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In filent raptare each his foe surveys;
They vow firm friendship and give mutual praise.
Brave minds huwe'er at war are secret friends;
Their gen'ivus'difcord with the battle ends; 30
In Peace they wonder whence diffenfion rose,
And ask how fouis fo like could e'er be foes.

Methinks I hear more friendly shouts rebound,
And social clarions inix their sprightly found;
The British flags are furl'd, her troops disband, 35
And scatter'd arniies feek their native land.
The hardy vetran proud of many a scar,
The manly charms and honours of the war,
Who hop'd to share his friends" illuftrious dooni,
And in the battle find a soldier's tomb,
Leans on his spear to take his farewell view,
And sighing bids the glorious camp adieu.

Ye gen'roas Fair! receive the brave with fmiles; O'erpay their fleepless nights and crown their toils: Soft beauty is the gallant foldier's due;

45 For you they conquer and they bleed for you. In vain proud Gaul with boastful Spain confpires“ When English valour English beauty firës. The nations dread your eyes, and kings despair Of chiefs fo brave till they have' nymphs so fair. 50

See the fond wife, in tears of transport drown'd, Hugs her rough lord, and weeps o'er ev'ry wound, Hangs on the lips that fields of blood relate, And smiles or trembles at his various fate.

Near the full bowl he draws the fancy'd line, 55
And marks feign'd trenches in the flowing wine,
Then sets th' invested fort before her eyes,
And mines that whirld battalions to the skies;
His little lift’ning progeny turn pale,
And beg again to hear the dreadful tale. 60

Such dire achievements sings the bard that tells
Of palfrey'd dames, bold knights, and magick spells,
Where whole brigades one champion's arms o'er-
And cleave a giant at a random blow, [throw,
Slay paynims vile that force the fair, and tame

65 The goblin's fury and the dragon's flame.

Our eager youth to distant nations run To visit fields their valiant fathers won; From Flandria's shore their country's fame they trace, Till far Germania fnews her blasted face. Th’exulting Briton alks his mournful guide Where his hard fate the lost Bavaria try'd, Where Stepney grav'd the stone to Anna's fame? He points to Blenheim, once a vulgar name. Here fled the Household, there did Tallard yield, 75 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 stood: When Churchill's arm perceiv'd they stood not long, But plung’damidit the waves a defp'rate throng! 80 Crowds whelm'd on crowds daih'd wide the wat'ry And drove the current to its distant head, [bed,



As when by Raphael's or by Kneller's hands
A warlike courfer on the canvass stands,
Such as on Landen bleeding Ornond bore,
Or set young Ammon on the Granick shore,
If chance a gen’rous steed the work behold,
He fuorts, he neighs, he champs the foanıy golds
So Hockstet seen tumult'ous paflions roll,
And hints of glory fire the Briton's soul,

90 In fancy'd fights he sees the troops engage, And all the tempest of the battle rage.

Charm me, ye Pow'rs! with scenes less nobly bright; Far hunıbler thougʻrts th’ inglorious Mufe delight, Content to see the honours of the field

95 By ploughshares levell’d or in flow'rs conceal'd. O’er shatter'd walls may creeping ivy twine, And grafs luxuriant clothe the harmlefs mine; Tame flocks ascend the breach without a wound, Or crop the bastion, now a fruitful ground, Іоо While shepherds sleep along the rampart laid, Or pipe beneath the formidable fhade.

Who was the man, oblivion blast his name, To:n out and blotted from the list of Fame! Who fond of lawless rule and proudly brave IOS First sunk the filial fubject to a flave, His neighbours' realms by frauds uakingly gain'd, In guiltless blood the sacred ermine stain'd, Laid schemes for dcatn, to slaughter turn'd his heart, And fitted murder to the rules of art!

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Ah! curft Ambition! to thy lurés we'owe
All the great ills that mortals bear below;
Curst by the hind when to the spoil he yields
His year's whole sweat and vainly ripen'd fields ;
Curst by the maid torn from her lover's side

When left a widow tho' not yet a bride;
By mothers curst when floods of tears they shed,
And scatter ufeless rofes on the dead!
Oh, sacred Bristol! then what dangers prove
The arts thou smilt on with paternal love!

120 Then mix'd with rubbish by the brutal focs In vain the marble breathes the canvass glows; To flades obscure the glitt'ring sword pursues The gentle poet and defenceless Muse: A voice like thine alone might then affuage The warriour's fury' and control his rage; To hear thee speak miglit the fierce Vandal stand, And fiing the brandifl'd sabre from his hand.

Far hence be driv'n to Scythia's stormy shore The drum's harsh musick and the cannon's roar. 130 Let grim Bellona haunt the lawless plain Where Tartar clans and grisly Cossacks reign; Let the feel'd Turk be deaf to matrons' cries, See virgins ravish'd with relentlefs eyes, To death grey hcads and smiling infants doom, 135 Nor spare the promise of the pregnant womb, O'er wafted kingdoms fpread his wide command, The favage lord of an unpeopled land!


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Her guiltless glory just Britannia draws
From pure religion and impartial laws;

To Europe's wounds a mother's aid she brings,
And holds in equal scales the rival kings:
Her gen'rous fons in choicest gifts abound,
Alike in arms alike in arts renown'd.
As when sweet Venus (so the fable sings)

Awak'd by Nereids from the ocean springs,
With smiles she sees the threat'ning billows rise,
Spreads smooth the surge and clears the lowring skies,
Lighto'er the deep, withflutt'ringCupidscrown'd,
The pearly conch and filver turtles bound, 150
Her treffes shed ambrosial odours round.

Amidst the world of waves fo stands ferene
Britannia's ille, the Ocean's stately queen!
In vain the nations have conspir’d her fall,
Her trench the sea, and fleets her floating wall: 155
Defenceless barks, her pow'rful navy near,
Have only waves and hurricanes to fear.
What bold in vader or what land opprest
Hath not her anger quell’d, her aid redrest!
Say where have e'er her Union Crosses fail'd 160
But much her arnis her justice 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 strength the prize,
But it is a godlike work to civilize.

Have we forgot how from great Russia's throne
The king whole pow'r half Europe's regions own,


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