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Or pierce the broken foe's remotest lines, No toils are painful that can danger show, The hardy veteran with tears rigns.
No climes unlovely that contain a foe. Unfortunate Tallard! Oh, who can name The roving Gaul, to his own bounds restralu d, The pings of rage, of sorrow and of shaine, Learns to encamp within his native land: That with mix'd tumult in thy bosom swellid, But soon as the victorious host he spies, When first thou saw'st thy bravest troops re- From hill to bill, from stream to stream he flies, - pellid,
Such dire impressions in his heart remain Thinc only son pierc'd with a deadly wound, Or Marlborough's sword, and Hochstet's fata) Cliokid in his blood, and gasping on The ground; plain : Thyself in bondage by the victor kept! In vain Britannia's mighty chief besets Tie chies, the father, and the captive wept. . Their shady coverts and obscure retreats ; An English Muse is touch'd with generous woe, They fly the conqueror's approaching fame, And in th' unhappy man forgets the foe! Thai bears the force of armies in his name. Greatly distress'd, thy loud complainis forbear, Austria's youlig inonarch, whese imperial sway Blame not the turns of fate, and chance of war; Secpires and thrones are destin'd to obey, Give thy brave foes their due, nor blush to own Whose boasted ancestry so high extends The fatal field by such great leaders won, That in the Pagan gods his lincage ends, The field whence fam'd Eugenio borc away Comes from afar, in gratitude to own Only the second honors of ihe day. Trell, The great supporter of his father's throne :
With floods of gore that from the vanquish'd What rides of glory to his bosom ran, The marshes stagnate, and the rivers shell. Clasp'd in the embraces of the godlike man! Diountains of slain lie heap'd upon the ground, Ilow were his eyes with pleasing wonder tix'd Or ’midst the roarings of the Danube drown'd; To see such fire with so much sweetness mixd, Whole captive hosts the conqueror detains Such easy greatness, such a graceful port, Jo painful bondage and inglorious chains; So turn'dand finish'd for the camp or court! Ev'n those who 'scape the totters and the sword, Achilles was thus form'd with ev'ry grace, Nor seek the fortunes of a happier lored, And Nireus shone but in the second place; Their raging Kini dishonors, io complete : Thus the great father of Almighty Ronne Marlborough's great work, and finish the defeat. Divinely flush'd with an immortal bloom From lemminglen's high domes, and Aug. That Criberea's fragrant breath bestow'd) sburg's walls,
In all the charnis of his bright mother glowd. The distanı batile drives tb'insulting Gauls; The royal vouth, by Marlborougli's presence Freed by the terror of the victor's name,
charin'd, The rescued states his great protection claim; Tanght by his counsels, by his actions warm'd, Whilst Ulm th' approach of her deliverer waits, On Landau with redoubled furs falls, Aud longs to open her obsequious gates.
Discharges all his thunder on his walls; The hero's breast still wells with great designs, W'er mines and cares of death provokes the fight, In ev'ry thought the tow'rine génius shines : And learns to conquer in the hero's sight. f to the foc his dreadful course he bends
The British chief for mights toils renonni, O'er the wide continent his march extends; Increas'd in titles, and with conquests crown'd, If sieges in his lab'ring thoughts are formd, To Belgian coasts his tedious march renews, Camps are assaulted, and an army storm'd; J And the long windings of the Rhine pursues, If to the fight his active soul is bent,
Clearing its borders from usurping foes, The fate of Europe turns on its event.
And blest by rescued nations as he goes, What disiant land, what region, can afford Treves fears io more, freed from its dire alanins; An action worthy his victorious sword? And Traerbach feels the terror of his arms: Where will he next the flying Gaul defeat, Scated on rocks her proud foundatione shake, To make the series of his toils complete? Wine Marlborough presne's to the bold attack,
Where the swolu Rhine rushing with all its Plants all his batt'ries, bids his cannon mar, Divides the hostile nations in iis course, sforce And shows how Landau might have tallin before. While car contracts its bounds, or wider grows, Scard at his near approach, great louis fears Enlar'dri straightend as the river flows, Vengeance reserv'd for his declining years, Oi Gallia's side a nightv bulwark stands, Forgets his thirst of universal-way, Thai all he will extended plain commands; and scarce can teach his subjects to ober; Twics, sure the war was kindled, has it tried His arms he finds on vain aitempts empked, The victors rage, and twice has chang'lits side; Th' ambitious projects for his race destreyd, As ofi whole arnsies, with the prize o'erjord, The works of ages sunk in one campaign, Have to long summer on iis wall: employ'd. And lives of millions sacrific'st in vain. Hitler eur mighty chief his armis directs, 1 Such are th'effects of Anna's royal cares; licCe future triumphs from the war expects ; By her, Britannia, great in foreign ivars, to !'yonyh die ricgalar had its course begun, (Ranges thro' nations, whereso'er disjoin'd, (: r, his arms still nearer to the sun : Without the wonted aid of sea and wind Fid nihe glorious action he forgets
By her th' unfetter'd Ister's states are free, The ciange of seasons, and increase of heats; and taste the sweets of English liberty:
But who can tell the joys of those that lie Halves, more than halves ! cried honest Care,
Thus with the gods debate began,
Thus would I fain Britannia's wars rehearse, and can celestial tempers rage?
