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By the vile hand of a bold ruffian fell.
No more th' ungrateful prospect let us leave!
And, in his room, behold arise,

Bright as th' immortal twins that grace the skies,
A noble pair', his absence to retrieve!

In these the hero's soul survives,
And William doubly in his offspring lives.

Maurice, for martial greatness, far His father's glorious fame exceeds: Henry alone can match his brother's deeds; Both were, like Scipio's sons, the thunderbolts of war. None e'er, than Maurice, better knew, Camps, sieges, battles, to ordain; None e'er, than Henry, fiercer did pursue The flying foe, or earlier conquests gain. For scarce sixteen revolving years he told, When, eager for the fight, and bold, Inflam'd by Glory's sprightly charms, His brother brought him to the field; Taught his young hand the truncheon well to wield, And practis'd him betimes to arms.

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Fortune, that on her wheel capricious stands, And waves her painted wings, inconstant, proud, Hood-wink'd, and shaking from her hands Promiscuous gifts among the crowd, Restless of place, and still prepar'd for flight, Was constant here, and seem'd restor❜d to sight: Won by their merit, and resolv'd to bless The happy brothers with a long successMaurice, the first resign'd to fate: The youngest had a longer date, And liv'd the space appointed to complete The great republic, rais'd so high before; Finish'd by him, the stately fabric bore Its lofty top aspiring to the sky:

In vain the winds and rains around it beat; In vain, below, the waves tempestuous roar, They dash themselves, and break, and backward fly, Dispers'd and murmuring at his feet. Insulting Spain the fruitless strife gives o'er,

And claims dominion there no more. Then Henry, ripe for immortality,

His flight to Heaven eternal springs, [wings. And, o'er his quiet grave, Peace spreads her downy

His son, a second William, fills his place, And climbs to manhood with so swift a pace,

Maurice and Henry.


As if he knew, he had not long to stay:
Such young Marcellus was, the hopeful grace
Of ancient Rome, but quickly snatch'd away.

Breda beheld th' adventurous boy,
His tender limbs in shining armour dress'd,
Where, with his father, the hot siege he press'd.
His father saw, with pleasing joy, [press'd.

His own reflected worth, and youthful charms ex-
But, when his country breath'd from war's alarms,
His martial virtucs lay obscure;
Nor could a warrior, form'd for arms,
Th' inglorious rest endure;

But sicken'd soon, and sudden dy'd, And left in tears his pregnant bride, His bride, the daughter of Britannia's king; Nor saw th' auspicious pledge of nuptial love, Which from that happy marriage was to spring, But with his great fore-fathers gain'd a blissful seat above.

Here pause, my Muse! and wind up higher The strings of thy Pindaric lyre! Then with bold strains the lofty song pursue; And bid Britannia once again review

The numerous worthies of the line.
See, like immortals, how they shine!
Each life a history alone!

And last, to crown the great design,
Look forward, and behold them all in one'
Look, but spare thy fruitless tears→→→
'Tis thy own William next appears.
Advance, celestial form! let Britain see
Th' accomplish'd glory of thy race in thee!
So, when some splendid triumph was to come,
In long procession through the streets of Rome,
The crowd beheld, with vast surprise,
The glittering train in awful order move,
To the bright temple of Feretrian Jove, [eyes:
And trophies borne along employ'd their dazzled
But when the laurel'd emperor, mounted high
Above the rest, appear'd to sight,

In his proud car of victory,

Shining with rays excessive bright,

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Didst quench the brutal rage of those,
Who durst thy dawning worth oppose.
The viper Spite, crush'd by thy virtue, shed
Its yellow juice, and at thy feet lay dead.
Thus, like the Sun, did thy great Genius rise,
With clouds around his sacred head,
Yet soon dispell'd the dropping mists, and gilded all

the skies.

