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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 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
Sleep'st thou vast Soul of the Borbonian Line?
Thou Labour of projecting Mazarine!
Do Princes, who sustain a Nation's Weight,
Thus aim to Rise, and study to be Great?
Thus dost Thou Fame persue? Whose ominous Birth
Presag'd new Empire to th' astonish'd Earth.
Young smiling Angels blest thy Infant Bed,
And Lambent Glory shone round the World's promis'd Head.
Thy springing Fortunes Heav'n reserv'd for Me,
To polish and improve the Prodigy.
With Blood of Hereticks I quench'd the Flame
Which shook the steddy Fabrick of thy Fame.
By Me it stood: I taught the Gallick Shore
To eccho the curst Hugonot no more.
What then I did, e'er Fate had cut my Thread,
Believe my Ghost contriving with the Dead.
Thou Labour of projecting Mazarine!
Do Princes, who sustain a Nation's Weight,
Thus aim to Rise, and study to be Great?
240
Presag'd new Empire to th' astonish'd Earth.
Young smiling Angels blest thy Infant Bed,
And Lambent Glory shone round the World's promis'd Head.
Thy springing Fortunes Heav'n reserv'd for Me,
To polish and improve the Prodigy.
With Blood of Hereticks I quench'd the Flame
Which shook the steddy Fabrick of thy Fame.
By Me it stood: I taught the Gallick Shore
To eccho the curst Hugonot no more.
What then I did, e'er Fate had cut my Thread,
Believe my Ghost contriving with the Dead.
For thee I left Those happy Plains above,
To testify my Duty and my Love,
And on thy Triumphs wait—Believe the Call
Of Heav'n and Mazarine; 'tis destin'd All
What I relate; and God with sure Success,
Thy Fleet will Favour, and thy Armies Bless.
Prepare thy Navy, ev'ry Sail advance,
For so must stuborn Albion bow to France.
Angels attend thy Flags; behold, the Sea
No longer doubts who shall her Sov'reign be.
Behold thy Squadron hoisting for the Shore
O'er shatter'd Planks, thro' Waves of British Gore.
Nor let thy Marshals linger on the Rhine,
On the Danubian Banks prepare to join
With Succour, thy Bavarian Friend, and Mine.
What? Dost thou fear? Who can thy Troops oppose?
Can tardy Germans or dull Holland Foes?
Can giddy England wish a conqu'ring Field,
In Councils heady, and in Arms unskill'd?
In vain for new Plantagenets they look;
Of Edwards, Harrys, and of God forsook.
Think'st thou that Heav'n designs his high Command,
And Reins of Empire for a Woman's Hand?
A feeble Queen? Away, ungenerous Thought!
Art Thou My Lewis, and no better taught?
Still dost thou snore supine? Up, Glory cries;
If e'er the Charms of Empire mov'd thee, Rise!
Now, now, ascend thy Universal Throne!
For Heav'n has said it, and the World's thy Own.
To testify my Duty and my Love,
And on thy Triumphs wait—Believe the Call
Of Heav'n and Mazarine; 'tis destin'd All
241
Thy Fleet will Favour, and thy Armies Bless.
Prepare thy Navy, ev'ry Sail advance,
For so must stuborn Albion bow to France.
Angels attend thy Flags; behold, the Sea
No longer doubts who shall her Sov'reign be.
Behold thy Squadron hoisting for the Shore
O'er shatter'd Planks, thro' Waves of British Gore.
Nor let thy Marshals linger on the Rhine,
On the Danubian Banks prepare to join
With Succour, thy Bavarian Friend, and Mine.
What? Dost thou fear? Who can thy Troops oppose?
Can tardy Germans or dull Holland Foes?
Can giddy England wish a conqu'ring Field,
In Councils heady, and in Arms unskill'd?
In vain for new Plantagenets they look;
Of Edwards, Harrys, and of God forsook.
242
And Reins of Empire for a Woman's Hand?
A feeble Queen? Away, ungenerous Thought!
Art Thou My Lewis, and no better taught?
