The Chevalier de St George :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Chevalier de St George

An Heroi-comick Poem. In Six Canto's [by Thomas Purney]

Purney, Thomas (1695-ca. 1727)

[section]

THE Chevalier de St. George, &c.

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M. Nos Patriæ Fines & dulcia linquimus Arva, Nos Patriam fugimus; Tu, Tityre, lentus in Umbra, Formosam resonare doces Amaril ida Sylvas.

T. O Melebæe, Deus nobis hæc Ocia fecit; Namque erit Ille mihi semper Deus; Illius Aram Sæpe tener nostris ab Ovilibus imbuet Agnus.

Virg.

THE Chevalier de St. George, &c.

Canto the First.

Th' heroick Youth, whose Spear and batter'd Helm,
Acquir'd Triumphant Scotia's warlike Realm,
I Sing: Ye Nobles on my Numbers smile,
Whose rising Glories grace Britannia's Isle.

From shades Arcadian, and Castalean Bow'rs,
Where limning Nature paints the liv'ning Flow'rs;
Where blithe Aurora wakes her Virgin Blush,
Smiles o're the Dew, and pearls th'enamell'd Bush;

Advance Urania! Strike with flowing Fire,
And elevated Dare th'adventrous Lyre;
Forsake the Lover's Haunts and Shepherd's Streams,
Those soft'ning Fancies and luxuriate Dreams;
To bloody Fields advance! where Slaughter reigns,
And gasping Hero's gnaw th'ensanguin'd Plains:
Emblaze his Deeds who Wrath-rowl'd Ocean crost,
A Nation conquer'd, and his Honour lost.

Thrice Titan with Meridian Pomp embray'd,
In gorgeous State and flaming Gold array'd,
From main Eoän sprung; his beamy Locks
Emblaz'nous shaking o're Chinesian Rocks,
Since the crown'd Knight the Caledonian Shore
Protective grac'd, and Sword defensive wore.
His panting Heart for Albion's Safety beat,
For her he journey'd, and for her he sweat.
Horrific Ice-Rocks sunk, Snow mountain'd droop'd
And Black-ey'd Danger to his Brav'ry stoop'd.

When Ocean, on whose Bosom Dolphins high
Toss the foam'd Surge, and Waves assault the Sky,
The Hero fixt upon the Joyous Shore,
No more pursu'd, and boil'd and rag'd no more,

Then safety sooth'd the jocund Youth to Peace,
Lull'd in the soft'ning Arms of smiling Ease;
Then golden Pleasure from Assemblies sprung
With orient Pearl and regal Purples hung;
Around the Youth she danc'd, awak'ning Joys,
Smil'd in his Looks, and bright'ned in his Eyes;
Argyle's horrific Arm and turgid Sword
No Terrors boast, no Jealousies afford.
Ev'n to defy high Lunenburg he strove,
Whom Earth obeys, and star-pav'd Heav'n's above.
Bracelets and Rings the Lady's Love evince,
Who rob their Lovers to adorn their Prince.
A gorgeous Crown now blazons on his Head,
The Spoil of Matrons, and the rifled Maid.

Mean time on Snowden, huge Sea-shading Height,
Britannia's Guard reclin'd with soft Delight;
There Sylvan Elves around the Genius sport,
And Fays to bay in Cynthia's Shade resort.
The Guardian Angel hence the Realm surveys,
Drives Smoak-ey'd War, and panting Discord slays.
So wide-soul'd Park---r, with majestick Ease,
Defends the Nation, and adorns with Peace;

Sence on his Brow, thron'd in sagatious State,
And God-like Wisdom on his Thoughts, await.

The Genius Cherub thus o'relooks the Land,
And interposes with divine Command.
The Chevalier he saw, devoid of doubt,
Triumphant Land, and as he landed Shout;
He saw his mighty Aim and florid Pace,
And all the Terrors of his warlike Face;
Then rose the God: As Snowden high he topt,
His lofty Front 'mong Stars and Clouds was wrapt.
Not long he stood, his Eyes with Fury blaz'd,
On Curtain'd Discord as he lowring gaz'd;
Enfuriate to his Chariot leapt He bold,
Compos'd of pearly Myrrh and odrous Gold.
As Zephirs wafted thro' the soft Expance,
Zephirs flow'd sweet as Ev'ning Breath of Panse.
The amient Genii, an enamell'd Row,
Whose Wings steal Colours from the showery Bow,
Circling around, the Guardian's Progress 'brac'd,
Adorn'd his Triumph, and his Chariot grac'd,
In Hide's gay Park, that wafts Ambrosial Air,
Such Zodiac Lyons form, and Virgins fair;

Where Gorgeous Chariots Chariots bright pursue,
And Fairy Queens draw Circles o're the Dew;
There none superiour leads thro' odour'd Dust,
Each Nymph last follows, yet each Nymph is first;
Where Titles Gay in curling Circles move,
And Pride and Paint are mixt, and rowling Love,
The guilded Circle flames with Gold and Pearl
And Chints and Ribbons in the Zephirs furl.
The Genij such illustrious Curve describ'd,
And the Nectareous Ether soft imbib'd.

To Mare-Mortuum, fætid Gulph, they made,
And thence invok'd pale Morpheus dormant Shade.
The Soporific Pow'r on Opiate Plumes
Rising Lethargick, somnial Life assumes.
The drooping Slumb'rer, half of Life disarm'd,
Thus the Cherubial Pow'r to Warmth allarm'd.
“Imperial Morpheus! whose illustrious Sway
“O're Earth extends, and Kings and Clowns obey;
“Thine Aid Britannia's trembling Islands crave,
“To calm their Tumults and their Hero's save.
“I have at Heart the pious Prince's Ease,
“Who led from Orient Climes the Balmy Peace;

“Rowze on th'impetuous Wing! War, bloody War
“Waits Perkin's March, while Death attends from far.
“You know what Warlike Warmth in Scotian Breast
“Beats for the Fight, and scorns inglorious Rest.
“Prevent, O quick their love of Fight prevent,
“Eager as Ocean in an Isthmus pent.
The Guardian Spoke; the dull Creative God,
On Chevalier impos'd his fictious Rod.
Terrific Dreams sit heavy on his Soul,
Sights feeds his Fears, and in his Bosom rowl;
His glowing Aspect flush'd with discontent,
His Eye-lids trembled, Lips effrustrate went.
He saw his Forces from the Victors fly,
And Ar---le's Sword wave dreadfull in the Sky:
He saw Ca---gan triumph o're his Realm,
Shake the brave Spear, and rear victorious Helm.

