The Female Reign an ode, Alluding to Horace, B. 4. Od. 14. Attempted in the Style of Pindar. Occasion'd by the wonderful Successes of the Arms of Her Majesty and Her Allies. With a Letter to a Gentleman in the University. By Samuel Cobb |
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 | The Female Reign |  |
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The Female Reign.
AN ODE.
I.
What can the British Senate giveTo make the Name of ANNA live?
By Future People to be sung,
The Labour of each grateful Tongue.
Can faithful Registers or Rhyme
In charming Eloquence, or sprightly Wit,
The Wonders of Her Reign transmit
To th' unborn Children of succeeding Time?
Can Painter's Oil, or Statuary's Art
Eternity to Her impart?
No—Titled Statues are but empty things
Inscrib'd to Royal Vanity,
The Sacrifice of Flattery
To Lawless Nero's, or Bourbonian Kings.
True Virtue to Her kindred Stars aspires,
Does all our Pomp of Stone and Verse surpass,
And mingling with Ætherial Fires,
No useless Ornament requires
From Speaking Colours, or from Breathing Brass.
II.
Greatest of Princes! where the wand'ring SunDoes o'er Earth's habitable Regions rowl,
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And sees Thy Race of Glory run
With Swiftness equal to his Own:
Thee on the Banks of Flandrian Scaldis sings
The jocund Swain, releas'd from Gallic Fear;
The English Voice unus'd to hear,
Thee the repeating Banks, Thee every Valley rings.
The Gaul untaught to bear the Flames
Of those who drink the Maese or Thames,
From the Britannick Valour flies,
No longer able to withstand
The Thunderbolt launch'd by a Female Hand,
Or Lightning darted from Her Eyes.
III.
What Treble Ruin Pious ANNA bringsOn False Electors, Perjur'd Kings,
Let the twice Fugitive Bavarian tell,
Who from His Airy Hope of better State
By Lust of Sway, irregularly Great,
Like an Apostate Angel, fell.
Who, by Imperial Favour rais'd,
I'th' highest Rank of Glory blaz'd;
And had till now, unrival'd, shone
More than a King, contented with His Own.
But Lucifer's bold Steps he trod,
Who durst Assault the Throne of God,
And for contended Realms of blissful Light,
Gain'd the sad Privilege to be
The First in Solid Misery,
Monarch of Hell, and Woes, and Endless Night.
Corruption of the Best is Worst,
And foul Ambition, like an Evil Wind
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And if a Seraph fall, He's doubly Curs'd.
IV.
Had Guile and Pride, and Envy grownIn the black Groves of Styx alone,
Nor ever had on Earth the baleful Crop been sown:
The Swain, without Amaze, had Till'd
The Flandrian Glebe, a guiltless Field:
Nor had He wond'red, when He found
The Bones of Heroes in the Ground.
No Crimson Streams had lately swell'd
The Dyle, the Danube, and the Scheld.
But Evils are of Necessary Growth
To Rouze the Brave, and Banish Sloth.
And some are Born to win the Stars
By Sweat, and Blood, and Worthy Scars.
Heroic Virtue is by Action seen
And Vices serve to make it keen;
And as Gigantick Tyrants rise
NASSAU'S and ANNA'S leave the Skies
The Earth-born Monsters to Chastise;
While Cerberus and Hydra grow
For an Alcides, or a MARLBOROUGH.
V.
If, Heav'nly Muse, you burn with a DesireTo Praise the Man whom all admire:
Come from thy Learn'd Castalian Springs
And stretch aloft thy Pegaseian Wings;
Strike the loud Pindaric Strings,
Like the Lark, who soars and sings:
And as you sail the Liquid Skies
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(For weep, they surely must
To see the bloody Annual Sacrifice;
To think how the neglected Dust
Which, with contempt, is basely trod,
Was once the Limbs of Captains, Brave and Just,
The Mortal Part of some Great Demy-God:
Who for thrice Fifty Years of stubborn War,
With slaught'ring Arms, the Gun and Sword,
Have dug the Mighty Sepulcher,
And fell as Martyrs on Record
Of Tyranny Reveng'd, and Liberty Restor'd.)
VI.
See, where at Audenard, with Heaps of SlainTh' Heroic Man, inspir'dly Brave;
Mowing a-cross, bestrews the Plain,
And with new Tenants crowds the wealthy Grave.
His Mind unshaken at the frightful Scene,
His Looks as chearfully serene
The routed Battle to pursue
As once adorn'd the Paphian Queen
When to Her Thracian Paramour she flew.
The gath'ring Troops He kens from far,
And with a Bridegroom's Passion and Delight
Courting the War, and Glowing for the Fight,
The new Salmoneus meets, the Celtic Thunderer.
Ah cursed Pride! Infernal Dream!
Which drove him to this wild Extream
That Dust a Deity should seem.
Be thought, as thro' the wond'ring Streets he rode,
Th' Immortal Man, or Mortal God.
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Should counterfeit th' Inimitable Force
Of Divine Thunder: Horrid Crime!
But Vengeance is the Child of Time,
And will too surely be repay'd
On His Prophane, Devoted Head,
Who durst Affront the Powers Above,
And their Eternal Flames Disgrace,
Too Fatal, brandish'd by the Rightful Jove,
Or Pallas, who supplies His Place.
VII.
The British Pallas! who as Homer's didFor Her lov'd Diomed,
Her Heroe's Mind with Wisdom fills,
And Heavenly Courage in His Heart instills.
Hence Lambent Flames around his Temples stray,
And with His unhurt Laurels play:
Hence thro' the thickest Squadrons does He ride,
With ANNA's Angels by His Side.
With what uncommon Speed
He spurs His foaming, fiery Steed!
And pushes on thro' midmost Fires
Where France's Fortune with Her Sons Retires.
Now here, now there, the sweepy Ruin flies;
As when the Pleiades arise,
The Southern Wind afflicts the Skies.
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Till Clouds and Water seem to joyn.
Or as a Dyke, cut by malicious Hands
O'erflows the fertile Netherlands;
Thro' the wide Yawn, th' Impetuous Sea
Lavish of his new Liberty,
Bestrides the Vale, and with tumultuous Noise
Bellows along the delug'd Plain,
Destructive to the ripening Grain
Far as th' Horizon he destroys:
The weeping Shepherd from an Hill, bewails the Watry Reign.
VIII.
So rapid flows th' unprison'd Stream!So strong the Force of MINDLEHEIM!
In vain the Woods of Audenard
Would shield the Gaul, a fenceless Guard.
As soon may Whirlwinds be with-held
As His Passage o'er the Scheld.
In vain the Torrent would oppose,
In vain arm'd Banks, and numerous Foes,
Who with inglorious haste retire,
Fly faster than the River flows,
And swifter than our Fire.
Vendosm from far upbraids their nimble Shame,
And pleads his Royal Master's Fame.
By Conde's Mighty Ghost, he cries,
By Turenne, Luxenburg, and All
Those Noble Souls, who fell a Sacrifice
At Lens, at Fleurus, and at Landen Fight,
Stop, I conjure, your ignominious Flight:
But Fear is deaf to Honour's Call.
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Is lost in the regardless Air.
As well He may
The Billows of the Ocean stay,
While CHURCHILL, like a driving Wind,
Or High Spring-Tide, pursues behind,
And with redoubled Speed urges their forward Way.
IX.
Nor less, Eugenius, Thy Important Care,Thou Second Thunderbolt of War!
Partner in Danger and in Fame,
With Marlborough's the Winds shall bear
To distant Colonies Thy conqu'ring Name.
Nor shall the Muse forget to sing
From Harmony what Blessings spring.
To tell how Death did enviously repine
To see a Friendship so Divine.
When in a Ball's destroying shape she past,
And mark'd Thy threatned Brow at last.
But durst not touch that Sacred Brain
Where the Concerns of Europe Reign;
For straight she bow'd her ghastly Head,
She saw the Mark of Heaven and fled.
As Cruel Brennus once, insulting Gaul,
When he, at Allia's fatal Flood,
Had fill'd the Plains with Roman Blood,
With conscious Awe forsook the Capitol,
Where Jove, Revenger of Prophaneness, stood.
X.
But where the Good and Brave CommandWhat Capitol, what Castle can withstand?
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Thro' Walls of Stone, and Towers of Brass.
LISLE, like a Mistress, had been courted long,
And always yielded to the Bold and Young:
The fairest Progeny of Vauban's Art,
Till Savoy's warlike Prince withstood
Her frowning Thunders, and thro' Seas of Blood
Tore the bright Darling from th' Old Tyrant's Heart.
Such Buda saw Him, when Proud Apti fell,
Unhappy, Valiant Infidel!
Who, Vanquish'd by superior Strength,
Surrendred up his haughty Breath,
Upon the Breach measuring his manly Length,
And shun'd the Bow-string by a Nobler Death.
XI.
Such Harscham's Field beheld Him in his Bloom,When Victory bespoke Him for her Own,
Her Favourite, immortal Son,
And told of better Years revolving on the Loom:
How He should make the Turkish Crescent wane,
And choak Tibiscus with the Slain.
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Of slaughter'd Bassaws who o'er Bassaws rowl'd)
And all his numerous Acts she told
From Latian Carpi down to Flandrian LISLE.
Where every Day new Conquests should produce,
Labour for Envy, and a Muse.
Where with her rattling Trumpet's sound
Fame should shake the Hills around;
Should tell how Webb, nigh woody Wynendale,
Argu'd each Inch of the important Ground.