Far other battles thou hast won,
Thy standard still the public good:
Lavish of thine, to save thy people's blood:
And when the hardy task of war was done,
With what a mild well-temper'd mind,
(A mind unknown to Rome's ambitious son)
Thy powerful armies were resign'd;
This victory o'er thyself was. more,
Than all thy conquests gain'd before:
'Twas more than Philip's son could do,
When for new worlds the madman cry'd;
Nor in his own wild breast had spy'd
Towers of ambition, hills of boundless pride,
Too great for armies to subdue.

Great Julius, who with generous envy view'd
The statue of brave Philip's braver son,
And wept to think what such a youth subdued,
While, more in age, himself had yet so little done,
Had wept much more, if he had liv'd to see

The glorious deeds achiev'd by thee;
To see thee, at a beardless age,
Stand arm'd against th' invader's rage,
And bravely fighting for thy country's liberty;
While he inglorious laurels sought,
And not to save his country fought;
While he O stain upon the greatest name,
That e'er before was known to fame!
When Rome, his awful mother, did demand
The sword from his unruly hand,

While in Hibernia's fields the labouring swain
Shall pass the plough o'er skulls of warriors slain,
And turn up bones, and broken spears,
Amaz'd, he'll show his fellows of the plain,
The reliques of victorious years;

The sword she gave before,
Enrag'd, he spurn'd at her command,

her gore.


Hurl'd at her breast the impious steel, and bath'd it in And tell, how swift thy arms that kingdom did re-
Flandria, a longer witness to thy glory,
With wonder too repeats thy story;
How oft the foes thy lifted sword have seen
In the hot battle, when it bled

O savage lust of arbitrary sway!
Insatiate fury, which in inan we find,
In barbarous man, to prey upon his kind,
And make the world, enslav'd, his vicious will obey!
How has this fiend, Ambition, long defac'd
Heaven's works, and laid the fair creation waste!
Ask silver Rhine, with springing rushes crown'd,

As to the sea his waters flow,

Had not Britannia's chief withstood
The threaten'd deluge, and repell'd,
To its forsaken banks, th' unwilling flood,
And in his hand the scales of balanc'd kingdoms held.
Well was this mighty trust repos'd in thee,
Whose faithful soul, from private interest free,
(Interests which vulgar princes know)
O'er all its passions sat exalted high,
As Teneriff's top enjoys a purer sky,
And sees the moving clouds at distance fly below.

Where are the numerous cities now,
That once he saw, his honour'd banks around?
Scarce are their silent ruins found;
But, in th' ensuing age,
Trampled into common ground,

(ing rage.

Will hide the horrid monuments of Gaul's destroy-
All Europe too had shar'd this wretched fate,
And mourn'd her heavy woes too late,

Whoe'er thy warlike annals reads,
Behold reviv'd our valiant Edward's deeds.
Great Edward and his glorious son'
Will own themselves in thee outdone,
Though Crecy's desperate fight eternal honours won
Though the fifth Henry too does claim
A shining place among Britannia's kings,
And Agincourt has rais'd his lofty name;
Yet the loud voice o fever-living Fame
Of thee more numerous triumphs sings.
But, though no chief contends with thee,
In all the long records of history,

Thy own great deeds together strive,
Which shall the fairest light derive,

On thy immortal memory;
Whether Seneff's amazing field
To celebrated Mons shall yield;
Or both give place to more amazing Boyne;
Or if Namur's well-cover'd siege must all the rest

At all its open veins, and oft have fled,
As if their evil genius thou hadst been:
How, when the blooming Spring began t' appear,
And with new life restor'd the year,
Confederate princes us'd to cry;

Call Britain's king-the sprightly trumpet sound,
And spread the joyful summons round!
Call Britain's king, and Victory!"

So when the flower of Greece, to battle led
In Beauty's cause, just vengeance swore
Upon the foul adulterer's head,

That from her royal lord the ravish'd Helen bore,
The Grecian chiefs, of mighty fame,
Impatient for the son of Thetis wait:
At last the son of Thetis came;

Troy shook her nodding towers, and mourn'd th' im-
pending fate.

