Assures good omens, and Saint George's worth Enkindles like desire of high exploits. Immediate sieges, and the tire of war, Roll in thy eager mind; thy plumy crest Nods horrible; with more terrific port Thou walk'st, and seem'st already in the fight. What spoils, what conquests, then did Albion hope From thy achievements! yet thou hast surpast Her boldest vows, exceeded what thy foes Could fear or fancy; they, in multitude Superior, fed their thoughts with prospect vain Of victory and rapine, reckoning what From ransom'd captives would accrue. Jovial his mate bespoke: "O friend, observe How gay with all th' accoutrements of war The Britons come, with gold well fraught, they come Thus far our prey, and tempt us to subdue Their recreant force; how will their bodies stript Enrich the victors, while the vultures sate Their maws with full repast!"-Another, warm'd With high ambition, and conceit of prowess Inherent, arrogantly thus presum'd: "What if this sword, full often drench'd in blood Of base antagonists, with griding edge Should now cleave sheer the execrable head Of Churchill, met in arms! or if this hand, Soon as his army disarray'd 'gins swerve, Should stay him flying, with retentive gripe, Confounded and appall'd! no trivial price Should set him free, nor small should be my praise To lead him shackled, and expos'd to scorn Of gathering crowds, the Britons' boasted chief." Thus they, in sportive mood, their empty taunts And menaces exprest; nor could their prince In arms, vain Tallard, from opprobrious speech Refrain: "Why halt ye thus, ye Britons? Why Decline the war? Shall a morass forbid Your easy march? Advance; we'll bridge a way, Safe of access." Imprudent, thus t' invite A furious lion to his folds! That boast He ill abides; captiv'd, in other plight He soon revisits Britany, that once Resplendent came, with stretch'd retinue girt, And pompous pageantry; O hapless fate, If any arm, but Churchill's, had prevail'd!
No need such boasts, or exprobrations false Of cowardice; the military mound The British files transcend, in evil hour
For their proud foes, that fondly brav'd their fate. And now on either side the trumpets blew, Signal of onset, resolution firm Inspiring, and pernicious love of war. The adverse fronts in rueful conflict meet, Collecting all their might; for on th' event Decisive of this bloody day depends The fate of kingdoms: with less vehemence The great competitors for Rome engag'd, Cæsar, and Pompey, on Pharsalian plains,
Where stern Bellona, with one final stroke, Adjudg'd the empire of this globe to one. Here the Bavarian duke his brigades leads, Gallant in arms, and gaudy to behold, Bold champion! brandishing his Noric blade, Best-temper'd steel, successless prov'd in field! Next Tallard, with his Celtic infautry Presumptuous comes; here Churchill, not so prompt To vaunt as fight, his hardy cohorts joins With Eugene's German force. Now from each The brazen instruments of Death discharge Horrific flames, and turbid streaming clouds Of smoke sulphureous; intermixt with these Large globous irons fly, of dreadful hiss, Singeing the air, and from long distance bring Surprising slaughter; on each side they fly By chains connext, and with destructive sweep Behead whole troops at once; the hairy scalps Are whirl'd aloof, while numerous trunks bestrew Th' ensanguin'd field: with latent mischief stor'd Showers of granadoes rain, by sudden burst Disploding murderous bowels, fragments of steel, And stones, and glass, and nitrous grain adust; A thousand ways at once the shiver'd orbs Fly diverse, working torment, and foul rout With deadly bruise, and gashes furrow'd deep. Of pain impatient, the high-prancing steeds Disdain the curb, and, flinging to and fro, Spurn their dismounted riders; they expire Indignant, by unhostile wounds destroy'd.
