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Oh, Tallard! once I did thy chains deplore;
But envy now the fate I mourn'd before ;
By bondage bless’d, protected by the foe,
You live contented with one overthrow;
Her captive, Britain kindly kept away
From the disgrace of the last fatal day.

How does my fall the haughty victor raise,
And join divided nations in his praise;
Grateful Germania unknown titles frames,
And CHURCHILL writes amongst her fov'reign names.
Part of her states obey a British lord,
Small part of the great empire he restor'd.
From the proud Spaniard he extorts applause,
And rivals with the Dutch their great Nafaus.
In ev'ry language are his battles known,
The Swede and Pole for his, despise their own.
A thousand fects in him their safety place,
And our own saints are thank'd for our disgrace.
England alone, and that some pleasure gives,
Envies herself the blessings she receives.

My grief each place renews where-e’er I go
And ev'ry art contributes to my woe;
Ramillia's plain each painter's pencil yields,
Bavaria flies in all their canvas fields:
On me, young poets their rude lays indite,
And on my forrows practise how to write ;
I in their scenes with borrow'd paflion rage,
And act a shameful part on ev'ry stage.

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In Flandria will the tale be ever told,
Nor will it

grow, with ever telling, old :
The lisping infants will their MARLBRO raise,
And their new speech grow plainer in his praise ;
His story will employ their middle years,
And in their latest age recall their fears,
While to their children's children they relate
The business of a day, their country's fate :
Then lead them forth, their thoughts to entertain,
And shew the wond'ring youth Ramillia's plain ;
''Twas here they fought, the houfhold fled that way,
And this the spot where MARLBRO proftrate lay.

Here they, perhaps, shall add Bavaria's name,
Censure his courage, and his conduct blame :
'Tis false, 'tis false, I did not basely yield,
I left indeed, but left a bloody field :
Believe not, future ages, ne'er believe
The vile afperfions which these wretches give;
If you too far my injur'd honour try,
Take heed, my ghost, it will, it shall, be nigh,
Rise in his face, and give the slave the lie.

Why should the stars thus on Britannia smile,
And partial blessings crown the fav’rite ifle ?
Holland does her for their great founder own;
Britannia

gave to Portugal a crown: Twice by her queens does proud Iberia fall ; Her Edwards and her Henrys conquer'd Gaul:

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The Swede her arms from late oppression freed,
And if he dares oppress, will curb the Swede.
She, from herself, decides her neighbours fates,
Rescues by turns, by turns subdues their states;
In the wide globe no part could nature stretch
Beyond her arms, and out of Britain's reach :
Who fear'd, she e'er could have Bavaria seen?
Such realms, and kingdoms, hills, and feas between?
Yet there, oh fad remembrance of

my woe!
Distant Bavaria does her triumphs show.
Proud ftate! must Europe lie at thy command,
No prince without thee rise, without thee ftand!
What Mare? what part is thine of all the spoil ?
Thine only is the hazard and the toil.
An empire thou hast fav’d and all its ftates,
Iberia's realms have felt leverer fates :
What wou'dst thou moreftill do thy arms advance ?
Heav'n knows what doom thou hast resery'd for France !

From whose wise care does all the treasure rise,
That slaughter'd hosts and shatter'd fleets fupplies ?
From whence such boundless conquest does the reap,
Purchas'd with all her boasted millions cheap ?

O bless'd! oh envy'd QueẾN! that does command
At such a time, in such a happy land ;
Great in her armies and her pow'rful fleet!
Great in her treasures ! in her triumphs great!
But greater still! and what we envy most,
That can a MARLBRO for her subject boast !

Oh,

Oh, Gallia ! from what I lendors art thou hurld?
The terror once of all the western world ;
Thy spreading map each year did-larger grow,
New mountains still did rise, new rivers flow;
But now surrounded by thy ancient mounds,
Doft inward fhrink from thy new-conquer'd bounds.
Why did not nature, far from MARLBro's worth,
In distant ages bring her Louis forth ?
Each uncontroal'd had conquer'd worlds alone,
Happy, for Europe, they together thone.

Cease! Louis, cease! from wars and slaughter cease!
Oh! sue at last, 'tis time to fue, for peace!
Urge not too far your twice unhappy fate,
Nor MARLBro's stronger arm confefs too late :
Who never camps nor rough encounters saw,
Can no just image of the hero draw:
He muit, alas! that MARLBRO truly knows,
Face him in battle, and whole armies lose.
Believe me, Sir, on my unwilling breaft,
Fate has his virtues one by one imprest :
With what a force our Schellemberg he storm'd ?
And Blenheim's battle with what conduct form’d?
How great his vigilance; how quick his thought;
What his contempt of death, Ramillia taught.
These nature cool for peace and counsel forms,
For battle those with rage and fury warms;
But to her fav’rite Britain does impart
The coolest head at once and warmest heart;

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!

So does Sicilia's lofty mountains show
Flames in her bosom, on her head the snow.

My youth with flatt'ring smiles did Fortune crown,
The more severely on my age to frown?
Of Pleasure's endless stores I drank my fill,
Officious Nature waited on my will;
The Austrian rescu'd, and the Turk o'erthrown,
Europe and Asia fill'd with my renown:
Blasted are all my glories and my fame,
Loft is my country and illustrious name;
The titles from their present lord are torn,
Which

my great ancestors so long had borne ;
No native honours shall my offspring grace,
'The last elector with a num'rous race.
Half my unhappy subjects lost by wars,
The rest for a worse fate the victor spares :
Were they for this entrusted to my care?
This the reward the brave, the faithful share ?
My fons lament, in distant dungeons thrown,
Unacted crimes, and follies not their own ;
But oh! my comfort !--my o'er-flowing eyes
Gufh forth with tears, and all my sorrows rise,
While the dear tender exile I bemoàn;
Oh royal bride! oh daughter of a throne !
Not thús I promis'd when I fought thy bed,
Thou didst the brave, the great Bavaria wed :
Curst be ambition ! curft the thirst of pow'r!
And curft that once-lov'd title Emperor !

I

Excuse

Vol. V.

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