Poems on Several Occasions With Imitations from Horace, Ovid, Martial, Theocritus, Bachylides, Anacreon, &c. To which is prefix'd A Discourse on Criticism, and the Liberty of Writing. In a letter to a Friend. By Samuel Cobb ... The Third Edition. To which is added, Poems on the Duke of Marlborough, Prince Eugene, the Electoral Prince of Hannover, with other Poems. Never before Printed |
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VIGOVIA.
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 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
44
VIGOVIA.
A Poem.
Occasion'd by the Success of Her Majesty's Forces by Sea and Land, under the Command of the Duke of ORMOND, General, and Sir George Rook, Admiral.
To Her MAJESTY.
DREAD MADAM,
On whose Royal Ensigns wait
Auspicious Glory, and designing Fate:
To whom Success and Victory repair,
Kind to the Great, and constant to the Fair:
Whose Name around the Continent is blown,
And spreads a Terrour o'er the Gallick Throne:
Whose Thunder o'er the shaken West prevails,
Whose Charms can conquer, where Thy Thunder fails.
Auspicious Glory, and designing Fate:
To whom Success and Victory repair,
Kind to the Great, and constant to the Fair:
Whose Name around the Continent is blown,
And spreads a Terrour o'er the Gallick Throne:
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Whose Charms can conquer, where Thy Thunder fails.
Lo! from the opening Womb of Time appears
A long Procession of Saturnian Years.
New Scenes advance; a new Platonic Train
Of Mighty Months rowl on to bless Thy Reign.
So chang'd is Fate, since when th' unwearied Sun
Twice fifty Times his Annual Stage has run.
Since when that Mistress from our Hearts it tore
Who curb'd the Proud, and shook th' Iberian Shore.
A long Procession of Saturnian Years.
New Scenes advance; a new Platonic Train
Of Mighty Months rowl on to bless Thy Reign.
So chang'd is Fate, since when th' unwearied Sun
Twice fifty Times his Annual Stage has run.
Since when that Mistress from our Hearts it tore
Who curb'd the Proud, and shook th' Iberian Shore.
Tho' since in Monarchs of th' Heroic kind
We've seen some glimpses of her God-like Mind;
Less than a Century could ne're suffice
To raise up Anna, when Elisa dies.
We've seen some glimpses of her God-like Mind;
Less than a Century could ne're suffice
To raise up Anna, when Elisa dies.
So just is Heav'n! so regular and true
His wondrous ways, beyond Conception, new!
'Twas the sad Month the
Royal Virgin dyed,
When England yielded to the Royal Bride.
We murmur'd then, but God rebuk'd our Sense,
Unknowing of the paths of Providence.
“Count hence a Hundred rowling Years, said he,
“Then shall this stiff repining Nation see
“Sufficient for One Age, a Second Prodigy.
“This fatal Month with Blessings will be kept,
“And Children triumph'd, where their Fathers wept.
“A New Armada shall again be seen,
“A Prey that's worthy the Britannick Queen.
“Again with Fleets the burden'd Sea shall grone;
“Nor shall our threatned Blow strike Spain alone.
His wondrous ways, beyond Conception, new!
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When England yielded to the Royal Bride.
We murmur'd then, but God rebuk'd our Sense,
Unknowing of the paths of Providence.
“Count hence a Hundred rowling Years, said he,
“Then shall this stiff repining Nation see
“Sufficient for One Age, a Second Prodigy.
“This fatal Month with Blessings will be kept,
“And Children triumph'd, where their Fathers wept.
“A New Armada shall again be seen,
“A Prey that's worthy the Britannick Queen.
“Again with Fleets the burden'd Sea shall grone;
“Nor shall our threatned Blow strike Spain alone.
Hence flows my Theme; Bright Guardian of our Isle!
Look down, and smiling on my willing Toil,
Permit me at Thy Feet this Verse to lay,
And prophecy, as far as Poets may,
A brighter Glory to this previous Ray.
Lo! at thy ORMOND's Name the Muse prepares
To joyn with Anthems her officious Airs,
And meet with Praises, whom we sent with prayers
Look down, and smiling on my willing Toil,
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And prophecy, as far as Poets may,
A brighter Glory to this previous Ray.
Lo! at thy ORMOND's Name the Muse prepares
To joyn with Anthems her officious Airs,
And meet with Praises, whom we sent with prayers
'Twas not in vain we lent so vast a Mind
To the loose Waves, and each inconstant Wind.