Thus through each army Death in various shapes Prevail'd; here mangled limbs, here brains and gore Lie clotted; lifeless some: with anguish these Gnashing, and loud laments invoking aid, Unpity'd, and unheard; the louder din
Of guns, and trumpets' clang, and solemn sound Of drums, o'ercame their groans. In equal scale Long hung the fight; few marks of fear were seen, None of retreat. As when two adverse winds, Sublim'd from dewy vapours, in mid-sky Engage with horrid shock, the ruffled brine Roars stormy, they together dash the clouds, Levying their equal force with utmost rage; Long undecided lasts the airy strife:- So they incens'd; till Churchill, viewing where The violence of Tallard most prevail'd, Came to oppose his slaughtering arm; with speed Precipitant he rode, urging his way
O'er hills of gasping heroes, and fall'n steeds Rolling in death: Destruction, grim with blood, Attends his furious course. Him thus enrag'd, Descrying from afar, some engineer, Dextrous to guide th' unerring charge, design'd By one nice shot to terminate the war. With aim direct the levell'd bullet flew, But miss'd her scope (for Destiny withstood Th' approaching wound) and guiltless plough'd her Beneath his courser; (round his sacred head [way The glowing balls play innocent, while he With dire impetuous sway deals fatal blows Amongst the scatter'd Gauls. But O! beware, Great warrior! nor, too prodigal of life, Expose the British safety: hath not Jove Already warn'd thee to withdraw? Reserve Thyself for other palms. Ev'n now thy aid, Eugene, with regiments unequal prest, Awaits; this day of all his honours gain'd Despoils him, if thy succour opportune Defends not the sad hour: permit not thou So brave a leader with the vulgar herd
To bite the ground unnoted.-Swift, and fierce As wintry storm, he flies, to reinforce The yielding wing; in Gallic blood again He dews his reeking sword, and strews the ground With headless ranks:) (so Ajax interpos'd His sevenfold shield, and screen'd Laertes' son, For valour much, and warlike wiles, renown'd, When the insulting Trojans urg'd him sore With tilted spears) unmanly dread invades The French astony'd; straight their useless arms They quit, and in ignoble flight confide, Un-eemly yelling; distant hills return The hideous noise. What can they do? or how Withstand his wide-destroying sword?) or where Find shelter, thus repuls'd? Behind, with wrath Resistless, th' eager English champions press, Chastizing tardy flight; before them rolls His current swift, the Danube vast and deep, Supreme of rivers! to the frightful brink, Urg'd by compulsive arms, soon as they reach'd, New horrour chill'd their veins: devote they saw Themselves to wretched doom; with efforts vain, Encourag'd by despair, or obstinate
To fall like men in arms, some dare renew Feeble engagement, meeting glorious fate On the firm land; the rest, discomfited, And push'd by Marlborough's avengeful hand, Leap plunging in the wide-extended flood. Bands numerous as the Memphian soldiery, That swell'd the Erythræan wave, when wall'd The unfroze waters marvellously stood, Observant of the great command. Upborne By frothy billows thousands float the stream In cumbrous mail with love of further shore; Confiding in their hands, that sed❜lous strive To cut th' outrageous fluent in this distress, Ev'n in the sight of Death, some tokens show Of fearless friendship, and their sinking mates Sustain vain love, though laudable! absorb'd By a fierce eddy, they together sound The vast profundity; their horses paw The swelling surge with fruitless toil: surcharg'd, And in his course obstructed by large spoil, The river flows redundant, and attacks The lingering remnant with unusual tide; Then rolling back, in his capacious lap Ingulfs their whole militia, quick immers'd. So when some sweltering travellers retire To leafy shades, near the cool sunless verge Of Paraba, Brazilian stream; her tail Of vast extension from her watry den, A grisly Hydra suddenly shoots forth, Insidious, and with curl'd envenom'd train Embracing horridly, at once the crew Into the river whirls: th' unweeting prey Entwisted roars, th' affrighted flood rebounds.
Nor did the British squadrons now surcease To gall their foes o'erwhelm'd; full many felt In the moist element a scorching death, Pierc'd sinking; shrouded in a dusky cloud The current flows, with livid missive flames Boiling, as once Pergamean Xanthus boil'd, Inflam'd by Vulcan, when the swift-footed son Of Peleus to his baleful banks pursued The straggling Trojans: nor less eager drove Victorious Churchill his desponding foes Into the deep immense, that many a league Empurpled ran, with gushing gore distain'd.
