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At length the fame of England's hero drew
Eugenio to the glorious interview.

Great fouls by inftinct to each other turn,
Demand alliance, and in friendship burn;

A sudden friendship, while with stretch'd-out rays
They meet each other, mingling blaze with blaze.
Polish'd in courts, and harden'd in the field,
Renown'd for conqueft, and in council skill'd,
Their courage
dwells not in a troubled flood
Of mounting fpirits, and fermenting blood;
Lodg'd in the foul, with virtue over-rul'd,
Inflam'd by reafon, and by reafon cool'd,
In hours of peace content to be unknown,
And only in the field of battle shown:
To fouls like thefe, in mutual friendship join'd,
Heaven dares intruft the cause of human-kind.
in arms,

Britannia's graceful fons appear
Her harrass'd troops the hero's presence warms,
Whilft the high hills and rivers all around

With thundering peals of British fhouts refound:
Doubling their speed, they march with fresh delight,
Eager for glory, and require the fight.

So the ftanch hound the trembling deer pursues,
And smells his footsteps in the tainted dews,
The tedious track unraveling by degrees:
But when the scent comes warm in every breeze,
Fir'd at the near approach he shoots away

On his full ftretch, and bears upon his prey.

The march concludes, the various realms are paft; Th' immortal Schellenberg appears at last :

Like hills th' afpiring ramparts rife on high,
Like valleys at their feet the trenches lie;
Batteries on batteries guard each fatal pass,
Threatening deftruction; rows of hollow brafs,
Tube behind tube, the dreadful entrance keep,
Whilst in their wombs ten thousand thunders sleep:
Great Churchill owns, charm'd with the glorious fight,
His march o'er-paid by fuch a promis'd fight.
The western fun now fhot a feeble ray,
And faintly scatter'd the remains of day:
Ev'ning approach'd; but oh what hoft of foes
Were never to behold that evening close!
Thickening their ranks, and wedg'd in firm array,
The close-compacted Britons win their way;
In vain the cannon their throng'd war defac'd
With tracts of death, and laid the battle wafte;
Still preffing forward to the fight, they broke
Through flames of fulphur, and a night of smoke,
Till flaughter'd legions fill'd the trench below,
And bore their fierce avengers to the foe.

High on the works the mingling hofts engage;
The battle, kindled into tenfold rage,

With fhowers of bullets and with ftorms of fire
Burns in full fury; heaps on heaps expire,
Nations with nations mix'd confus'dly die,
And loft in one promifcuous carnage lie.

How many generous Britons meet their doom,
New to the field, and heroes in the bloom!
Th' illuftrious youths, that left their native shore
To march where Britons never march'd before,

(O fatal love of fame! O glorious heat,
Only deftructive to the brave and great!)
After fuch toils o'ercome, fuch dangers paft,
Stretch'd on Bavarian ramparts breathe their last.
But hold, my Mufe, may no complaints appear,
Nor blot the day with an ungrateful tear :
While Marlborough lives, Britannia's ftars dispense
A friendly light, and fhine in innocence.
Plunging through feas of blood his fiery steed
Where-e'er his friends retire, or foes fucceed;
Those he supports, thefe drives to fudden flight,
And turns the various fortune of the fight.

Forbear, great man, renown'd in arms, forbear
To brave the thickeft terrors of the war,
Nor hazard thus, confus'd in crowds of foes,
Britannia's fafety, and the world's repofe;
Let nations anxious for thy life abate

This scorn of danger, and contempt of fate:
Thou liv'ft not for thyfelf; thy Queen demands
Conqueft and peace from thy victorious hands;
Kingdoms and empires in thy fortune join,
And Europe's destiny depends on thine.

At length the long-difputed pass they gain,
By crowded armies fortify'd in vain ;

The war breaks in, the fierce Bavarians yield,
And see their camp with British legions fill'd.
So Belgian mounds bear on their shatter'd fides
The fea's whole weight increas'd with fwelling tides;
But if the rushing wave a passage finds,
Enrag'd by watery moons, and warring winds,

The trembling peasant sees his country round
Cover'd with tempefts, and in oceans drown'd.
The few furviving foes difperft in flight,
(Refuse of fwords, and gleanings of a fight)
In every rustling wind the victor hear,

And Marlborough's form in every shadow fear,
Till the dark cope of night with kind embrace
Befriends the rout, and covers their disgrace.
To Donavert, with unrefifted force,

The gay victorious army bends its course.
The growth of meadows, and the pride of fields,
Whatever spoils Bavaria's fummer yields
(The Danube's great increase), Britannia fhares,
The food of armies and fupport of wars :
With magazines of death, destructive balls,
And cannon doom'd to batter Landau's walls,
The victor finds each hidden cavern ftor'd,
And turns their fury on their guilty Lord.
Deluded prince! how is thy greatness croft,
And all the gaudy dream of empire lost,
That proudly fet thee on a fancy'd throne,
And made imaginary realms thy own!
Thy troops, that now behind the Danube join,
Shall fhortly feek for fhelter from the Rhine,
Nor find it there! Surrounded with alarms,
Thou hop'ft the affiftance of the Gallic arms;
The Gallic arms in safety shall advance,

And crowd thy ftandards with the power of France,
While, to exalt thy doom, th' afpiring Gaul
Shares thy destruction, and adorns thy fall.

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Unbounded courage and compaffion join'd,
Tempering each other in the victor's mind,
Alternately proclaim him good and great,
And make the Hero and the Man compleat.
Long did he strive th' obdurate foe to gain
By proffer'd grace, but long he strove in vain;
Till, fir'd at length, he thinks it vain to spare
His rifing wrath, and gives a loose to war.
In vengeance rous'd, the foldier fills his hand
With fword and fire, and ravages the land,
A thousand villages to ashes turns,

In crackling flames a thousand harvests burns.
To the thick woods the woolly flocks retreat,
And mixt with bellowing herds confus'dly bleat;
Their trembling lords the common shade partake,
And cries of infants found in every brake:
The listening foldier fixt in forrow ftands,
Loth to obey his leader's just commands;
The leader grieves, by generous pity fway'd,
To fee his juft commands fo well obey'd.
But now the trumpet terrible from far
In fhriller clangors animates the war;
Confederate drums in fuller concert beat,
And echoing hills the loud alarm repeat:
Gallia's proud ftandards, to Bavaria's join'd,
Unfurl their gilded lilies in the wind;
The daring prince his blafted hopes renews,
And, while the thick embattled host he views
Stretcht out in deep array, and dreadful length,
His heart dilates, and glories in his strength.

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