Still dost thou snore supine? Up, Glory cries;
If e'er the Charms of Empire mov'd thee, Rise!
Now, now, ascend thy Universal Throne!
For Heav'n has said it, and the World's thy Own.
At this the Monarch started from his Bed:
Sleep left his Eyes, and the Delusion fled.
Stay, Heav'nly Vision!—Thrice in vain he spoke,
For into Air the lying Fantome broke.
Yet still amus'd, and to Belief inclin'd
Of Glories, promis'd to his grasping Mind,
He smil'd: Imagin'd Scenes of Triumph spread
Youth thro' his Limbs; and the beguiling Shade,
Like Homer's Pallas, had inlarg'd his Size;
Reviving Nature, with renew'd Supplies,
Sprung thro' his wither'd Veins, and sparkled in his Eyes.
Now Italy, now Holland he devours,
Now the Britannick, and the German Powers.
In one Campaign he now pretends to sweep
What Baden in hard Fields was us'd to reap;
And Eugene's Latian Harvests pile on his triumphant Heap.
Sleep left his Eyes, and the Delusion fled.
Stay, Heav'nly Vision!—Thrice in vain he spoke,
For into Air the lying Fantome broke.
Yet still amus'd, and to Belief inclin'd
Of Glories, promis'd to his grasping Mind,
He smil'd: Imagin'd Scenes of Triumph spread
Youth thro' his Limbs; and the beguiling Shade,
243
Reviving Nature, with renew'd Supplies,
Sprung thro' his wither'd Veins, and sparkled in his Eyes.
Now Italy, now Holland he devours,
Now the Britannick, and the German Powers.
In one Campaign he now pretends to sweep
What Baden in hard Fields was us'd to reap;
And Eugene's Latian Harvests pile on his triumphant Heap.
A Council call'd, what in his Dream he heard,
The King relates; How Mazarine appear'd.
Some, not too credulous, advise to use
His Ancient Fraud, and with known Arts amuse.
Others devoted to the Vision's Call,
Think it no Dream, but Revelation all.
Villars, Marsin, Villeroy, and Tallard move
For Battle: This the Monarch does approve.
The King relates; How Mazarine appear'd.
Some, not too credulous, advise to use
His Ancient Fraud, and with known Arts amuse.
Others devoted to the Vision's Call,
Think it no Dream, but Revelation all.
Villars, Marsin, Villeroy, and Tallard move
For Battle: This the Monarch does approve.
244
Little he thought our Valour dar'd to roam,
Beyond our pleasant Fields and Native Home.
That on far Banks we would our Standards bear,
And wave our Colours in a German Air.
Had he forgot, what ancient Poets told,
How Scipio punish'd Perjury of Old?
Tho Fabius, willing to prolong his stay,
Pleads his once cautious, fortunate Delay.
Yet Victory whose Wings are us'd to fly,
Nor always hover in a Middle Sky,
Bears the young Hero, to the Puniek Shores,
Removes the War, and Italy restores.
Beyond our pleasant Fields and Native Home.
That on far Banks we would our Standards bear,
And wave our Colours in a German Air.
Had he forgot, what ancient Poets told,
How Scipio punish'd Perjury of Old?
Tho Fabius, willing to prolong his stay,
Pleads his once cautious, fortunate Delay.
Yet Victory whose Wings are us'd to fly,
Nor always hover in a Middle Sky,
Bears the young Hero, to the Puniek Shores,
Removes the War, and Italy restores.
Mean time the Duke, who for two long Campaigns
Had gain'd dry Conquests on the Flandrian Plains,
Now with swift Marches had the Neckar past:
Winds follow'd him, and scarce o'er-took at last.
Tallar'd looks around, astonish'd; Where he cries,
Where were the Mouths of Fame? Where Argus Eyes?
Those hundred Eyes, with which my Master sees
All Princes Counsels, were they blind to These?
O Fame, with list'ning Ears thou once wert hung;
Why were they deaf? Why silent ev'ry Tongue?
Is England SECRET grown? And then a Sigh,
Presaging, whisper'd that his Fall was nigh.
