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"High favor'd man! for him unfolding fair
In orient light this native landscape smiles; For him sweet hope disarms the hand of Care, Exalts his pleasures, and his grief beguiles. "Blows not a blossom on the breast of Spring, Breathes not a gale along the bending mead, Trills not a songster of the soaring wing,
But fragrance, health and melody succeed. "O let me still with simple nature live,
My lowly field-flowers on her altar lay, Enjoy the blessings that she meant to give,
And calmly waste my inoffensive day! "No titled name, no envy-teasing dome, No glittering wealth my tutor'd wishes crave; So health and Peace be near my humble home, A cool-stream murmer, and a green tree wave. "So may the sweet Euterpe not disdain
At Eve's chaste hour her silver lyre to bring; The Muse of pity wake her soothing strain,
And tune to sympathy the trembling string. "Thus glide the pensive moments o'er the vale While Hoating shades of dusky night descend; Not left untold the lover's tender tale,
Nor unenjoy'd the heart-enlarging friend. "To love and friendship flow the social bowl!
To attic wit and elegance of mind; To all the native beauties of the soul,
The simple charms of truth, and sense refin'd! "Then to explore whatever antient sage
Studious from nature's early volume drew, To trace sweet Fiction through her golden age, And mark how fair the sun-flower, Science, blew!
"Haply to catch some spark of eastern fire, Hesperian fancy, or Aonian ease; Some melting note from Sappho's tender lyre, Some strain that Love and Phoebus taught to please.
"When waves the grey light o'er the mountain's
Then let me meet the morn's first beauteous ray: Carelessly wander from my sylvan shed,
And catch the sweet breath of the rising day, "Nor seldom, loit'ring as I muse along,
Mark from what flower the breese its sweetness bore;
Or listen to the labor-soothing scag
Of bees that range the thymny uplands o'er. "Slow let me climb the mountain's airy brow, The greenheight gain'd, in museful rapturelie, Sleep to the murmur of the woods below,
Or look on nature with a lover's eye. "Delightful hours! O, thus for ever flow;
Led by fair fancy round the varied year: So shall my breast with native raptures glow, Nor feel one pang from folly, pride, or fear. "Firm be my heart to Nature and to Truth,
Nor vainly wander from their dictates sage; So Joy shall triumph on the brows of youth, So hope shall smooth the dreary patlis of age.
OH! yet, ye dear, deluding visions, stay!
For you I'll cast these waking thoughts away, Fond hopes, of Innocence and Fancy born!
For one wild dream of life's romantic morn. Ah! no: the sunshine o'er each object spread
By flattering Hope, the flowers thatblewso fair; Like the gay gardens of Armida fled,
And vanish'd from the powerful rod of Care. So the poor pilgrim, who, in rapturous thought Plans his dear journey to Loretto's shrine, Seems on his way by guardian seraphs brought, Sees aiding angels favor his design.
Ambrosial blossoms, such of old as blew
By those fresh fonts on Eden's happy plain, And Sharon's roses all his passage strew:
So Fancy dreams; but Fancy's dreams are vaiu Wasted and weary on the mountain's side,
Or takes some ruthless robber for his guide, His way unknown, the hapless pilgrim lies,
And prone beneath his cruel sabre dies. Life's morning landscape gilt with orient light, Where Hope and Joy and Fancy hold their
reign, The grove's green wave, the blue stream sparkling bright, [wain: The blythe hours dancing round Hyperion's In radiant colors Youth's free hand portrays,
Nor thinks how soon the vernal grove decays, Then holds the flattering tablet to his eye;
Nor sees the dark cloud gathering o'er the sky. Hence Fancy, conquer'd by the dart of Pain,
And wandering far from her Platonic shade, Mourns o'er the ruins of her transient reign,
Nor unrepining sees her visions fade. Their parent banish'd, hence her children fly
Joy tears his wealth, and Hope inverts her eye, The fairy race that fill'd her festive train : And folly wonders that her dream was vain.
WHILE you, my Lord, the rural shades admire
And from Britannia's public posts retire,
Nor longer, her ungrateful sons to please,
For their advantage sacrifice your ease;
Through nations fruitful of immortal lays,
Me into foreign realms my fate conveys,
Where the soft season and inviting clime
Conspire to trouble your repose with rhyme.