Thus the experienc'd valour of one man, Mighty in conflict, rescued harass'd powers
From ruin impendent, and th' afflicted throne Imperial, that once lorded o'er the world, Sustain'd. With prudent stay, he long def r'd The rough contention, nor would deign to rout An host disparted; when in union firm Embody'd they advanc'd, collecting all Their strength, and worthy seem'd to be subdued: He the proud boasters sent, with stern assault, Down to the rea'ms of Night. The British souls, (A lamentable race!) that ceas'd to breathe, On Landen-plains, this heavenly gladsome air, Exult to see the crowding ghosts descend Unnumber'd; well aveng'd, they quit the cares Of mortal life, and drink th' oblivious lake. Not so the new inhabitants: they roam Erroneous, and disconsolate; themselves Accusing, and their chiefs, improvident Of military chance; when 'o! they see, Through the dun mist, in blooming beauty fresh, Two lovely youths, that amicably walked O'er verdant meads, and pleas'd, perhaps, revolvð Anna's late conquests; one 2, to empire born, Egregious prince, whose manly childhood show'd His mingled parents, and portended joy Unspeakable; thou 3, his associate dear Once in this world, nor now by Fate disjoin'd, Had thy presiding star propitious shone, Should'st Churchill be! but Heaven severe cut short Their springing years, nor would this isle should boast Gifts so important! them the Gallic shades Surveying, read in either radiant look Marks of excessive dignity and grace, Delighted; till, in one, their curious eye Discerns their great subduer's awful mien, And corresponding features fear; to them Confusion! straight the airy phantoms fleet, With headlong haste, and dread a new pursuit. The image pleas'd with joy paternal smiles.
Enough, O Muse: the sadly-pleasing theme Leave, with these dark abodes, and reascend To breathe the upper air, where triumphs wait The conqueror, and sav'd nations' joint acclaim. Hark! how the cannon, inoffensive now, Gives signs of gratulation; struggling crowds From every city flow; with ardent gaze Fix'd they behold the British guide, of sight Insatiate; whilst his great redeeming hand Each prince affects to touch respectful. See How Prussia's king transported entertains His mighty guest! to him the royal pledge, Hope of his realm, commits (with better fate, Than to the Trojan chief Evander gave Unhappy Pallas) and entreats to show The skill and rudiments austere of war. See, with what joy, him Leopold declares His great deliverer; and courts t' accept Of titles, with superior modesty
Better refus'd! Meanwhile the haughty king Far humbler thoughts now learns: despair, and fear, Now first he feels; his laurels all at once Torn from his aged head in life's extreme, Distract his soul! nor can great Boileau's harp Of various sounding wire, best taught to calin Whatever passion, and exalt the soul With highest strains, his languid spirits cheer: Rage, shame, and grief, alternate in his breast.
But who can tell what pangs, what sharp remorse, Torment the Boian prince? from native soil
* Duke of Gloucester. 3 Marquis of Blandford.
Exil'd by Fate, torn from the dear embrace Of weeping consort, and depriv'd the sight Of his young guiltless progeny, he seeks Inglorious shelter, in an alien land; Deplorable! but that his mind averse To right, and insincere, would violate His plighted faith: why did he not accept Friendly composure offer'd? or well weigh With whom he must contend? encountering fierce The Solymean sultan, he o'erthrew
His moony troops, returning bravely smear'd With Painim blood effus'd; nor did the Gaul Not find him once a baleful foe: but when, Of counsel rash, new measures he pursues, Unhappy prince! (no more a prince) he sees Too late his errour, forc'd t' implore relief Of him, he once defy'd. O destitute
Of hope, unpity'd! thou should'st first have thought Of persevering stedfast; now upbraid Thy own inconstant, ill-aspiring heart. Lo! how the Noric plains, through thy default Rise hilly, with large piles of slaughter'd knights, Best men, that warr'd still firmly for their prince Though faithless, and unshaken duty show'd; Worthy of better end. Where cities stood, Well fenc'd and numerous, desolation reigns, And emptiness; dismay'd, unfed, unhous'd, The widow and the orphan strole around The desert wide; with oft-retorted eye They view the gaping walls, and poor remains Of mansions, once their own, (now loathsome haunts Of birds obscene) bewailing loud the loss Of spouse, or sire, or son, ere manly prime, Slain in sad conflict, and complain of Fate As partial, and too rigorous; nor find Where to retire themselves, or where appease Th' afflictive keen desire of food, expos'd To winds, and storms, and jaws of savage beasts. Thrice happy Albion! from the world disjoin'd By Heaven propitious, blissful seat of peace! Learn from thy neighbours' miseries to prize Thy welfare; crown'd with Nature's choicest gift. Remote thou hear'st the dire effect of war, Depopulation, void alone of fear
