Indissolubly firm; from Dubris south, To northern Orcades, her long domain.
And now, thus leagued by an eternal bond, What shall retard the Britons' bold designs, Or who sustain their force, in union knit, Sufficient to withstand the powers combin'd Of all this globe? At this important act The Mauritanian and Cathaian kings Already tremble, and th' unbaptiz'd Turk Dreads war from utmost Thule. Uncontrol'd The British navy through the ocean vast Shall wave her double cross, t' extremest climes Terrific, and return with odorous spoils Of Araby well fraught, or Indus' wealth, Pearl, and barbaric gold: meanwhile the swains Shall unmolested reap what Plenty strows From well-stor❜d horn, rich grain, and timely fruits. The elder year, Pomona, pleas'd, shall deck With ruby-tinctur'd births, whose liquid store Abundant, flowing in well-blended streams, The native shall applaud; while glad they talk Of baleful ills, caus'd by Bellona's wrath In other realms; where'er the British spread Triumphant banners, or their fame has reach'd Diffusive, to the utmost bounds of this Wide universe, Silurian cider borne
Shall please all tastes, and triumph o'er the vine.
Per ambages, Deorumque ministeria Præcipitandus est liber spiritus. Petronius.
Or English tipple, and the potent grain, Which in the conclave of Celestial Powers Bred fell debate, sing, nymph of heavenly stem, Who on the hoary top of Pen-main-maur Merlin the seer didst visit, whilst he sate With astrolabe prophetic, to foresee Young actions issuing from the Fates' divan. Full of thy power infus'd by nappy ale, Darkling he watch'd the planetary orbs, In their obscure sojourn o'er Heaven's high cope; Nor ceas'd till the grey dawn with orient dew Impearl'd his large mustachoes, deep ensconc'd Beneath his overshadowing orb of hat, And ample fence of elephantin nose, Scornful of keenest polar winds, or sleet, Or hail, sent rattling down from wintry Jove. (Vain efforts on his seven-fold inantle, made Of Caledonian rug, immortal woof!) Such energy of soul to raise the song, Deign, goddess, now to me; nor then withdraw Thy sure presiding power, but guide my wing, Which nobly meditates no vulgar flight.
Now from th' ensanguin'd Ister's reeking flood Tardy with many a corse of Boïan knight, And Gallic deep ingulft, with barbed steeds Promiscuous, Fame to high Olympus flew, Shearing th' expanse of Heaven with active plume; Nor swifter from Plinlimmon's steepy top
This poem is taken from a folio copy, 1706, communicated from the Lambeth Library by Dr. Ducarel, in which the name of Philips was inserted in the hand-writing of archbishop Tenison. It was
The staunch Gerfaulcon through the buxom air Stoops on the steerage of his wings, to truss The quarry, hern, or mallad, newly sprung From creek, whence bright Sabrina bubbling forth Runs fast a Naïs through the flowery meads, To spread round Uriconium's towers her streams. Her golden trump the goddess sounded thrice, Whose shrilling clang reach'd Heaven's extremest sphere.
Rouz'd at the blast, the gods with winged speed To learn the tidings came: on radiant thrones, With fair memorials, and impresses quaint Emblazon'd o'er, they sate, devis'd of old By Mulciber, nor small his skill I ween. There she relates what Churchill's arm had wrought, On Blenheim's bloody plain. Up Bacchus rose, By his plump cheek and barrel belly know; The pliant tendrils of a juicy vine
Around his rosy brow in ringlets curl'd, And in his hand a bunch of grapes he held, The ensigns of the god! With ardent tone He mov'd, that straight the nectar'd bowl should
Devote to Churchill's health, and o'er all Heaven Uncommon orgies should be kept till eve, Till all were sated with immortal Moust, Delicious tipple! that, in heavenly veins Assimilated, vigorous ichor bred, Superior to Frontiniac, or Bourdeaux, Or old Falern, Campania's best increase; Or the more dulcet juice the happy isles From Palma or Forteventura send.
Joy flush'd on every face, and pleasing glee Inward assent discover'd, till uprose Ceres, not blithe, for marks of latent woe Dim on her visage lour'd: such her deport When Arethusa from her reedy bed Told her how Dis young Proserpine had rap'd, To sway his iron sceptre, and command In gloom tartareous half his wide domain. Then, sighing, thus she said-"Have I so long Employ'd my various art, t' enrich the lap Of Earth, all-bearing mother; and my lore Communicated to the unweeting hind, And shall not this pre-eminence obtain?" Then from beneath her Tyrian vest she took The bearded ears of grain she most admir'd, Which gods call Chrithe, in terrestrial spe ch Ycleped Barley. ""Tis to this," she cry'd, "The British cohorts owe their martial fame And far-redoubted prowess, matchless youth! This, when returning from the foughten field, Or Noric, or Iberian, seam'd with scars, (Sad signatures of many a dreadful gash!) The veteran, carousing, soon restores Puissance to his arm, and strings his nerves! And, as a snake, when first the rosy hours Shed vernal sweets o'er every vale and mead, Rolls tardy from his cell obscure and dank; But, when by genial rays of summer sun Purg'd of his slough, he nimbly thrids the brake, Whetting his sting, his crested head he rears Terrific, from each eye retort he shoots Ensanguin'd rays, the distant swains admire His various neck, and spires bedropt with gold:
published by T. Bennet, the bookseller for whom Blenheim was printed: another strong presumptive proof of this being by the same author. N.
So at each glass the harass'd warrior feels Vigour renate; his horrent arms he takes, And rusting falchion, on whose ample hilt Long Victory sate dormant: soon she shakes Her drowsy wings, and follows to the war, With speed succinct; where soon his martial port She recognizes, whilst he haughty stands On the rough edge of battle, and bestows Wide torment on the serried files, so us'd, Frequent in bold emprize, to work sad rout, And havoc dite; these the bold Briton mows, Dauntless as deities exempt from fate, Ardent to deck his brow with murald gold, Or civic wreath of oak, the victor's meed. Such is the power of Ale with vines embower'd, While dangling bunches court his thirsting lip; Sullen he sits, and sighing oft extols
The beverage they quaff, whose happy soil Prolific Dovus laves, or Trenta's urn Adorns with waving Chrithe (joyous scenes Of vegetable gold!) secure they dwell, Nor feel th' eternal snows that clothe their cliffs: Nor curse th' inclement Air, whose horrid face Scowls like that Arctic heaven, that drizzling sheds Perpetual winter on the frozen skirts
Of Scandinavia and the Baltic main, Where the young tempests first are taught to roar. Snug in their straw-built buts, or darkling earth'd In cavern'd rock they live: (small need of art To form spruce architrave, or cornice quaint, On Parian marble, with Corinthian grace Prepar'd) there on well-fuel'd hearth they chat, Whilst black pots walk the round with laughing Ale Surcharg'd; or brew'd in planetary hour, When March weigh'd night and day in equal scale: Or in October tunn'd, and mellow grown With seven revolving suns, the racy juice, Strong with delicious flavour, strikes the sense. Nor wants on vast circumference of board, Of Arthur's imitative, large surloin Of ox, or virgin-heifer, wont to browse The meads of Longovicum (fattening soil Replete with clover-grass, and foodful shrub.) Planted with sprigs of rosemary it stands, Meet paragon (as far as great with small May correspond) for some Panchæan hill, Embrown'd with sultry skies, thin-set with palm, And olive rarely interspers'd, whose shade Screens hospitably from the Tropic Crab The quiver'd Arabs' vagrant clan, that waits Insidious some rich caravan, which fares To Mecca, with Barbaric gold full fraught. "Thus Britain's hardy sons, of rustic mould, Patient of arms, still quash th' aspiring Gaul, Blest by my boon: which when they slightly prize, Should they, with high defence of triple brass Wide-circling, live immur'd, (as erst was tried By Bacon's charms, on which the sickening Moon Look'd wan, and cheerless mew'd her crescent horus, Whilst Demogorgon heard his stern behest) Thrice the prevailing power of Gallia's arins Should there resistless ravage, as of old Great Pharamond, the founder of her fame, Was wont, when first his marshall'd peerage pass'd The subject Rhone. What though Britannia boasts Herself a world, with ocean circumfus'd?
'Tis Ale that warms her sons t' assert her claim, And with full volley makes her naval tubes Thunder disastrous doom to opponent powers! "Nor potent only to enkindle Mars,
And fire with knightly prowess recreant souls: It science can encourage, and excite The mind to ditties blithe, and charming song. Thou, Pallas, to my speech just witness bear: How oft hast thou thy votaries beheld At Crambo merry met, and hymning shrill With voice harmonic each, whilst others frisk In mazy dance, or Cestrian gambols show, Elate with mighty joy, when to the brim Chritheian nectar crown'd the lordly bowl. (Equal to Nestor's ponderous cup, which ask'd A hero's arm to mount it on the board, Ere he th' embattail'd Pylians led, to quell The pride of Dardan youth in hosting dire.) Or if, with front unbless'd, came towering in Proctor armipotent, in stern deport Resembling turban'd Turk, when high he wields His scimetar with huge two-handed sway. Alarm'd with threatening accent, harsher far Than that ill-omen'd sound the bird of night, With beak uncomely bent, from dodder'd oak Screams out, the sick man's trump of doleful doom: Thy jocund sons confront the horrid van, That crowds his gonfalon of seven foot size: And with their rubied faces stand the foe; Whilst they of sober guise contrive retreat, And run with ears erect; as the tall stag Unharbour'd by the woodman quits his layre, And flies the yerning pack which close pursue, So they not bowsy dread th' approaching foe: They run, they fly, till flying on obscure, Night-founder'd in town-ditches stagnant gurge, Soph rowls on Soph promiscuous.-Caps aloof Quadrate and circular confus'dly fly, The sport of fierce Norwegian tempests, tost By Thrascia's coadjutant, and the roar Of loud Euroclydon's tumultuous gusts."
She said: the sire of gods and men supreme, With aspect bland, attentive audience gave, Then nodded awful: from his shaken locks Ambrosial fragrance flew the signal given By Ganymede the skinker soon was ken'd; With Ale he Heaven's capacious goblet crown'd, To Phrygian mood Apollo tun'd his lyre, The Muses sang alternate, all carous'd,
But Bacchus murmuring left th' assembled powers.
COME, fill me a glass, fill it high,
A bumper, a bumper I'll have:
He's a fool that will flinch; I'll not bate an inch, Though I drink myself into my grave.
Here's a health to all those jolly souls, Who like me will never give o'er,
Whom no danger controls, but will take off their bowls,
And merrily stickle for more.
From many circumstances, I have little doubt. but this convivial song was by the author of The Splendid Shilling. There was, however, an earlier poet, of both the names of this author; who was nephew to Milton, and wrote some memoirs of his uncle, and several burlesque poems. N.
Drown Reason and all such weak foes,
I scorn to obey her command; Could she ever suppose I'd be led by the nose, And let my glass idly stand?
Reputation 's a bugbear to fools,
A foe to the joys of dear drinking, Made use of by tools, who 'd set us new rules, And bring us to politic thinking.
Fill them all, I'll have six in a hand, For I've trifled an age away;
'Tis in vain to command, the fleeting sand Rolls on, and cannot stay.
Come, my lads, move the glass, drink about, We'll drink the universe dry; We'll set foot to foot, and drink it all out, If once we grow sober, we die.
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