For wheresoe'er I turn my ravish'd eyes,
Gay gilded scenes and shining prospects rise;
Poetic fields encompass me around,
And still I seem to tread on classic ground;
For here the Muse so oft her harp has strung,
That not a mountain rears its head unsung;
Renown'd in verse each shady thicket grows,
And ev'ry stream in heavenly numbers flows.
Where the old Romans deathless acts display'd
Their base degen'rate progeny upbraid;
Whole rivers here forsake the fields below,
And, wond'ring at their height, through airy
How am I pleas'd to search the hills and woods
For rising springs and celebrated floods!
To view the Nar, tumultuous in his course,
And trace the smooth Clitumnus to his source,
To see the Mincio draw his wat'ry store
Through the long windings of a fruitful shore,
And hoary Albula's infected tide
O'er the warm bed of smoking sulphur glide.
Fir'd with a thousand raptures I survey
Eridanus through flow'ry meadows stray,
The king of floods! that rolling o'er the plains,
The tow ring Alps of half their moisture drains,
And, proudly swoin with a whole winter's nows,
Distributes wealth and plenty were he flows.
Simetimes, misguided by the tuneful throng,
I look for streams immortaliz'd in song,
That lost in silence and in oblivion lie
(Dumb are their fountains, and their channels
Yet run for ever by the Muse's skill,
And in the smooth description marmur still.
Sometimes to gentle Tiber I retire,
And the fam'd river's empty shores admire,
That, destitute of strength, derives its course
From thrifty urns and an unfruitful source;
Yet, sung so often in poetic lays,
With scorn the Danube and the Nile surveys;
So high the deathless Muse exalts her theine!
Such was the Boyne, a poor inglorious stream
That in Hibernian vales obscurely stray'd,
And unobserv'd in wild meanders play'd,
Till, by your lines and Nassau's sword renown'd,
Its rising billows through the world resound;
Where'er the hero's godlike acts can pierce,
Or where the fame of an immortal verse.
Oh could the Muse my ravish'd breast inspireThe smiles of nature and the charms of art,
With warmth like yours, and raise an equal fire. While proud Oppression in her valleys reigns,
Unnumber'd beauties in my verse should shine, And Tyranny usurps her happy plains?
And Virgil's Italy should yield to mine! The poor inhabitant beholds in vain
See how the golden groves around me smile, The redd'ning orange and the swelling grain;
That shun the coast of Britain's stormy isle, Joyless he sees the growing oils and wines,
Or, when transplanted and preserv'd with care, And in the myrtle's fragrant shade repines;
Curse the cold clime, and starve in northern air. Starves, in the midst of nature's bounty curst,
Here kindly warmth their mountain juice fer-And in the loaded vineyard dies for thirst.
Oh Liberty, thou goddess heavenly bright,
Profuse of bliss, and pregnant with delight!
Eternal pleasures in thy presence reign,
And smiling Plenty leads the wanton train;
Eas'd of her load, Subjection grows more light,
And Poverty looks cheerful in thy sight;
Thou mak'st the gloomy face of Nature gay,
Giv'st beauty to the Sun, and pleasure to the Day.
Thee, goddess, thee Britannia's isle adores;
How has she oft exhausted all her stores,
How oft, in fields of death, thy presence sought,
Nor thinks the mighty prize too dearly bought!
On foreign mountains may the sun refine
The grape's soft juice, and mellow it to wine;
With citron groves adorn a distant soil,
And the fat olive swell with floods of oil;
We envy not the warmer clime, that lies
In ten degrees of more indulgent skies;
Nor at the coarseness of our heaven repine,
Tho'o'er our heads the frozen Pleiads shine:
To nobler tastes, and more exalted scents;
E'en the rough rocks with tender myrtle bloom,
And trodden weeds send out a rich perfume.
Bear me, some God, to Baia's gentle seats;
Or cover me in Umbria's green retreats;
Where western gales eternally reside,
And all the seasons lavish all their pride;
Blossoms and fruits, and flow'rs together rise,
And the whole year in gay confusion lies.
Immortal glories in my mind revive,
And in my soul a thousand passions strive,
When Rome's exalted beauties I descry
Magnificent in piles of ruin lie.
