Classic Poem

To the Right Hon. the Lady Marg. Cavendish Harley

WITH THE POEMS OF MR. WALLER .

Let others boast the Nine Aonian maids,
Inspiring streams, and sweet resounding shades,
Where Phaebus heard the rival bards rehearse,
And bade the laurels learn the lofty verse:
In vain! nor Phaebus nor the boasted Nine
Inflame the raptur'd soul with rays divine:
None but the fair infuse the sacred fire,
And love with vocal art informs the lyre.
When Waller, kindling with celestial rage,
View'd the bright Harley of that wond'ring age,
His pleasing pain he taught the lute to breathe,
The Graces sung, and wove his myrtle wreath.
In youth, of patrimonial wealth possest,
The praise of science faintly warm'd his breast,
But fir'd to fame by Sidney's rosy smile,
Swift o'er the laureat realms he urg'd his toil.
His Muse, by Nature sorm'd to please the fair,
Or sing of heroes with majestic air,
To melting strains attun'd her voice, and strove
To waken all the tender pow'rs of love;
More sweetly soft her awful beauty shone
Than Juno grac'd with Cytherea's zone.
And whilst in radiant pomp appear
The names to bright Victoria dear,
Intent the long procession view;
Confess none worthier ever wore
Her favours, or was deck'd with more
Than she confers on Churchill's brow.

II.

But, oh! withdraw thy piercing rays;
The nymph anew begins to moan,
Viewing the much-lamented space
Where late her warlike William shone:
There, fix'd by her officious hand,
His sword and sceptre of command
To deathless fame adopted rest;
Nor wants there to complete her woe,
Plac'd with respectful love below,
The star that beam'd on Glou'ster's breast.

III.

O Phaebus! all thy saving pow'r employ;
Long let our vows avert the destin'd woe,
Ere Gloriana reascends the sky,
And leaves a land of orphans here below!
But when (so Heav'n ordains) her smiling ray
Distinguish'd o'er the Balance shall preside,
Whilst future kings her ancient sceptre sway,
May her mild influence all their councils guide;
To Albion ever constant in her love,
Of sov'reigns here the best, the brightest star above,

I.

For lawless power, reclaim'd to right,
And virtue rais'd by pious arms,
Let Albion be thy fair delight,
And shield her safe from threaten'd harms:
With flow'rs and fruit her bosom fill,
Let laurel rise on ev'ry hill
Fresh as the first on Daphne's brow:
Instruct her tuneful sons to sing,
And make each vale with paeans ring,
To Blenheim and Ramillia due.

II.

Secure of bright eternal fame,
With happy wing the Theban swan,
Tow'ring from Pisa's sacred stream,
Inspir'd by thee the song began:
Thro' deserts of unclouded light,
When he harmonious took his flight,
The gods constrain'd the sounding spheres;
Still Envy darts her rage in vain,
The lustre of his worth to stain,
He growing whiter with his years.

III.

But, Phaebus! god of numbers, high to raise
The honours of thy art and heav'nly lyre,
What Muse is destin'd to our Sov'reign's praise,
Worthy her acts and thy informing fire?
To him for whom this springing laurel grows
Eternal on the topmost heights of fame
Be kind, and all thy Helicon disclose;
And, all intent on Gloriana's name,
Let silence brood o'er ocean, earth, and air,
As when to victor Jove thou sung'st the Giants' war.

I.

In sure records each shining deed
When faithful Clio sets to view,
Posterity will doubting read,
And scarce believe her annals true.
The Muses toil, with art, to raise
Fictitious monuments of praise
When other actions they rehearse;
But half of Gloriana's reign,
That so the rest may credit gain,
Should pass unregister'd in verse.

II.

High on its own establish'd base
Prevailing virtue's pleas'd to rise,
Divinely deck'd with native grace,
Rich in itself with solid joys;
Ere Gloriana on the throne,
Quitting for Albion's rest her own,
In types of regal pow'r was seen,
With fair pre-eminence confest
It triumph'd in a private breast,
And made the princess more than queen.

III.