And peril, whilst the dismal symphony Of drums and clarions, other realms annoys. Th' Iberian sceptre undecided, here Engages mighty hosts in wasteful strife: From different climes the flower of youth descends Down to the Lusitanian vales, resolv'd With utmost hazard to enthrone their prince, Gallic or Austrian; havoc dire ensues, And wild uproar: the natives, dubious whom They must obey, in consternation wait, Till rigid Conquest will pronounce their liege. Nor is the brazen voice of War tinheard On the mild Latian shore: what sighs and tears Hath Eugene caus'd! how many widows curse His cleaving falchion! fertile soil in vain! What do thy pastures, or thy vines avail, Best boon of Heaven! or huge Taburnus, cloth'd With olives, when the cruel battle mows The planters, with their harvest immature? See, with what outrage from the frosty north, The early-valiant Swede draws forth his wings In battailous array, while Volga's stream Sends opposite, in shaggy armour clad, Her borderers: on mutual slaughter bent, They rend their countries. How is Poland vex'd With civil broils, while two elected kings
Contend for sway? unhappy nation, left Thus free of choice! The English, undisturb'd With such sad privilege, submiss obey
Whom Heaven ordains supreme, with reverence due, Not thraldom, in fit liberty secure:
From sceptred kings, in long descent deriv'd, Thou, Anna, rulest; prudent to promote Thy people's ease at home, nor studious less Of Europe's good; to thee, of kingly right, Sole arbitress, declining thrones, and powers Sue for relief; thou bid'st thy Churchill go, Succour the injur'd realms, defeat the hopes Of haughty Louis, unconfin'd; he goes Obsequious, and the dread command fulfils, In one great day. Again thou giv'st in charge To Rooke, that he should let that monarch know, The empire of the ocean wide diffus'd
Is thine; behold! with winged speed he rides Undaunted o'er the labouring main t' assert Thy liquid kingdoms; at his near approach The Gallic navies, impotent to bear
His volly'd thunder, torn, dissever'd, scud, And bless the friendly interposing night.
Hail, mighty queen! reserv'd by Fate to grace The new-born age: what hopes may we conceive Of future years, when to thy early reign Neptune submits his trident, and thy arms Already have prevail'd to th' utmost bound Hesperian, Calpe, by Alcides fix'd, Mountain sublime, that casts a shade of length Immeasurable, and rules the inland waves! Let others, with insatiate thirst of rule, Invade their neighbours lands, neglect the ties Of leagues and oaths; this thy peculiar praise Be still, to study right, and quell the force Of kings perfidious; let them learn from thee, That neither strength, nor policy refin'd, Shall with success be crown'd, where justice fails. Thou, with thy own content, not for thyself, Subduest regions, generous to raise
The suppliant knee, and curb the rebel neck. The German boasts thy conquests, and enjoys The great advantage; nought to thee redounds But satisfaction from thy conscious mind.
Auspicious queen! since in thy realms secure Of peace thou reign'st, and victory attends Thy distant ensigns, with compassion view Europe embroil'd; still thou (for thou alone Sufficient art) the jarring kingdoms' ire, Reciprocally ruinous; say who
Shall wield th' Hesperian, who the Polish sword, By thy decree? the trembling lands shall hear Thy voice, obedient, lest thy scourge should bruise Their stubborn necks, and Churchill, in his wrath, Make them remember Blenheim with regret.
Thus shall the nations, aw'd to peace, extol Thy power and justice: Jealousies and Fears, And Hate infernal, banish'd, shall retire To Mauritania, or the Bactrian coasts, Or Tartary, engendering discords fell Amongst the enemies of Truth; while arts Pacific, and inviolable love, Flourish in Europe. Hail, Saturnian days Returning! in perpetual tenour run
Delectable, and shed your influence sweet On virtuous Anna's head: ye happy days, By her restor'd, her just designs complete, And, mildly on her shining, bless the world!
Thus, from the noisy world exempt, with case And plenty blest, amid the mazy groves,
(Sweet solitude!) where warbling birds provoke The silent Muse, delicious rural seat
Of St. John, English Memmius, I presum'd
To sing Britannic trophies, inexpert
Of war, with mean attempt while he intent (So Anna's will ordains) to expedite His military charge4, no leisure finds
To string his charming shell: but when return'd Consummate Peace shall rear her cheerful head, Then shall his Churchill, in sublimer verse, For ever triumph; latest times shall learn From such a chief to fight, and bard to sing.
Quam Gratiarum cura decentium O! O! labellis cui Venus insidet! Tu sorte felix: me Maria Macerat (ah miserum!) videndo: Maria, quæ me sidereo tuens Obliqua vultu per medium jecur
Trajecit, atque excussit omnes Protinus ex animo puellas. Hanc ulla mentis spe mihi mutuæ Utcunque desit, nocte, die vigil
Suspiro; nec jam vina somnos Nec revocant, tua dona, fumi.
AD HENRICUM ST. JOHN, ARMIG. 1706.
O qui recisa finibus Indicis Benignus herbæ, das mihi divitem
Haurire succum, et sauveolentes Sæpe tubis iterare fumos; Qui solus acri respicis asperum Siti palatum, proluis et mero,
Dulcem elaborant cui saporem Hesperii pretiumque, soles: Ecquid reponam muneris omnium Exors bonorum? prome reconditum, Pimplæa, carmen, desidésque Ad numeros, age, tende chordas. Ferri secundo mens avet impetu, Quà cygniformes per liquidum æthera, Te, diva, vim præbente, vates Explicuit venusinus alas:
Solers modorum, seu puerum trucem, Cum matre flavâ, seu caneret rosas Et vina, cyrrhæis Hetruscum Rite beans equitem sub antris.
At non Lyæi vis generosior Affluxit illi; sæpe licet cadum Jactet Falernum, sæpe Chiæ Munera, lætitiamque testæ. Patronus illi non fuit artium Celebriorum; sed nec amantior
Nec charus æquè. O! quæ medullas Flamma subit, tacitosque sensus! Pertentat, ut téque et tua munera Gratus recordor, mercurialium
Princeps virorum! et ipse Musæ Cultor, et usque colende Musis ! Sed me minantem grandia deficit Receptus ægrè spiritus, ilia
Dum pulsat ima, ac inquietum Tussis agens sine more pectus. Altè petito quassat anhelitu; Funesta planè, ni mihi balsamum
Distillet in venas, tuæque Lenis opem ferat haustus uvæ. Hanc sumo, parcis et tibi poculis Libo salutem; quin precor, optima Ut usque conjux sospitetur, Perpetuo recreans amore. Te consulentem militiæ super Rebus togatum. Macte! tori decus,
Formosa cui Francisca cessit, Crine placens, niveoque collo!
♦ He was then secretary of war.
TO HENRY ST. JOHN, ESQ. 1706.
O THOU, from India's fruitful soil,
That dost that sovereign herb2 prepare,
In whose rich fumes I lose the toil
Of life, and every anxious care: While from the fragrant lighted bowl I suck new life into my soul.
Thou, only thou! art kind to view
The parching flames that I sustain;
Which with cool draughts thy casks subdue, And wash away the thirsty pain
With wines, whose strength and taste we prize, From Latian suns and nearer skies.
O! say, to bless thy pious love,
What vows, what offerings, shall I bring? Since I can spare, and thou approve,
No other gift, O hear me sing!
In numbers Phoebus does inspire, Who strings for thee the charming lyre. Aloft, above the liquid sky,
I stretch my wing, and fain would go Where Rome's sweet swain did whilom fly; And, soaring, left the clouds below; The Muse invoking to endue With strength his pinions, as he flew. Whether he sings great Beauty's praise, Love's gentle pain, or tender woes; Or choose, the subject of his lays,
The blushing grape, or blooming rose: Or near cool Cyrrha's rocky springs Mæcenas listens while he sings.
Yet he no nobler draught could boast, His Muse or music to inspire, Though all Falernum's purple coast Flow'd in each glass, to lend him fire; And on his tables us'd to smile The vintage of rich Chio's isle. Mæcenas deign'd to hear his songs,
His Muse extoll'd, his voice approv'd: To thee a fairer fame belongs,
At once more pleasing, more belov❜d. Oh! teach my heart to bound its flame, As I record thy love and fame.
1 This piece was translated by the reverend Thomas Newcomb, M. A. of Corpus Christi College, Oxon.
Teach me the passion to restrain,
As I my grateful homage bring; And last in Phoebus' humble train,
The first and brightest genius sing. The Muses' favourite pleas'd to live, Paying them back the fame they give. But oh! as greatly I aspire
To tell my love, to speak thy praise, Boasting no more its sprightly fire,
My bosom heaves, my voice decays; With pain I touch the mournful string, And pant and languish as I sing.
Faint Nature now demands that breath, That feebly strives thy worth to sing! And would be hush'd, and lost in death,
Did not thy care kind succours bring! Thy pitying casks my soul sustain, And call new life in every vein.
The sober glass I now behold,
Thy health, with fair Francisca's join, Wishing her cheeks may long unfold
Such beauties, and be ever thine; No chance the tender joy remove, While she can please, and thou canst love.
Thus while by you the British arms Triumphs and distant fame pursue; The yielding fair resigns her charms, And gives you leave to conquer too; Her snowy neck, her breast, her eyes, And all the nymph becomes your prize. What comely grace, what beauty smiles! Upon her lips what sweetness dwells! Not Love himself so oft beguiles,
Nor Venus self so much excels. What different fates our passions share, While you enjoy, and I despair!
Maria's 3 form as I survey,
Her smiles a thousand wounds impart ; Each feature steals my soul away,
Each glance deprives me of my heart! And chasing thence each other fair, Leaves her own image only there.
Although my anxious breast despair, And, sighing, hopes no kind return; Yet, for the lov'd relentless fair,
By night I wake, by day I burn! Nor can thy gifts, soft Sleep, supply, Or sooth my pains, or close my eye.
A POEM, IN TWO BOOKS. Honos erit huic quoque Pomo? BOOK I.
Nor skill'd, nor studious: but my native soil Invites me, and the theme as yet unsung.
Ye Ariconian knights, and fairest dames, To whom propitious Heaven these blessings grants, Attend my lays, nor hence disdain to learn, How Nature's gifts may be improv'd by art. And thou, O Mostyn, whose benevolence, And candour, oft experienc'd, me vouchsaf'd To knit in friendship, growing still with years, Accept this pledge of gratitude and love. May it a lasting monument remain Of dear respect; that, when this body frail Is moulder'd into dust, and I become
As I had never been, late times may know
I once was bless'd in such a matchless friend! Whoe'er expects his labouring trees should bend. With fruitage, and a kindly harvest yield, Be this his first concern, to find a tract Impervious to the winds, begirt with hills That intercept the Hyperborean blasts Tempestuous, and cold Eurus' nipping force, Noxious to feeble buds: but to the west Let him free entrance grant, let Zephyrs bland Administer their tepid genial airs;
Nought fear he from the west, whose gentle warmth Discloses well the Earth's all-teeming womb, Invigorating tender seeds; whose breath Nurtures the orange, and the citron groves, Hesperian fruits, and wafts their odours sweet Wide through the air, and distant shores perfumes. Nor only do the hills exclude the winds:
But when the blackening clouds in sprinkling showers Distil, from the high summits down the rain Runs trickling; with the fertile moisture cheer'd, The orchats smile; joyous the farmers see Their thriving plants, and bless the heavenly dew. Next let the planter, with discretion meet, The force and genius of each soil explore; To what adapted, what it shuns averse: Without this necessary care, in vain He hopes an apple-vintage, and invokes Pomona's aid in vain. The miry fields, Rejoicing in rich mould, most ample fruit Of beauteous form produce; pleasing to sight, But to the tongue inelegant and flat. So Nature has decreed: so oft we see Men passing fair, in outward lineaments Elaborate; less, inwardly, exact.
Nor from the sable ground expect success, Nor from cretaceous, stubborn and jejune: The Must, of pallid hue, declares the soil Devoid of spirit; wretched he, that quaffs Such wheyish liquors; oft with colic pangs, With pungent colic pangs distress'd he'll roar, And toss, and turn, and curse th'unwholesome draught. But, farmer, look where full-ear'd sheaves of rye Grow wavy on the tilth, that soil select For apples: thence thy industry shall gain Ten-fold reward; thy garners, thence with store Surcharg'd, shall burst; thy press with purest juice Shall flow, which, in revolving years, may try Thy feeble feet, and bind thy faltering tongue. Such is the Kentchurch, such Dantzeyan ground, Such thine, O learned Brome, and Capel such, Willisian Burlton, much-lov'd Geers his Marsh, And Sutton-acres, drench'd with regal blood Of Ethelbert, when to th' unhallow'd feast Of Mercian Offa he invited came, princi-To treat of spousals: long connubial joys He promis'd to himself, allur'd by fair
WHAT Soil the apple loves, what care is due` To orchats, timeliest when to press the fruits, Thy gift, Pomona, in Miltonian verse Adventurous I presume to sing; of verse
3 Miss Mary Meers, daughter of the late pal of Brazen-Nose College, Oxon. VOL. VIII.
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