An amphitheatre's amazing height
Here fills my eye with terror and delight,
That on its public shows unpeopled Rome,
And held uncrowded nations in its womb;
Here pillars rough with sculpture pierce the skies;
And here the proud triumphal arches rise,
Still to new scenes my wand'ring Muse retires,
And the dumb show of breathing rocks admires;
Where the smooth chisel all its force has shown,
And soften'd into flesh the rugged stone.
In solemn silence, a majestic band,
Heroes, and gods, and Roman consuls, stand (
Stern tyrants, whom their cruelties renown,
And emperors, in Parian marble frown;
While the bright dames, to whom they humbly
Still show the charms that their proud hearts
Fain would I Raphael's godlike art rehearse, And show th immortal labors in my verse, Where from the mingled strength of shade and light,
A new creation rises to my sight;
Such heavenly figures from his pencil flow,
So warm with life his blended colors glow,
From theme to theme with secret pleasures tost,
Amidst the soft variety I'm lost.
Here pleasing airs my ravish'd soul confound
With circling notes and labyrinths of sound ;
Here domes and temples rise in distant views,
And op'ning palaces invite my Muse.
How has kind Heaven adorn'd the happy land,
And scatter'd blessings with a wasteful hand!
But what avail her unexhausted stores,
Her blooming mountains, and her sunny shores,
With all the gifts that heaven and earth impart,
'Tis Liberty that crowns Britannia's isle,
And makes her barren rocks and her bleak
Others with tow'ring piles may please the sight,
And in their proud aspiring domes delight;
A nicer touch to the stretch'd canvas give,
Or teach their animated rocks to live;
'Tis Britain's care to watch o'er Europe's fate,
And hold in balance each contending state;
To threaten bold presumptuous kings with war,
And answer her afflicted neghbour's pray'r.
The Dane and Swede, rous'd up by fierce alarms,
Bless the wise conduct of her pious arms;
Soon as her fleets appear, their terrors cease,
And all the northern world lies hush'd in peace.
Th'ambitious Gaul beholds, with secret dread,
Her thunder aim'd at his aspiring head,
And fain her godlike sons would disunite
By foreign gold, or by domestic spite;
But strives in vain to conquer or divide,
Whom Nassau's arms defend and counsels guide.
Fir'd with the name which I so oft have found
The distant climes and different tongues resound,
I bridle in my struggling Muse with pain,
That longs to launch into a bolder strain.
But I've already troubled you too long,
Nor dare attempt a more advent rous song.
My humble verse demands a softer theme,
A painted meadow, or a purling stream;
Unfit for heroes; whom immortal lays,
And lines like Virgil's or like yours, should praise.
-Rheni pacator et Istri
"Omnis in hoc uno variis discordia cessit
R Ordinibus; laetatur eques, plauditque senator,
Votaque patricio certant plebeia favori."
Claud. de Laud. Stilic.
$40. The Campaign.
To his Grace the Duke of Marlborough. 1705. Britannia's colors in the zephyrs fly;
Her chief already has his march begun,
Crossing the provinces himself had won, ›.
Till the Moselle, appearing from afar,
of the moving war.
Delightful stream, had nature bid her fall
In distant climes far from the perjur'd Gaul;
But now a purchase to the sword she lies,
*Esse aliquam in terris gentem que sua impensa,
suo labore ac periculo, bella gerat pro libertate
❝aliorum. Nec hoc finitimis, aut propinquæ vici-Her harvests for uncertain owners rise,
nitatis hominibus, aut terris continenti junctis
præstet. Maria trajiciat: ne quod toto orbe ter-
“rarum injustum imperium sit, et ubique jus, fas,
"lex, potentissima sint.”
Liv. Hist. lib. 33.
WHILE crowds of princes your deserts
Proud in their number to enrol your name;
While emperors to you commit their cause,
And Anna's praises crown the vast applause:
Accept, great leader, what the Muse recites,
That in ambitious verse attempts your fights.
Fir'd and transported with a theme so new,
Ten thousand wonders op'ning to my view
Shine forth at once; sieges and storms appear,
And wars and conquests fill the important year;
Rivers of blood I see, and hills of slain,
An Iliad rising out of one campaign.
