True virtue to her kindred stars aspires,
Does all our pomp of ftone and verfe furpafs,
And mingling with etherial fires,

No useless ornament requires

From fpeaking colours, or from breathing brafs.

II.

Greatest of princes! where the wand'ring fun
Does o'er earth's habitable regions roll,

From th' eastern barriers to the western goal,
And fees thy race of glory run

With fwiftnefs equal to his own:

Thee on the banks of Flandrian Scaldis fing
The jocund fwain releas'd from Gallic fear:

The English voice unus'd to hear,

Thee the repeating banks, thee ev'ry valley rings,

The fword of heav'n how pious ANNA wields,
And heav'nly vengeance on the guilty deals,
Let the twice fugitive Bavarian tell;

Who, from his airy hope of better state,

By luft of fway irregular great,
Like an apoftate angel fell:
Who, by imperial favour rais'd,
I' th' highest rank of glory blaz'd
And had till now unrivall'd fhone,

More than a king contented with his own ;
But Lucifer's bold steps he trod,

Who dar'd affault the throne of God;

And

And for contented realms of blissful light,
Gain'd the fad privilege to be

The firft in folid mifery,

Monarch of hell, and woes, and everlasting night.
Corruption of the beft is always worst;

And foul ambition like an evil wind,
Blights the fair bloffoms of a noble mind;

And if a feraph fall, he's doubly curst.

IV.

Had guile, and pride, and envy grown
In the black groves of Styx alone,

Nor ever had on earth the baleful crop been fown;
The fwain without amaze, had till'd

The Flandrian glebe, a guiltlefs field:
Nor had he wonder'd, when he found
The bones of heroes in the ground:
No crimson ftreams had lately fwell'd
The Dyle, the Danube, and the Scheld.
But evils are of neceffary growth,

To rouze the brave, and banish floth;
And fome are born to win the ftars,
By fweat and blood, and worthy fcars.

Heroick virtue is by action feen,

And vices ferve to make it keen;

And as gigantick tyrants rife,

NASSAUS and CHURCHILLS leave the skies,

The earth-born monsters to chaftife,

√.

If, heav'nly Mufe, you burn with, a defire
To praise the man whom all admire ;
Come from thy learn'd Castalian springs,
And stretch aloft thy Pegafean wings:
Strike the loud Pindarick ftrings,
Like the lark who foars and fings;
And as you fail the liquid fkies,

a

Caft on Menapian fields your weeping eyes ;

For weep they furely muft,

To fee the bloody annual facrifice;

To think how the neglected duft,
Which with contempt is bafely trod,

Was once the limbs of captains, brave and juft,
The mortal part of fome great demi-god;
Who for thrice fifty years of stubborn war,
With flaught'ring arms, the gun and fword
Have dug the mighty fepulchre,

And fell as martyrs on record,

Of tyranny aveng'd, and liberty reftor'd.

VI.

See, where at Audenard, with heaps of flain,
Th' heroick man infpir'dly brave,

Mowing across, beftrews the plain,

And with new tenants crowds the wealthy grave.

The Menapii were the ancient inhabitants of Flanders.

His

His mind unshaken at the frightful scene,
His looks as cheerfully serene,
The routed battle to pursue,

As once adorn'd the Paphian queen,
When to her Thracian paramour she flew.
The gath'ring troops he kens from far,
And with a bridegroom's paffion and delight,
Courting the war, and glowing for the fight,
The new Salmoneus meets the Celtic thunderer,
Ah, curfed pride! infernal dream!

Which drove him to this wild extream,
That duft a deity should feem;

Be thought, as through the streets he rode,
A man immortal, or a god:

With rattling brass, and trampling horse,
Should counterfeit th' inimitable force

Of divine thunder: horrid crime!

But

vengeance is the child of time,
And will too furely be repaid

On his profane devoted head,
Who dar'd affront the powers above,
And their eternal flames disgrace,

Too fatal, brandifh'd by the real Jove,

Or a Pallas, who affumes and fills his awful place:

VICEM GERIT ILLA TONANTIS.

VII. The

VII.

b

The British Pallas! who, as Homer's did

For her lov'd Diomede,

Her hero's mind with wisdom fills,
And heav'nly courage in his heart inftils.
Hence thro' the thickeft fquadrons does he ride,
With ANNA's angels by his fide.

With what uncommon fpeed
He fpurs his foaming, fiery fteed,

And pushes on thro' midmoft fires,

Where France's fortune, with her fons, retires!
Now here, now there, the fweeping ruin flies;
As when the Pleiades arife,

The fouthern wind afflicts the fkies,

Then, mutt'ring o'er the deep, buffets th' unruly brine, 'Till clouds and water feem to join.

Homer, in his fifth Iliad, because his hero is to do wonaers beyond the power of man, premifes, in the beginning, that Pallas had peculiarly fitted him for that day's exploits.

Indomitas prope qualis undas
Exercit aufter, pleiadum choro
Scindente nubes, impiger hoftium
Vexare turmas, frementem
Mittere equum medios per ignes.
Sic tauriformis volvitur Aufidus,
Qui regna Dauni præfluit Appuli,
Cum fævit, horrendam quo cultis
Diluviem mediatur agris.

Or