O sacred Peace! goddess serene!
Adorn'd with robes of spotless white,
Fairer than silver floods of light!
How short has thy mild empire been!
When pregnant Time brought forth this new-born
At first we saw thee gently smile
On the young birth, and thy sweet voice awhile
Sung a soft charm to martial rage:


Edward III. and the Black Prince.

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But soon the lion wak'd again, [mane.
And stretch'd his opening claws, and shook his grisly
Soon was the year of triumphs past;
And Janus, ushering in a new,
With backward look did pompous scenes review;
But his fore-face with frowns was overcast;
He saw the gathering storms of war,
And bid his priests aloud, his iron gates unbar.
But Heaven its hero can no longer spare,
To mix in our tumultuous broils below;

Yet suffer'd his foreseeing care,
Those bolts of vengeance to prepare,
Which other hands shall throw;
That glory to a mighty queen remains,
To triumph o'er th' extinguish'd foe;
She shall supply the Thunderer's place1;
As Pallas, from th' ethereal plains,
Warr'd on the giants' impious race,
And laid their huge demolish'd works in smoky ruins
Then Anne's shall rival great Eliza's reign;


Mov'd with this little tale of fate,
I took a lamp, and op'd the gate;
When see! a naked boy before
The threshold; at his back he wore
A pair of wings, and by his side
A crooked bow and quiver ty'd.

And William's Genius, with a grateful smile,
Look down, and bless this happy isle;
And Peace, restor'd, shall wear her olive crown" My pretty angel! come," said I,




APOLLO, god of sounds and verse,
Pathetic airs and moving thoughts inspire!
Whilst we thy Damon's praise rehearse:
Damon himself could animate the lyre.
Apollo, god of sounds and verse,
Pathetic airs and moving thoughts inspire!
Look down! and warm the song with thy celestial fire.

Ah, lovely youth! when thou wert here,
Thyself a young Apollo did appear;

Young as that god, so sweet a grace,
Such blooming fragrance in thy face;
So soft thy air, thy visage so serene,
That harmony ev'n in thy look was seen.
But when thou didst th' obedient strings command,
And join in consort thy melodious hand,
Ev'n Fate itself, such wondrous strains to hear,
Fate had been charm'd, had Fate an ear.
But what does Music's skill avail?
When Orpheus did his loss deplore,
Trees bow'd attentive to his tale;
Hush'd were the winds, wild beasts forgot to roar ;
But dear Eurydice came back no more.



Ar dead of night, when mortals lose
Their various cares in soft repose,
I heard a knocking at my door:
"Who's that," said I, " at this late hour
Disturbs my rest?"-It sobb'd and cry'd,
And thus in mournful tone reply'd:
"A poor unhappy child am I,
That's come to beg your charity;
Pray let me in!-You need not fear;
I mean no harm, I vow and swear;
But, wet and cold, crave shelter here;
Betray'd by night, and led astray,
I've lostalas! I've lost my way."

Then cease, ye sons of Harmony, to mourn;
Since Damon never can return.

See, see! he mounts, and cleaves the liquid way!
Bright choirs of angels, on the wing,
For the new guest's arrival stay,

And hymns of triumph sing.

They bear him to the happy seats above,
Seats of eternal harmony and love;

Where artful Purcell went before.
Cease then, ye sons of Music, cease to mourn:
Your Damon never will return,

No, never, never more!

"Come to the fire, and do not cry!"
I strok'd his neck and shoulders bare,
And squeez'd the water from his hair;
Then chaf'd his little hands in mine,
And cheer'd him with a draught of wine.
Recover'd thus, says he; "I'd know,
Whether the rain has spoiled my bow;
Let's try" then shot me with a dart.
The venom throbb'd, did ake and smart,
As if a bee had stung my heart.
"Are these your thanks, ungrateful child,
Are these your thanks?"-Th' impostor smil'd:
"Farewell, my loving host," says he;
"All's well; my bow's unhurt, I see;
But what a wretch I've made of thee!"


