The nations dread your eyes, and kings defpair
Of chiefs fo brave, 'till they have nymphs fo fair.
See the fond wife, in tears of transport drown'd,
Hugs her rough lord, and weeps o'er every wound ;
Hangs on the lips, that fields of blood relate,
And fmiles or trembles, at his various fate.
Near the full bowl he draws the fancied line,
And marks feign'd trenches in the flowing wine,
Then fets th' invested fort before her eyes,
And mines that whirl'd battalions to the skies 9917
His little lift'ning progeny turn pale,
And beg again to hear the dreadful tale.
Such dire atchievements fings the bard that tells
Of palfrey'd dames, bold knights, and magic spells;
Where whole brigades one champion's arms o'erthrow,
And cleave a giant at a random blow;
Slay paynims vile, that force the fair; and tame
The goblin's fury, and the dragon's flame.
Our eager youth to diftant nations run,
To vifit fields their valiant fathers won;
From Flandria's fhore their country's fame they trace,
'Till far Germania fhews her blafted face.
Th' exulting Briton asks his mournful guide,
Where his hard fate the loft Bavaria try'd;
Where Stepney grav'd the ftone to ANNA's fame:
He points to Blenheim, once a vulgar name;
George Stepney, Efq; a gentleman, who although much celebrated by his contemporaries for poetical genius, is at present more known as
Here fled the Houfhold, there did Tallard yield,
Here Marlb'rough turn'd the fortune of the field;
On those steep banks, near Danube's raging flood,
The Gauls thrice started back, and trembling ftood;
When, Churchill's arm perceiv'd, they stood not long,
But plung'd amidst the waves, a defp'rate throng;
Crowds whelm'd on crowds dash'd wide the watry bed,
And drove the current to its diftant head.
As when by Raphael's, or by Kneller's hands,
A warlike courfer on the canvass stands,
Such as on Landen bleeding Ormond f bore,
Or fet young Ammon on the Granic fhore;
If chance a gen'rous steed the work behold,
He fnorts, he neighs, he champs the foamy gold:
So, Hocftet feen, tumultuous paffions roll,
And hints of glory fire the Briton's foul;
a Statesman than a Poet. He was born at Westminster, in the year 1663, and, having become intimately acquainted with Charles Montague, afterwards Earl of Halifax, at Trinity College, Cambridge, through his means procured himself the appointment of ambaffador to feveral foreign courts, where he acquitted himself with great ability and fuccefs. He died at Chelfea in the year 1707, and was buried in Westminster Abbey.
• At the battle of Blenheim, the marshal Tallard was taken prifoner by the Duke of Marlborough, and, with twenty-fix other officers of diftinction, brought to England, where he continued in confinement a confiderable time.
f At the battle of Landen, the Duke of Ormond was taken prifoner, and exchanged for the Duke of Berwick.
In fancy'd fights he fees the troops engage,
And all the tempest of the battle rage.
Charm me, ye pow'rs, with fcenes lefs nobly bright, Far humbler thoughts th' inglorious Mufe delight, Content to fee the horrors of the field
By plough-fhares levell'd, or in flow'rs conceal'd.
O'er shatter'd walls may creeping ivy twine,
And grafs luxuriant cloath the harmless mine,
Tame flocks afcend the breach without a wound,
Or crop the baition, now a fruitful ground;
While fhepherds fleep, along the rampart laid,
Or pipe beneath the formidable shade.
Who was the man, (Oblivion blast his name,
Torn out and blotted from the list of fame !)
Who, fond of lawlefs rule, and proudly brave,
Firft funk the filial subject to a slave ;
His neighbour's realms by frauds un-kingly gain'd,
In guiltless blood the facred ermine stain’d;
Laid schemes for death, to slaughter turn'd his heart,
And fitted murder to the rules of art!
Ah! curs'd ambition, to thy lures we owe
All the great ills that mortals bear below.
Curs'd by the hind, when to the spoil he yields
His year's whole fweat and vainly-ripen'd fields;
Curs'd by the maid, torn from her lover's fide,
When left a widow, though not yet a bride;
By mothers curs'd, when floods of tears they shed,
And fcatter ufelefs rofes on the dead,
Oh facred BRISTOL! then what dangers prove
The arts, thou fmil'ft on with paternal love ?
Then, mix'd with rubbish by the brutal foes,
In vain the marble breathes, the canvass glows;
To shades obfcure the glitt'ring fword purfues
The gentle Poet and defenceless Mufe.
A voice, like thine alone, might then affuage
The warrior's fury, and controul his rage;
To hear thee speak might the fierce Vandal ftand,
And fling the brandifh'd fabre from his hand.
Far hence be driv'n to Scythia's stormy shore
The drum's harsh mufick, and the cannon's roar ;
Let grim Bellona haunt the lawless plain,
Where Tartar-clans and grifly Coffacs reign;
Let the fteel'd Turk be deaf to matrons' cries,
See virgins ravish'd with relentless eyes;
To death grey heads and smiling infants doom,
Nor fpare the promise of the pregnant womb;
O'er wafted kingdoms fpread his wide command,
The favage lord of an unpeopled land.
Her guiltless glory just Britannia draws
From pure religion, and impartial laws :
To Europe's wounds a mother's aid fhe brings,
And holds in equal scales the rival kings :
Her gen'rous fons in choiceft gifts abound,
Alike in arms, alike in arts renown'd.
As when sweet Venus, (fo the fable fings)
Awak'd by Nereids, from the Ocean fprings;
With fmiles the fees the threat'ning billows rife,
Spreads fmooth the furge, and clears the louring skies ;
Light, o'er the deep, with flutt'ring Cupids crown'd,
The pearly conch and filver turtles bound;
Her treffes fhed ambrofial odours round.
Amidft the world of waves fo ftands ferene
Britannia's ifle, the Ocean's ftately queen;
In vain the nations have confpir'd her fall,
Her trench the fea, and fleets her floating wall;
Defenceless barks, hep powerful navy near,
Have only wayes and hurricanes to fear.
What bold invader, or what land opprefs'd,
Hath not her anger quell'd, her aid redrefs'd?
Say, where have e'er her union croffes fail'd,
But much her arms, her juftice more prevail'd?
Her labours are to plead th' Almighty's cause,
Her pride to teach th' untam'd barbarian laws :
Who conquers, wins by brutal ftrength the prize;
But 'tis a godlike work to civilize.
Have we forgot, how from great Ruffia's throne
The king, whose pow'r half Europe's regions own,
Whofe fcepter waving, with one fhout rush forth
In fwarms the harness'd millions of the north ;
Through realms of ice purfu'd his tedious way,
To court our friendship, and our fame survey!
* Peter the Great, who visited England in the year 1698, and refided here fome time.
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