The haughty Gaul beheld, with tow'ring pride,
His antient bounds enlarg'd on ev'ry side;
Pyrene's lofty barriers were subdued,
And in the midst of his wide empire stood;
Ausonia's states, the victor to restrain,
Oppos'd their Alps and Appenines in vain,
Nor found themselves, with strength of rocks
Behind their everlasting hills secar'd ;
The rising Danube its long race began,
And half its course thro' the new conquests ran;
Amaz'd, and anxious for her sov'reigns' fates,
Germania trembled through a hundred states,
Great Leopold himself was seis'd with fear;
He gaz'd around, but saw no succour near;
He gaz'd, and half abandon'd to despair
His hopes on Heaven, and confidence in pray'r.
To Britain's queen the nations turn their eyes;
On her resolves the western world relies;
Confiding still, amidst its dire alarms,
In Anna's councils, and in Churchill's arms.
Thrice happy Britain, from the kingdoms rent,
To fit the guardian of the continent!
That sees her bravest son advanc'd so high,
And flourishing so near her prince's eye;
Thy fav rites grow not up by fortune's sport,
Or from the crimes or follies of a court
On the firm basis of desert they rise,
From long tried faith, and friendship's holy ties :
Their sovereign's well-distinguished smiles they
Her ornaments in peace, her strength in war;
The nation thanks them with a public voice;
By show'rs of blessings Heaven approves their
Envy itself is dumb, in wonder lost, [choice;
And factions strive who shall applaud them most.
Soon as soft vernal breezes warm the sky;
Each vineyard doubtful of its master grows,
And to the victor's bowl each vintage flows.
The discontented shades of slaughter'd hosts
That wander'd on the banks, her heroes ghosts,
Hop'd when they saw Britannia's arms appear,
pro-The vengeance due to their great death was near.
Our Godlike leader, ere the stream hic pass'd,
The mighty scheine of all his labors cast.
Forming the wondrous year within his thought,
His bosom glow'd with battles yet unfought.
The long laborious march he first surveys,
And joins the distant Danube to the Maese;
Between whose floods such pathless forests grow,
Such mountains rise, so many rivers flow;
The toil looks lovely in the hero's eyes,
And danger scrves but to enhance the prize.
Big with the fate of Europe, he renews
His dreadful course, and the proud foe pursues!
Infected by the burning scorpion's heat,
The sultry gales round his claf'd temples beat,
Till on the borders of the Maine he finds
Defensive shadows, and refreshing winds.
A a 2
Our British youth, with in-born freedom bold,
Unnumber'd scenes of servitude behold,
Nations of slaves, with tyranny debas'd,
(Their Maker's image more than half defac'd)
Hourly instructed, as they urge their toil,
To prize their Queen, and love their native soil.
Still to the rising sun they take their way
Thro' clouds of dust, and gain upon the day.
When now the Neckar on its friendly coast
With cooling streams revives the fainting host,
That cheerfully his labors past forgets,
The mid-night watches,and the noon-day heats.
O'er prostrate towns and palaces they pass
(Now cover'd o'er with woods, and hid in grass)
Breathing revenge; whilst anger and disdain
Fire ev'ry breast, and boil in ev'ry vein.
Here shatter'd walls, like broken rocks, from far
Rise up in hideous view, the guilt of war;
Whilst here the vine o'er hills of ruins climbs,
Industrious to conceal great Bourbon's crimes.
At length the fame of England's hero drew
Eugenio to the glorious interview.
Great souls by instinct to each other turn,
Demand alliance, and in friendship burn; [rays
A sudden friendship, while with stretch'd-out
They meet each other, mingling blaze with blaze.
Polish'd in courts, and harden'd in the field,
Renown'd for conquest, and in council skill'd,
Their courage dwells not in a troubled flood
Of mounting spirits, and fermenting blood;
Lodg'd in the soul, with virtue over-rul'd;
Inflam'd by reason, and by reason cool'd;
In hours of peace content to be unknown,
And only in the field of battle shown :
To souls like these, in mutual friendship join'd,
Heaven dares intrust the cause of human kind.
Thick'ning their ranks, and wedg'd in firm array
The close compacted Britons win their way;
In vain the cannon their throng'd war defac'd
With tracks of death, and laid the battle waste:
Still pressing forward to the fight, they broke
Thro' flames of sulphur and a night of smoke,
Till slaughter'd legions fill'd the trench below,
And bore their fierce avengers to the foe.
High on the works the mingling hosts engage,
The battle, kindled into ten-fold rage,
With show'rs of bullets, and with storms of fire,
Burns in full fury; heaps on heaps expire;
Nations with nations mix'd confus'dly die,
And lost in one promiscuous carnage lie.
