Great Ormond's deeds on Vigo's spoils 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 so monarchs praise.
O'er distant times fuch records shall 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 raise their battles in the rural shade.
From fields of death to Woodstock's peaceful glooms
(The poet's haunt) Britannia's hero comes――
Begin, my Mufe, and foftly touch the ftring:
Here Henry lov'd; and Chaucer learn'd to fing.
Hail fabled grotto! hail Elyfian foil!
Thou faireft spot of fair Britannia's isle !
Where kings of old conceal'd forgot the throne,
And beauty was content to fhine unknown;
Where love and war by turns pavilions rear,
And Henry's bow'rs near Blenheim's dome appear;
The weary'd champion lull in soft alcoves,
The nobleft boast of thy romantic groves.
Oft, if the Mufe prefage, fhall he be seen
By Rofamonda fleeting o'er the green,
In dreams be hail'd by heroes' mighty fhades,
And hear old Chaucer warble through the glades:
O'er the fam'd echoing vaults his name shall bound,
And hill to hill reflect the favourite found. :
Here, here at least thy love for arms give o’er,
Nor, one world conquer'd, fondly wish for more.
Vice of great fouls alone! O thirst of fame!
The Muse admires it, while she strives to blame;
Thy toils be now to chase the bounding deer,
Or view the coursers stretch in wild career;
This lovely scene shall footh thy foul to reft,
And wear each dreadful image from thy breast ;
With pleasure, by thy conquests shalt thou fee
Thy Queen triumphant, and all Europe free;
No cares henceforth fhall thy repose destroy,
But what thou giv't the world, thyself enjoy.
Sweet folitude! when life's gay hours are past,
Howe'er we range, in thee we fix at last ;
Tofs'd through tempeftuous feas (the voyage o'er)
Pale we look back, and blefs the friendly fhore.
Our own ftrict judges, our paft life we fcan,
And ask if glory hath enlarg'd the span ;
If bright the profpect, we the grave defy,
Truft future ages, and contented die.
When strangers from far-diftant climes fhall come,
To view the pomp of this triumphant dome;
Where rear'd aloft diffembled trophies ftand,
And breathing labours of the sculptor'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 fhall 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 gasping Gauls.
Fair dames fhall oft, with curious eye, explore
The coftly robes that flaughter'd gen'rals wore,
Rich trappings from the Danube's whirlpools brought,
(Hefperian nuns the gorgeous broid❜ry wrought)
Belts ftiff with gold, the Boian horfeman's pride,
And Gaul's fair flow'rs, in human crimfon dy'd.
Of Churchill's race perhaps fome lovely boy
Shall mark the burnifh'd fteel that hangs on high;
Shall gaze transported on its glitt'ring charms,
And reach it struggling with unequal arms;
By figns the drum's tumultuous found request,
Then feek, in ftarts, the hushing mother's breast.
So, in the painter's animated frame,
Where Mars embraces the foft Paphian dame,
The little loves in fport the faulchion wield,
Or join their strength to heave his pond'rous shield;
One ftrokes the plume in Tityon's gore embru'd,
And one the fpear, that reeks in Typhon's blood;
Another's infant brows the helm fuftain,
He nods his creft, and frights the shrieking train.
Thus, the rude tempeft of the field o'er-blown,
Shall whiter rounds of smiling years roll on :
3.
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 mansions once your own;
Behold what flow'rs 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 matron's heart shall wound,
And the foft maid grow penfive at the found.
Accept, great ANNE, the tears their mem'ry draws,
Who nobly perish'd in their fov'reign's cause :
For thou in pity bid'ft the war give o'er,
Mourn'ft 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,
Great Queen! whofe name ftrikes haughty monarchs pale,
On whofe juft fcepter hangs Europa's scale;
Whofe arm like mercy wounds, decides like fate,
On whose 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 fkies fhall fee no fetting fun.
Thee, thee an hundred languages shall claim,
And favage Indians fwear by ANNA's name;
The line and poles fhall own thy rightful fway,
And thy commands the fever'd globe obey.
Round the vast ball thy new dominions chain
The wat❜ry kingdoms, and controul the main ;
Magellan's ftreights to Gibraltar they join,
Across the feas a formidable line;
The fight of adverse Gaul we fear no more,
But pleas'd fee Dunkirk, now a guiltless shore.
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 th' incroaching 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,
Stupendous form! the vast Coloffus ftood,
(While at one foot their thronging gallies ride,
A whole hour's fail scarce reach the farther fide)
Betwixt his brazen thighs, in loose array,
Ten thousand streamers on the billows play.
By HARLEY'S Counsels Dunkirk now restor'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 fov❜reign's frown,
And scorn'd for gold to yield th' important town.
His fon was born the ravish'd prey to claim,
And France ftill trembles at an Harley's name.
VOL. I.
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