Did in their happy nuptials well agree;
Like Mars, he led our armies out; and the
With smiles prefided o'er her native fea.
Such too their meetings, when our Monarch came
With laurels loaden, and immortal fame;
As when the God on Hamus quits his arms,
Softening his toils in Cytherea's charms :
Then with what joy did she the victor meet,
And lay the reins of empire at his feet!
With the fame temper as the * Latian hind
Was made Dictator, conquer'd, and resign'd;
So Pallas from the dufty field withdrew,
And, when imperial Jove appear'd in view,
Refum'd her female arts, the spindle and the clew;
Forgot the fceptre she fo well had sway'd,
And, with that mildness she had rul'd, obey'd;
Pleas'd with the change, and unconcern'd as Jove,
When in difguife he leaves his power above,
And drowns all other attributes in love.
Such, mighty Sir, if yet the facred ear
Of Majesty in grief vouchsafe to hear,
Was the lov'd confort of thy crown and bed,
Our joy while living; our despair now dead.
Yet though with Mary one fupporter fall,
Thy virtue can alone sustain the ball.
Of Sibyl's books, that volume which remain'd,
The perfect value of the whole retain'd.
When in the fiery car Elijah fled,
His fpirit doubled on his partner's head;
So will thy people's love, now Mary's gone,
Unite both streams, and flow on thee alone.
The grateful fenate with one voice combine
To breathe their forrows, and to comfort thine,
By bringing to thy view how Europe's fate
Does on thy counfels and thy courage wait:
But, when the vastness of thy grief they see,
They own 'tis juft, and melt in tears with thee.
Blush not, great soul, thus to reveal thy woe;
Sighs will have vent, and eyes too full o'erflow;
Shed by degrees, they pass unfelt away ;
But raise a storm and deluge where they stay.
The braveft heroes have the fofteft mind, Their nature 's, like the Gods, to love inclin'd. Homer, who human paffions nicely knew, When his illuftrious Grecian chief he drew, Left likewife in his foul one mortal part,
Whence love and anguish too might reach his heart;
For a lost mistress, in defpair he fate,
And let declining Troy ftill ftruggle with her fate:
But when the partner of his cares lay dead,
Like a rous'd lion from his tent he fled,
Whole hecatombs of trembling Trojans flew,
And mangled Hector at his chariot drew.
Still greater is thy lofs,-be fuch thy rage,
As conquer'd Gallia only may affwage.
She who on earth secur'd thee by her prayer, Return'd to heaven, fhall prove thy guardian angel there, And, hovering round thee with her heavenly thield,
Unfeen protect thee in the doubtful field.
Go then, by different paths to glory go,
The church's both estates with Mary show;
And while above she triumphs, fight below.---
'Tis done---our Monarch to the camp returns,---
The Gallic armies fly---their navy burns,
And earth and feas all bow at his command,
And Europe owns her peace from his victorious hand.
THE AUSTRIAN EAGLE.
AT Anna's call the Auftrian eagle flies,
Bearing her thunder to the fouthern skies;
Where a rash Prince, with an unequal fway,
Inflames the region, and mifguides the day;
Till the ufurper, from his chariot hurl❜d,
Leaves the true Monarch to command the world.
T dead of night imperial Reafon fleeps,
And Fancy with her train loose revels keeps,
Then airy phantoms a mix'd scene display,
Of what we heard, or faw, or wish'd by day;
For memory those images retains,
Which paffion form'd, and still the strongest reigns.
Huntsmen renew the chace they lately run,
And generals fight again their battles won.
Spectres and furies haunt the murderer's dreams,
Grants or difgraces are the courtier's themes.
The miser spies a thief, or a new hoard,
The cit 's a knight, the fycophant a lord.
Thus fancy's in the wild distraction lost,
With what we most abhor, or covet most.
But of all paffions that our dreams control,
Love prints the deepest image in the foul;
For vigorous fancy and warm blood dispense
Pleasures fo lively that they rival fenfe.
Such are the tranfports of a willing maid,
Not yet by time and place to act betray'd,
Whom fpies or fome faint virtue force to fly
That scene of joy, which yet the dies to try.
Till fancy bawds, and, by mysterious charms,
Brings the dear object to her longing arms;
Unguarded then the melts, acts fierce delight,
And curfes the returns of envious light.
In fuch bleft dreams Byblis enjoys a flame,
Which waking fhe detefts, and dares not name.
Ixion gives a loose to his wild love,
And in his airy vifions cuckolds Jove.
Honours and state before this phantom fall;
For fleep, like death its image, equals all.
Imitated from the FRENCH of Monf. MAYNARD, to Cardinal RICHELIEU.
My mufe was reckon'd wondrous pretty;
The sports and smiles did round her fly,
Enamour'd with her smart concetti.
Now (who 'd have thought it once?) with pain She strings her harp, whilft freezing age
But feebly runs through evry vein,
And chills my brisk poetic rage.
I properly have ceas'd to live,
To wine and women, dead in law; And foon from fate I fhall receive
A fummons to the fhades to go.
The warrior ghosts will round me come
To hear of fam'd Ramillia's fight,
Whilft the vext Bourbons through the gloom
Retire to th' utmost realms of night.
Then I, my lord, will tell how you
With penfions every mufe infpire;
Who Marlborough's conquests did purfue,
And to his trumpets tun'd the lyre.
But should fome drolling fprite demand,
Well, Sir, what place had you, I pray?
How like a coxcomb fhould I ftand!
What would your Lordship have me say?
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