How many gen'rous Britons meet their doom,
New to the field, and heroes in their bloom!
Th' illustrious youths, that left their native shore
To march where Britons never march'd before
(Oh fatal love of fame! oh glorious heat,
Only destructive to the brave and great!)
After such toils o'ercome, such dangers past,
Stretch'd on Bavarian ramparts, breathe their last.
But hold, my Muse, may no complaints appear,
Nor blot the day with an ungrateful tear:
While Marlb'ro' lives, Britannia's stars dispense
A friendly light, and shine in innocence:
Plunging through seas of blood his fiery steed
Where'er his friends retire, or foes succeed;
Those he supports, these drives to sudden flight;
And turns the various fortune of the fight.
Britannia's graceful sons appear in arms,
Her harass'd troops the hero's presence warms;
Whilst the high hills and rivers all around
With thund'ring peals of British shouts resound:
Doubling their speed, they march with fresh
Eager for glory, and require the fight.
So the staunch hound the trembling deer pur-
And smells his footsteps in the tainted dews,
The tedious track unrav'lling by degrees:
But when the scent comes warm in ev'ry breeze,
Fir'd at the near approach, he shoots away
On his full stretch, and bears upon his prey.
The march concludes, the various realms are
Th'immortal Schellenberg appears at last: [past;
Like hills th' aspiring ramparts rise on high,
Like valleys at their feet the trenches lie;
Batt'ries on batt'ries guard each fatal pass,
Threat'ning destruction; rows of hollow brass,
Tube behind tube, the dreadful entrance keep,
Whilst in their wombs ten thousand thunders
Great Churchill owns, charm'd with the glorious
His march o'erpaid by such a promis'd fight.
The western sun now shot a feeble ray,
And faintly scatter'd the remains of day:
Ev'ning approach'd; but oh what hosts of foes
Were never to behold that ev'ning close!
Forbear, great man, renown'd in arms, forbear
To brave the thickest terrors of the war;
Nor hazard thus, confus'd in crowds of foes,
Britannia's safety, and the world's repose;
Let nations, anxious for thy life, abate
This scorn of danger and contempt of fate :
Thou liv'st not for thyself, thy Queen demands
Conquest and peace from thy victorious hands;
Kingdoms and empires in thy fortune join,
And Europe's destiny depends on thine:
At length the long-disputed pass they gain,
By crowded armies fortified in vain;
The war breaks in, the fierce Bavarians yield,
And see their camp with British legions fill'd.
So Belgian mounds bear on their shatter'd sides
The sea's whole weight, increas'd with swelling
But if the rushing wave a passage finds, [tides;
Enrag'd by wat'ry moons, and warring winds,
The trembling peasant sees his country round
Cover'd with tempests, and in oceans drown'd.
The few surviving foes dispers'd in flight
(Refuse of swords and gleanings of a fight)
In ev'ry rustling wind the victor hear,
And Marlborough's form in ev'ry shadow fear,
Till the dark cope of night with kind embrace
Befriends the rout, and covers their disgrace.
To Donavert, with unresisted force,
The gay victorious army bends its course.
The growth of meadows, and the pride of fields,
Whatever spoils Bavaria's summer yields
(The Danube's great increase) Britannia shares,
The food of armies and support of wars:
With magazines of death, destructive balls,
And cannon doom'd to batter Landau's walls;
The victor finds each hidden cavern stor'd,
And turns their fury on their guilty lord.
Deluded prince! how is thy greatness cross'd,
And all the gaudy dream of empire lost,
That proudly set thee on a fancied throne,
And made imaginary realms thy own!
Thy troops, that now behind the Danube join,
Shall shortly seck for shelter from the Rhine,
Nor find it there! Surrounded with alarms;
Thou hop'st th' assistance of the Gallic arms;
The Gallicarms in safety shall advance, [France;
And crowd thy standards with the pow'r of
While, to exalt thy doom, th' aspiring Gaul
Shares thy destruction, and adorns thy fall.
Unbounded courage and compassion join'd,
Temp'ring each other in the victor's mind,
Alternately proclaim him good and great,
And make the hero and the Man complete.
Long did he strive th' obdurate foe to gain
By proffer'd grace, but long he strove in vain;
Till, fir'd at length, he thinks it vain to spare
His rising wrath, and gives a loose to war.
