Графични страници
PDF файл
ePub

To horid Zembla's frozen realms repair,
There with the baleful beldam, Night,

Unpeopled empire share,
And rob those lands of legal right.
For now is come the promis’d hour,

When Justice shall have power ;
Justice to earth restor'd!

Again Astrea reigns!

Anna her equal scale maintains, And Marlborough wields her sure deciding fword.

1.
Now, couldft thou foar, my Muse, to sing the man
In heights sublime, as when the Mantuan fwan

Her towering pinions spread;
Thou Should'st of Marlborough fing, whose hand

Unerring, from his Queen's command,
Far as the seven-mouth'd Ister's secret head,
To fave th’Imperial state, her hardy Britons led,

II.
Nor there thy song should end; though all the Nine
Might well their harps and heavenly voices join

To fing that glorious day,
When bold Bavaria Aed the field,
And veteran Gauls unus'd to yield
On Blenheim's Plain imploring mercy lay ;
And.spoils and trophies won, perplex'd the victor's way,

III.
But could thy voice of Blenheim fing,

And with success that song pursue ;
What art could aid thy wearied wing
To keep the victor still in view ?
M

For

For as the sun ne'er stops his radiant flight,
Nor sets but with impartial ray

To all who want his light
Alternately transfers the day :
So in the glorious round of fame,

Great Marlborough, still the same,
Incessant runs his course :

To climes remote, and near,
His conquering arms by turns appear,
And universal is his aid and force.

1. Attempt not to proceed, unwary Muse, For O! what notes, what numbers could'st thou chuse

Though in all numbers skill'd:
To sing the hero's matchless deed,

Which Belgia sav'd, and Brabant freed;
To sing Ramillia’s day! to which must yield
Cannæ’s illustrious fight, and fam'd Pharsalia's field.

II.
In the short course of a diurnal fun,
Behold the work of many ages done!

What verse such worth can raise ?
Lustre and life, the Poet's art

To middle virtue may impart;
But deeds sublime, exalted high like these,
Transcend his utmost fight; and mock his distant praise.

III.
Still would the willing Mufe aspire,

With transport still her strains prolong;
But fear unftrings the trembling lyre,
And admiration stops her song,

Go

Go on, great chief, in Anna's cause proceed;
Nor sheath the terrors of thy sword,

Till Europe thou hast freed,
And universal

peace

restor’d.
This mighty work when thou shalt end,

Equal rewards attend,
Of value far above

Thy trophies and thy spoils ;
Rewards ev'n worthy of thy toils,
Thy Queen's just favour, and thy Country's love.

[blocks in formation]

To the Right Honourable the

EARL OF GODOLPHIN,

Lord High-TREASURER of GREAT BRITAIN.

PIN DARI CODE.

Quemvis mediâ erue turba : “ Aut ob avaritiam, aut miserâ ambitione laborar, “ Hunc capit argenti fplendor“ Hiç mutat merces surgente à sole, ad eum quo

Vespertina tepet regio: quin per mala præceps “ Fertur “ Omnes hi metuunt verfus, odere poetas.”

Hor. L. I. Sat. iv.

[ocr errors]

I.
Toh
hazardous attempts and hardy toils,

Ambition fome excites;
And fome, defire of martial spoils

To bloody fields invites;
Others, insatiate thirst of gain
Provokes to tempt the dangerous main,

To pass the burning line, and bear
Th’inclemency of winds, and seas, and air ;

Pressing the doubtful voyage till India's shore Her spicy bosom bares, and spreads her shining ore

.

II. Nor

II,
Nor widows tears, nor tender orphans cries,

Can stop th’invader's force;
Nor swelling seas, nor threatening skies,

Prevent the pirate's course :
Their lives to selfish ends decreed,
Through blood or rapine they proceed;

No anxious thoughts of ill repute
Suspend th'impetuous and unjust pursuit :

But power and wealth obtain’d, guilty and great, Their fellow-creatures fears they raise, or urge their hate,

III.
But not for these his ivory lyre

Will tuneful Phæbus ftring,
Nor Polyhymnia crown'd amid the choir,

Th’immortal epode fing.
Thy springs, Castalia, turn their streams aside

From rapine, avarice, and pride ;
Nor do thy greens, shady Aonia, grow,
To bind with wreaths a tyrant's brow.

I.
How just, most mighty Jove, yet how severe

Is thy supreme decree,
That impious men shall joyless hear

The Muses' harmony !
Their sacred fongs, (the recompence
Of virtue and of innocence)

Which pious minds to rapture raise,
And worthy deeds at once excite and praise,

« ПредишнаНапред »