Rose-Cheek'd Aurora, clad in lucid Beams,
From Pharphar and Orontes, sacred Streams,
Rode in a Golden Chariot; Odrous flew
From Locks ambrosial Myrrh, and vernal Dew;

Hermon and Sinai wake their pearly Charms,
And Morn to th'roseate Blush soft Flora warm's;
When Chevalier rose Discompos'd, his Hair
Ghastly erect, his Eyes horrific glare;
His haughty Sword he snatch'd, and weigh'd it's force,
To his Compeers then bent th'impetuous Course,
At Mar's Apartment of secure Repose,
Quick call'd the Chief, the Chief as quick arose.

Strait from the dark Recess he hears a Noise,
The wailing Accents of a soft shrill Voice.
“Ah thou unkind! Ah, whither art thou stray'd?
“And prid'st thou then to pain an easy Maid?
“Fly in the Prime, while blooming Pleasure glows?
“Oh Men for Falseness and Inconstant Vows!
“Ah gentle Mar (for once you gentle was)
“Scorn not these Tears that bath my wretched Face!
“I thought me blest as Heav'n while in these Arms
“Loll'd Stuart's Chief, disclosing all his Charms.
“Thy Beauty joy'd my Heart, those Cheeks and Eyes,
“Where Roses bloom and everlasting Joys.

“Thy stately Mein, and Shape to Heav'n erect,
“For that I smil'd, for that my Bosom deckt.
“Ah fickle State of Happiness on Earth,
“Fading as Dew, or like th'untimely Birth!
“Once to mine Arms return, one parting Kiss
“At least afford, to seal my dying Bliss!
The Chevalier, with Mar discoursing, hears
These soft Complainings of a Female's Fears.
But Business scorns tame Love's inglorious Course,
That breaks Man's Brav'ry and dissolves his Force.
The Scepter'd Youth the soft'ning God disdains,
Pant's with Fatigue and broils with fervid Pains.
From Mar to Mackintosh his eager Drive,
Declares what Terrours in his Fancy live.
He speaks the squallid Spectres, fiery Streams,
And all the horrours of Nocturnal Dreams.
Then Macintosh with Brow Sagatious Spoke,
While all the Jesuits Schemes were in his Look.
“My Warlike Prince, a Neighb'ring Mountain shows
“A Bush-grown Cell, where philter'd Heccat goes;
“There Skulls in solemn Discipline are plac'd,
“With Circles, Telescopes and Quadrants grac'd.

“Deep in the Earth the Hermit dwell's opake,
“For Prince nor Hero will his Cave forsake.
“Sathan he binds, calls Cynthia from her Sphere,
“And opes to Men the Fortunes they must bear.
“The Double-sighted Highlander he's Nam'd,
“And o're the Caledonian Regions fam'd.
“For you, my Prince, from Hell he'll summon those
“Shall all the Queries of your Mind disclose;
“To him apply, no secret from him hide,
“Hark to his Wisdom, in his Truth confide.

Canto the Second.

Now Midnight, curtain'd in Nocturnal Fogs,
Soot-pall'd arose from black Mæotian Bogs,
Behind Spleen Sulphure-Ey'd Cloud-wrappen rode;
And near her Terror, Fire-disgorging Strode.
When Chevalier, in Hippochondrick Plight,
With pallid Cheeks traverst the Solemn Night.
His Arms were folded in the pensive kind,
And rough-rowl'd Front disclos'd the ruffled Mind.
To Merlin's sable Cell, allarm'd with Groans,
Adorn'd with Skulls, and boss'd with Coffin-bones,
The Youth repair'd: The thoughted Sage he found
Wrapt to the Stars, in Chains of Musing bound.
A sickly Taper solitary glow'd,
And Mid-nights ghastly Terrours silent show'd.
Here Merlin Watches on the rowling Hours,
And hollow Murmur of Nocturnal Show'rs.

Then doth the Youth th'impartial Sight require,
Of that rais'd Shade who was his rightful Sire.
With philter'd Charms and amuletick Herbs,
The Negromancer Mid-night's Peace disturbs.

Now Cynthia's Face was veil'd, high Heav'n opak'd,
The Meteours glided and the Mountains quak'd,
Thunder-lung'd Boreas, arm'd with fiery Storms,
From Zembla leap'd, and shook his mighty Arms;
The Shrowded Ghosts Death's pallid Jaw uphurl'd,
And screaming ran distracted thro' the World.
Anon a rising Shade the Sage obeys,
Sacred with good Old Age and full of Days;
A Trowel in his trembling Palm he bore,
And Mean but Decent was the Garb he wore.
While deep suspence th'astony'd Youth detain'd,
The Venerable Shade his Soul explain'd.
“Alas my Son (if thou alas art he)
“But oh! How alter'd from thy fixt Degree,
“From th'humble Virtues that thy Sires adorn'd,
“By Heaven valu'd, tho' by Mortals scorn'd:
“Scarce I from Tears abstain: 'Tis hard, my Son,
“Supporting Others Cause to be undone;

“To be employ'd th'unhappy Tool to graft,
“Their black Ambition, and malignant Craft.
“Had but thy lowly Chance been rural Ease,
“Obscure delights, and the inglorious Peace,
“Oh then, my Son, thou'dst Happy been, not Great,
“Not blest in others, but thine own Conceit;
“Then gentle Quiet on thy Days had smil'd,
“Thou'dst Work'd with Ease, with custom'd Pleasure toil'd;
“Eating at Night the Labours of the Morn,
“While Health, not Gold, thy Person would adorn.
“Heavy's a Crown with Labour and Despair,
“The Gold is Grief, and every Jem a Care.
“In this my Soul's at Peace. The Book of Fate,
“Perusing late, I view'd th'impending State;
“The Cares of Warlike Albion's mighty Crown,
“Ne'er shalt thou know, nor Fortune's regal Frown.
“Forsake the North; for Trumpet's stormy Voice
“Will twice wake Slaughter, rowze Destruction twice.
“Yet thou may'st happy be; let others toil,
“Sweat in the Dust, and in the Battle broil;

“You, then, fight Stags not Men, cross Brooks not Seas,
“Pretend Concern, but cultivate thine Ease.
“When Heav'n cries, God-like Lunenburgh obey!
“Would rash Ambition grasp th'Imperial Sway?
“Thy Nature's humble, and thy Temper still,
“To Nature yield, nor brave th'Almighty's Will.
The Shade surceas'd, and into liquid Air
Melted Dissolvent from the Stripling's Ear,
Piercing the Humid shades of vacant Night,
Where Elfins bay and many a Sportive Spright.
As Fire-Arm'd Thunder from th'Empireal Roof,
Leaps fierce and shakes his bolted Hand aloof;
Then th'horrid Course to Globe Terrestrial drives,
Terrific low'rs and Domes and Portals rives;
So Chevalier thro' silent Night return'd,
His Eyes shot Fury, and his Bosom burn'd.
Despair, array'd in Fire, (whose Hoofs emparch'd
Like thrice-burnt Ebon glow) to th'Hero march'd.
For Fame he pants not, wou'd be Good not Great,
Disclaims the Crown nor owns th'enchanting Bait.
Arriv'd at his Compeers, the Spectre's Howl,
Play'd on his Sight and sate upon his Soul.

His Sire's Advice determin'd to pursue,
And bid for ever Scotia's shore adieu,
Mar, Macintosh, and Gordon and Robroy,
Souls that might conquer Earth and Heav'n annoy,
With fault'ring Tongue he speaks, his Fear declares
And all the Figures of his ghastly Cares;
The Chieftains round their pallid Hero throng,
As Boars, and Foxes, grac'd th'Orphean Song.

Now Dread with paly Cheeks and languid Eyes,
From Ocean's secret Bosom trembling fly's,
And o're the Night her feeble Wing dispreads,
While Thoughts of Flight possess th'Heroick Heads,
Anguiens soft Air and Grotto's of Versailles
Invite, Vincenns to th'Shades and Zephirs calls.

Report, who born on Boreas, rapid rides,
And with impetuous Step whole Regions strides,
Who hides her mighty head 'mong blaz'nous Skies
And from each Arm shakes Wonder and Surprize
Her Golden Shell gan wind; the Knight's Intent
Flying, thro' Scotia's Warlike Region went:
Some Cry, some Skip, all wagish Talk at Will,
Ask if his Brav'ry Scotia won, or Skill.

Now seven Virgins sable-clad appear,
With flowing Vestures and dishevel'd Hair;
Their beauteous Cheeks, emblush'd like roseat Morn,
And lilly Breasts, were stain'd with Tears forlorn;
Their lovely Limbs on gelid Ground they throw,
Neglect their Beauty and their Charms forego.
With gentle Moan, like Philomela's Voice,
Or breath of Eve when fainting Titan dies,
Their bloomy Lips implore the Hero's stay,
Hang on his Journey and invent Delay;
They beg by all his Vows, by th'conq'ring Kiss
By their young Love, and all it's thrilling Bliss,
He cruel would not from their Arms depart,
Or haughty triumph o'er an easy Heart:
Soft they invoke the Shades and bow'ry Trees,
Where toying Lovers bay in th'Ev'ning Breeze,
Invoke the flower'd Banks and Streamlets Sides,
And all those Scenes where dallying Love resides.
Obdurate he sustains their piercing Pray'rs,
As Rekin Boreas' rage intrepid bears;
No Ground he yields, no force allows their Tears,
Deaf to their Crys and constant to his Fears.

The Nymph's and Hero's silently withdraw,
And tacitly accuse Dread's nocuous Law.
But Forster, whose Terrifick Aspect glow'd,
Like sable Night with lucid Vapours strow'd,
Brandish'd his mighty Helm, extracting dire
His torrid Sword whereon rode slaughterous Fire?
Then thus th'enfuriate Chief; while flashing Eyes
Darted keen Lightning to th'affrighted Skys.
“O mighty Cow'rdice! thou imperial God!
“Hero's and Kings obey thy potent Nod;
“O sacred Thirst of Life! thou venial Shame,
“We must thy Charms disown or lose our Fame.
“I tell thee King (if Crowns compose a King)
“This Deed will fly on Rumour's eag'rest Wing.
“By Heav'n! for Rocks which Gold and Diamonds frame,
“I would not forfeit thus my rising Name.
“How oft the Hanoverian Mob I've met,
“Proud in stout Oaks, and wiping th'hasty Sweat!
“How oft has Albions Senate, letter'd Throng,
“Hung on the silver Accents of my Tongue!
“Thrice at a Peer I shook this dauntless Blade,
“As oft escap'd Untouch'd and Undismay'd.

The Hero Spoke. As from Eolian Rocks,
Aparctias leaps and shakes his turbid Locks,
Then hurling th'Adriatick Waves to th'Skies,
High rears his roar, and throws forth horrid Noise;
Hetrurian Portals yeild to th'furiate Brush,
And Mantuan Domes allow his Tempest Rush:
So mighty Forster with impetuous Voice,
Beating the Welkin, publish'd threatful Noise.
Disdain and Anger in his Looks combin'd,
And Vengeance, fiery-hooft, the Fury's joyn'd.

Canto the Third.

Mean time the Scepter'd Knight with Anger fry's,
And livid Fire fierce sparcles in his Eyes;
His Heart with Indignation heaves his Breast,
He gnaws his Lips, and tares his regal Vest;
As when bright Michael Molock's Rage o'recame,
Tho'Arm'd with burning Rocks, and girt with Flame,
Down Gulph Chaosian hurling the Dismay'd,
To champ the Smoak, & curse th'horrendous Shade,
The Dæmon gnash'd and tore the sulphrous Ground,
And baleful rowl'd his fiery Eyes around.

Now sought the Chevalier his absent Sword,
And shook the Dome at each terrific Word.
“Oh rebel Pride! sure Rocks Bacrasian loos'd
“This Savage, and Hircinian Glooms educ'd.
“Know'st thou not Me? O parricidal Tongue!
“Do those black Phrazes to a Prince belong?

“Oh that my Sword was nigh that Heart I'd tare,
“Throw to the Dogs, and hurl to th'Fowls of Air!
“Little thou know'st with what impetuous Sway
“This Arm bears Havock on a bleeding Day;
“When Hound's sweet Voice the spacious Wood allarms,
“And each brave Youth to keen Encounter warms,
“When in Versay and wide Audain the Bore,
“Shatters the Pines and sprinkles 'em with Gore.
“By that dread Hand that rowls yon glorious Blaze,
“Nine Stags I've Conquer'd in so many Days!
“Oh my Heart pants, Life ripens at the Thought,
“Such sport with Loss of Crowns is cheaply bought.
“When Titan last o're th'Æquinoctial sprung,
“When Pleasance peept, & rural Spring was Young,
“This Arm, unaided, grasp'd a rapid Deer,
“Throated, and hurl'd to Earth, devoid of Fear;
“With mighty Tail the Marl embruiz'd it lash'd,
“The Wood resounded and the Thickets clash'd,
“Eyes rowl'd with Wrath, ensanguin'd showers rain'd,
“And all the Earth with sable Gore was stain'd;
“Then Heav'n was dark and Titan's Face opak'd,
“The Wolfs horrific howl'd and Poplars quak'd.

“Oh idle Boast that Albions Senate hears
“Thy painful Talk, and rubs the drowzy Ears;
“Dull Sages bear thy Company, but mine
“Pleases where Beauty smiles, and Virgins shine.
“Nymphs bright as Flora, on Assembly Days,
“My vernal Bloom and springy Gestures praise;
“Whose Faces mix the Rose and Lilly proud,
“The matt in Blush and stain of Evening Cloud;
“Their gorgeous Vests cœlestial Hues reveal,
“And from the showery Arch their Colours steal.
“When floweret Nymphs in curling Figures sweat
“And gay-deckt Beauty pants with Love and Heat,
“Then I'm the prime to lead the painted Dance,
“Silks caper, Flounces trip, and Nymphs advance,
“I'm bold as Fire, yet harmless as a Dove,
“Mine Eye bears Pleasure, and mine Aspect Love.
He Spake, and fierce a mighty Table seiz'd,
And high in th'Air th'horrific Load uprais'd,
Then hurl'd at Forster (swinging round and round)
The Structures tremble and the Domes resound.
He (scap'd the Jaws of Fate) quick grasp'd a Door,
Huge Shield, more dire than Briareus wore:

Horrid he show'd as Typhon Arm'd with Rocks
Grasping Hell-snakes and shaking fiery Locks;
His Hair rears bolt with Terrour and Amaze,
His Bosom beats, his Eyes horrific blaze.
He grasps a Torch, the ragged Light'ning high,
With horrid Roar flyes flaming thro' the Sky.
The wooden Skreen repels th'assaulting Fire,
Obtunds its Fury, and dissolves its Ire.
The Hero, wrath'd to see his Effort vain,
Grasp'd an Yr'n Mace with sudorific strain;
The Monarch's Palms a steely Coulter seize,
The Corns stout Lab'rour, and a Foe to ease.

Now Slaughter from the dusty Field repairs,
And bloody Death his burning Arm uprears,
Wide-gushing Wounds disclose, Blood sprinkling fly's,
Fiends horrour-cloath'd from groaning Earth arise.
Forster (dire smott) roars horrible as Hell,
And writhing Shapes the fatal Anguish tell:
So when St. George the Dragon's Pride o'ercame,
Array'd in Fire, disgorging torrid Flame,
His slaughtrous Sword he rear'd to th'frighted Sky;
The Monster howls the Scales dishatter'd fly;

A second Stroak the sable Gore pursues,
And fiery Pennons flop'd confess the Bruise.

But Fortune, lawrell'd Pow'r, who sits on Air,
Gan change her Course, and for her Foe declare;
Fierce on the Ground the Scepter'd Knight is flung,
Prostrate, he tares the Glebe and gnaws his Tongue;
His Soul with Fury boils, his blood-shot Eyes
Rowl fatal, and accuse th'unhostile Skies.
So Fame reports the bold Septennial Slave
Of fair Augusta's Town, resolv'd and brave,
Two Lyons throated, hurl'd 'em to the Ground,
And down their Gorges drove his Arms profound;
The Regal Brutes rowl'd dire their wrathy Eyes,
Wallow'd in Blood and lash'd their gorey Thighs.

Not with less Rage the Hero fell prostrate,
His pompous Vestures and eximiate State;
With hideous Yell he roar'd, and screaming Cry,
As bellowing Sathan tumbling from the Sky.
The broiling Foe disdains his regal Tears,
Neglects his Threatnings, and neglects his Pray'rs;

Proud he o'rebears and boasts his rising Fame,
As haughty Lyon straddles o're a Lamb.
“Address thee to thy wooden Gods he cry'd,
“Let sacred Beads thro' dying Fingers glide,
“For lo, thou dy'st! not Heaven's Rival high,
“Who 'mongst his Goods hoard's Silver Piety,
“Vendible Heaven selling to the Mob
“Right Cheap, as Thieves sell Cheap the Stuff they rob,
“Not he who now of Christ has got the Start,
“Shall stay my Fury or thy Fate avert;
“Not he who maugre Heav'n can Heav'n obtain,
“Shall win thy Freedom or thy Pardon gain.
“To thy Assistance Tho a Becket call,
“Thy Fate shall be like his, like him shalt fall;
“Invoke Auxentius, Chad and Nicholais,
“Whom Heaven slew, and Men to Life would raise;
“Agnes and Dorathe and Amylone,
“They'll pardon Sins, tho' not succeeding Joan.
“Heav'n now no Pennance for your Crimes must have;
“But that's like breaking Heads then giving Salve.
“Th'attoning Sacrament sha'nt stay the Rod;
“But why should mortal Men devour their God?

“No more in unknown Tongue you'll ign'rant pray;
“As if the hunger'd Ass should Bark not Bray.
The Chief with turgid Front and livid Ire,
Spoke low'ring horrible. By th'pallid Fire,
Lofty a Toilet stood, with Glasses strow'd,
In India's precious Clay figural proud:
The decent Range and Discipline so nice,
Spake the fair Hand and told her rich Device:
Here Egypt's Cane Empith'd to Pleasure doom'd,
There Lady-lov'd the Indian Weed perfum'd:
When Morn awakes with golden Smiles 'tis grac'd;
Then Circling Nymphs in shining Rings are plac'd;
Their gentle Hearts are soft as wailing Dove,
They talk of Scandal while they think of Love.

These splendid Toys that Virgin Souls possess,
Must fall a Prey and yield to Wrath's Excess.
Forster's dread Arms (more rash than buzing Wasp)
Dire Word! The glistering Favourites engrasp,
Down with horrific plung they rowl from High,
The fair-dress'd Glass and painted Fragments fly.
In gay Confusion and Disorder bright,
They hide the Hero and obstruct his Sight.

Unnumber'd Cup-boards, Tablets, Viols, Helms,
The Chief relentless on his Monarch whelms;
Then cruel leaves to gasp his wretched Soul,
And quake at him whose Arm brook'd no Controul.

Canto the Fourth.

Baalzebub on Chaosian flaming Whirls
Walks tow'ring, and the liquid Fire uphurls;
Where blazing Rhomboids and sulphurious Cones,
Dash on the burning Rocks, disgorging Groans:
The Dæmon felt the Globe Terrestrial shake,
Hades resound, and cauldron'd Chaos quake:
Athro' Maria's sable Gulph he rose,
Where Peak's dread Rocks figural Chasms disclose.
On huge Plinlimmon's mighty Top where Clouds
Moisten the Marl, and vap'rous Curtain shroud's,
The Fiend alights, and shakes his fiery Plumes,
Dispersing Sulphure thro' the shadowy Glooms;

Then Albion's spacious Provinces surveys,
The Neighb'ring Mountains and the distant Seas.
He views the Chevalier o'rewhelm'd, Opprest,
With panting Fury and high-beating Breast.
Baalzebub, huge as Ossa heap'd on Ide,
Tour'd cross the Realm, with vast Earth-shaking Stride:
Each Whirlwind Step the burning Dæmon took,
The Region trembled and the Rivers shook.