In vengeance rous'd, the soldier fills his hand
With sword and fire, and ravages the land;
A thousand villages to ashes turns,
In crackling flames a thousand harvests burns.
To the thick woods the woolly flocks retreat,
And mix'd with bellowing herds confus'dly bleat,
Their trembling lords the common shade partake,
And cries of infants sound in ev'ry brake:
The list ning soldier fix'd in sorrow stands,
Loth to obey his leader's just commands;
The leader grieves, by gen'rous pity sway'd,
To see his just commands so well obey'd.
But now the trumpet, terrible from far, In shriller clangors animates the war; Confed'rate drums in fuller concert beat, And echoing hills the loud alarm repeat: Gallia's proud standards, in Bavaria's join'd, Unfurl their gilded lilies in the wind; The daring prince his blasted hopes renews, And, while the thick embattled host he views Stretch'd out in deep array, and dreadful length, His heart dilates, and glories in his strength.
The fatal day its mighty course began, That the griev'd world had long desir'd in vain; States that their new captivity bemoan'd, Armies of martyrs that in exile groan'd, Sighs from the depth of gloomy dungeons heard, And pray'rs in bitterness of soul preferr'd, Europe's loud cries, that Providence assail'd, And Anna's ardent vows, at length prevail'd: The day was come when Heav'n design'd to show His care and conduct of the world below.
Though feus and floods possess the middle space; That unprovok'd they would have fear'd to pass, Nor fens nor floods can stop Britannia's bands, Whenier proud foe rang'd on their borders stands.
Butoh, my Muse, what numbers wilt thou find To sing the furious troops in battle join'd! Methinks I hear the drums tumultuous sound The victor's shouts and dying groans confound, The dreadful burst of cannon rend the skies, And all the thunder of the battle rise. [prov'd, "Twas then great Marlb'ro's mighty soul was That, in the shock of charging hosts unmov'd, Amidst confusion, horror, and despair, Examin'd all the dreadful scenes of war: In peaceful thought the field of death survey'd, To fainting squadrons sent the timely aid, Inspir'd repuls'd battalions to engage, And taught the doubtful battle where to rages So when an angel by divine command With rising tempests shakes a guilty land, Such as of late o'er pale Britannia pass'd, Calm and serene he drives the furious blast; And, pleas'd th' Almighty's orders to perform, Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm.
Behold in awful march and dread array The long extended squadrons shape their way! Death, in approaching terrible, imparts An anxious horror to the bravest hearts; Yet do their beating breasts demand the strife, And thirst of glory quells the love of life. No vulgar fears can British minds control: Heat of revenge and noble pride of soul O'erlook'd the foe, advantag'd by his post, Lessen his numbers, and contract his host;
But see the haughty household-troops advance! The dread of Europe, and the pride of France The war's whole art cach private soldier knows, And with a general's love of conquest glows; Proudly he marches on, and void of fear Laughs at the shaking of the British spear: Vain insolence! with native freedom brave, The meanest Briton scorns the highest slave; Contempt and fury fire their souls by turns, Each nation's glory in each warrior burns; Each fights, as in his arm th' important day And all the fate of his great monarch lay : A thousand glorious actions, that might claim Triumphant laurels, and immortal fame, Confus'd in crowds of glorious actions lie, And troops of heroes undistinguished die. O Dormer, how can I behold thy fate, And not the wonders of thy youth relate! How can I see the gay, the brave, the young, Fall in the cloud of war, and lie unsung! In joys of conquest he resigns his breath, And, fill'd with England's glory, smiles in death; The rout begins, the Gallic squadrons run ; Compell'd in crowds to meet the fate they shun, Thousands of fiery steeds with wounds transfix'd, Floating in gore, with their dead masters mix'd, Midstheaps of spears and standards driv'n around, Lie in the Danube's bloody whirlpools drown'd. Troops of bold youths, born on the distant Soane, Or sounding borders of the rapid Rhone, Or where the Seine her flow'ry fields divides, Or where the Loire thro' winding vineyardsglides, In heaps the rolling billows sweep away, [vey. And into Scythian seas their bloated corps conFrom Blenheim's tow'rs, the Gaul with wild Beholds the various havoc of the fight; [affright His waving banners, that so oft had stood Planted in fields of death and streams of blood, So wont the guarded enemy to reach, And rise triumphant in the fatal breach, A a 3