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Others fung Perfeus, and the injur❜d maid,
Redeem'd by the wing'd warrior's timely aid
Or in myfterious numbers did unfold

Sad modern truths wrapt up in tales of old;
How Saturn, flush'd with arbitrary power,
Defign'd his lawful iffue to devour ;
But Jove, referv'd for better fate, withstood
The black contrivance of the doating god;
With arms he came, his guilty father fled,
'T was Italy fecur'd his frighted head,
And by his flight refign'd his empty throne
And triple empire to his worthier fon.

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Then in one note their artful force they join,
Eager to reach the victor and the Boyne;
How on the wondering bank the hero ftood,
Lavishly bold and defperately good;

Till fate, defigning to convince the brave
That they can dare no more than Heaven can fave,
Let death approach, and yet withheld the sting,
Wounded the man, diftinguishing the King.

They had enlarg'd, but found the strain too strong, And in foft notes allay'd the bolder fong: Flow, gentle Boyne, they cry'd, and round thy bed For ever may victorious wreaths be spread; No more may travellers defire to know Where Simoïs and Granicus did flow; Nor Rubicon, a poor forgotten ftream, Be or the foldier's rant, or poet's theme: All waters fhall unite their fame in thee, Loft in thy waves, as those are in the fea.

They

They breath'd afresh, unwilling to give o'er,
And begg'd thick mifts long to conceal the fhore:
Smooth was the liquid plain; the fleeping wind,
More to the fea, than to it's mafter kind,
Detain'd a treasure, which we value more
Than all the deep e'er hid, or waters bore.

But he, with a fuperior genius born,

Treats chance with infolence, and death with scorn : Darkness and ice in vain obftru&t his way,

Holland is near, and nature must obey;

Charg'd with our hopes the boat fecurely rode,
For Cæfar and his fortune were the load.
With eager transport Belgia met her fon,
Yet trembling for the danger he had run;
Till, certain of her joy, the bow'd her head,
Confefs'd her Lord, blefs'd his return, and faid:
If paffion by long abfence does improve,
And makes that rapture, which before was love;
Think on my old, my intermitted bliss,
And by my former pleafure measure this:
Nor by these feeble pillars which I raise,
Unequal to fuftain the hero's praife;
Too faint the colours, and too mean the art,
To reprefent your glories, or my heart:
These humble emblems are design'd to show,
Not how we would reward, but what we owe.
Here from your childhood take a short review,
How Holland's happiness advanc'd with you;
How her ftout veffel did in triumph ride,

And mock'd her ftorms, while Orange was her guide.

What

What fince has been our fate---I need not say,
Ill fuiting with the bleffings of the day,
Our better fortune with our Prince was gone,
Conqueft was only there where he led on.
Like the Palladium, wherefoe'er you go,
You turn all death and danger on the foe.
In you we but too fadly understood

How angels have their spheres of doing good;
Elfe the fame foul which did our troops poffefs,
And crown'd their daring courage with fuccefs,
Had taught our fleet to triumph o'er the main,
And Fleurus had been still a guiltless plain.
What pity 'tis, ye Gods! an arm and mind
Like yours should be to time and place confin'd!
But thy return fhall fix our kinder fate,

For thee our councils, thee our armies wait;
Difcording Princes fhall with thee combine,
And center all their interefts in thine;
Proud of thy friendship, fhall forego their sway
As Rome her great Dictator did obey ;

And all united make a Gordian knot,

Which neither craft fhall loofe, nor force fhall cut.

ON

ON THE LATE

HORRID

CONSPIRACY.

THE

HE* youth whose fortune the vast globe obey'd,
Finding his royal enemy betray'd,

And in his chariot by ‡ vile hands opprefs'd,
With noble pity and just rage poffefs'd,
Wept at his fall from fo fublime a state,
And by the traitor's death reveng'd the fate
Of majesty profan'd---fo acted too

The generous Cæfar, when the Roman knew
A coward King had treacherously slain,
**Whom scarce he foil'd on the Pharfalian plain :
The doom of his fam'd rival he bemoan'd,
And the bafe author of the crime dethron'd.
Such were the virtuous maxims of the great,
Free from the fervile arts of barbarous hate:
They knew no foe but in the open field,
And to their caufe and to the gods appeal'd.
So William acts---and if his rivals dare
Dispute his reign by arms, he'll meet them there,
Where Jove, as once on Ida, holds the scale,
And lets the good, the just, and brave, prevail.

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TO THE EARL OF CARLISLE,

Upon the Death of his Son before LUXEMBURGH.

'E's gone! and was it then by your decree,

HE

Ye envious powers, that we should only fee
This copy of your own divinity?

Or thought ye it furpaffing human state,
To have a bleffing lafting as 't was great?
Your cruel skill you better ne'er had shown,
Since you fo foon defign'd him all your own.
Such foftering favours to the damn'd are given,
When, to increase their hell, you show them heaven.
Was it too godlike, ke should long inherit
At once his father's and his uncle's spirit?

Yet as much beauty, and as calm a breast,

As the mild dame whose teeming womb he bleft.
H' had all the favours Providence could give,
Except its own prerogative to live;

Referv'd in pleasures, and in dangers bold,
Youthful in action, and in prudence old;
His humble greatness, and submissive state,
Made his life full of wonder, as his fate;
One, who, to all the heights of learning bred,
Read books and men, and practis'd what he read.
Round the wide globe scarce did the bufy fun
With greater hafte and greater luftre run.
True gallantry and grandeur he defcry'd,
From the French fopperies, and German pride.
S

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