(There's none that paint him such as I:
Their silver honor; on his head;
mosi. That learned Egypt meant the year. And those who paint them truest, praise them A staff he carried, where on high
(A glass was fix'd to measure by,
| As amber boxes made a show § 41. An Allegory on Man. Parnell.
For heads of canes an age ago.
A bending sickle arm'd his side; (Were Homer living, well he kuew
| And Spring's new months his trade adorn What name the gods have call'd him too); · The other Seasons were unborn. With fine mechanic genius wrought,
| Known by the gods, as near he draws, And lov'd to work, though no one bought. They make himn umpire of the cause. This being, by a model lored
FO'er a low trunk his arm he laid, ', In Jove's eternal sable head,
Where since his hours a dial made; Contriv'd a shape empower'd to breathe, Then, leaning, heard the nice debate, And be the worldling here beneath.
And thus pronounc'd the words of Fate: The man rose staring, like a stake,
Since body, from the parent Earth, Wond'ring to see himself awake!
And soul from Jove receiv'd a birth, Then look'd so wise, before he knew
Return they where they first began; The business he was made to do,
But, since iheir union inakes the man, That, pleas'd to see with what a grace |Till Jove and Earth shall put these two, He gravely show'd his forward face,
To Care, who join’d them, man is due. Jore talk 1 of breeding him an high,
He said, and sprung with swift career An under-somncthing of the sky.
To trace a circle for the year ; But ere he gave the mighty nod,
Where ever since the Seasons wheel, Which ever binds a poet's god
And tread on one another's heel. (For which his curls ambrosial shake,
"Tis well, said Jove; and, for consent, And mother Earth's obliged to quake),
Thund'ring he shook the firmament. He saw his mother Earth arise ;
Our umpire Time shall have his way; She stood confess'd before his eyes;
With Care I let the creature stay : But not with what we read she wore;
Let bus'ness vex him, ay’rice blind, A castle for a crown before;
Let doubt and knowledge rack his mind, Nor with long streets and longer roads
Let error act, opinion speak, Dangling behind her, like commodes : And want affiot, and sickness break, As yet with wreaths along she dress'd,
And anger burn, dejection chill, And trail'd a landscape-painted vest.
And joy distract, and sorrow kill; . Then thrice she rais'd, as Ovid said,
Till, arm'd by Care, and taught to mow,
Her honors made – Great Jove she cried, And wasted man, whose quick decay
Nay, rather ask, the Monarch said,
$ 42. The Book-Worm. Parnell. Were what I gave remor'd away?
Come hither, boy, we 'll hunt to-day
The Book-worm, rav'ning beast of prey!
Produc'd by parent Earth, at odds,
I strike the scales that arm thiec round, As Fame reports it, with the gods.
And twice and thrice I print the wound; Him frantic hunger wildly drives
The sacred altar floats with red, Against a thousand author's lives :
And now he dies, and now he's dead. Through all the fields of wit he flies;
How like the son of Jove I stand, Dreadful his wit with clust'ring eyes,
This Hydra stretch'd bencath iny hand! With horns without, and tusks within, Lay bare the monsier's entrails here, And scales to serve him for a skin.
To see what dangers threat the year: Observe him nearly, lest he climb
Ye gods! what sonnets on a wench! To wound the bards of ancient time,
What lean translations out of French! Or down ihe yale of Fancy go,
"Tis plain this lobe is so unsound, To tear soine modern wreich below.
S prints before the monus go round On ev'ry corner fix thine eye,
But hold - before I close the scene, Or ten to one he slips thee by.
The sacred altar should be clean. See where his tech a passage eat:
Oh had I Shadwell's second bars, We'll rouse him from the deep retreat,
Or, Tate, thy pert and humble lays ! But who the shelter 's forc'd to give?
(Ye pair, forgive me, when I vow 'Tis sacrent Virgil, as I live;
I never miss d your works ull now) From leaf i les, from song to song,
I'd iear ike leaves to wipe the shrine He craws the tadpole form along ;
(That only way you please the Nine;) He mounts the gilded edge before ;
But since I chance to want these two, He's up, he scuis the cover o'er;
Il make the songs of Durfey do. He turns, he doubles, there he pass'd ;
Rent from the corpse, on vonder pin And here we have him, caught at last. I hang the scales that brac'd it in ; Insatiate brute, whose teeth abuse
I hang my studious morning gown), The sweetest servants of the Musc!
