 | The Poems of Ambrose Philips |  |
No longer now shall France and Spain combin'd,
Strong in their golden Indies, awe mankind.
Brave Catalans, who for your freedom strive,
And in your shatter'd bulwarks yet survive,
For you alone, worthy a better fate,
O, may this happy change not come too late!
Great in your sufferings!—But, my muse, forbear;
Nor damp the publick gladness with a Tear:
The Hero has receiv'd their just complaint,
Grac'd with the name of our fam'd patron-saint:
Like him, with pleasure he foregoes his rest,
And longs, like him, to succour the distress'd.
Firm to his friends, tenacious of his word,
As justice calls, he draws or sheaths the sword:
Matur'd by thought his councils shall prevail;
Nor shall his promise to his people fail.
Strong in their golden Indies, awe mankind.
Brave Catalans, who for your freedom strive,
And in your shatter'd bulwarks yet survive,
94
O, may this happy change not come too late!
Great in your sufferings!—But, my muse, forbear;
Nor damp the publick gladness with a Tear:
The Hero has receiv'd their just complaint,
Grac'd with the name of our fam'd patron-saint:
Like him, with pleasure he foregoes his rest,
And longs, like him, to succour the distress'd.
Firm to his friends, tenacious of his word,
As justice calls, he draws or sheaths the sword:
Matur'd by thought his councils shall prevail;
Nor shall his promise to his people fail.
He comes, desire of Nations! England's boast!
Already has he reach'd the Belgian coast.
Our great deliverer comes! and with him brings
A progeny of late-succeeding Kings,
Fated to triumph o'er Britannia's foes
In distant years, and fix the world's repose.
Already has he reach'd the Belgian coast.
Our great deliverer comes! and with him brings
A progeny of late-succeeding Kings,
Fated to triumph o'er Britannia's foes
In distant years, and fix the world's repose.
| The Poems of Ambrose Philips | |