Albion's cliffs thy wide-extended hand
Shall o'er the main to far Peru command;
So vaft a tract whofe wide domain shall run,
Its circling skies fhall fee no fetting fun.
Thee, thee an hundred languages shall claim,
And favage Indians fwear by Anna's name;
The line and poles shall own thy rightful sway,
And thy commands the fever'd globe obey.

Round the vast ball thy new dominions chain
The watery kingdoms, and controul the main;
Magellan's ftraits to Gibraltar they join,
Across the feas a formidable line;

The fight of adverfe Gaul we fear no more,
But pleas'd fee Dunkirk now a guiltless fhore;
In vain great Neptune tore the narrow ground,
And meant his waters for Britannia's bound;
Her giant genius takes a mighty ftride,
And fets his foot beyond the encroaching tide;
On either bank the land its master knows,
And in the midst the subject ocean flows.

So near proud Rhodes, across the raging flood,
Stupenduous form! the vast Coluffus flood,
(While at one foot their thronging gallies ride,
A whole hour's fail fcare reach the farther fide)
Betwixt his brazen thighs, in loose array,
Ten thousand streamers on the billows play.

By Harley's counfels Dunkirk now reftor'd To Britain's empire, owns her ancient lord. In him transfus'd his godlike father reigns, Rich in the blood which fwell'd that patriot's veins, Who boldly faithful met his fovereign's frown, And fcorn'd for goid to yield th' important town. His fon was born the ravish'd prey to claim, And France fill trembles at an Harley's name. A fort fo dreadful to our English fhore, Our fleets scarce fear'd the fands or tempefts niore, Whofe vaft expences to fuch fums amount, That the tax'd Gaul fcarce furnish'd out th' account, [ftrain, Whose walls fuch bulwarks, fuch vaft towers reIts weakest ramparts are the rocks and main, His boat great Louis yields, and cheaply buys Thy friendship, Anna, with the mighty prize. Holland repining, and in grief cast down, Sees the new glories of the British crown: Ah may they ne'er provoke thee to the fight, Nor foes, more dreadful than the Gaul, invite, Soon may they hold the olive, foon affuage Their fecret murmurs, nor call forth thy rage, To rend their banks, and pour, at one command,

Henceforth be thine, vice.gerent of the skies, Scorn'd worth to raise, and vice in robes chastise, To dry the orphan's tears, and from the bar Chafe the brib'd judge, and hush the wordy war, Deny the curft blafphemer's tongue to rage, And turn God's fury from an impious age. Bleft change the foldier's late deftroying hand Shall rear new temples in his native land; Miftaken zealots fhall with fear behold, And beg admittance in our facred fold; On her own works the pious queen shall smile, And turn her cares upon her favourite ifle. So the keen bolt a warrior angel aims, Array'd in clouds, and wrapt in mantling flames; He bears a tempeft on his founding wings, And his red arm the forky vengeance dings; At length, heaven's wrath appeas'd, he quits the

war,

To roll his orb, and guide his deftin'd star, To shed kind fate, and lucky hours bestow, And fmile propitious on the world below.

nobles wait,

Around thy throne shall faitht These guard the church, and those direct the state. To Bristol, graceful in maternal tears, The church her towery forehead gently rears, She begs her pious fon t' affert her cause, Defend her rights, and reinforce her laws; With holy zeal the facred work begin, To bend the ftubborn, and the meek to win.

Our Oxford's earl in careful thought shall stand,
To raise his queen, and fave a finking land.
The wealthiest glebe to ravenous Spaniards known,
He marks, and makes the golden prize our own,
Content with hands unfoil'd to guard the prize,
And keep the shore with undefiring eyes.

So round the tree, that bore Hefperian gold,
The facred watch lay curl'd in many a fold,
His eyes uprearing to th' untafted prey,
The fleepless guardian wafted life away.

Beneath the peaceful olives, rais'd by you, Her ancient pride fhall every art renew, (The arts with you, fam'd Harcourt, fhall defend, And courtly Bolingbroke the mufe's friend.) With piercing eye fome fearch where nature plays, And trace the wanton through her darkfome [begun,

maze,

Whence health from herbs; from feeds how groves
How vital ftreams in circling eddies run.
Some teach why round the fun the spheres advance,
In the fix'd measures of their myftic dance, [flow,
How tides, when heav'd by preffing moons, o'er-
And fun-born Iris paints her fhowery bow.
In happy chains our daring language bound,
Shall port no more in arbitrary found,
But bufkin'd bards henceforth fhall wifely rage,
And Grecian plans reform Britannia's age:
Till Congreve bids her fmile, Auguda ftands
And longs to weep when flowing Rowe com-
mands.