His sulphur'd Finger's Touch, that burnt with Fire,
Kindled the Dome, the waking Flames aspire.
Quick 'tis extinguish'd by th'convening Croud,
The rising Flakes and torrid Collumns proud.
Exulting o're their Victory they boast,
The blest Endeavours of the mingled Host;
Bald Saturn timely by his Forelock catch'd,
And their King's Dome from ghastly Ruin snatch'd.

When lo! a horrid Noise invades the Hosts,
Such as when Night-dog bays the gliding Ghosts;
They start astony'd, Terrour in their Eyes,
Fire-sparkling rowls, and speaks their huge Surprize.

Strait they behold the glistering Havock dire,
The Virgins shriek, the Matrons boil with Ire;
The Hero's and the Youths remain appall'd;
When low an hollow meagre Accent call'd.

“Ah kindly Hearts (sure Protestants are kind)
“Whose gentle Tenets from no Goodness bind;
“To Hereticks the friendly Arm you stretch,
“Help a Crown'd Beggar, Aid a Scepter'd Wretch!
“Assist me in this dreadful Hour of Woe,
“Ninety nine Gods I'll willingly forego!
“Of Heav'n not Clement will I Pardon win;
“Lash me no more, nor howl away my Sin.
“I never worship'd Saints, but Schemes alone,
“No Harm's in them, no more than Stick or Stone.
“Pope's Pray'rs ne'er said I but in unknown Tongue;
“We can't say ill unskill'd if Right or Wrong.
“Ah then have pity on a dying King!
“Some kind Assistance to your Monarch bring.”
With faultring Speech, and trem'lous Voice of Grief,
The Hero spake, the Nymphs advanc'd Relief;
Quick as Grymalkin grasps her trembling Prey,
The ready Maids so rapidly obey.

From 'neath th'oppressive Load deep-panting rear'd,
Like roaring Goblin, Fury-scourg'd, he star'd,
Breathless and fainting on the Ground he fell,
The Virgin's Anguish, Ah what Tongue can tell!
As teary Dew distains her roseat Cheeks,
With wail like Philomela's Charlott speaks.
“Oh cruel Heart! more cruel than the Snow,
“Whose surly Hills the hunting Swain o'rethrow!
“How could you harm so fair, so kind a Youth,
“Whose Words are Honey, and whose Vows are Truth?
“Did you not see those starry Eyes, those Cheeks,
“Blushing like Flow'rs that smile with beautious Streaks?
“Did you not see these Locks where Silver grows,
“These rosy Lips where balmy Nectar flows?
“Ah cruel fatal Hand! thou bane to Love!
“How could'st thou harm so soft, so fair a Dove?
“Alas, my Princely Youth! where where's the Grace
“Once blush'd thine Aspect and embloom'd thy Face?
“O slippery State of fairest joys on Earth,
“Like London's Loyalty, and Peace of Perth!

Here trittling Woe her tender Accents stop'd,
And liquid Sorrow on her Bosom drop'd.

Now ripens th'Hero to new liv'ning Heart,
Off-shakes his Fears and cries to Dread, depart!
His Cheeks rebloom, the faded Splendours rise,
And growing Life fresh sparkles in his Eyes;
The blushing Roses smile like youngling Day,
And waking Beauties o're his Visage stray.
The stout Virago's of his Foe enquire,
Pant with the Love of Fight and flush with Ire.
But he, abash'd, th'Enquiry still averts,
Dissolves in shame and from the Question starts.
But fresh resolves more fierce towr'd Gaul to fly,
Tast softer Air and gayer Meads enjoy.
His mighty Steed, fire-breathing, he prepares,
That champs the Foam and warlike Front uprears.
The Sages Voice he scorns and Virgin's Tears,
And Love and Fame are melted in his Fears.

Baalzebub, panting for Britannick Gore,
Rent his snak'd Locks, his sable Bosom tore;

And raging at the Scepter'd Knight's design,
Leap'd his black Carr, as Tritons ride the Brine.
High on huge Rocks of solid burning Fire,
The Fiends round riding, shook their Locks of Wire.
The Dæmon's Chariot's wrapt in sulphry Clouds,
And pall'd in Orcan Soot that mantling shrouds.
Its smouldring Fire's more dread than Light'ning Flakes,
And round it hangs the Hiss of Lethe Snakes;
By fiery Dragons snatch'd it makes it's Tour,
Who chaw the Sulphur and the Smoak devour.

Th'Archfiend to Hades, gloom'd Apartment, drove,
Where Spirits foul and bright promiscuous rove.
There found he Lovis the Illustrious Shade,
Boileau on Strings Loquacious jocund play'd.
At his right hand a pompous Lady sate,
Who sway'd Augusta's trembling Scepter late.
Between those Shades, high elevate a-loof,
A Throne is rear'd that smiles with beauteous Roof;
With blaz'nous splendour it imperial Swells,
Smaragdal Concaves and sapphirrian Shells;
Illustrious Pedestals sublime uphold,
The smiling Jasper and the blushing Gold.

High on the Throne, with radient Lustre crown'd,
A Shade superiour sits and gazes round.
The Ghosts still tremble at his Belgian Spear,
And in their Minds the Revolution bear.
At his right Hand th'Illustrious Empress laid,
Curry's kind Favour with the mighty Shade.
Here Ogg and Sampson bear imperial Sway,
Yet the Batavian boasts more rule than they.
As fair Augusta, tho' less pompous seen,
With innate Majesty and regal Mien,
Outshines the gorgeous Nymphs of Albion's Court,
Whose far-fam'd Beauties are the World's Report.

Baalzebub becken'd Lovis from his Seat,
To stay the Chevalier's design'd Retreat;
As up towr'd Earth thro' cloven Main they roam'd,
The Waves flew scatter'd and the Ocean foam'd.
Towr'd Scotia's warlike Realm they drove their Might,
While frighted Nature sicken'd at their Sight.
Anxious for Albion the Batavian Shade
Pursu'd, in Pearl and orient Gold array'd;
For still her King he Guards, her Lords protects,
Her Counsels governs and her Fights directs;

Still he delights in Albion's halcyon Ease,
Smiles o're his Islands and enjoys their Peace.

Canto the Fifth.

Lovis on Glebe of hard-nerv'd Scotians stood,
Who dwell with Rocks of Ice, and slash thro' Blood.
He view'd their mighty Limbs their sable Locks,
And that fierce Look their Foes with Terror shocks.
Th'Ambitious Shade, to listless Gesture doom'd,
Newca---l's God-like fervid Zeal assum'd;
Great Sunderl---d's unshaken mighty Heart;
That Eloquence which Stan---e's Words impart.
And firm to fix his Aim beyond Controul,
Suscepts the Brav'ry of Cad---n's Soul.
So Michael Hell's Rock-arm'd sulphurious Band,
Array'd in Fire, scarce able to withstand,

Invok'd Messiah, and th'Almighty Arm,
To sink their Power, and to quell th'Allarm.