He eat his valiant Heart to see the Prey
He thought his own, so bravely snatch'd away.
With Doubts bewildred, angrily he stood,
And swell'd in vain: As in some Libyan Wood,
When a fell Tyger has a Bull in Chase,
A Lyon rushes, and retards his pace;
To nobler Teeth forc'd to resign the Prize;
He spurns the yellow Sand, and rends the Skies.
He growls, retiring with a feeble Rage,
Asham'd to fly, yet fearing to engage.
Had gain'd dry Conquests on the Flandrian Plains,
Now with swift Marches had the Neckar past:
Winds follow'd him, and scarce o'er-took at last.
245
Where were the Mouths of Fame? Where Argus Eyes?
Those hundred Eyes, with which my Master sees
All Princes Counsels, were they blind to These?
O Fame, with list'ning Ears thou once wert hung;
Why were they deaf? Why silent ev'ry Tongue?
Is England SECRET grown? And then a Sigh,
Presaging, whisper'd that his Fall was nigh.
He eat his valiant Heart to see the Prey
He thought his own, so bravely snatch'd away.
With Doubts bewildred, angrily he stood,
And swell'd in vain: As in some Libyan Wood,
When a fell Tyger has a Bull in Chase,
A Lyon rushes, and retards his pace;
To nobler Teeth forc'd to resign the Prize;
He spurns the yellow Sand, and rends the Skies.
246
Asham'd to fly, yet fearing to engage.
Now had the Moon twice wain'd; the fiery Sun
His crooked Race had thro' the Lion run,
While the Duke's Army, fortify'd to bear
The sultry Fury of the barking Star,
Five hundred Miles had with unwearied Feet
Measur'd, and cop'd with a whole Summer's Heat.
Tho' Thirst and Hunger call, yet none complain
Of the spoil'd Vineyard, or the pillag'd Grain.
Such Peace in Arms they to their Leader owe;
By His Example o'er sleep Hills they go,
And cross wide Rivers swifter than they flow.
His crooked Race had thro' the Lion run,
While the Duke's Army, fortify'd to bear
The sultry Fury of the barking Star,
Five hundred Miles had with unwearied Feet
Measur'd, and cop'd with a whole Summer's Heat.
Tho' Thirst and Hunger call, yet none complain
Of the spoil'd Vineyard, or the pillag'd Grain.
Such Peace in Arms they to their Leader owe;
By His Example o'er sleep Hills they go,
And cross wide Rivers swifter than they flow.
As Bees, united in a Cluster, flock,
Tho separate People, from a hollow Rock;
So round him divers-speaking Nations came;
Their Language various, their Consent the same.
The Faithful Prussian, and the Hardy Dane,
The Valiant Hessian, with a smaller Train
Of Courages, to make the Wonderful Campaign.
Tho separate People, from a hollow Rock;
So round him divers-speaking Nations came;
Their Language various, their Consent the same.
247
The Valiant Hessian, with a smaller Train
Of Courages, to make the Wonderful Campaign.
And now behold two ready Armies meet,
Which, horrible to speak: in Thunder greet.
Be kind, ye Angels, who protect the State
Of Europe, and on Britain's Fortunes wait!
Spare not o'er MARLBOROUGH's important Head
Your Swords to brandish, and your Wings to spread:
For whom we pray, and tire the Power Above
With frequent Wishes for the Man We love;
For whom the tender Darling of his Breast
Sighs all the Day, and weeps the Stars to rest.
Who Fights abroad, while ANNA Prays at home,
And moves with Passion the Windsorian Dome:
For if she sighs, the Statues seem to groan;
And, at her Tears, hard Marbles sweat their own:
Concern and Greatness in her Looks are seen,
The Loving Mother, and Defending QUEEN.
Go, Muse, to ANNA, who thy Voice will hear,
Go, bid Her dry up ev'ry balmy Tear:
Tell how Her Arms all Europe have restor'd;
Tell how Her Pray'rs were stronger than the Sword.
Then to the Hero's lov'd Cornelia fly,
Relate the Schellenbergian Victory.
But speak no farther, lest the dreadful Name
Of pointed Cannon fright the lovely Dame.
Yet say, What Man thro' the thick Squadrons broke,
Smear'd with brave Dust and honourable Smoke;
Say how He Flames; as when some Town's on fire,
A lighted Beacon warns the Neighb'ring Shire.
The giddy Rout, this way and that way run,
Uncertain where to fly, or what to shun.
So fled the false Elector; conscious grown
His Neighbour's Fate preluded to his Own.
He throws around him a distracted Look:
Behind him follows the Victorious DUKE;
So close pursu'd, he would repent his Pride;
And bends, and wavers to the better side.
Then quickly changing his inconstant Mind,
He yeilds, like Osiers, to the Northern Wind.
When Tallard, strengthen'd with a num'rous Force
Of fresh Battalions, and of Houshold Horse,
Comes pouring like a Torrent; such a Host
Deserv'd our Swords; the best which France could boast.
He thought this Summer, like the last, would yeild
A plenteous Harvest, and an equal Field:
He dreamt new Laurels growing on his Brow,
And that chain'd Fortune was oblig'd to bow.
Which, horrible to speak: in Thunder greet.
Be kind, ye Angels, who protect the State
Of Europe, and on Britain's Fortunes wait!
Spare not o'er MARLBOROUGH's important Head
Your Swords to brandish, and your Wings to spread:
For whom we pray, and tire the Power Above
With frequent Wishes for the Man We love;
For whom the tender Darling of his Breast
Sighs all the Day, and weeps the Stars to rest.
Who Fights abroad, while ANNA Prays at home,
And moves with Passion the Windsorian Dome:
248
And, at her Tears, hard Marbles sweat their own:
Concern and Greatness in her Looks are seen,
The Loving Mother, and Defending QUEEN.
Go, Muse, to ANNA, who thy Voice will hear,
Go, bid Her dry up ev'ry balmy Tear:
Tell how Her Arms all Europe have restor'd;
Tell how Her Pray'rs were stronger than the Sword.
Then to the Hero's lov'd Cornelia fly,
Relate the Schellenbergian Victory.
But speak no farther, lest the dreadful Name
Of pointed Cannon fright the lovely Dame.
Yet say, What Man thro' the thick Squadrons broke,
Smear'd with brave Dust and honourable Smoke;
Say how He Flames; as when some Town's on fire,
A lighted Beacon warns the Neighb'ring Shire.
249
Uncertain where to fly, or what to shun.
So fled the false Elector; conscious grown
His Neighbour's Fate preluded to his Own.
He throws around him a distracted Look:
Behind him follows the Victorious DUKE;
So close pursu'd, he would repent his Pride;
And bends, and wavers to the better side.
Then quickly changing his inconstant Mind,
He yeilds, like Osiers, to the Northern Wind.
When Tallard, strengthen'd with a num'rous Force
Of fresh Battalions, and of Houshold Horse,
Comes pouring like a Torrent; such a Host
Deserv'd our Swords; the best which France could boast.
He thought this Summer, like the last, would yeild
A plenteous Harvest, and an equal Field:
250
And that chain'd Fortune was oblig'd to bow.
Now the two Armies were in Battle rang'd,
And Death for Death, with mutual Shot exchang'd.
The Sun had told Eights Hours, and just began
To number out the Ninth to weary Man:
While Heav'n, to weigh whose Valour must prevail,
Hung o'er the Warriours Heads the doubtful Scale;
Till a kind Angel came, and at the Throne
Of God, approaching, threw a Royal Groan.
Till pious Sighs, drawn deep from ANNA's Breast,
Our Fate decided, and the Ballance press'd.
And Death for Death, with mutual Shot exchang'd.
The Sun had told Eights Hours, and just began
To number out the Ninth to weary Man:
While Heav'n, to weigh whose Valour must prevail,
Hung o'er the Warriours Heads the doubtful Scale;
Till a kind Angel came, and at the Throne
Of God, approaching, threw a Royal Groan.
Till pious Sighs, drawn deep from ANNA's Breast,
Our Fate decided, and the Ballance press'd.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |