Who does our Homage for our Good require ;
And Orders that which We fhould firft Defire:
Our vanquifh'd Wills that pleafing Force obey:
Her Goodness takes our Liberty away:

And haughty BRITAIN yields to Arbitrary Sway.

Let the young AUSTRIAN then Her Terrors bear, Great as He is, Her Delegate in War:

Let Him in Thunder fpeak to both his SPAINS,
That in thefe Dreadful Ifles a Woman Reigns.
While the Bright Queen does on Her Subjects fhow'r
The gentle Bleffings of Her fofter Pow'r ;
Gives facred Morals to a vicious Age,

To Temples Zeal, and Manners to the Stage;
Bids the chafte Mufe without a Blush appear,
And Wit be that which Heav'n and She may hear.

MINERVA thus to PERSEUS lent Her Shield;
Secure of Conqueft, fent Him to the Field:
The Hero acted what the Queen ordain'd:

}

So was His Fame compleat, and ANDROMEDE unchain'd.

Mean time amidst Her Native Temples fate
The Goddess, ftudious of Her GRECIAN's Fate;
Taught 'em in Laws and Letters to excell,
In Acting justly, and in Writing well.

Thus whilft She did Her various Pow'r difpofe,

The World was freed from Tyrants, Wars, and Woes: Virtue was taught in Verfe, and ATHENS' Glory rofe.

A

Monfieur Boileau Defpreaux;

Mh. Occasion'd by the finest

VICTORY at BLENHEIM,

1704.

Cupidum, Pater optime, vires
Deficiunt: neque enim Quivis horrentia Pilis
Agmina, nec Fractâ pereuntes cufpide Gallos

Hor. Sat. 1. L. 2.

INCE hir'd for Life, thy Servile Muse muft fing

Succeffive Conquests, and a glorious

King;

Muft of a Man Immortal vainly boaft;
And bring him Lawrels, whatfoc'er
they cost:

What Turn wilt Thou employ, what Colours lay
On the Event of that Superior Day,

In which one ENGLISH Subject's profp'rous Hand
(So Jove did will; fo ANNA did command :)

Broke

Broke the proud Column of thy Mafter's Praife,
Which fixty Winters had confpir'd to raise?

From the loft Field a hundred Standards brought
Muft be the Work of Chance, and Fortune's Fault:
BAVARIA'S Stars must be accus'd, which fhone,
That fatal Day the mighty Work was done,
With Rays obliquè upon the GALLIC Sun.
Some DÆMON envying FRANCE mif-led the Fight:
And MARS miftook, tho' Louis order'd right.

When thy* young Mufe invok'd the tuneful Nine,
To say how Louis did not pass the RHINE,
What Work had We with WAGENINGHEN, Arnheim,
Places that could not be reduc'd to Rhime?

And tho' the Poet made his laft Efforts,
WURTS

who could mention in Heroic WURTS?
But, tell me, haft thou reason to complain
Of the rough Triumphs of the last Campaign?
The DANUBE refcu'd, and the Empire fav'd,'
Say, is the Majesty of Verse retriev'd?
And would it prejudice thy fofter vein,
To fing the Princes, Louis and EUGENE?

Is it too hard in happy Verse to place

The VANS and VANDERS of the RHINE and MAES?

Her Warriors ANNA fends from TWEED and THAMES,

That FRANCE may fall by more harmonious Names. Can't thou not HAMILTON or LUMLY bear?

Would INGOLDSBY or PALMES offend thy Ear?

* Epiftre 4. du Sr. Boileau Dépreaux au Roy.

En vain, pour Te Ložer, &c.

And

And is there not a Sound in MARLBRO's Name,
Which Thou and all thy Brethren ought to claim,
Sacred to Verfe, and fure of endless Fame?

}

CUTTS is in Meeter fomething harfh to read: Place me the Valiant GOURA M in his ftead: Let the Intention make the Number good: Let generous SYLVIUS fpeak for honeft WOOD. And tho' rough CHURCHILL fcarce in Verfe will stand, So as to have one Rhime at his Command; With Eafe the Bard reciting BLENHEIM'S Plain, May close the Verfe, rememb'ring but the DANE.

I grant, old Friend, old Foe (for fuch We are Alternate, as the Chance of Peace and War) for f

Who let their Fancy loofe in rambling Profe.,

bad

For Inftance now, how hard it is for Meg air! To make my Matter and my Verfe agree?

In one great Day on HOCHSTET's fatal Plain Y FRENCH and BAVARIANS twenty thousand flains voli Push'd thro' the DANUBE to the Shoars of STYX

Squadrons eighteen, Battalions twenty fix:

Officers Captive made and private Men,

Of these twelve hundreds of those thousands ténovoquer'i Tents, Ammunition, Colours, Carriages,

Cannons, and Kettle-Drumsfweet Numbers thefe.

Bbb

But

But is it thus You ENGLISH Bards compofe?
With RUNICK Lays thus tag infipid Profe?

And when you should your Heroes Deeds rehearse,
Give us a Commiffary's Lift in Verfe?

Why Faith, DEPREAUX, there's Senfe in what You fay: I told you where my Difficulty lay:

So vast, so numerous were great BLENHEIM's Spoils,
They scorn the Bounds of Verfe, and mock the Mufe's
To make the rough Recital aptly chime,
[Toils.

Or bring the Sum of GALLIA's Lofs to Rhime,

'Tis mighty hard: What Poet would effay

To count the Streamers of my Lord Mayor's Day?

To number all the feveral Dishes dreft

By honeft LAMB, laft Coronation Feast?

Or make Arithmetic and Epic meet ;

And NEWTON's Thoughts in DRYDEN'S Stile repeat?

O Poet, had it been APOLLO's Will, That I had fhar'd a Portion of thy Skill;

Had this poor Breaft receiv'd the Heav'nly Beam ;
Or could I hope my Verfe might reach my Theam;
Yet, BOILEAU, yet the lab'ring Mufe fhould ftrive,
Beneath the Shades of MARLBRO's Wreaths to live:
Should call aspiring Gods to bless her Choice;
And to their Fav'rites Strain exalt her Voice,
Arms and a Queen to Sing; Who, Great and Good,
From peaceful THAMES to DANUBE's wond'ring Flood
Sent forth the Terror of her high Commands,
To fave the Nations from invading Hands,

To