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An ODE, written in 1717, on occafion of the
Duke of MARLBOROUGH's Apoplexy.



WEFUL hero, Marlb'rough, rife:
Sleepy charms I come to break:
Higher turn thy languid eyes:
Lo! thy Genius calls: awake!
Well furvey this faithful plan,
Which records thy life's great ftory;

'Tis a fhort, but crowded span,
Full of triumphs, full of glory.
One by one thy deeds review,

Sieges, battles, thick appear;
Former wonders, loft in new,

Greatly fill each pompous year.

This is Blenheim's crimson field,

Wet with gore, with flaughter ftain'd!

Here retiring fquadrons yield,

And a bloodless wreath is gain'd!

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V. Ponder


Ponder in thy godlike mind

All the wonders thou haft wrought;
Tyrants, from their pride declin'd,
Be the fubject of thy thought!
Reft thee here, while life may laft:
Th' utmost blifs, to man allow'd,
Is to trace his actions paft,

And to own them great and good."
But 'tis gone a mortal born!

Swift the fading fcenes remove-
Let them pafs with noble scorn,
Thine are worlds, which roll above.

Poets, prophets, heroes, kings,

Pleas'd, thy ripe approach foresee;
Men, who acted wond'rous things,
Though they yield in fame to thee.
Foremost, in the patriot-band,

Shining with diftinguish'd day!
See thy friend, Godolphin ftand!

See! he beckons thee away.

X. Yonder


Yonder feats and fields of light
Let thy ravish'd thought explore;
Wishing, panting for thy flight!
Half an angel; man no more.


By Mr. MARRIOTT, of Trinity-Hall, Cambridge.

Book I. Ode XVII.

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Invitation to his Mistress.

FT Faunus leaves Arcadia's plain,
And to the Sabine hill retreats:

He guards my flocks from rufhing rain,

From piercing winds, and fcorching heats.

Where lurks the thyme, or fhrubs appear,
My wanton kids fecurely play;
My goats no pois'nous ferpent fear,
Safe wand'ring through the woodland


No hoftile wolf the fold invades ;

Uftica's pendent rocks rebound My fong; and all the fylvan fhades, By Echo taught, return the found.

The gods my verfe propitious hear,

My head from every danger fhield:
For you, o'erflows the bounteous year,
And Plenty's horn hath heap'd my field.

Refponfive to the Teian string,

Within the fun-defended vale,
Here, foftly warbling you fhall fing
Each tender, tuneful, am'rous tale.

No rival, here, fhall burft the bands

That wreathe my charmer's beauteous hair,

Nor feize her weakly struggling hands;'
But Love and Horace guard the fair.


Book II. Ode VI. Imitated.

EVIL, that with your friend would roam,
Far from
your England's happier home,


Should e'er the Fates that friend detain
In gayer France, or graver Spain;

Know, all my wifh is to retreat,
When age fhall quench my youthful heat,
In Kentish fhades fweet peace to find,
And leave the fons of care behind.

But should this pleasing hope be vain,
May I fair Windfor's feat attain,
Where Leddon's gentle waters glide,
And flocks adorn its flowery fide.

Sweet groves, I love your filent fhades,
Your ruffet lawns, and op'ning glades,
With fam'd Italia's plains may vie
Your fertile fields, and healthful sky.

Here, let our eve of life be spent ;
Here, friend fhall live with friend content:
Here, in cold earth my limbs be laid;
And here thy generous tear be paid.
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