The line and poles fhall own thy rightful sway,
And thy commands the fever'd globe obey.

Round the vast ball thy new dominions chain
The wat'ry kingdoms, and controul the main;
Magellan's ftreights to Gibraltar they join,
Across the feas a formidable line;

The fight of adverse Gaul we fear no more,
But pleas'd fee Dunkirk, now a guiltless shore.
In vain great Neptune tore the narrow ground,
And meant his waters for Britannia's bound;
Her giant Genius takes a mighty ftride,
And fets his foot beyond th' incroaching tide,
On either bank the land its mafter knows,
And in the midst the subject ocean flows.

So near proud Rhodes, across the raging flood,
Stupendous form! the vaft Coloffus ftood,
(While at one foot their thronging gallies ride,
A whole hour's fail scarce reach the farther fide)
Betwixt his brazen thighs, in loose array,
Ten thousand streamers on the billows play.

By Harley's counfels Dunkirk now restor❜d
To Britain's empire, owns her ancient lord.
In him transfus'd his godlike father reigns,
Rich in the blood which fwell'd that patriot's veins,
Who boldly faithful met his fov'reign's frown,
And fcorn'd for gold to yield th' important town.
His fon was born the ravish'd prey to claim,
And France ftill trembles at an Harley's name.

VOL. I.

B

A fort

Here fled the Houfhold, there did Tallard yield,
Here Malb'rough 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 amidft the waves, a defp'rate throng;
Crowds whelm'd on crowds dash'd wide the wat❜ry bed,
And drove the current to its diftant head.

As when by Raphael's, or by Kneller's hands
A warlike courfer on the canvas stands,

Such as on Landen bleeding Ormond bore,
Or fet young Ammon on the Granic shore;

If chance a gen'rous steed the work behold,
He fnorts, he neighs, he champs the foamy gold:
So, Hocftet feen, tumultuous paffions roll,

And hints of glory fire the Briton's foul;

In fancy'd fights he fees the troops engage,

And all the tempeft of the battle rage.

Charm me, ye pow'rs, with scenes lefs nobly bright, Far humbler thoughts th' inglorious muse delight, Content to fee the horrors of the field

By plough-fhares level'd, or in flow'rs conceal'd.
O'er shatter'd walls may creeping ivy twine,
And grafs luxuriant cloath the harmless mine,
Tame flocks afcend the breach without a wound,
Or crop the bastion, now a fruitful ground;
While fhepherds fleep, along the rampart laid,
Or pipe beneath the formidable fhade.

Who

Who was the man? (Oblivion blast his name,
Torn out and blotted from the list of fame!)
Who fond of lawless rule, and proudly brave,
Firft funk the filial fubject to a slave';

His neighbour's realms by friends un-kingly gain'd,
In guiltless blood the facred ermine ftain'd;

Laid schemes for death, to slaughter turn'd his heart,
And fitted murder to the rules of art.

Ah! curs'd ambition, to thy lures we owe
All the great ills, that mortals bear below.
Curs'd by the hind, when to the spoil he yields
His year's whole fweat, and vainly-ripen'd fields;
Curs'd by the maid, torn from her lover's fide,
When left a widow, though not yet a bride :
By mothers curs'd, when floods of tears they shed,
And scatter useless roses on the dead.

Oh facred Bristol! then what dangers prove
The arts, thou fmil'ft on with paternal love?
Then, mix'd with rubbish by the brutal foes,
In vain the marble breathes, the canvas glows;
To fhades obfcure the glitt'ring fword purfues
The gentle poet, and defenceless muse.

A voice, like thine alone, might then affwage
The warrior's fury, and controul his rage;
To hear thee fpeak might the fierce Vandal stand,
And fling the brandish'd fabre from his hand.

Far hence be driv'n to Scythia's stormy shore
The drum's harfh mufick, and the cannon's roar;

Let

Let grim Bellona haunt the lawless plain,
Where Tartar clans, and grifly Coffacks reign;
Let the fteel'd Turk be deaf to matrons' cries,
See virgins ravish'd with relentless eyes;

To death grey heads and fmiling infants doom,
Nor fpare the promise of the pregnant womb;
O'er wafted kingdoms spread his wide command,
The favage lord of an unpeopled land.
Her guiltless glory just Britannia draws

From pure religion, and impartial laws,
To Europe's wounds a mother's aid fhe brings,
And holds in equal scales the rival kings:
Her gen'rous fons in choicest gifts abound,
Alike in arms, alike in arts renown'd.

As when sweet Venus (fo the fable fings)
Awak'd by Nereids, from the Ocean springs;
With smiles she fees the threat'ning billows rife,
Spreads fmooth the furge, and clears the louring skies;
Light, o'er the deep, with flutt'ring Cupids crown'd,
The pearly couch and filver turtles bound;
Her treffes fhed ambrofial odours round.

Amidft the world of waves fo ftands ferene
Britannia's ifle, the Ocean's ftately queen;
In vain the nations have confpir'd her fall,
Her trench the fea, and fleets her floating wall;
Defenceless barks, her pow'rful navy near,

Have only waves and hurricanes to fear.

}

What

What bold invader, or what land opprefs'd
Hath not her anger quell'd, her aid redress'd?
Say, where have e'er her union-crosses fail'd,
But much her arms, her justice more prevail'd?
Her labours are to plead th' Almighty's caufe,
Her pride to teach th' untam❜d barbarian laws :
Who conquers, wins by brutal strength the prize;
But 'tis a godlike work to civilize.

Have we forgot how from great Ruffia's throne,
The king, whose pow'r half Europe's regions own,
Whose scepter waving, with one fhout rush forth
In fwarms the harness'd millions of the north;
Through realms of ice purfu'd his tedious way,
To court our friendship, and our fame furvey!
Hence the rich prize of useful arts he bore,
And round his empire spread the learned store,
(T' adorn old realms is more than new to raise,
His country's parent is a monarch's praife.)
His bands now march in just array to war,
And Cafpian gulphs unusual navies bear;
With Runic lays Smolensko's forests ring,
And wond'ring Volga hears the mufes fing.
Did not the painted kings of India greet
Our Queen, and lay their scepters at her feet?
Chiefs who full bowls of hoftile blood had quaff'd,
Fam'd for the javelin, and invenom'd shaft ;
Whofe haughty brows made favages adore,
Nor bow'd to lefs than ftars, or fun before:

Her