WHERE Babylon's proud walls, erected high
By fam'd Semiramis, ascend the sky,
Dwelt youthful Pyramus, and Thisbe fair;
Adjoining houses held the lovely pair.
His perfect form all other youths surpass'd;
Charms such as hers no eastern beauty grac'd.
Near neighbourhood the first acquaintance drew,
An early promise of the love t' ensue.
Time nurs'd the growing flame; had Fate been kind,
The nuptial rites their faithful hands had join'd;
But, with vain threats, forbidding parents strove
To check the joy; they could not check the love.
Each captive heart consumes in like desire;
The more conceal'd, the fiercer rag'd the fire.
Soft looks, the silent eloquence of eyes,
And secret signs, secure from household spies,
Exchange their thoughts; the common wall, be-.

Each parted house, retain'd a chink, unseen,
For ages past. The lovers soon espy'd
This small defect, for Love is eagle-ey'd,
And in soft whispers soon the passage try'd.

Vicem gerit illa Tonantis: the motto on her Safe went the murmur'd sounds, and every day majesty's coronation medals. A thousand amorous blandishments convey;

And often, as they stood on either side, To catch by turns the flitting voice, they cry'd, "Why, envious Wall, ah! why dost thou destroy The lovers' hopes, and why forbid the joy? How should we bless thee, would'st thou yield to charms,

And, opening, let us rush into each other's arms!
At least, if that's too much, afford a space
To meeting lips, nor shall we slight the grace;
We owe to thee this freedom to complain,
And breathe our vows, but vows, alas! in vain."
Thus having said, when evening call'd to rest,
The faithful pair on either side imprest
An intercepted kiss, then bade good-night;
But when th' ensuing dawn had put to flight
The stars; and Phoebus, rising from his bed,
Drank up the dews, and dry'd the flowery mead,
Again they ineet, in sighs again disclose
Their grief, and last this bold design propose;
That, in the dead of night, both would deceive
Their keepers, and the house and city leave;
And lest, escap'd, without the walls they stray
In pathless fields, and wander from the way,
At Ninus' tonb their meeting they agree,
Beneath the shady covert of the tree;
The tree, well-known, near a cool fountain grew,
And bore fair mulberries of snowy hue.
The prospect pleas'd; the Sun's unwelcome light
(That slowly seem'd to move, and slack his flight)
Sunk in the seas; from the same seas arose the sable

When, stealing through the dark, the crafty fair
Unlock'd the door, and gain'd the open air;
Love gave her courage; unperceiv'd she went,
Wrapp'd in a veil, and reach'd the monument.
Then sat beneath th' appointed tree alone;
But, by the glimmering of the shining moon,
She sat not long, before from far she spy'd
A lioness approach the fountain-side;
Fierce was her glare, her foamy paws in blood
Of slaughter'd bulls besmear'd, and foul with food;
For, reeking from the prey, the savage came,
To drown her thirst within the neighbouring stream.
Affrighted Thisbe, trembling at the sight,
Fled to a darksome den, but in her flight
Her veil dropp'd off behind. Deep of the flood
The monster drank, and, satiate, to the wood
Returning, found the garment as it lay,
And, torn with bloody feet, dispers'd it in her way.
Belated Pyramus arriv'd, and found
The mark of savage feet along the sandy ground:
All pale he turn'd; but soon as he beheld
The crimson'd vesture scatter'd o'er the field,
"One night," he cry'd, "two lovers shall destroy!
She worthy to have liv'd long years of joy,
But mine's the forfeit life; unhappy maid!
'Twas I that slew thee, I th' appointment made;
To places full of death thy innocence betray'd,
And came not first myself-O hither haste,
Ye lions all, that roam this rocky waste!
Tear my devoted entrails, gnaw, divide,
And gorge your famine in my open'd side!
But cowards call for death!"-Thus having spoke,
The fatal garment from the ground he took,
And bore it to the tree; ardent he kiss'd,
And bath'd in flowing tears the well, known vest:
"Now take a second stain," the lover said,
While from his side he snatch'd his sharpen'd blade,
And drove it in his groin; then from the wound
Withdrew the steel, and, staggering, fell to ground:

As when, a conduit broke, the streams shoot high,
Starting in sudden fountains through the sky,
So spouts the living stream, and sprinkled o'er
The tree's fair berries with a crimson gore,
While, sapp'd in purple floods, the conscious root
Transmits the stain of murder to the fruit.

The fair, who fear'd to disappoint her love, Yet trembling with the fright, forsook the grove, And sought the youth, impatient to relate Her new adventure, and th' avoided fate. She saw the vary'd tree had lost its white, And doubting stood if that could be the right, Nor doubted long; for now her eyes beheld A dying person spurn the sanguine field. Aghast she started back, and shook with pain, As rising breezes curl the trembling main. She gaz'd awhile entranc'd; but when she found It was her lover weltering on the ground, She beat her lovely breast, and tore her hair, Clasp'd the dear corpse, and, frantic in despair, Kiss'd his cold face, supply'd a briny flood


To the wide wound, and mingled tears with blood.
Say, Pyramus, oh say, what chance severe
Has snatch'd thee from my arms?-
'Tis thy own Thisbe calls, look up and hear!"
At Thisbe's name he lifts his dying eyes,
And, having seen her, clos'd them up, and dies.
But when she knew the bloody veil, and spy'd
The ivory scabbard empty by his side,


Ah, wretched youth," said she, "by love betray'd!
Thy hapless hand guided the fatal blade.
Weak as I am, I boast as strong a love;
For such a deed, this hand as bold shall prove.
I'll follow thee to death; the world shall call
Thisbe the cause, and partner of thy fall;
And ev'n in death, which could alone disjoin
Our persons, yet in death thou shalt be mine.
But hear, in both our names, this dying prayer,
Ye wretched parents of a wretched pair!
Let in one urn our ashes be confin'd,
Whom mutual love and the same fate have join'd.
And thou, fair Tree, beneath whose friendly shade
One lifeless lover is already laid,

And soon shall cover two; for ever wear
Death's sable hue, and purple berries bear!"
She said, and plunges in her breast the sword,
Yet warm, and reeking from its slaughter'd lord,
Relenting Heaven allows her last request,
And pity touch'd their mournful parents breast.
The fruit, when ripe, a purple dye retains;
And in one urn are plac'd their dear remains.


IN IMITATION OF OVID, AMORUM LIB. I. ELEG. 2. TELL me, some god, whence does this change arise; Why gentle Sleep forsakes my weary eyes? Why, turning often, all the tedious night In pain I lie, and watch the springing light?-What cruel demon haunts my tortur'd mind? Sure, if 'twere Love, I should th' invader find; Unless disguis'd he lurks, the crafty boy, With silent arts ingenious to destroy. Alas! 'tis so-'tis fix'd the secret dart; I feel the tyrant ravaging my heart. Then, shall I yield? or th' infant flame oppose!I yield!-Resistance would increase my woes:

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For struggling slaves a sharper doom sustain,
Than such as stoop obedient to the chain.
Fown thy power, almighty Love! I'm thine;
With pinion'd hands behold me here resign!
Let this submission then my life obtain:
Small praise 'twill be, if thus unarm'd I'm slain.
Go, join thy mother's doves; with myrtle braid thy

The god of war himself a chariot shall prepare;
Then thou triumphant through the shouting throng
Shalt ride, and move with art the willing birds along;
While captive youths and maids, in solemn state,
Adorn the scene, and on thy triumph wait.
There I, a later conquest of thy bow,
In chains will follow too; and as I go,