So much in Virtue's Scale
True Valour Numbers can out-do,
And Thousands are but Cyphers to a Few.
XII.
Honour with open Arms receives at lastThe Heroes, who thro' Virtue's Temple past.
And show'rs down Lawrels from Above
On those whom Heav'n and ANNA Love.
And some, not sparingly, she throws
For the Young Eagles who could try
The Faith and Judgment of the Sky,
And dare the Sun with steddy Eye,
For Hanover's and Prussia's Brows,
Eugenes in bloom, and future Marlboroughs.
To Hanover, Brunswiga's Second Grace,
Descendant from a long Imperial Race,
The Muse directs an unaffected Flight,
And Prophesies, from so serene a Morn,
To what clear Glories He is Born,
When blazing with a full Meridian Light
He shall the British Hemisphere adorn.
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And He (since Death will never spare
The Good, the Pious, and the Fair)
In his ripe Harvest of Renown,
Shall after his Great Father sit,
(If Heav'n so long a Life permit)
And having swell'd the flowing Tide
Of Fame, which he in Arms shall get,
The Purchase of an Honest Sweat,
Shall safe in stormy Seas Britannia's Vessel guide.
XIII.
Britannia's Vessel, which, in ANNA's ReignAnd prudent Pilocy, enjoys
The Tempest, which the World destroys,
And rides Triumphant o'er the Subject Main,
O may She soon a quiet Harbour gain!
And sure the Promis'd Hour is come,
When in soft Notes the peaceful Lyre
Shall still the Trumpet and the Drum,
Shall play what Gods and Men desire,
And strike Bellona's Musick dumb.
When War, by Parents curst, shall quit the Field
Unbuckle his bright Helmet, and to rest
His weary Limbs, sit on his idle Shield
With Scars of Honour plow'd upon his Breast.
But if the Gallic Pharaoh's stubborn Heart
Grows fresh for Punishment, and hardens still,
Prepar'd for th' irrecoverable Ill,
And force th' Unwilling Skies to act the Last, Ungrateful Part:
Thy Forces, ANNA, like a Flood, shall whelm
(If Heav'n does Scepter'd Innocence maintain)
His famish'd, desolated Realm,
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(Who with dishonest Envy see
The sweet forbidden Fruits of distant Liberty)
Shall Curse their rigid Salic Law, and wish a Female Reign
XIV.
A FEMALE REIGN, like Thine,O ANNA, British Heroine!
To Thee afflicted Empires fly for Aid
Where e'er Tyrannic Standards are display'd,
From the wrong'd Iber to the threatned Rhine.
Thee, where the Golden-sanded Tagus flows
Beneath fair Ulyssippo's Walls
The frighted Lusitanian calls;
Thee, they who drink the Sein, with those
Who plow Iberian Fields, implore
To give the lab'ring World Repose
And Universal Peace Restore.
Thee Gallia, mournful to survive the Fate
Of her fall'n Grandeur, and departed State,
By sad Experience taught to own
That Virtue is a safer Way to Rise,
A shorter Passage to the Skies
Than Pelion upon Ossa thrown:
For they who by deny'd Attempts presume
To reach the Starry Thrones, become
Sure Food for Thunder, and condemn'd to howl
In Ætna, or in Arima to rowl.
By an inevitable Doom,
Gain but a Higher Fall, a Mountain for their Tomb.
FINIS.
Homer in his Fifth Iliad, because the Heroe of that Book is to do Wonders beyond the Power of Man, premises in the Beginning, that Pallas had peculiarly fitted him for that Day's Exploits.
Indomitas prope qualis undas
Exercet Auster, Pleaïdum choro
Scindente nubes, impiger hostium
Vexare turmas, & frementem
Mittere equum medios per ignes.
Sic tauriformis volvitur Aufidus
Qui regna Dauni præfluit Appuli
Cum sævit, horrendamq; cultis
Diluviem meditatur agris.
Exercet Auster, Pleaïdum choro
Scindente nubes, impiger hostium
Vexare turmas, & frementem
Mittere equum medios per ignes.
Sic tauriformis volvitur Aufidus
Qui regna Dauni præfluit Appuli
Cum sævit, horrendamq; cultis
Diluviem meditatur agris.
This was a fatal Battle to the Turks in the Year 1687. Prince Eugene with the Regiments of his Brigade was the first who enter'd the Trenches, and for that reason had the Honour to be the first Messenger of this happy News to the Emperor.
This Battle was fought on the 10th of October 1697; where Prince Eugene Commanded in Chief; in which there never happen'd so great and so terrible a Destruction to the Ottoman Army; which fell upon the Principal Commanders more than the Common Soldiers; for no less than Fifteen Bassaws, (Five of which had been Viziers of the Bench) were kill'd, besides the Supream Vizier.
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