Britain's ipectators fhall their strength combine
To mend our morals, and our tafte refine,
Fight virtue's caufe, ftand up in wit's defence,
Win us from vice, and laugh us into fenfe.
Nor, Prior, haft thou hufh'd the trump in vain,

[fine,

New tales thall now be told; if right I fee,
The foul of Chaucer is reftor'd in thee.
Garth, in majeftic numbers, to the stars
Shall raise mock heroes, and fantastic wars;
Like the young spreading laurel, 'Pope, thy name
Shoots up with strength, and rifes into fame;
With Philips fhall the peaceful vallies ring,
And Britain hear a fecond Spenfer fing.
That much-lov'd youth, whon Utrecht's wall con-
To Bristol's praises fhall his Strafford's join:
He too, from whom attentive Oxford draws
Rules for just thinking, and poetic laws,
To growing bards his learned aid fhall lend,
The strictest critic, and the kindest friend.
Ev'n mine, a bashful muse, whose rude effays
Scarce hope for pardon, not aspire to praise,
Cherish'd by you in time may grow to fame,
And mine furvive with Bristol's glorious name.
Fir'd with the views this glittering scene dif-
plays,

And fmit with paffion for my country's praise,
My artless reed attempts this lofty theme,
Where facred Ifis rolls her ancient stream;
In cloifter'd domes the great Philippa's pride,
Where learning blooms, while fame and worth
prefide,

Where the fifth Henry arts and arms was taught,
And Edward form'd his Creffy, yet unfought,
Where laurel'd bards have ftruck the warbling
ftrings,

The feat of fages and the nurse of kings.
Here thy commands, O Lancaster, inflame
My eager breaft to raise the British name,
Urge on my foul, with no ignoble pride,
To woo the muse, whom Addison enjoy'd,
See that bold fwain to heaven fublimely foar,
Purfue at distance, and his steps adore.

THE opera first Italian masters taught,
Enrich'd with fongs, but innocent of thought;
Britannia's learned theatre difdains
Melodious trifles, and enervate strains;
And blushes, on her injur'd stage to fee
Nonfenfe well-tun'd, and fweet stupidity.

No charms are wanting to thy artful fong,
Soft as Corelli, and as Virgil strong,
From words fo fweet new grace the notes receive,
And mufic borrows helps the us'd to give.
Thy foyle hath match'd what ancient Romans
knew,

Thy flowing numbers far excel the new.
Their cadence in fuch eafy found convey'd,
The height of thought may feem fuperfluous aid;
Yet in fuch charms the noble thoughts abound,
That needlefs feem the fweets of easy found.

Landfkips how gay the bowery grotto yields, Which thought creates, and lavish fancy builds! What a t can trace the vifionary icenes,

The babbling founds that mimic echo plays,
The fairy fhade, and its eternal maze?
Nature and art in all their charms combin'd,
And all Elyfium to one view confin'd!
No further could imagination roam,

Till Vanbrugh fram'd, and Marlborough rais'd the dome.

Ten thousand pangs my anxious bosom tear, When drown'd in tears I fee th' imploring fair; When bards lefs foft the moving words supply, A feeming juftice dooms the nymph to die; But here the begs, nor can the beg in vain (In dirges thus expiring fwans complain); Each verfe fo fwells expreffive of her woes, And every tear in lines fo mournful flows; We, fpite of fame, her fate revers'd believe, O'erlook her crimes, and think the ought to live.

Let joy falute fair Rofamonda's fhade,
And wreaths of myrtle crown the lovely maid.
While now perhaps with Dido's ghost she roves,
And hears and tells the story of their loves,
Alike they mourn, alike they bless their fate,
Since love, which made them wretched, makes
them great.

Nor longer that relentless doom bemoan,
Which gain'd a Virgil, and an Addison,

Accept, great monarch of the British lays,
The tribute fong an humble fubject pays.
So tries the artless lark her early flight,
And foars, to hail the god of verse and light.
Unrival'd as unmatch'd be still thy fame,
And thy own laurels fhade thy envy'd name :
Thy name, the boaft of all the tuneful quire,
Shall tremble on the strings of every lyre;
While the charm'd reader with thy thought
complies

Feels correfponding joys or forrows rise,
And views thy Rofamond with Henry's eyes.

TO THE SAME,

ON HIS TRAGEDY OF CATO.

Too long hath love engrofs'd Britannia's stage,
And funk to foftnefs all our tragic rage:
By that alone did empires fall or rife,
And fate depended on a fair-one's eyes:
The fweet infection, mix'd with dangerous art,
Debas'd our manhood, while it footh'd the heart.
You fcorn to raise a grief thyself must blame,
Nor from our weakness steel a vulgar fame :
A patriot's fall may justly melt the mind,
And tears flow nobly, fhed for all mankind.

How do our fouls with generous pleasure glow!
Our hearts exulting, while our eyes o'erflow,
When thy firm hero stands beneath the weight
Of all his fufferings venerably great;
Rome's poor remains ftill fheltering by his fide,
With confcious virtue, and becoming pride!
The aged oak thus rears his head in air,
His fap exhaufted, and his branches bare;
'Midft ftorms and earthquakes, he maintains his
ftate,

Fixt deep in earth, and faften'd by his weight: His naked boughs ftill lend the fhepherds aid,