XXIX,
The last fair instance thou must give,

Whence Nassau's virtue can be try'd ;
And shew the world, that thou canst live
Intrepid, as thy consort dy'd ;

XXX.
Thy virtue, whofe refiftlefs force

No dire event could ever stay,
Must carry on its destin'd course;
Though death and envy stop the way.

XXXI.
For Britain's sake, for Belgia’s, live ::

Pierc'd by their grief, forget thy own;
New toils endure, new conquest give,
And bring them ease, though thou hast none.

XXXII. Vanquish again ; though she be gone,

Whose garland crown'd the victor's hair : And reign, though she has left the throne, Who made thy glory worth thy care.

XXXIII.
Fair Britain never yet before

Breath'd to her king an useless prayer :
Fond Belgia never did implore,
While William turn'd averse his ear.

XXXIV.
But, should the weeping hero now

Relentless to their wishes prove;
Should he recall, with pleasing woe,

The object of his grief and love ; VOL. I.

G

XXXY. Her

XXXV.
Her face with thousand beauties blest,

Her mind with thousand virtues stor’d,
Her power with boundless joy confesty
Her person only not ador’d;

XXXVI.
Yet ought his sorrow to be checkt;

Yet ought his passions to abate ;
If the great mourner would reflect,
Her glory in her death compleat.

XXXVII. She was instructed to command,

Great king, by long obeying thee; Her scepter, guided by thy hand, Preserv'd the isles, and ruld the seaa,

XXXVIII. But oh! 'twas little, that her life

O’er earth and water bears thy fame :
In death, 'twas worthy William’s wife,
Amidst the stars to fix his name.

XXXIX.
Beyond where matter moves, or place :

Receives its forms, thy virtues roll;
From Mary's glory, angels trace
The beauty of her partner's soul.

XL.
Wise Fate, which does its heaven decree

To heroes, when they yield their breath,
Hastens thy triumph. Half of thee
Is deify'd before thy death.

XLI. Alone XLI. Alone to thy renown 'tis given,

Unbounded through all worlds to go : While she, great Saint, rejoices Heaven;

And thou sustain'st the orb below.

In IMITATION of ANACREON.

LET them censure : what care I?

The herd of critics I defy.
Let the wretches know, I write,
Regardless of their grace or spite.
No, no : the fair, the

gay,
the

young, Govern the numbers of

my song; All that they approve is sweet ; And all is sense that they repeat.

Bid the warbling Nine retire ;
Venus, string thy servant's lyre :
Love shall be my endless theme ;
Pleasure shall triumph over Fame :
And, when these maxims I decline,
Apollo, may thy fate be mine!
May I grasp at empty praise ;
And lose the nymph, to gain the bays !

O DE

Sur la Prise de NAMUR, par

les Armes du Roi, l'Année 1692.. Par Monsieur BOILEAU DESPREAUX.

Q

1.
UELLE doĉte & sainte yvreffe

Aujourd'hui me fait la loi ?
Chastes Nymphes du Permesse,
N'est-ce pas vous que je voi ?
Accourez, troupe sçavante :
Des fons que ma lyre enfante;
Ces arbres sont rejoüis.:
Marquez en bien la cadence :
Et vous, vents, faites silence :
Je vais parler de Louis.

II.
Dans ses chansons immortelles,
Comme un aigle audacieux,
Pindare étendant ses aisles,
Fuit loin des vulgaires yeux.
Mais, ô ma fidele lyre,
si, dans l'ardeur qui m'inspire,
Tu peus fuivre mes transports ;
Les chênes des monts de Thrace
N'ont rien oüi, que

n'efface
La douceur de tes accords.

III. EA-ce

AN ENGLISH BALLAD, On the Taking of NAMUR by the King of

GREAT BRITAIN, 1695. “ Dulce elt desipere in loco."

I. and IT.
SOME

OME folks are drurik, yet do not know it::

So might not Bacchus give you law?""
Was it a Muse, O lofty Poet,

Or Virgin of St. Cyr, you saw?
Why all this fury? what's the matter;

That oaks must come from Thrace to dance?:
Must stupid stocks be taught to flatter ?

And is there no such wood in France ?
Why must the winds all hold their tongue ?

If they a little breath should raise,
Would that have spoil'd the Poet's song,

Or puff’d away the Monarch's praise ?

Pindar, that eagle, mounts the skies,

While Virtue deads the noble way :-
Too like a vulture Boileau flies,

Where fordid Interest Thews the prey.
"When once the Poet's honour ceases,

From reason far his transports rove:
And Boileau, for eight hundred piecesy;
Makes Louis take the wall of Jove.

III. Neptune

G3