Th'illustrious Shade, accomplish'd thus, the Shape,
Assumes of Lesly, cloath'd in sim'lar Crape.
To th'Chieftains then, fierce Macintosh and Mar
Apply's, and wakes their Souls to bloody War.
Then th'Hero-Fugitive accost's his Heart
From pale Retreat intending to avert.
Vain Effort! frustrate as the Ethiop's Lard!
No Words can move, no Arguments retard.
The Chieftains to attend the Scepter'd Knight,
Their panting Coursers leap for eager Flight,
Their panting Coursers paw the smoaking Plain,
Neigh for the Fight and breath sublime Disdain.
Imperial Lovis notes his Effort null,
Swells with big Ire with Pride contemptuous full.
From deep Divan Bizantian he invokes
Ambition, who o're Papal Conclave looks;
High 'mong the Clouds her blaz'nous Temples rear,
Circled with Hesper and Hydaspes fair;
Her Chariot shines with Pearl and Lybian Gold,
Where Gorgeous Jems their brightest Smiles unfold.

The vaunting Goddess with Sultanian Pride,
Came towring from the East with haughty Stride;
Ocean's high-foaming Waves, and Hills Woodtop'd
O'erstriding rapid as a Whirlwind stop'd.
To th'Caledonian Chiefs she furiate drives,
Allarms their Spirits and their Souls revives,
Wakes 'em to God-like Aims and bold Desires,
Warms their Endeavours and new Life inspires.

Mean time Titania, Fairy-Queen, array'd
In that soft Blue which o'er the Plumb is laid,
Whose amient Necklace pearly Tears compose,
Grief that from Eyes of slighted Virgins flows,
On filmie Wings arose; with Jems aumail'd,
That glister in the Drop that dews the Field.
To dread Nassaw she flew, heroick Shade,
Who on the Cloud-hid Top of Snowden bay'd.
Arriving where the awful Power reclin'd,
The shadowy Being thus disclos'd her Mind.
“Imperial Spirit! Pillar of these Iles!
“In whose fam'd Rescue still Britannia smiles,
“Whene'er thine awful Arm terrific shakes,
“The Realms Chaosian tremble, Hades quakes;

“Behold due Notice I afford in time,
“(Deputed late thy Substitute sublime)
“Gorgeous Ambition, cloath'd in golden Pride,
“Exult's high-vaunting, deck'd like Pompous Bride;
“Her Arms sweet-droping Myrrh she proud uphurls,
“Rattles the Jems, and shakes the pendant Pearls.
“The Caledonians brave for Glory long,
“Hang on her Accents listen to her Tongue;
“O rise illustrious Shade, impetuous rise!
“Deaden her Charms and damp her waking Joys.
“You know the hardy Scotian's Hearts Delight,
“Restless for War and panting for the Fight.
Thus th'airy Servant, faithful to her Charge,
Th'ill-posture of Affairs disclos'd at large.

Nassaw now rises on Ambrosial Plumes,
That breath soft Myrrh dispreading balmy Fumes.
His Loyns with stellate Zodiac girded glow,
And Pleiades adorns his radient Brow.
Towr'd Warlike Scotia bending eager Course,
Boreas attended and black Thunder's Force.
So when the Angel of the liquid Plain
Rides on Leviathan to tempest the Main,

Mermen and Syrens string Tritonian Shells,
And Boreas leaping from black Zembla swells,
Castorian Fires, with unctious Vapours bloat,
Fly from Cyclopick Ætna's torrid Throat.

Th'heroick Shade call'd Ocean from the Main,
Who leapt tempestuous o're th'inferiour Plain.
Tremendous loads of Snow, and rocky Hail
From Hyperborean Pole the Domes assail;
While at the Monarch's Nod impetuous flew
The black-Ey'd Thunder and his Jav'lins threw,
His sable Locks horrific Fires empierc'd,
While bellowing Roars from sulphrous Entrails burst;
The pallid Lightning walk'd before his Ire,
Array'd in Flame and breathing sheeted Fire.
A gelid Blast of Cold advanc'd the Rear,
The Sire of Indolence and Friend of Fear.

These fierce Aghasts assault Ambition Grace,
Banish her Vigour and her Charms Efface.
Th'imperial Goddess, big with Schemes and Aims,
The Hero's leaving, vaunting Power disclaims.
Pleasure afresh display's her charming Wiles,
That Pleasure which in Gallick Regions smiles.

The Chevalier the ghastly Snow-hills hates,
Where White Dismay her pallid Arm dilates:
To th'Streams his pleas'd Imagination flees,
Thinks on the Grotto's and enjoys the Breeze.
So when the Ev'ning breath's ambrosial Sweets,
The musing Lover to the Shades retreats,
Those Shades where whilom he with Sylvia toy'd,
Fed on her Beauty and her Talk enjoy'd.
With silent Pleasure he reviews the Meads,
His Fancy on his late Enjoyment feeds;
Those Flow'rs with softer Smiles and fairer Pride
Are deck'd, the Streams with gentler Murmur glide;
Their Beauty in his pleasur'd Fancy lives,
And aiding Love a borrow'd Sweetness gives.

Now Titan, rob'd in Flame, his blaz'nous Carr
Driving effulgent thro' the guilded Air,
From Indus and Hydaspes tow'ring sprung,
And, darting Fire, the Stars to Chaos flung.
The Scepter'd Chevalier to weeping Perth
Strait bids adieu, array'd in joyous Mirth.
O're Hills and Plains they drive the furious way,
Their Armour rattles and their Coursers neigh;

Miriads attend the Monarch to the Shore,
No more retard his March, demur no more;
High o're their Heads they swing their mighty Swords,
And haughty publish their egregious Words;
High-vaunting Crests with fable Horrours glare,
And bloody Thunder on their Arms they bear;
Their batt'ning Cheeks with Pomp luxurious rise,
And Festivals still sparkle in their Eyes.
Fierce Neighing Prancers toss the Trappings bold,
Proud in bright Harness and adorning Gold;
Then rowl the fiery Eye, Earth-scorning stamp,
Pant for the Race and silver Snaffles champ.

Thro' a fair Village they triumphant ride,
Engirt with Trees, a Streamlet by it's side:
Where Zeph'rus breaths, and smiling Nature bays
And gay Pomona lives in Autumn's Rays;
Where vernal Sol the Groves to Blossoms warms,
And silver Flow'rets wake their fairest Charms.
The pompous Chiefs triumphal tow'ring came,
Like gorgeous Titan cloath'd in golden Flame.

The Village pours to view the blazing Shows,
But scorns the Prince, nor fair Respect allows:
With low'ring Beaver flop'd, and vengeful Frown,
And all the Symptoms of a surly Clown.
This Disrespect the Chieftains nought regard,
But move more rapid, nor their Aims retard.
Anon the Prince with biting Rage is stung;
Rowls his fierce Eyes, and gnaws his wrathy Tongue.
“Shall I, he cry'd, this Insolence allow,
“From abject Slaves that to my Foot should bow?
“Shall Albion's Prince be thus disdainful us'd,
“His wide-blaz'd Fame impair'd his Honour bruiz'd?
“To black Requital ill infuriate fly,
“Born on the burning Wings of Vengeance high
“Oh for a Whirlwind Blast to drive me strong
“Against th'imperious and highvaunting Throng!
“Arm, Arm, my Lords! to bloody Battle wake!
“Desert the Snuff-Box, and the Wig forsake!
“Arm for the smoaking Fight, the Trumpet's Noise
“Exalt, ye Drums exert your deepest Voice!
“This Day who Wonders executes, expect
“To shine in Albion's brightest Titles deck'd.

“Let not the Foe by Rashness Vantage find,
“For Brav'ry still with Judgment should be joyn'd.
“Your King Commands: this Day with Jav'lin strong
“I'll rowze that Glory that has slept so long.
With Look like Boreas when he storms the Main,
Or builds soft Mountains on the atom'd Plain,
The Hero spake, and brandish'd o're his Head
His Sword, whose Sight astony'd Terror fled.
Back to the Battle th'eager Chieftains ride,
Big with the Love of Fight, and Warlike Pride.
Myriads of Swords gay blazon in the Sky,
And hope of Conquest smiles in every Eye.

The Youths, forepriz'd of these impending Storms,
Rowze to the War, and cry aloud, to Arms!
The Populace deserts the emptying Town,
And Spits and Mattocks guard the fatal Frown.
Matrons and Maids to back the Striplings stand,
Virago's stout an Amazonian Band:
Here huge White-Aprons wave i'th' Storm-beat Air,
There Quoifs for Cressets most terrific glare.

Here a rag'd Gossip bounces thro' the Throng,
And forms and lards like Ass by Gadfly stung.
There a fam'd Midwife barks at th'hostile Foe,
As shagged Cerb'rus scares the Sprights below.

But now, behold! the furiate Chiefs advance,
The Targets clatter and the Coursers prance.
Oh fatal Day of Blood! horrific Hour!
The Chevalier Conducts the mighty Pow'r.

Now lo! by th'Nymphs a Shriek behind is rear'd,
Trembling with Love and for their Sweet-hearts scar'd.
A Nuncio to capitulate they steal,
With Salve the black Cumbustion quick to heal.
The Hero's listen to the pleasing Sound:
Then talk Triumphant from the conquer'd Ground.
The wond'ring Striplings pierce the distant Skies
With joyous Eccho's and triumphal Noise;
Judging it Flight. Pursue! Pursue! they cry,
Their Arms draw Circles and their Beavers fly.
But quick they find the Nymphs their Aims had crost,
Preserv'd their Bodies and their Glory lost:

Canto the Sixth.

The Chevalier from place of Slaughter stalks,
As huge Behemoth from his Havock walks:
Oft he looks back, oft brandishes his Spear,
With surly Gestures and superiour Air:
Yet rising Pleasure in his Aspect glows,
Such Pleasure as from grateful Vengeance flows.
To sable Ocean's Cataracts aghast,
They furiate drive, o're balefull Snows amast;
Thro' the soft Terrours as they burst their Course,
The pallid Mounts fly scatter'd to their Force.
So when black Thunder from the Welkin stalks,
Utters his Roar and shakes his sulphry Locks,
His red-hot Bolts fly fierce from horrid Arm,
Shake haughty Realms, and Provinces allarm.

Majestick Oaks yeild shatter'd to his Rush,
And regal Domes confess the turgid Push.

Now Ocean's squallid Groans remote they hear,
Where liquid Rocks aloof Sky-dashing rear;
Where huge Leviathan and Dolphines roam,
Beat the black Storm, and gorge the bloody Foam.
The Chevalier repell'd his Courser's Might,
And stopping full confess'd the Ghastly Sight.
Now from his Eyes the sparkling Lustres fly,
And from his Cheeks the sick'ning Roses dye;
His fading Lips their bloomy Pride forsake,
His Joynts are loosen'd and his Fingers quake.
No nearer Progress he presumes dismay'd,
Till Pow'r Supream's invok'd for instant Aid.
“Ye Heav'ns, he cry'd, vouchsafe attentious Ear,
“Who count us Monarchs your peculiar Care!
“Asswage the bellowing Terrours of the Main,
“And bear me safe to my dear Gaul again!
“For thine own Int'rest save from Ruin's Jaw,
“Till I've disclos'd what palpably I saw;
“A Buffoon Priest, with amuletick Stick,
“Pretend a Miracle, perform a Trick.

“Our Priests turn Juglers in this Conj'ring Age,
“And every Pulpit is a Droller's Stage.
“Ave Mary, big with sainted Grace!
“I vow to blaze these Impositions base,
“Make me not Fight in Purgatory Fray,
“Feel the sting'd Rod, nor dance my Crimes away.
“I once (ah Barb'rous!) to one Poor and Cold,
“My Works of Supererogation Sold.
“Brav'ry I sold, gave Abstinence to boot,
“For he who buys the Tree deserves the Root.
“While this blest Relick is about me bound,
“This sacred Comb-brush that Saint Becket own'd,
“I need not tremble at thy Waves, O Sea,
“This will thy Storms and Terrours wipe away.
“But hear me, Heav'nly Timothy, O hear!
“Jehova's now oblig'd my Crimes to bear;
“Thou know'st (O holy Maid!) from Heaven-Rome,
“I've bought Indulgence for nine Years to come.
With Palms extended thus the Warriour spake,
While trembling Beads in pallid Fingers quake,

Now Titan from his high Meridian came,
And plung'd his blaz'nous Locks, adorn'd with Flame,
In Bay of Florida, where Cuba sweat's
Ambrosial Breath, and wafts her vagrant Sweets;
While from Black-Forest, where Germania swells,
Cynthia rose soft, and clos'd the Flowerets Smells,
Girt with the Zodiac smil'd her starry Vest,
In humid blushing Cloud herself was drest.
Now Silence o're the Meads dilates her Wing,
No Lambkins bleat, no soft-tongu'd Airlings sing;
Now Lovers solace in the fading Heat,
And Gangean Bonnibells round May-poles Sweat:
Ah diff'rent from the Hyperborean Climes!
Where dire Sky-piercing Snows speak th'horrid Times.
The Chevalier beholds the gloomy Shades,
His Brav'ry sickens, and his Vigour fades.
One Night at least on Scotian Soil he'll sleep,
And gnawing Cares in generous Liquors steep.

