TO THE DUKE OF MARLBOROUGH, ON HIS VOLUNTARY BANISHMENT.

G%

O, mighty prince, and those great nations fee, Which thy victorious arms before made free; View that fam'd column, where thy name engrav'd Shall tell their children who their empire fav'd, Point out that marble where thy worth is shown, To every grateful country but thy own.

O cenfure undeferv'd! unequal fate!

Which ftrove to leffen him who made her great :
Which, pamper'd with fuccefs and rich in fame,
Extoll'd his conquests, but condemn'd his name.
But virtue is a crime when plac'd on high,
Though all the fault's in the beholder's eye;
Yet he, untouch'd, as in the heat of wars,
Flies from no danger but domestic jars,
Smiles at the dart which angry Envy flakes,
And only fears for Her whom he forfakes:
He grieves to find the courfe of virtue crofs'd,
Blushing to fee our blood no better loft;
Didfains in factious parties to contend,
And proves in absence most Britannia's friend.
So the great Scipio of old, to shun

That glorious envy which his arms had won,
Far from his dear, ungrateful Rome retir'd,
Prepar'd, whene'er his country's caufe requir'd,
To shine in peace or war, and be again admir'd.

то

ΤΟ THE

EARL OF GODOLPHIN.

WHILST weeping Europe bends beneath her ills,

And where the fword deftroys not, famine kills,

Our ille enjoys, by your fuccessful care,

The pomp of peace, amidst the woes of war.
So much the publick to your prudence owes,
You think no labours long for our repose:
Such conduct, fuch integrity are shown,
There are no coffers empty, but your own.

From mean dependance, merit you retrieve,
Unafk'd you offer, and unfeen you give :
Your favour, like the Nile, increase bestows,
And yet conceals the fource from whence it flows.
No pomp, or grand appearance, you approve :
A people at their ease is what you love:
To leffen taxes, and a nation fave,

Are all the grants your fervices would have.
Thus far the ftate-machine wants no repair,
But moves in matchlefs order by your care;
Free from confufion, settled and ferene ;
And, like the univerfe, by fprings unfeen.

But now fome ftar, finifter to our prayers,
Contrives new fchemes, and calls you from affairs:
No anguish in your looks, or cares appear,
But how to teach th' unpractis'd crew to steer.
Thus, like a victim, no conftraint you need,
To expiate their offence by whom you bleed.

Ingratitude's a weed of every clime,

It thrives too fast at first, but fades in time.
The god of day, and your own lot 's the fame;
The vapours you have rais'd, obscure your flame:
But though you fuffer, and awhile retreat,
Your globe of light looks larger as you set.

ON

HER MAJESTY'S STATUE,

IN

ST. PAUL'S CHURCH-YARD.

NEA

EAR the vaft bulk of that stupendous frame, Known by the Gentiles' great apostle's name ; With grace divine, great Anna's feen to rise, An awful form that glads a nation's eyes : Beneath her feet four mighty realms appear, And with due reverence pay their homage there. Britain and Ireland feem to own. her

grace, And even wild India wears a fmiling face.

But France alone with downcaft eyes is feen,
The fad attendant of fo good a Queen :
Ungrateful country to forget fo foon,
All that great Anna for thy fake has done :
When fworn the kind defender of thy cause,
Spite of her dear religion, spite of laws;
For thee fhe fheath'd the terrors of her fword,
For thee fhe broke her General and her word:

For

For thee her mind in doubtful terms fhe told,
And learn'd to fpeak like oracles of old.
For thee, for thee alone, what could fhe more?
She loft the honour she had gain'd before ;
Loft all the trophies, which her arms had won
(Such Cæfar never knew, nor Philip's fon);
Refign'd the glories of a ten years' reign,
And fuch as none but Marlborough's arm could gain.
For thee in annals fhe 's content to shine,
Like other monarchs of the Stuart line.

ON THE

NEW CONSPIRACY. 1716.

WHI

HERE, where, degenerate countrymen-how high Will your fond folly and your madness fly? Are fcenes of death, and fervile chains fo dear, To fue for blood and bondage every year, Like rebel Jews, with too much freedom curft, To court a change though certain of the worst ? There is no climate which you have not fought, Where tools of war, and vagrant kings, are bought; O! noble paffion, to your country kind,

To crown her with the refufe of mankind.

As if the new Rome, which your schemes unfold,
Were to be built on rapine, like the old,

While her asylum openly provides

For every ruffian every nation hides.

Will still tempt

you

And force the bolt

the great avenger's blow,

which he is loath to throw ?

Have there too few already bit the plains,

To make you feek new Preftons and Dumblains?
If vengeance lofes its effects fo faft,

Yet those of mercy fure

Say, is it rathnefs or despair provokes

Your harden'd hearts to these repeated strokes ? Reply : — Behold, their looks, their fouls declare, All pale with guilt, and dumb with deep defpair. Hear then, you fons of blood, your deftin'd fate, Hear, ere you fin too soon repent too late.

Madly you try to weaken George's reign,
And ftem the ftream of Providence in vain.
By right, by worth, by wonders, made our own,
The hand that gave it fhall preserve his throne.
As vain your hopes to diftant times remove,
To try the fecond, or the third from Jove;
For 'tis the nature of that facred line,
To conquer monsters, and to grow divine.

ON THE

KING O F

SPAIN.

PALLAS, deftructive to the Trojan line,

Raz'd their proud walls, though built by hands
divine :

But Love's bright goddefs, with propitious grace,
Preferv'd a hero, and reftor'd the race.

Thus the fam'd empire where the Iber flows,
Fell by Eliza, and by Anna role.

VERSES