And urile my own inscription down : (Nay, ncver offer to deny,
“ This trophy from the Python won, I took thee in the fact 10 fly:)
“ This robe in which the deed was done, His roses nipt in ev'ry page,
“ These, Parnell, glorying in the feat, My poor Anacreon mourns thy rage ;
“ Hung on these shelves, the Muses' seat. By thee my Ovid wounded lies;
“ Here ignorance and hunger found By thee my Lesbia's sparrow dies;
“ Large realms of wit to ravage round: Thy rabid teeth have half destroy'd
“ Here ignorance and hunger fell, The work of love in Biddy Floyd;
" Two foes in one I sent to bell. They rent Belinda's locks away,
“ Ye poets, who my labors see, And spoil'd the Blouzelind of Gay,
" Come share the triumph all with me! For all, for ev'ry single deel,
“ Ye critics ! born to vex the Muse, Relentless justice bids the bleed.
“ To mourn the grand ally you lose." Then fall a victim to the Nine, Myself the priest, my desk the shrine.
§ 43. Ad Amicos *. R. West. Bring Homer, Virgil, Tasso near,
Yes, happy youths, on Camus' sedgy side, To pile a sacred altar here:
You feel each joy that friendship can divide; Hold, boy, thy hand outruns thy wit,
Each realm of science and of art explore, You ’ve reach'd the plays that Dennis writ: 'And with the antient blend the modern lore. You've reach'd me Philips' rustic strain ; Suudious alone to learn whate'er may tend Pray take your mortal Bards again.
To raise the genius, or the beart to mend; Come, bind the victim - there he lies, Now pleas'd along the cloister'd walk you fore, And here between his nuni'rous eyes
And irace the verdant mazes of the grove, This venerable dust I lay,
Where social oft, and oft alone, you choose Froin manuscripts just swept away.
To catch the zephyr, and in court the Muse. The goblet in my hand I take
Meantime at me (while all devoid of art (For the libation is yet to make)
These lines give back the image of my heart) A health to poets all their days,
Ai me the pow'r, that comes or soon or late, May they have bread, as well as praise ; Or aims, or seems to aim, the dart of fate; Sense may they seck, and less engage
From you, remote, methiuks, alone I stand, In papers fill’d with party rage :
Like some sad exile in a desart land : But, if their riches spoil their vein,
Aroumd no friends their lcnient care to join Ye Muscs, make them poor again.
Inmutual warmth, andinix their heart with mine. Now bring the weapon, yonder blade, Or real pains, or those which fancy raise, With which my tuneful pens are made. l'or ever blot the sunshine of my days;
• Almost all Tibullus's Elegy is imitated in this little Picce, from whence his transition to Mr. Pope's letter is very artfully contrived, and bespeaks a degree of judgemeni much beyond Mr.Wests years.
To sickness still, and still to grief a prey, | Lov'd in my life, lamented in my end,
Just Heav'n! whatsin,cre life begins to bloom, mend :
1 944. An Address to Winter. Cowper. Or madly violate my Maker's name?
Oh "Vinter! ruler of th' invertell year, Did e'er this heart betray a friend or foe, Thy scatter'd hair with sleet like ishes fillid, Orknow a thought but alltheworll mizheknow? Thy breath congeal'd upon thy lips, thy checks As yet, just started from the lists of time, Fringid with a beard made wiite with other My growing years have scarcely told their prime; . snows Useless, as yet, thro' life I've idly run, | Than those of age; thy forehead wrapt in clouds; No pleasures tasted, and few duties done. 1 A leafless branch thy sceptre ; and thy throne Ah who, ere'autumu's mellowing suvs appear, A sliding car indebted to no wheels. Would pluck the promise of the vernal year; But org'd by storms along its slippery way; Or, ere ihe grapes their purple hue betray, I love thee, all unlovely as thou seemist, Tear the crude cluster from the morning spray? And dreaded as thon art. Thou hold'st the son Stern power of Fate, whose ebon sceptre rules A pris'ner in the yet udawning east, The Stygian desarts and Cimmerian pools, Short'ning his journey beiween morn and noon, Forbear, nor rashly smite my youthful heart, And hurrying him, inpatient of his stay, i victim yet unworthy of thy dart;
Down to the rosy west : But kindiy still sh, stay till age shall blast my withering face, Compensating his loss with added hours Shake in my head, and falter in my pace; Of social converse and insiructive ease, Then aim the shaft, then meditate the blow, and gathering at short notice in one group And to the dead iny willing shade shall yo. The family dispers’d, and fixing thought,
How weak is Mån to Reason's judging eye! Not less dispers’d by day-light and its cares.
