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PROLOGUE.
  
  
  

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PROLOGUE.

Long had a restless Monarch's boundless Sway
Made half the Globe or tremble, or obey;
Doom'd, like his Subjects, all Mankind his Slaves;
By Choice destroying, as bless'd ANNA saves;
And, turning all his Neighbours into Foes,
Grudg'd Men Heav'n's darling Gifts of Freedom and Repose.
T'oppose his Force was more than Man could dare;
Heav'n had reserv'd that Glory for the Fair.


With Virtues crown'd, adorn'd with ev'ry Grace,
A Queen then rul'd a Warlike Northern Race;
Who, bless'd and free, contented with their own,
For Glory fought, and the World's Good alone.
Down, by her Arms, Grand Cyrus soon was hurl'd,
And, by a Woman, Heav'n reveng'd the World.
So since to ANNA, in a happy Hour,
Jove gave his Scales of Justice, and of Pow'r,
Inspir'd by Her, what Wonders still afford
Well-manag'd Treasures, and her Warrior's Sword!
From willing Mines, with more than Human Care,
Spirits are dealt thro' ev'ry Nerve of War.
Her Genius quells the World's ambitious Foe:
'Tis Valour strikes, and Prudence guides the Blow.
Yet, when this Day we show a Scythian Queen,
Think not we dare attempt a Modern Scene.
As Britain's Beauties all the World's excel,
Great ANNA's Reign disdains a Parallel.