Fatal ambition! fay what wondrous charms Delude mankind to toil for thee in arms! When all thy fpoils, thy wreaths in battle won, The pride of power, and glory of a crown, When all war gives, when all the great can gain, Ev'n thy whole pleasure, pays not half thy pain. All hail! ye fofter, happier arts of peace, 150 Secur'd from harms, and bleft with learned eafe; In battles, blood, and perils hard, unfkill'd, Which haunt the warrior in the fatal field; But chief, thee, Goddess Mufe! my verse would raise, And to thy own foft numbers tune thy praife; Happy the youth infpir'd, beneath thy fhade, Thy verdant, ever-living laurels laid!
There, fafe, no pleafures, there no pains they know,
But those which from thy facred raptures flow,
Me, nymph divine! nor fcorn my humble prayer,
Receive unworthy, to thy kinder care,
Doom'd to a gentler, though more lowly, fate,
Nor wishing once, nor knowing to be great;
Me, to thy peaceful haunts, inglorious bring,
Where fecret thy celestial fifters fing,
Past by their facred hill, and fweet Caftalian spring.
But nobler thoughts the victor prince employ,
And raise his heart with high triumphant joy;
From hence a better course of time rolls on,
And whiter days fucceffive feem to run.
From hence his kinder fortune feems to date
The rifing glories of his future ftate,
But oh! too foon the hero mourns
His hopes deceiv'd, and war's inconstant turns.
In vain, his echoing trumpets loud alarms
Provoke the cold Iberian lords to arms;
Careless of fame, as of their monarch's fate,
In fullen floth fupinely proud they fate;
Or to be flaves or free alike prepar'd,
And trufting heaven was bound to be their guard, Untouch'd with shame, the noble ftrife beheld, Nor once effay'd to ftruggle to the field;
But fought in the cold fhade, and rural feat,
An unmolested ease and calm retreat:
Saw each contending prince's arms advance,
Then with a lazy dull indifference
Turn'd to their reft, and left the world to chance.
So when, commanded by the wife of Jove,
Thaumantian Iris left the realms above,
And swift defcending on her painted bow,
Sought the dull god of fleep in fhades below;
Nodding and flow, his drowsy head he rear'd,
And heavily the facred meffage heard;
Then with a yawn at once forgot the pain,
And funk to his first sloth and indolence again.
But oh, my Mufe! th' ungrateful toil forfake,
Some task more pleafing to thy numbers take,
Nor choose in melancholy strains to tell
Each harder chance the jufter caufe befel.
Or rather turn, aufpicious turn thy flight,
Where Marlborough's heroic arms invite,
Where highest deeds the poet's breast inspire
With rage divine, and fan the facred fire.
See! where at once Ramillia's noble field
Ten thousand themes for living verse shall yield.
See! where at once the dreadful objects rise,
At once they spread before my wondering eyes,
And shock my labouring foul with vaft furprize;
At once the wide-extended battles move,
At once they join, at once their fate they prove.
The roar afcends promifcuous; groans and cries,
The drums, the cannons' burst, the fhout, fupplies
One univerfal anarchy of noise.
One din confus'd, found mixt and loft in found, 215 Echoes to all the frighted cities round.
Thick duft and smoke in wavy clouds arife,
Stain the bright day, and taint the
purer fkies;
While flashing flames like lightning dart between,
And fill the horror of the fatal scene.
Around the field, all dy'd in purple foam,
Hate, fury, and infatiate slaughter roam ;
Discord with pleasure o'er the ruin treads,
And laughing wraps her in her tatter'd weeds; 225
While fierce Bellona thunders in her car,
Shakes terrible her steely whip from far,
And with new rage revives the fainting war.
So when two currents, rapid in their course,
Rush to a point, and meet with equal force,
The angry billows rear their heads on high,
Dafhing aloft the foaming furges fly,
And rifing cloud the air with misty spry;
The raging flood is heard from far to roar,
By listening shepherds on the distant shore,
While much they fear, what ills it should portend,
And wonder why the watery gods contend.
High in the midft, Britannia's warlike chief,
Too greatly bold, and prodigal of life,
Is feen to prefs where death and dangers call,
Where the war bleeds, and where the thickest fall,
He flies, and drives confus'd the fainting Gaul.
Like heat diffus'd, his great example warms,
And animates the focial warriors' arms,
Inflames each colder heart, confirms the bold, 245 Makes the young heroes, and renews the old.
In forms divine around him watchful wait
The guardian genii of the British state
Juftice and Truth his steps unerring guide,
And faithful Loyalty defends his fide;
Prudence and Fortitude their Marlborough guard,
And pleafing Liberty his labours chear'd;
But chief, the Angel of his Queen was there,
The union-crofs his filver shield did bear,
And in his decent hand he shook a warlike fpear.
While Victory celestial foars above,
Plum'd like the eagle of imperial Jove,
Hangs o'er the chief, whom the delights to bless,
And ever arms his sword with sure success,
Dooms him the proud oppreffor to destroy,
Then waves her palm, and claps her wings for joy.
Such was young Ammon on Arbela's plain,
Or fuch the painter* did the hero feign,
Where rushing on, and fierce, he seems to ride,
With graceful ardor, and majestic pride,
With all the gods of Greece and fortune on his fide.
Nor long Bavaria's haughty prince in vain
Labours the fight unequal to maintain;
He fees 'tis doom'd his fatal friend the Gaul
Shall fhare the fhame, and in one ruin fall;
Flies from the foe too oft in battle try'd,
And heaven contending on the victor's fide;
Then mourns his rafh ambition's crime too late,
And yields reluctant to the force of fate.
So when Æneas, through night's gloomy fhade,
The dreadful forms of hoftile gods furvey'd,
Hopeless he left the burning town, and fled:
Saw 'twas in vain to prop declining Troy,
Or fave what heaven had deftin'd to destroy.
What vaft reward, O Europe, fhalt thou pay 280
To him who fav'd thee on this glorious day!
Blefs him, ye grateful nations, where he goes,
And heap the victor's laurel on his brows.
In every land, in every city freed
Let the proud column rear its marble head,
To Marlborough and Liberty decreed;
Rich with his wars, triumphal arches raise,
To teach your wondering fons the hero's praise!
To him your skilful bards their verse shall bring,
For him the tuneful voice be taught to fing,
The breathing pipe fhall fwell, fhall found the
trembling ftring.
O happy thou! where peace for ever fmiles,
Britannia nobleft of the ocean's ifles,
Fair queen! who doft amidft thy waters reign,
And stretch thy empire o'er the farthest main:
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