To pitying eyes the new-made wound will show.
Next, all that dare Love's sovereign power defy,
In fetters bound, inglorious shall pass by:
All shall submit to thee-Th' applauding crowd
Shall lift their hands, and sing thy praise aloud.
Soft looks shall in thy equipage appear,
With amorous Play, Mistake, and jealous Fear.
Be this thy guard, great Love! be this thy train ;
Since these extend o'er men and gods thy reign;
But robb'd of these, thy power is weak and vain.
From Heaven thy mother shall thy pomp survey,
And, smiling, scatter fragrant showers of roses in thy
Whilst thou, array'd in thy unrivall'd pride, [way,
On golden wheels, all gold thyself, shalt ride:

Thy spreading wings shall richest diamonds wear,
gems shall sparkle in thy lovely hair.
Thus passing by, thy arm shall hurl around
Ten thousand fires, ten thousand hearts shall wound.
This is thy practice, Love, and this thy gain;
From this thou canst not, if thou would'st, refrain:
Since ev'n thy presence, with prolific heat,
Does reach the heart, and active flames create.
From conquer'd India, so the jovial god 3,
Drawn o'er the plains by harness'd tigers, rode.
Then since, great Love, I take a willing place
Amidst thy spoils, the sacred show to grace;
O cease to wound, and let thy fatal store
Of piercing shafts be spent on me no more.
No more, too powerful in my charmer's eyes,
Torment a slave, that for her beauty dies;
Or look in smiles from thence, and I shall be
A slave no longer, but a god, like thee.

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Does th' embroider'd meads adorn;
Where the fawns and satyrs play
In the merry month of May.
Steal the blush of opening morn ;
Borrow Cynthia's silver white,
When she shines at noon of night,
Free from clouds to veil her light.
Juno's bird his tail shall spread,
Iris' bow its colour shed,

All to deck this charming piece,
Far surpassing ancient Greece.

First her graceful stature show,
Not too tall, nor yet too low.
Fat she must not be, nor lean;
Let her shape be straight and clean;
Small her waist, and thence increas'd
Gently swells her rising breast.

Next in comely order trace
All the glories of her face.
Paint her neck of ivory,
Siniling cheeks and forehead high,
Ruby lips, and sparkling eyes,
Whence resistless lightning flies.

Foolish Muse! what hast thou done! Scarce th' outlines are yet begun, Ere thy pencil's thrown aside! ""Tis no matter," Love reply'd; (Love's unlucky god stood by)


At one stroke behold how I
Will th' unfinish'd draught supply."
Smiling then he took his dart,
And drew her picture in my heart.


LET Phobus his late happiness rehearse,
And grace Barn-Elms with never-dying verse!
Smooth was the Thames, his waters sleeping lay,
Unwak'd by winds that o'er the surface play;
When th' early god, arising from the cast,
Disclos'd the golden dawn, with blushes drest.
First in the streain his own bright form he sees,
But brighter forms shine through the neighbouring


He speeds the rising day, and sheds his light
Redoubled on the grove, to gain a nearer sight.
Not with more speed his Daphne he pursu'd,
Nor fair Leucothoe with such pleasure view'd;
Five dazzling nymphs in graceful pomp appcar ;
He thinks his Daphne and Leucothoe here,
Join'd with that heavenly three, who on mount Ide
Descending once the prize of beauty try'd.

Ye verdant Elms, that towering grace this grove, Be sacred still to Beauty and to Love! No thunder break, nor lightning glare between Your twisted boughs, but such as then was seen The grateful Sun will every morning rise Propitious here, saluting from the skies Your lofty tops, indulg'd with sweetest air, And every spring your losses he'll repair; Nor his own laurels more shall be his care




As altar raise to Friendship's holy flame, Inscrib'd with Phoebe's and Asteria's name!

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