Now blushing Chear in laughing Circles rowls,
And batt'ning Bacchus swells the jocund Bowls:

The Nantzian Soul of Wine with pallid Fruit
Hesperian, sparkles as soft Atoms shoot.
With Lethe Moist they sable Grief eraze,
And jovial Joy regales in every Face.

When Midnight from the Chambers of the Deep,
Where Spleen and mope-ey'd Thought their Palace keep
On sooty Wings arose, in Danks array'd,
And o're the Hemisphere her Mantle laid,
Eris from forth the hottest Waves of Hell
(Where black Rebellion roar's and Tortures swell)
Rose on her fiery Pennons to allarm
That Shade who fled from Nassaw's conq'ring Arm.
The Fire-Arm'd Fury to the Ghost complain'd
Her Empire dwindled where so long She 'ad reign'd.

The Chevalier tow'rd opiate Pillow trod,
And courted Slumber, the luxurious God.
His Limbs now soft dissolve in Morpheus' Arms
He owns his Pleasance and allows his Charms.
When, (dire to say!) appears a squallid Spright,
With Aspect mean, and Pers'nage scarce upright;

Fair on his Breast characteris'd he bore,
The Whore of Babylon the Scarlet Whore:
A Female's Ring was in his Nostrils fixt;
And Grief and Anger in his Accents mixt.
“Behold thy Monarch's Ghost! the gelid Grave
“I've burst, thy Fame and Clement's Peace to save.
“This is my Friend, intrepid Eris call'd,
“At whose dread Frown tartarick Gulph's appall'd.
“She well Complains, if you ignobly fly,
“Her long-held Empire o're these Isles will dye.
“England a long and settled Peace will wait,
“The Realm I hate, and shall for ever hate.
“This tame Retreat will banish Eris quite,
“Your sole Assistant and your friendly Spright.
“For Lunenburg (O Sound that fires my Blood!)
“Seeks not his own but cursed Albion's Good;
“His Provinces he aims not to augment,
“But render Happy those high Heav'n has sent;
“Not to bring Trouble to each neighbring Crown
“But to gain Peace and Plenty for his own.
“Rowze then, quick rowze! off-shake this tame Repose,
“Or Eris' rapid Aid for ever lose.

He Spake, and made himself inconstant Wind,
Piercing where humid Silence governs blind.
Keen Eris, wrapt in flamfull horrid Bright,
Drove to Polandia thro' the gloomy Night.

See! Orient Morn her Virgin Smiles awakes,
And sweet-tongu'd Linnet leaves th'empearly Brakes,
Ida and Ossa 'ope their bloomy Flow'rs,
And Lovers solace in their mattin Bow'rs.
Strait Chevalier arose from balmy Sleep,
His Eyes like Stars that thro' the Vapours peep;
Back with the usual Air he tost his Head,
The soft Impressions from his Mem'ry fled.
To th'slumbering Chiefs he stalk'd with rapid Course,
Allarm'd their Spirits and awak'd their Force.

Now at the Sea-beat Ship the Chiefs arrive,
With Rush intrepid and impetuous Drive;
The shrowded Sky with sable Horrours lowr'd,
With Meteours pierc'd & vap'rous Mantles bowr'd;
Old Ocean foam'd and with tremendous Roar,
Clouds Thunder-swoll'n with high-dash'd Billows tore.

Th'unstable Bark, with porous Spume surround,
Terrific swearv'd and leapt with horrid Bound.

These black Impediments the Scepter'd Knight
Haughty disdains, nor fears th'advising Spright.
Kind they embrace upon the spumy Shore,
Accuse the Heavens, and their Fates deplore.
When lo! Black Joke with frighted Hair erect,
Comes breathless; All the direful News expect;
“A Sutherland! A Sutherland! he cries,
Gordon and Forster scow'r, the Hero fly's;
Isla's fam'd Sword and dauntless Arm he fears,
And sound of Sutherland still dins his Ears;
Scatter'd they diverse fly, as regal Beast
From Dwolm Borussian bursts, his latent Nest;
The bestial Herd with Roar tremendous flies,
All toss their foamy Jaws and rowl their Eyes.
The Chevalier to th'Bark still trembling prest,
The paralytick Sounds his Joynts confest.

Now golden Streamers in the Liquid roam,
And bear the Monarch thro' the rowling Foam.

Fam'd Prudence, Servant to the gallant Knight,
Till now was ign'rant of his destin'd Flight;
Quick to the Shore she hied, but view'd him bound,
Then fainty Sorrows laid her on the Ground.
Ah! Who has Heart to speak the pitious Tale,
For what can Tears or Pray'rs or Sighs avail?
Loud she accuses the relentless Stars,
Her Bosom beats and harmless Tresses tears.
“Ah whether art thou fled, inconstant Youth?
“Are there no Gods, no sacred Tyes for Truth?
“What Vows you utter'd on the silent Hay,
“O Men inconstant as the waving Sea!
“While I, poor Maid, ran smilingly to Death,
“Hung on your Voice and catch'd your pleasing Breath.
“Didst thou not say thou lov'd'st me more than Wine
“And jocund Hymen should our Fortunes join?
“O come, sweet Youth, nor thus thy Prudence leave,
“Should Scotia's King ignobly thus deceive?
“Alas, he's gone, he's distant from my Moan,
“For ever and for ever I'm alone.

“In some deep Stream, I'll plung my fatal Grief,
“And Waves that Sorrow give shall give Relief.
“But oh, ye Virgins! of the flow'ry Tweed,
“Blame not the gentle Youth, 'twas Fortune's Deed.
“I'll willingly resign to wretched Death,
“And bless my Lover with my dying Breath.
“Then shall my Shade to happy Gaul pursue,
“And tender Flow'rs before his Passage strew;
“Watching his Pastimes I the Day will spend,
“And o're his Slumbers all the Night attend.
“Happy, thrice happy Virgin who shall bear,
“The Musick of thy Tongue, and Lovers Pray'r;
“On whom thou next reclin'st thy gentle Head,
“Feed'st with thy Smiles, or beck'nest to thy Bed.
In a Maid richer may'st thou happy be,
But none; ah none, can ever love like me!
O cruel Sea, soft bear his tender Limbs,
Think what a Treasure on thy Bosom swims;
The Gold you rob for which the Merchants rove,
But Gold's a slender Loss to th'loss of Love.
If e're, dear Youth, you to this Shore return,
You'll see my Pale my lamentable Urn;

“O! Laugh not then, but shed one tender Tear;
“Or say, my Love, a pleasing Lass, lies here.
“'Twill sooth my Ghost, and I shall rove content,
“Where 'mong the Myrtles Lovers Sighs are spent.
The Fair One Spake, and o're the liquid Plain
Out-stretch'd her Palms, but stretch'd them out in vain.

FINIS.