Great Souls in their own Courages are sure,
And Cæsar in a Tempest is secure.
Nor can an English Heart presume to faint,
Blest with so Great a Queen, so Good a Saint.
None but Emphatic Cowards can dispair
In ANNA's Fortune, and in ANNA's Prayer.
If on her Fleet she shall a Blessing crave,
The Brave grow bolder, and the Coward, Brave.
Swift from above some happy Angel flies,
And brings the sacred Pass-port from the Skies.
O'er all the watry World Heav'n's Charge is read,
Old Ocean rises from his owzy Bed,
And to his Sovereign Queen submits his hoary Head.
To the loose Waves, and each inconstant Wind.
Great Souls in their own Courages are sure,
And Cæsar in a Tempest is secure.
Nor can an English Heart presume to faint,
Blest with so Great a Queen, so Good a Saint.
None but Emphatic Cowards can dispair
In ANNA's Fortune, and in ANNA's Prayer.
If on her Fleet she shall a Blessing crave,
The Brave grow bolder, and the Coward, Brave.
Swift from above some happy Angel flies,
And brings the sacred Pass-port from the Skies.
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Old Ocean rises from his owzy Bed,
And to his Sovereign Queen submits his hoary Head.
Now did the Terrour of Perfidious France
Our Navy, from retiring Lands advance,
And bound o'er Billows in a Martial Dance.
Joy thro each Squadron runs, the Valorous DUKE
Inspires the Soldier, and the Sailor, ROOK.
And, as when Helen's beauteous Brothers shine,
Rough Storms are hush'd by the propitious Sign.
So is the Face of Heav'n from Tempest free,
When ENGLAND's Admiral insults the Sea,
Joyn'd with th' Heroic Blood of OSSORY.
The British Angel moves upon the Deep,
And lulls the angry Waves and Winds to sleep.
None but kind Breezes and befriending Air
Their weighty Charge to the wish'd Haven bear.
Europe begins to dread the blow, and all
Fear where this Cloud will burst, this Thunder fall.
Traytors to God and Man at ev'ry Sail
Now quake; and Impudence itself looks pale.
Our Navy, from retiring Lands advance,
And bound o'er Billows in a Martial Dance.
Joy thro each Squadron runs, the Valorous DUKE
Inspires the Soldier, and the Sailor, ROOK.
And, as when Helen's beauteous Brothers shine,
Rough Storms are hush'd by the propitious Sign.
So is the Face of Heav'n from Tempest free,
When ENGLAND's Admiral insults the Sea,
Joyn'd with th' Heroic Blood of OSSORY.
The British Angel moves upon the Deep,
And lulls the angry Waves and Winds to sleep.
None but kind Breezes and befriending Air
Their weighty Charge to the wish'd Haven bear.
Europe begins to dread the blow, and all
Fear where this Cloud will burst, this Thunder fall.
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Now quake; and Impudence itself looks pale.
As when some low'ring Cloud, which Vapours form,
Preparing to discharge a Show'ry Storm,
Gathers apace, looks black, and bellies low;
The Shepherd quits the Flock to shun the Blow:
The Wary Pilgrim kens it, and amain
Trips to some Shady Covert o'er the Plain:
Or, as when Fiery Comets, hung on high,
Traverse with frightful March th' enlighten'd Sky;
The Populace below, with wife Amaze,
Look up, and tremble at th' unusual Blaze.
Avert, Good Heav'n! (they cry) th' unhappy Sign!
For sure it must some Plague or Dearth divine.
Some thousands by the bloody Sword will die:
Wo to that Kingdom whose sad Ruin's nigh!
Preparing to discharge a Show'ry Storm,
Gathers apace, looks black, and bellies low;
The Shepherd quits the Flock to shun the Blow:
The Wary Pilgrim kens it, and amain
Trips to some Shady Covert o'er the Plain:
Or, as when Fiery Comets, hung on high,
Traverse with frightful March th' enlighten'd Sky;
The Populace below, with wife Amaze,
Look up, and tremble at th' unusual Blaze.
Avert, Good Heav'n! (they cry) th' unhappy Sign!
For sure it must some Plague or Dearth divine.
Some thousands by the bloody Sword will die:
Wo to that Kingdom whose sad Ruin's nigh!
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Nor less the Dread of the Britannick Fleet,
With ev'ry Instrument of Death replete.
