Classic Poem

Have all thy Bards, Britannia , spent their Vein,
Not one rich Genius left, that can sustain
Th' expensive Task of Marlbro 's last Campaign?
Ruin'd by Conquests, do they pray for Peace,
That the hard Taxes on the Muse may cease?
Thou, Artist, who dost Nature's Face express
In Silk and Gold, and Scenes of Action dress;
Dost figur'd Arras animated leave,
Spin a bright Story, or a Passion weave,
By mingling Threads, canst mingle Shades and Light,
Delineate Triumphs, or describe a Fight;
Do thou relate the Hero's Toil, record
The new Atchievements of his matchless Sword;

Since some illustrious Patron thou wilt need,
If Ann propitious smiles, thou must succeed;
Her high Command inspir'd with martial Flame
The Warrior's Breast, she by her pow'rful Name
Prepar'd half beaten Foes to yield the Day,
And for advancing Vict'ries made the Way.

Belgian attend; and from thy noble Loom,
Let the great Chief August in Triumph come.
For Blenheim 's lofty Rooms the Work design,
In every Piece let Art and Labour shine:
Let glorious Deeds the Briton 's Palace crown,
Not those of ancient Hero's, but his own.
In the bright Series of his Story show,
What Albion , what Mankind, to Marlbro ' owe.

I only rude Materials can suggest,
Some by thy Art too hard to be express'd,
Chuse what are proper, and neglect the rest.
If thou with Care, and that thy Genius may,
Improve these Hints, refine this crude Essay,
Thou may'st Illustrious, lasting Scenes contrive,
At least the Work will by its Subject live.

Let the first Labour on this lofty Theme,
Express the Chief on Scalda 's wondring Stream;
From him that Flood immortal Fame derives,
Rivals the Danube , and with Dola strives.
Describe his Steed, not patient of the Rein,
Champing his Foam, and bounding on the Plain;
Arch his high Neck, and graceful spread his Mane.
Give ample Nostrils breathing inbred Fire,
Eyes that confess the gen'rous Mare and Sire,
Such Life and Pride, as in the Race appear,
Which Arab Lords and Persian Monarchs bear.

But with their chief Delight our Eyes to feed,
Mount the brave Leader on his manag'd Steed:
Give him a noble Seat, a Martial Mien,
Scornful of Danger, and in Arms serene.
Let his Right Hand his Sword vindictive Sway,
Grasp'd with vast Strength, and spreading dreadful Day
By which the Tyrant Monsters are destroy'd,
Who fill'd with Riot, and with Rapine cloy'd,
Oppression's howling Wilderness defend,
And Desolation's empty Realms extend.
The Looks of Justice to the Warrior give,
Where Wrath and Mercy for Dominion strive;
Intrepid Ardour well to Gallia known,
Heroick Grace, the mighty Briton 's own.
When you express the Leader's Face and Eyes.
Studious with daring Labour to surprize,
Could you with in wrought Glory charm the Sight,
And interwoven Threads of manag'd Light,
You might succeed, and do the Conqueror Right.

Let Fame and Vict'ry in inferior Sky,
Hover with balanc'd Wings, and smiling fly
Above his Head, and on his Fauchion wait
Assiduous, to pronounce Europa 's Fate.

On th' adverse Banks of Scalda 's silver Tide,
Delineate Gallia 's military Pride:
Express her Cohorts covering all the Plain,
Thick as the Waves, that spread the troubled Main:
Show them advancing swift to Ganda 's Walls,
Where Lesia 's Current into Scalda falls;
Till Marlbro 's Marches did their Speed outgo,
And made them stop to face th' impending Foe.
So when a Stag, Lord of the Herd, endow'd
With beauteous Limbs, and of high Antlets proud,
Hears the shrill Horn, and hallowing Huntsmens Cries
Ring thro' the Forrest and embroil the Skies,
Trusting his Feet, more rapid than the Wind,
He flies, and leaves the clam'rous Band behind;
Till spent, he stands at Bay, erects his Face,
And to a Fight decrees to change the Chace;
Determin'd now, he does th' Invader dare,
And feels unusual Courage from Despair.

O Belgian , work a Piece by this Cartone,
And be this Picture by thy Art out-done:
For confluent Nations spread a spacious Loom,
And give the mighty Host sufficient room,
Where more Brigades form each extended Wing,
Than Eastern Monarchs e'er to Combat bring:
Let the wide Van, and deep unnumber'd Rear,
Exuberant War, and Strength immense appear.
Here let the Flow'r and Pride of Spain advance,
And there the Belgian Slaves, that courted France .
Let the Helvetian martial Youth compose
The threatning Front, fierce mercenary Foes,
Who trade in Blood and Rapine; let the Gaul
Back to the Rear, a safer Station, fall.

Show how the Chief sprung ardent to the War,
In Arms refulgent, as the Morning Star;
And if the Task be not unequal found
To Looms for Master-Skill the most renown'd,
The Hero in distinct Compartments show,
Supporting here his Friends, and breaking there the Foe.
Let him in every Place surprize the Sight,
As if dispers'd and multiply'd in Fight,
And as the Leader, watchful to protect
His Squadrons, did Ubiquity affect.
Here let him stand intrepid and sedate,
Dispensing high Commands and certain Fate;
There let his Arm his reeking Fauchion wield,
Triumph in Slaughter, and pollute the Field
With glorious Spoil; while, like the fabled God
Of War, thro' thick embattled Deaths he rode.
Let him the Vale with Rout and Ruin fill,
Like Torrents rushing from an Alpine Hill,
Or a high Wind, that o'er the Desart sweeps,
Lays waste the Woods, and rolls the Sand in heaps.
Where his destructive Sword the Foe pursu'd,
Express the Lanes the glitt'ring Feller hew'd;
Let Streams of Blood the Victor's Wrath attest,
A purple Vintage from the Slain express'd.
Show Warriors quiv'ring in the Pangs of Death,
Rolling their Eyes, and gasping doubtful Breath;
While scatter'd Arms, and Horse and Horse-men slain,
An ignominious Medly, spread the Plain:
Weave Desolation, let prodigious Waste,
And Tracks of Death mark where the Victor pass'd,
As Conflagrations are by Ruin trac'd.

On a new Scene attentive Care bestow,
A Princely Youth in polish'd Armour show:
Let him advance, and as a Seraph bright,
Ravish at once and terrify the Sight:
Place him conspicuous mid'st the hostile Troops,
Hanover 's Pride, and Albion 's distant Hopes;
Whose early Deeds and blossoming Renown,
To wond'ring Europe have the Hero shown.
With strong Impatience let him seek the Fight,
Eager of Fame, and trembling with Delight.
As when the Eaglet, which the Parent tries,
Not us'd to soar, nor conscious of the Skies,
Against the strongest Radiance of the Sun
Mounts bold, and makes the genuine Offspring known;
So the young Chief undazled, fac'd the Charms
Of martial Glory, and the Blaze of Arms;
Thro' glitt'ring Deaths, and Storms of Smoke and Flame,
Ardent aspir'd to the bright Mark of Fame,
And made his first Effort his high Descent proclaim.
Show how he flew intrepid to the Foe,
Plung'd mid'st the Host, and forc'd his Passage thro':
How the brave Youth with Vet'ran Captains vy'd;
What Trophies crown'd a Sword, till then untry'd.
So a young Lion, of his matchless Might
Yet ignorant, but grown mature for Fight;
If he by chance a shaggy Bear descries,
Determin'd to the Combat, rapid flies:
Lashing his Sides he roars, and from afar,
Thro' ecchoing Hills denounces dreadful War;
And soon victorious in his first Campaign,
The yellow Warrior, Master of the Plain,
Conscious what mighty Strength he had in Store,
Wonders, and grieves, he try'd it not before.

Then let Germania 's Angel, and his own,
Each bearing high a Shield and Laurel Crown,
Fly watchful o'er his Head, with one to guard
His Life, with one his Valour to reward.

Artist, record how fair Britannia 's Isle,
When first she heard the Youth's advent'rous Toil,
Scarce pleas'd with Glory from too daring Fight,
Felt proffer'd Joy suspended by Affright;
While her tall Oaks shook on the Mountain's Brow,
And refluent Streams did Consternation show.

Work a new Piece, describe the Gallick Pow'rs,
Quitting the Field to reach Gandava 's Tow'rs:
Concern and Trouble in their Eyes express,
Finish'd Confusion, and extream Distress;
Unfeign'd Amazement, Horror, anxious Care,
And the wild Looks and Features of Despair.
Show how the Generals to restore the Fight,
Confirm their Legions, and prevent their Flight;
Asham'd, enrag'd, and griev'd, did These upbraid,
Encourage Those, some menace, some perswade;
While all their Efforts unavailing were;
Idle their Threats, and fruitless was their Pray'r;
What Words can charm inexorable Fear?
Can Terror listen? Can Distraction hear?
Show how the Gaul 's disorder'd Cohorts fled,
Express their Anguish and perplexing Dread,
While Horse and Foot strove each to have the Van,
And Chiefs Companions of the private Man,
Inglorious Flight! disregimented ran.
So when incumbent Tempests press the Deep,
And rouse the frighted Billows from their Sleep;
The liquid Legions'crowding, fly so fast,
And shove each other with such headlong haste,
That sometimes they are rid, and sometimes ride,
By Turns exalt their Heads, by Turns sublide,
O'erwhelm each other, and distract the Tide.

Show how the General, whom the Gauls adore,
To Belgia 's Plains, call'd from Hesperia 's Shore,
Gallia 's declining Empire to restore,
Instruct her Troops, new Laurels to acquire,
And in their Breasts rekindle Martial Fire,
Did to the common Fate reluctant yield,
And with his routed Army left the Field:
He blam'd the Stars, that on his Conduct frown'd,
And, Marlbro ', thy superior Genius own'd.
So a fierce Boar on Mauritania 's Plain,
The Lyon's Fury does a while sustain,
Till torn and sunk with vast Expence of Blood,
He quits the Field, and seeks the shelt'ring Wood;
He grinds his Teeth, impatient of Defeat,
Indignant foams, fain would the Strife repeat,
Looks back and threatens in his sour Retreat.

Then show the Conqu'ror in another Scene,
Protecting with his Arms the brave Eugene ,
While he the matchless Strength of Lisle assail'd,
And o'er her Tow'rs with loud Applause prevail'd.
Witness ye six times Twenty Thousand Gauls ,
Who then advanc'd near Lilla 's lofty Walls
To face the Foe, were honour'd with the Sight
Of the brave Cohorts, which you felt in Fight.
Witness ye Generals, and ye Princes, proud
Of Veins distended with Imperial Blood;
For You Spectators of the Action stood.

Next let the Chief advance to Scalda 's Banks,
To drive th' unactive Gaul , whose Warlike Ranks
Spread thick as Locusts on the adverse Side,
Did in their Guardian Flood and Lines confide.
'Tis done — For when the Out-guards saw from:
The Briton 's Arms, and cry'd prepare for War,
The Hearts of boastful Chiefs inglorious melt,
And their cold Breasts their well-known Passion smelt
Assur'd no more, while Marlbro 's Sword invades
By Rivers, Works, and numberless Brigades,
As Terror dictates, they direct their Flight,
Spread all the Plain with Marks of wild Affright.
And ignominious Rout, but none of Fight.

Let Churchill next, his conqu'ring Cohorts lead
To save Brussella , fair Brabantia 's Head;
To break th' united Arms of France and Spain ,
And make the Threats of proud Bavaria vain.
Shew how the Foe the Scheld 's Contagion caught,
Gave cheap Renown, and left the Field unfought;
And how the Boian Prince enrag'd to find,
The Laurels blasted, for his Brow design'd;
With troubled Pride, and Anguish in his Eyes,
Chas'd a Third Time, before the Briton flies.
He curs'd the Victor, who his Arms repell'd,
And cruel Fate, that still Success with-held,
But more the Coward Guardians of the Scheld .
So when a rav'ning Wolf has long patroul'd,
And found at length a Place to leap the Fold,
He seems already of his Prey possest,
And licks his Jaws, preluding to the Feast;
If then the Master-Shepherd with his Band
Arrives, their brandish'd Weapons in their Hand,
The prowling Robber shuns unequal Fight,
And grins, and growls, and rages in his Flight.