| Fire-side enjoyments, home-born happiness,
sound Nursid by the wave the spreading branches rise, The silent circle fan themselves, and quake; Chade all ihe ground, and flourish to the skies ; But here the needle plies its busy task, The waves the while beneath in secret fow, The pattern grows, the well-depicted flow's Au undermine the hollow bank below : Wrought patiently into the snory lawn Visie and more wile the waters urge their way, Unfolds its bosoin, buds, and leaves, and sprigs. Bare all the roots, and on their fibres prey; And curling tendrils, gracefully disposil, Too late the plant bewails his foolish pride, Follow the nimble finger of the fair, And sinks, unumely, in the whelming tide. A wreath that cannot fade, os flowers that blow
But why repine? Does life deserve my sigh? With most success when all besides decay. Few will lament my loss whene'cr I die, The poet's or historian's page, by one For those, the wretches I despise or hate, Made vocal for th'amusement of the rest : I neither envy nor regard their fate.
Thesprightly lyre, whose treasureofsweet sounds For me, whene'er all-conquring Death shall|The touch from many a trembling chord shakes spread
out; His wings around my unrepining head,
And the clear voice symphonious, vet distinct, I care not: tho' this face be seen no more, And in the charming strite triumphant still, The world will pass as chectful as before; Beguile the night, and sei a keener edge Bright as before the day-star will appear, On female industry; ihe threaded steel The fields as verdant, and the skies as clear; Flies swiftly, and unfelt the task proceeds. Var suoris nor comets will my doonı declare, |The little volume clos'l, the customary rites Nor signs on earih, nor portents in the air ; JOf the last meal commence. A Roman meal, Unknown and silent will depart my breath, Such as the mistress of the world once found Vor cature e'er take notice of iny death. Delicious, when her patriots of high note, Yet soine there are (ere spent my viral days) Perhaps by moon-lighi, at their humble doors, Within whose breasts my tomb I wish to raise. And under an old oak's domestic shade,
Enjoy'd, pare feast, a rudish and an egg. That it belongs to freemen, would disgust Discourse eusues, Rot trivial, ver not dull, 1.Ind shock me. I should then with doullo Nor such as with a frown forbids the play
para Of fancy, or prescribes the sound of mirth. Feel all the rigor of thy fickle clime; Nor do we madly, like an impious world, J.And if I must bewail ile blessing lost 11 ho deem religion plırenzy, and the Gol For which our Hampdens and our Sidneys That made them an intruder on their jose,
In scenes which having never known me free, While we retrace with memory's pointing Would not reproach me with the loss I felt.
wand, That calls the past to our exact review,
$ 46. Description of a Poet. Cowper. The dangers we have 'scap'd, the broken snare, The disappointed foe, deliv'rance found
I know the mind that feels indeed the fire Unlook' for, life preservd and peace restor'd,
The Muse imparts, and can command the lyre, l'ruits of omnipotent eternal love.
Acts with a force and kindles with a zeal, Oh evenings worthy of the gods ! exclaim'd
Whatc'er the theme, that others never feel. The Sabine bard. Oh, evenings ! I reply,
If human woes lier soft attention claim, More to be priz'd and coveted than yours,
A reuder sympaihy perrades the frame; As more illumind and with nobler truths,
She pours a sensibility divine
Vlong the nerve of ev'ry feeling line.
Fire indignation, and a sense of scorn, 845. Lil:crly rendots England preferable to | The strings are swept with such a pow'r, so other Nations, nutrithstanding Taies, &c.
Cowper. The storm of music shakes the astonishd 'Tis Liberty alone that gires the flow'r
crowd. Of Aceting life its lustre and perfume,
So when remote futurity is brought
Before the keen inquiry of her thought, And we are weeds without it. All constraint, Except what wisdom lays on cvil men,
A terrible sagacity informs Is evil, hurts the faculties, impedes
The poet's heart, he looks to distant storms, Their progress in the road of science; blinds
We hears the thunder ere the tempest low'rs, The eye-sight of discovery, and begets
| And, arm’d with sirength surpassing human In those that suffer it a sordid mind
pow'rs, Bestial, a meagre intellect, unfit
Seises events as yet unknown to man, To be the tenant of man's movile form.
And Jarts his soul into the dawning plan. Thee therefore, still, blame-worthy as thou art,
llence, in a Roman mouth, the graceful name
Of Prophet and of Poet was the same;
llence British poets too the priesthood shard, Fails for the craving hunger of the state,
lud ev'ry hallow'd Druid was a bard.
$ 47. Love Elegies. ByReplete with vapors, and disposes much
| Darkness extends her chon ray, And ihou hast need of discipline and art
While wide along the gloomy scene
Deep silence holds her solemn sway.
The savage race (so heaven decrees)
No longer through the forest rove;
All nature rests, and not a breeze
Aud heals all sadness but despair. ,