With Cannons against Castles to prevail,
Whene'er they batter with their Iron Hail;
With murd'ring Carcasses, too sure to slay,
And Bombs, and Men more terrible than they.
If any Terror touch'd Europa's Breast,
The Spirits above as great Concern exprest.
For They, whom the Almighty has assign'd
To watch below, and wake for Human kind,
Hearing, assembl'd in a deep DIVAN,
Concern'd for that unhappy Creature, Man,
When thus, the Guardian of the West began:
With ev'ry Instrument of Death replete.
With Cannons against Castles to prevail,
Whene'er they batter with their Iron Hail;
With murd'ring Carcasses, too sure to slay,
And Bombs, and Men more terrible than they.
If any Terror touch'd Europa's Breast,
The Spirits above as great Concern exprest.
For They, whom the Almighty has assign'd
To watch below, and wake for Human kind,
Hearing, assembl'd in a deep DIVAN,
Concern'd for that unhappy Creature, Man,
When thus, the Guardian of the West began:
Bright Fellow Ministers of God most High!
Kindred or Heav'n! Companions of the Sky!
Who wield by turns, commission'd from above,
The Sword of Veng'ance, and the Shield of Love.
Now here, now there, your faithful Wings display,
And guard with watchful Eyes the Realms you sway;
Nor sleep in silent Night, nor tire in busie Day.
Declare what secret Cause to me unknown,
(You, who bow nearest at th' eternal Throne,
While I, laborious, o'er those Regions run
Where bright Ithuriel rowls the setting Sun;)
Has mov'd Almighty Wrath? For whom prepar'd
His Shafts? For whom whose Floating Fabricks rear'd
Which now oppress the Main? What Nation's Doom
Sleeps in the British Oak's Destructive Womb?
Is this the time in which th' Almighty swore
His Holy Son's Religion to restore?
Are these to punish the Blaspheming East,
Which fondly trusts in Mecca's cursed Priest?
Or do they (as alas my Fears divine)
Drive to more adverse Shores, and threaten Mine?
Does the loud Blood at last, of Millions shed
In Mexico, call Vengeance from the Dead?
Or, have we since so swell'd th' increasing Score?
And will the Thunderer connive no more?
Kindred or Heav'n! Companions of the Sky!
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The Sword of Veng'ance, and the Shield of Love.
Now here, now there, your faithful Wings display,
And guard with watchful Eyes the Realms you sway;
Nor sleep in silent Night, nor tire in busie Day.
Declare what secret Cause to me unknown,
(You, who bow nearest at th' eternal Throne,
While I, laborious, o'er those Regions run
Where bright Ithuriel rowls the setting Sun;)
Has mov'd Almighty Wrath? For whom prepar'd
His Shafts? For whom whose Floating Fabricks rear'd
Which now oppress the Main? What Nation's Doom
Sleeps in the British Oak's Destructive Womb?
50
His Holy Son's Religion to restore?
Are these to punish the Blaspheming East,
Which fondly trusts in Mecca's cursed Priest?
Or do they (as alas my Fears divine)
Drive to more adverse Shores, and threaten Mine?
Does the loud Blood at last, of Millions shed
In Mexico, call Vengeance from the Dead?
Or, have we since so swell'd th' increasing Score?
And will the Thunderer connive no more?
He said: The rest did on each other look,
As if confounded at the Words he spoke,
Till Michael, Northern Angel, silence broke.
As if confounded at the Words he spoke,
Till Michael, Northern Angel, silence broke.
Dominions, Principalities and Thrones,
Armies of Heav'n, Guardians of Mortal Crowns,
Whene'er the Eastern Viol shall be pour'd,
Whene'er High God shall whet his angry Sword,
The Rising Sun shall see True Faith restor'd.
Tho' yet the Doom of Mahomet's behind,
And Haly's for a later Wrath design'd.
Sleep on their evil Hour! and let the Times
Awake, appointed for more horrid Crimes.
The Barb'rous Turk is to his Prophet just;
But Christians mock the God, in whom they trust.
Does Earth-born Man so small his Anger make?
Move he his Finger, and the World not shake?
Or are his Bolts so soft and harmless grown
In Air to wanton; and, like Feathers, thrown?
No: Let my Charge, the North, a Witness be
That Heav'n may Wink, but wants not Eyes to See.
Witness th' Apostate Saxon, how he flies,
Tost here and there; Derision of the Skies!
While Sweden follows, to renew his Fear,
As the young Lion hunts the flying Deer.
