 | Poems on Affairs of State |  |
An ODE on the D. of Marlborough, 1706.
What Pow'r of Words can equal thy Renown,
Illustrious God of War? What Muse can raise
Numbers sufficient for thy Praise?
Thalia, Arethusa, skill'd in Song,
The mighty Task decline;
To Churchill's Race the Theme belongs,
(Churchill's Race transcend the Nine.)
'Tis Sunderland alone that must inspire,
She shares the Godlike Hero's Fire;
And she must tune the Voice, and animate the Lyre.
Illustrious God of War? What Muse can raise
Numbers sufficient for thy Praise?
Thalia, Arethusa, skill'd in Song,
The mighty Task decline;
To Churchill's Race the Theme belongs,
(Churchill's Race transcend the Nine.)
'Tis Sunderland alone that must inspire,
She shares the Godlike Hero's Fire;
And she must tune the Voice, and animate the Lyre.
O Marlbro', her Influence shall supply
The Poet's mean Ability;
Whilst he to sing prepares
The Triumphs of thy Wars;
The Terror of thy conq'ring Arms,
Which freed the Empire from Alarms,
And struck the trembling Gaul with pannic Fears.
The Poet's mean Ability;
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The Triumphs of thy Wars;
The Terror of thy conq'ring Arms,
Which freed the Empire from Alarms,
And struck the trembling Gaul with pannic Fears.
Lewis, once call'd The Great,
In Thee beholds his Fate;
At Schellemberg thou let'st him see
An Action worthy of thy Cause and Thee:
On Blenheim's fatal Plain,
Thousands on Thousands slain,
Told the insulting Foe again,
That Marlborough, arm'd in ANNA's Cause,
To injur'd Nations should restore
Their Rights, their Liberties and Laws.
Forsaken Justice shall no longer mourn,
Uninterrupted Streams of Faith return,
Now Marlbro's thund'ring Arm has broke the Tyrant's Pow'r.
In Thee beholds his Fate;
At Schellemberg thou let'st him see
An Action worthy of thy Cause and Thee:
On Blenheim's fatal Plain,
Thousands on Thousands slain,
Told the insulting Foe again,
That Marlborough, arm'd in ANNA's Cause,
To injur'd Nations should restore
Their Rights, their Liberties and Laws.
Forsaken Justice shall no longer mourn,
Uninterrupted Streams of Faith return,
Now Marlbro's thund'ring Arm has broke the Tyrant's Pow'r.
What Pyramids of Praise!
What Wreaths of never-dying Bays
Shall crown thy Glorious Head?
Who to sure Conquest dost thy Armies lead.
The Passage of the Granic Flood,
Which has so many Ages stood,
Renown'd in Grecian Story,
With all young Ammon's Deeds, are but a Foil
To the Superior Action of the Dyle,
And only serve to raise the Lustre of thy Glory.
The Heroes of Antiquity,
Great Pompey, Cæsar, Anthony, and He
Who Kindred claim with Jove,
Shall blush to see
Themselves fall short, so infinitely short of Thee.
What Wreaths of never-dying Bays
Shall crown thy Glorious Head?
Who to sure Conquest dost thy Armies lead.
The Passage of the Granic Flood,
Which has so many Ages stood,
Renown'd in Grecian Story,
With all young Ammon's Deeds, are but a Foil
To the Superior Action of the Dyle,
And only serve to raise the Lustre of thy Glory.
The Heroes of Antiquity,
Great Pompey, Cæsar, Anthony, and He
Who Kindred claim with Jove,
Shall blush to see
Themselves fall short, so infinitely short of Thee.
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And Oh! Thou eldest Son of Fame!
How shall we 'nough adore thy Name?
To praise thee as we ought,
The Spirit of our Lays
Should equal that with which our Hero fought,
And gain'd immortal Fame at Rammelies.
But Numbers are too slow,
So fast thy mighty Conquests flow;
Such is the Terror of thy Sword,
So quick the yielding Cities Bow,
To recognize their rightful Lord.
Joyful Iberia shall declare
The Wonders thou hast done for her;
Admiring Europe shall confess,
To thee they owe the Charms of Peace,
And Nations emulous shall crown thy vast Success.
How shall we 'nough adore thy Name?
To praise thee as we ought,
The Spirit of our Lays
Should equal that with which our Hero fought,
And gain'd immortal Fame at Rammelies.
But Numbers are too slow,
So fast thy mighty Conquests flow;
Such is the Terror of thy Sword,
So quick the yielding Cities Bow,
To recognize their rightful Lord.
Joyful Iberia shall declare
The Wonders thou hast done for her;
Admiring Europe shall confess,
To thee they owe the Charms of Peace,
And Nations emulous shall crown thy vast Success.
Thrice happy Britain! glorious Isle!
On Thee the rescu'd Princes smile,
And bless thy fruitful Plains,
From whence their great Deliv'rer came;
Where Marlbro' drew his vital Flame,
And mighty ANNA reigns.
But Oh! amidst th'extreamest Joy
Of thy exulting Swains,
How are thy Bards deprest!
What dire Confusion fills their Breast!
When anxious they behold
The British General, with greater Ease,
Vanquish the Nation's Enemies,
Than they find Words to celebrate his Victories.
On Thee the rescu'd Princes smile,
And bless thy fruitful Plains,
From whence their great Deliv'rer came;
Where Marlbro' drew his vital Flame,
And mighty ANNA reigns.
But Oh! amidst th'extreamest Joy
Of thy exulting Swains,
How are thy Bards deprest!
What dire Confusion fills their Breast!
When anxious they behold
The British General, with greater Ease,
Vanquish the Nation's Enemies,
Than they find Words to celebrate his Victories.
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