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If to the foe his dreadful course he bends,
O'er the wide continent his march extends;
If fieges in his labouring thoughts are form'de
Camps are assaulted, and an army stormd.;
If to the fight his active soul is bent,
The fate of Europe turns on its event.
What diftant land, what iegion, can afford
An action worthy his victorious sword ?
Where will he next the flying Gaul defeat,
To make the series of his toils compleat?

Where the swoln Rhine rushing with all its force
Divides the hostile nations in its course,
While each contracts its bounds, or wider grows,
Enlarg’d or straiten'd as the river flows,

On Gallia's fide a mighty bulwark ftands,
That all the wide-extended, plain commands ;
Twice, since the war was kindled, has it try'd

The victor's rage, and twice has chang'd its fide; ...As oft whole armies, with the prize o’erjoy'd,

Have the long summer on its walls, employd.
Hither our mighty chief his arms directs,
Hence future triumphs from the war expects ;
And though the dog-star had its course begun,
Carries his arms still nearer to the fun :
Fixt on the glorious action, he forgets
The change of seasons, and increase of heats;
No toils are painful that can danger Show,
No climes unlovely, that contain a foe.

The roving Gaul, to his own bounds restrain'd, Learns to incamp within his native land,

But

But soon as the victorious hoft he fpies,
From hill to hill, from stream to stream he flies :
Such dire impressions in his heart remain
Of Marlborough's sword, and Hochftet's fatal plain :
In vain Britannia's mighty chief besets
Their shady coverts, and obscure retreats ;
They fly the conqueror's approaching fame,
That bears the force of armies in his name,

Austria's young monarch, whose imperial sway
Sceptres and thrones are destin'd to obey,
Whofe boafted ancestry so high extends
That in the pagan gods his lineage ends,
Comes from afar, in gratitude to own
The great supporter of his father's throne :
What tides of glory to his bosom ran,
Clasp'd in th' embraces of the godlike mant
How were his

eyes with pleasing wonder fixt
To see such fire with so much sweetness mixt,
Such easy greatness, such a graceful port,
So turn’d and finish'd for the camp or court!

Achilles thus was form'd with every grace,
And Nireus shone but in the second place;
Thus the great father of almighty Rome
(Divinely flusht with an immortal bloorn
That Cytherea's fragrant breath bestow'd)
In all the charms of his bright mother glow'd.

The royal youth hy Marlborough's presence charmd,
Taught by his counsels, by his actions warmd,
On Landau with redonbled fury falls,
Discharges all his thunder on its walls,

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O`er

O’er mines and caves of death provokes the fight, And learns to conquer in the hero's fight.

The British chief, for mighty toils renown'd,
Increas'd in titles, and with conquests crown'd,
To Belgian coasts his tedious march renews,
And the long windings of the Rhine pursues,
Clearing its borders from usurping foes,
And bleft by rescued nations as he goes.
Treves fears no more, freed from its dire alarms;
And Traerbach feels the terror of his arms :
Seated on rocks her proud foundations shake,
While Marlborough presses to the bold attack,
Plants all his batteries, bids his cannon roar,
And shows how Landau might have fall’n before.
Scar'd at his near approach, great Louis fears
Vengeance reserv'd for his declining years,
Forgets his thirst of universal fway,
And scarce can teach his subjects to obey ;
His arms he finds on vain attempts employ'd,
Th' ambitious projects for his race destroy'd,
The works of ages sunk in one campaign,
And lives of millions sacrific'd in vain.

Such are th' effects of Anna's royal cares ;
By her, Britannia, great in foreign wars,
Ranges through nations, wherefoe'er disjoin'd,
Without the wonted aid of sea and wind.
By her th' unfetter'd Ifter's states are free,
And taste the sweets of English liberty :
But who can tell the joys of those that lie
Beneath the constant influence of her eye !

Whilst in diffusive showers her bounties fall
Like heaven's indulgence, and descend on all,
Secure the happy, succour the distrest,
Make every subject glad, and a whole people bleft.

Thus would I fain Britannia's wars' rehearse,
In the smooth records of a faithful verse;
That, if such numbers can o'er time prevail,
May tell pofterity the wondrous tale,
When actions, unadorn'd, are faint and weak,
Cities and countries must be taught to speak;
Gods may defcend in factions froin the skies,
And rivers from their oozy beds arise ;
Fiction

may

deck the truth with spurious rays, And round the hero cast a borrow'd blaze, Marlborough's exploits appear divinely bright, And proudly shine in their own native light; Rais'd of themselves, their genuine charms they boast, And those who paint them truest praise them most.

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COWLEY'S EPITAPH ON HIMSEL!

TRANSLATED BY MR. ADDISON.

FROM
"ROM life's superfluous cares enlarg’d,

His debt of human toil discharg'd,
Here Cowley lies ! beneath this shed,
To every worldly interest dead;
With decent poverty content,
His hours of ease not idly spent;
To fortune's goods a foe profest,
And hating wealth by all carest.
'Tis true he's dead ; for oh! how small
A spot of earth is now his all:
Oh! wish that earth may lightly lay,
And every care be far away ;
Bring flowers; the short-liv'd roses bring,
To life deceas'd, fit offering :
And sweets around the poet strow,
Whilft

yet

with life his ashes glow.

POEMAT

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