Go on, brave Youth, belov'd of Heav'n, proceed,
And finish What th' Almighty has decreed.
The Doom of Perjury let France behold,
Tho' harden'd with Success, with Triumphs bold.
Her King, that Glow-worm, that assuming Clay,
Plum'd with false Grandeur, and dissembl'd Sway,
Worn out in Fraud, and in Ambition gray:
Her King shall see (nor is it far) the Hour,
When wrong'd Forbearance, and affronted Pow'r
Shall rightly vindicate their high Command,
And use their Vengeance by a Female Hand.
This the loud Groans of suff'ring Saints desire,
Slain Martyrs this with vocal Blood require.
Thus does the perjur'd Gaul, thus represent
The High below? Is this Heav'ns Government?
Is Tyranny an Attribute? Or can
Eternal Will revoke his Word, like Man?
Ten thousand Woes befal him from on high,
Who, plac'd the Substitute of Heav'n, can lye,
Break sacred Oaths, and ev'ry solemn Tye!
Armies of Heav'n, Guardians of Mortal Crowns,
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Whene'er High God shall whet his angry Sword,
The Rising Sun shall see True Faith restor'd.
Tho' yet the Doom of Mahomet's behind,
And Haly's for a later Wrath design'd.
Sleep on their evil Hour! and let the Times
Awake, appointed for more horrid Crimes.
The Barb'rous Turk is to his Prophet just;
But Christians mock the God, in whom they trust.
Does Earth-born Man so small his Anger make?
Move he his Finger, and the World not shake?
Or are his Bolts so soft and harmless grown
In Air to wanton; and, like Feathers, thrown?
No: Let my Charge, the North, a Witness be
That Heav'n may Wink, but wants not Eyes to See.
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Tost here and there; Derision of the Skies!
While Sweden follows, to renew his Fear,
As the young Lion hunts the flying Deer.
Go on, brave Youth, belov'd of Heav'n, proceed,
And finish What th' Almighty has decreed.
The Doom of Perjury let France behold,
Tho' harden'd with Success, with Triumphs bold.
Her King, that Glow-worm, that assuming Clay,
Plum'd with false Grandeur, and dissembl'd Sway,
Worn out in Fraud, and in Ambition gray:
Her King shall see (nor is it far) the Hour,
When wrong'd Forbearance, and affronted Pow'r
Shall rightly vindicate their high Command,
And use their Vengeance by a Female Hand.
This the loud Groans of suff'ring Saints desire,
Slain Martyrs this with vocal Blood require.
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The High below? Is this Heav'ns Government?
Is Tyranny an Attribute? Or can
Eternal Will revoke his Word, like Man?
Ten thousand Woes befal him from on high,
Who, plac'd the Substitute of Heav'n, can lye,
Break sacred Oaths, and ev'ry solemn Tye!
Here Light'nings flash'd along the Chrystal Ground,
Consenting Peals of Thunder mov'd around.
Th' Angelick Guardians (far as Spirits cou'd)
With Horror shook; till thus their Prince persu'd.
Nor far the Preludes of his Promis'd Fall:
For, from the Western Streights, which Mortals call
CADIZ; behold a Navy homeward steer,
Below a Race of valiant Men appear,
All mov'd with Anger, but untouch'd with Fear.
These must exchange their unsuccessful Aim
(Happy Misfortune!) for a nobler Game.
See farther Westward with Peruvian Oar,
A Navy making for the Spanish Shoar.
'Tis for VIGOVIA's unknown Strand they hold,
A faithless Harbour for ill-gotten Gold.
This is that Prey, so long ago declar'd
In Council, for the British Queen prepar'd.
Consenting Peals of Thunder mov'd around.
Th' Angelick Guardians (far as Spirits cou'd)
With Horror shook; till thus their Prince persu'd.
Nor far the Preludes of his Promis'd Fall:
For, from the Western Streights, which Mortals call
CADIZ; behold a Navy homeward steer,
Below a Race of valiant Men appear,
All mov'd with Anger, but untouch'd with Fear.
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(Happy Misfortune!) for a nobler Game.
See farther Westward with Peruvian Oar,
A Navy making for the Spanish Shoar.
'Tis for VIGOVIA's unknown Strand they hold,
A faithless Harbour for ill-gotten Gold.
This is that Prey, so long ago declar'd
In Council, for the British Queen prepar'd.
The Author having unfortunately lost his Scheme, this Poem is unfinish'd; which the Reader is desired to excuse.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |