With hizzing ftreams of fire the air they ftreak, Thus Etna, when in fierce eruptions broke, And ftrows the Afiatic fhore with duft. Now does the failor from the neighb'ring main Look after Gallic towns and forts in vain ; No more his wonted marks he can descry, Whilft, pointing to the naked coaft, he shows His wondring mates where towns and steeples rose, And fingles out the place where once St. Maloes stood. Amidst a thousand ships, and made all Greece retire. But who can run the British triumphs o'er, And count the flames difperft on ev'ry shore? Who can defcribe the scatter'd victory, And draw the reader on from fea to fea? Elfe who cou'd Ormond's God-like acts refufe, Through all the noise and hurry of the fight, And blaft the counfels of the common foe; Direct our armies, and diftribute right, And render our MARIA's lofs more light. But ftop, my Muse, 'th ungrateful found forbear, MARIA MARIA fill our rifing mirth destroys, Darkens our triumphs, and forbids our joys: But fee, at length, the British ships appear! Our NASSAU comes! and as his fleet draws near, The rifing mafts advance, the fails grow white, And all his pompous navy floats in fight. Come, mighty Prince, defir'd of Britain, come! May heav'n's propitious gales attend thee home! Come, and let longing crowds behold that look, Which fuch confufion and amazement ftrook Through Gallic hofts: but, oh! let us descry Mirth in thy brow, and pleasure in thy eye; Let nothing dreadful in thy face be found, But for a-while forget the trumpet's found; Well pleas'd, thy people's loyalty approve, Accept their duty, and enjoy their love. For as when lately mov'd with fierce delight, You plung'd amidst the tumult of the fight, Whole heaps of dead encompafs'd you around, And steeds o'er-turn'd lay foaming on the ground; So crown'd with laurels now, where-e'er you go, Around you blooming joys, and peaceful bleflings flow. A Tran E A Tranflation of all VIRGIL's Fourth Georgic, Except the Story of ARISTE US. Thereal fweets shall next my Mufe engage, And this, Mæcenas, claims your patronage, Of little creatures wondrous acts I treat, Join in the piece, and make the work divine. That's fenc'd about, and fhelter'd from the wind; } The fwarms, when loaded homeward, from their hive. Nor fheep, nor goats, must pasture near their stores, To trample under foot the fpringing flowers; Nor frifking heifers bound about the place, To fpurn the dew-drops off, and bruife the rifing grafs; Nor wood-pecks, nor the swallow harbour near. Convey the tender morfels to their young. Let Let purling ftreams, and fountains edg'd with mofs, Whether the neighb'ring water ftands or runs, A narrow inlet to their cells contrive; For colds congeal and freeze the liquors up, And, melted down with heat, the waxen buildings drop, Their wax around the whiftling crannies spread, For |