O Phaebus! would thy godhead not refuse
This humble incense on thy altar laid;
Would thy propitious ear attend the Muse
That suppliant now invokes thy certain aid;
With Mantuan force I'd mount a stronger gale,
And sing the parent of her land, who strove
T' exceed the transports of her people's zeal
With acts of mercy and majestic love;
By Fate, to fix Britannia's empire, given
The guardian pow'r of earth, and public care of Heav'n.

I.

Then, Churchill! should the Muse record
The conquests by thy sword achiev'd,
Quiet to Belgian states restor'd,
And Austrian crowns by thee retriev'd,
Imperious Leopold confess'd
His hoary Majesty distress'd;
To arms, to arms, Bavaria calls,
Nor with less terror shook his throne
Than when the rising Crescent shone
Malignant o'er his shatter'd walls.

II.

The warrior led the Britons forth
On foreign fields to dare their sate,
Distinguish'd souls of shining worth,
In war unknowing to retreat;
Thou, Phaebus! saw'st the hero's face,
When Mars had breath'd a purple grace,
And mighty fury fill'd his breast:
How like thyself, when to destroy
The Greeks thou didst thy darts employ,
Fierce with thy golden quiver drest!

III.

Sudden, whilst, banish'd from his native land,
Red with dishonest wounds, Bavaria mourn'd,
The chief, at Gloriana's high command,
Like a rous'd lion to the Maes return'd;
With vengeful speed the British sword he drew,
Unus'd to grieve his host with long delay,
Whilst, wing'd with fear, the force of Gallia flew;
As when the morning-star restores the day
The wand'ring ghosts of twenty thousand slain
Fleet fullen to the shades from Blenheim's mournful plain.

I.

Britannia! wipe thy dusty brow,
And put the Bourbon laurels on;
To thee deliver'd nations bow,
And bless the spoils thy wars have won:
For thee Bellona points her spear,
And whilst lamenting mothers fear,
On high her signal torch displays;
But when thy sword is sheath'd, again
Obsequious she receives thy chain,
And smooths her violence of face.

II.

Parent of arms! for ever stand
With large increase of fame rever'd,
Whilst arches to thy saving hand
On Danube's grateful banks are rear'd.
Eugene, inspir'd to war by thee,
Ausonia's weeping states to free,
Swift on th' imperial Eagle flies,
Whilst, bleeding, from his azure bed
Th' asserted Iber lifts his head,
And safe his Austrian lord enjoys.

III.

Io, Britannia! fix'd on foreign wars,
Guiltless of civil rage, extend thy name;
The waves of utmost ocean, and the stars,
Are bounds but equal to thy Sov'reign's fame.
With deeper wrath thy victor Lion roars,
Wide o'er the subject world diffusing fear,
Whilst Gallia weeps her guilt, and peace implores:
So earth, transfix'd by fierce Minerva's spear,
A gentler birth obedient did disclose,
And sudden from the wound eternal olives rose.

I.

When, with establish'd freedom bless'd,
The globe to great Alcides bow'd,
Whose happy pow'r reliev'd th' oppress'd
From lawless chains, and check'd the proud,
Mature in fame, the grateful gods
Receiv'd him to their bright abodes,
Where Hebe crown'd his blooming joys;
Garlands the willing Muses wove,
And each, with emulation, strove
T' adorn the Churchill of the skies.

II.

For Albion's chief, ye sacred Nine!
Your harps with gen'rous ardour string,
With Fame's immortal trumpet join,
And safe beneath his laurel sing:
When clad in vines the Seine shall glide,
And duteous in a smoother tide
To British seas her tribute yield;
Wakeful at Honour's shrine attend,
And long with living beams defend
From night the warrior's votive shield.

III.

And, Woodstock! let his dome exalt thy fame;
Great o'er thy Norman ruins be restor'd:
Thou that with pride dost Edward's cradle claim,
Receive an equal hero for thy lord:
Whilst ev'ry column, to record their toils,
Eternal monuments of conquest wears,
And all thy walls are dress'd with mingled spoils,
Gather'd on fam'd Ramillia and Poictiers,
High on thy tow'r the grateful flag display,
Due to thy Queen's reward and Blenheim's glorious day.English