If fieges in his lab'ring thoughts are form'd,
Camps are affaulted, and an army storm'd;
If to the fight his active soul is bent,
The fate of Europe turns on its event.
What distant land, what region, can afford
An action worthy his victorious sword?
Where will he next the flying Gaul defeat,
To make the series of his toils complete?
Where the fwoln Rhine, rushing with all its force, Divides the hostile nations in its course,
While each contracts its bounds, or wider grows,
Enlarg'd or ftraiten'd as the river flows,
On Gallia's fide a mighty bulwark stands,
That all the wide-extended plain commands;
Twice, fince the war was kindled, has it try'd 385
The victor's rage, and twice has chang'd its fide;
As oft' whole armies, with a prize o'erjoy'd,
Have the long fummer on its walls employ'd.
Hither our mighty chief his arms directs,
Hence future triumphs from the war expects,
And, tho' the Dog-star had its course begun,
Carries his arms ftill nearer to the fun :
Fix'd on the glorious action, he forgets
The change of feasons 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 encamp within his native land,
But foon as the victorious hoft he spies,
From hill to hill, from fream to stream, he flies; 400
Such dire impreffions in his heart remain
Of Marlbro's fword and Hock ftet's fatal plain.
In vain Britannia's mighty chief befets
Their fhady coverts and obfcure retreats;
They fly the conqueror's approaching fame,
That bears the force of armies in his name.
Auftria's young monarch, whose imperial sway
Sceptres and thrones are destin'd to obey,
Whose boasted ancestry so high extends,
That in the Pagan gods his lineage ends,
Comes from afar, in gratitude to own
The great fupporter of his father's throne.
What tides of glory to his bofom ran,
Clafp'd in th' embraces of the godlike man!
How were his eyes with pleasing wonder fix'd, 415
To fee fuch fire with so much fweetness mix'd,
Such eafy greatness, fuch a graceful port,
So turn'd and finish'd for the camp or court!.
Achilles thus was form'd with ev'ry grace,
And Nireus fhone but in the fecond place;
Thus the great father of almighty Rome
(Divinely flush'd with an immortal bloom
That Cytherea's fragrant breath bestow'd)
In all the charms of his bright mother glow'd.
The royal youth by Marlbrô's prefence charm'd,425
Taught by his counfels, by his actions warm'd,
On Landau with redoubled fury falls,
Discharges all his thunder on its walls,
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 ufurping foes,
And blefs'd by rescu'd 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 Marlbro preffes to the bold attack,
Plants all his batt'ries, bids his cannon roar,
And shows how Landau might have fall'n before.
Scar'd at his near approach, great Louis fears
Vengeance referv'd for his declining years,
Forgets his thirst of universal sway,
And scarce can teach his fubjects to obey;
His arms he finds on vain attempts employ'd,
Th'ambitious projects for his race destroy'd,
The works of ages funk in one Campaign,
And lives of millions facrific'd in vain.
Such are th' effects of Anna's royal cares :
By her Britannia, great in foreign wars,
Ranges thro' nations, wherefoc'er disjoin'd,
Without the wonted aid of fea 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 thofe that lie
Beneath the conftant influence of her eye!
Whilst in diffufive fhow'rs her bounties fall
Like Heav'n's indulgence, and descend on all, 460 Secure the happy, fuccour the distress'd,
Make ev'ry fubject glad, and a whole people bless'd. Thus would I fain Britannia's wars rehearse,
In the fmooth records of a faithful verfe,
That, if fuch numbers can o'er time prevail,
May tell posterity the wondrous tale.
When actions, unadorn'd, are faint and weak,
Cities and countries must be taught to speak;
Gods may defcend in factions from the skies,
And rivers from their oozy beds arife;
Fiction may deck the truth with spurious rays,
And round the hero caft a borrow'd blaze:
Marlbro'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 'em truest praise 'em most. 476
LETTERA SCRITTA D'ITALIA,
DAL SIGNORE GIUSEPPE ADDISON, L'ANNO MDCCI.
E tradotta in verfi Tofcani *.
Salve magna parens frugum Saturnia tellus,
Magna virum! tibi res antiquae laudis et artis
Aggredior, fanétos aufus recludere fontes.
MENTRE, Signor, l'ombre villefche attragonvi,
E di Britannia dagli ufici toltovi
Non piu, ch' a fuoi ingrati figli placcia
Per lor vantaggio, vostro ozio immolate;
Me in efteri regni il fato invia
Entro genti feconde in carmi eterni,
U la dolce stagion, e'l vago clima
Fanno, che vostra quiete in verfi io turbi.
Ovunque io giri i miei rapiti lumi,
Scene auree, liete, e chiare vifte inalzanfi,
Attornianmi poetiche campagne,
Parmi ognor di calcar claffico fuolo;
By the Abbot Anton. Maria Salvini, Greek Profeffor at Florence.
|