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Well fends our queen her mitred Bristol forth, For early counsels fam’d, and long-try'd worth ; Who, thirty rolling years, had oft withheld The Swede and Saxon from the dusty field; Completely form’d to heal the Christian wounds, To name the kings, and give each kingdom bounds; The face of ravag'd nature to repair, By leagues to soften earth, and heaven by prayer, To gain by love, where rage and slaughter fail, And make the crosier o'er the sword prevail.
So when great Mofes, with Jehovah's wand, Had scatter'd plagues o'er stubborn Pharaoh's land, Now spread an host of locusts round the shore, Now turn'd Nile's fattening streams to putrid gore; Plenty and gladness mark’d the priest of God, And sudden almonds Mot from Aaron's rod. O thou, from whom these bounteous blessings
flow, To whom, as chief, the hopes of peace we owe, (For next to thee, the man whom kings contend To stile companion, and to make their friend, Great Strafford, rich in every courtly grace, With joyful pride accepts the second place) From Britain's ille, and Isis' sacred spring, One kour, oh! listen while the Muses fing. Though ministers mighty monarchs wait, With beating hearts to learn their masters' fate, One hour forbear to speak thy queen's commands, Nor think the world, thy charge, neglected stands ;
The blissful prospects, in my verse display'd,
way, And more be hasten l by this mort delay.
ON THE PROSPECT OF PEACE.
THE haughty Gaul, in ten campaigns o'er
thrown, Now ceas'd to think the western world his own. Oft had he mourn'd his boasting leaders bound, And his proud bulwarks smoking on the ground: In vain with powers renewid he filld the plain, Made timorous vows, and brib'd the saints in vain ; As oft his legions did the fight decline, Lurk’d in the trench, and skulk'd behind the line. Before his eyes the fancied javelin gleams, At feasts he starts, and seems dethron'd in dreams; On glory past reflects with secret pain, On mines exhausted, and on inillions flain.
To Britain's Queen the fceptred suppliant bends, To her his crowns and infant race commends, Who grieves her fame with Christian blood to buy, Nor asks for glory at a price so high. At her decree, the war suspended stands, And Britain's heroes hold their lifted hands, Their open brows no threatening frowns disguise, But gentler passions sparkle in their eyes. The Gauls, who never in their courts could find Such temper'd fire with manly beauty join'd,
Doubt if they ’re those, whom dreadful to the view
Methinks I hear more friendly shouts rebound,
Ye generous fair, receive the brave with smiles,
See the fond wife, in tears of transport drown'd, Hugs her rough lord, and weeps o'er every wound,
Hangs on the lips that fields of blood relate,
Such dire achievements fings the bard, that tells
Our eager youth to distant nations run, To visit fields, their valiant fathers won; From Flandria's fore their country's fame they trace, Till far Germania shew's her blasted face. Th' exulting Briton asks his mournful guide, Where his hard fate the loft Bavaria try'd : Where Stepney gravid the stone to Anna's fame, He points to Blenheim, once a vulgar name; Here fled the Houshold, there did Tallard yield, Here Marlborough 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’d amidst the waves, a desperate throng, Crowds whelm'd on crowds dash'd wide the watery: bed, And drove the current to its diftant head,
As when hy Raphael's, or by Kneller's hands
Charm me, ye powers, with scenes less nobly bright,
Who was the man? Oblivion blast his name,
. Ah! curft ambition, to thy lures we owe All the great ills, that mortals bear below.