Her golden trump the goddess sounded thrice, Whose shrilling clang reach'd heaven's extremest sphere.
Roused at the blast, the gods with winged speed
To learn the tidings came: on radiant thrones
With fair memorials and impresses quaint
Emblazon'd o'er they sat, devised of old
By Mulciber, nor small his skill, I ween.
There she relates whatChurchill's arm had wrought
On Blenheim's bloody plain. Up Bacchus rose,
By his plump cheek and barrel-belly known:
The pliant tendrils of a juicy vine
Around his rosy brow in ringlets curl'd;
And in his hand a bunch of grapes he held,
The ensigns of the god. With ardent tone
He moved, that straight the nectar'd bowl should
flow,
Devote to Churchill's health, and o'er all heaven
Uncommon orgies should be kept till eve,
Till all were sated with immortal must,
Delicious tipple! that in heavenly veins
Assimilated, vigorous ichor bred;
Superior to Frontiniac, or Bordeaux,
Or old Falern, Campania's best increase;
Or the more dulcet juice the happy isles
From Palma or from Forteventura send.
Joy flush'd on every face, and pleasing glee Inward assent discover'd, till uprose
Ceres, not blithe; for marks of latent woe
Dim on her visage lower'd: such her deport
When Arethusa from her reedy bed
Told her how Dis young Proserpine had raped,
To sway his iron sceptre, and command
In gloom tartareous half his wide domain:
Then, sighing, thus she said-Have I so long
Employ'd my various art to' enrich the lap
Of Earth, all-bearing mother, and my lore
Communicated to the' unweeting hind,
And shall not this preeminence obtain?'
Then from beneath her Tyrian vest she took
The bearded ears of grain she most admired,
Which gods call Crithe, in terrestrial speech
Ycleped Barley. "Tis to this (she cried)
The British cohorts owe their martial fame
And far redoubted prowess, matchless youth!
This, when returning from the foughten field,
Or Noric or Iberian, seam'd with scars,
(Sad signatures of many a dreadful gash!)
The veteran, carousing, soon restores
Puissance to his arm, and strings his nerves.
And as a snake, when first the rosy hours
Shed vernal sweets o'er every vale and mead,
Rolls tardy from his cell obscure and dank;
But when by genial rays of summer sun
Purged of his slough, he nimbler thrids the brake,
Whetting his sting, his crested head he rears
Terrific, from each eye retort he shoots
Ensanguined rays, the distant swains admire
His various neck and spires bedropp'd with gold;
So at each glass the harass'd warrior feels
Vigour renate; his horrent arms he takes
And rusting falchion, on whose ample hilt
Long Victory sat dormant: soon she shakes
Her drowsy wings, and follows to the war.
With speed succinct; where soon his martial port
She recognises, whilst he haughty stands
On the rough edge of battle, and bestows
Wide torment on the serried files, so used
Frequent in bold emprise, to work sad rout
And havoc dire; these the bold Briton mows,
Dauntless as deities exempt from fate,
Ardent to deck his brow with mural gold,
Or civic wreath of oak, the victor's meed.
Such is the power of Ale: with vines embower'd,
While dangling bunches court his thirsting lip,
Sullen he sits, and sighing oft extols
The beverage they quaff, whose happy soil
Prolific Dovus laves, or Trenta's urn
Adorns with waving crithe (joyous scenes
Of vegetable gold!) Secure they dwell,
Nor feel the' eternal snows that clothe their cliffs;
Nor curse the' inclement air, whose horrid face
Scowls like that Arctic heaven, that drizzling sheds
Perpetual winter on the frozen skirts
Of Scandinavia and the Baltic main,
Where the young tempests first are taught to roar.
Snug in their straw-built huts or darkling earth'd
In cavern'd rock they live (small need of art
To form spruce architrave or cornice quaint
On Parian marble with Corinthian grace
Prepared)-There on well-fuel'd hearth they chat,
Whilst black pots walk the round with laughing Ale
Surcharged, or brew'd in planetary hour,
When March weigh'd night and day in equal scale;
Or in October tunned, and mellow grown
With seven revolving suns, the racy juice,
Strong with delicious flavour, strikes the sense;
Nor wants on vast circumference of board,
Of Arthur's imitative, large sirloin
Of ox or virgin-heifer, wont to browse
The meads of Longovicum (fattening soil,
Replete with clover grass and foodful shrub:)
Planted with sprigs of rosemary it stands,
Meet paragon (as far as great with small
May correspond) for some Panchæan hill,
Imbrown'd with sultry skies, thin set with palm
And olive rarely interspersed, whose shade
Screens hospitably from the Tropic Crab
The quiver'd Arab's vagrant clan that waits
Insidious some rich caravan, which fares
To Mecca, with Barbaric gold full fraught.
'Thus Britain's hardy sons, of rustic mould, Patient of arms, still quash the' aspiring Gaul, Bless'd by my boon; which when they slightly
Should they, with high defence of triple brass Wide-circling, live immured (as erst was tried By Bacon's charms, on which the sickening moon Look'd wan, and cheerless mew'd her crescent
Whilst Demogorgon heard his stern behest),
Thrice the prevailing power of Gallia's arms
Should there resistless ravage, as of old
Great Pharamond, the founder of her fame,
Was wont when first his marshall'd peerage pass'd
The subject Rhine. What though Britannia boasts
Herself a world, with ocean circumfused?
'Tis Ale that warms her sons to' assert her claim,
And with full volley makes her naval tubes
Thunder disastrous doom to' opponent powers.
'Nor potent only to enkindle Mars,
And fire with knightly prowess recreant souls ; It science can encourage, and excite
The mind to ditties blithe and charming song. Thou Pallas! to my speech just witness bear; How oft hast thou thy votaries beheld
At Crambo merry met, and hymning shrill
With voice harmonic each, whilst others frisk
In mazy dance, or Cestrian gambols show,
Elate with mighty joy, when to the brim
Critheian nectar crown'd the lordly bowl
(Equal to Nestor's ponderous cup, which ask'd
A hero's arm to mount it on the board,
Ere he the' embattled Pylians led, to quell
The pride of Dardan youth in hostile dire):
Or if, with front unbless'd, came towering in
Proctor armipotent, in stern deport
Resembling turban'd Turk, when high he wields
His scimitar with huge two-handed sway,
Alarm'd with threatening accent, harsher far
Than that ill omen'd sound, the bird of night,
With beak uncomely bent, from dodder'd oak
Screams out, the sick man's trump of doleful doom;
Thy jocund sons confront the horrid van
That crowds his gonfalon of seven-foot size,
And with their rubied faces stand the foe;
Whilst they of sober guise contrive retreat,
And run with ears erect; as the tall stag
Unharbour'd by the woodman quits his lair,
And flies the yearning pack which close pursue;
So they, not bowsy, dread the' approaching foe;
They run, they fly, till flying on obscure,
Night-founder'd in town-ditches, stagnant gurge,
Soph rolls on soph promiscuous-Caps aloof
Quadrate and circular confusedly fly,
The sport of fierce Norwegian tempests, toss'd
By Thracia's coadjutant, and the roar
Of loud Euroclydon's tumultuous gusts.'
She said: the sire of gods and men supreme, With aspect bland, attentive audience gave,
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