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"High-favour'd man! for him unfolding fair
In orient light this native landscape fmiles; For him fweet Hope difarms the hand of care, Exalts his pleafures, and his grief beguiles. "Blows not a bloffom on the breaft of Spring, Breathes not a gale along the bending mead, Trills not a fongfter of the foaring wing,
But fragrance, health and melody fucceed. "O let me ftill with fimple Nature live,
My lowly field-flowers on her altar lay, Enjoy the bleffings that the meant to give,
And calmly wafte my ineffenfive day! "No titled name, no envy-teafing dome,
No glittering wealth my tutor'd wishes crave; So Health and Peace be near my humble home, A cool ftream murmur, and a green tree wave. "So may the fweet Euterpe not disdain
At Eve's chafte hour her filver lyre to bring; The mufe of pity wake her foothing ftrain,
And tune to fympathy the trembling string. "Thus glide the penfive moments, o'er the vale While floating fhades of dufky night defcend: Not left untold the lover's tender tale,
Nor unenjoy'd the heart-enlarging friend. "To love and friendship flow the social bowl! To attic wit and elegance of mind; To all the native beauties of the foul,
The fimple charms of truth, and fenfe refin'd! "Then to explore whatever ancient fage
Studious from nature's early volume drew, To trace fweet Fiction through her golden age, And mark how fair the fun-flower, Science, blew!
"When waves the grey light o'er the mountain's head, Then let me meet the morn's first beauteous ray; Carelessly wander from my fylvan fhed,
And catch the fweet breath of the rifing day. "Nor feldom, loit'ring as I mufe along,
Mark from what flower the breeze its fweetnefs bore ;
Or liften to the labour-foothing fong
Of bees that range the thymy uplands o'er. "Slow let me climb the mountain's airy brow, The green height gain'd, in mufeful rapture lie, Sleep to the murmur of the woods below,
Or look on Nature with a lover's cye. "Delightful hours! O, thus for ever flow;
Led by fair Fancy round the varied year: So fhall iny breaft with native raptures glow,
Nor feel one pang from folly, pride, or fear. "Firm be my heart to Nature and to Truth,
Nor vainly wander from their dictates sage; So Joy fhall triumph on the brows of youth, So Hope fhall fmooth the dreary paths of age."
OH! yet, ye dear, deluding visions, stay!
By flattering Hope, the flowers that blew fo fair; Like the gay gardens of Armida fled,
And vanished from the powerful rod of Care. So the poor pilgrim, who in rapturous thought Plans his dear journey to Loretto's shrine, Seems on his way by guardian feraphs brought Sees aiding angels favour his defign. Ambrofial blossoms, such of old as blew
By those fresh fonts on Eden's happy plain, And Sharon's rofes all his paffage ftrew:
So Fancy dreams; but Fancy's dreams are vain. Wafted and weary on the mountain's fide,
His way unknown, the haplets pilgrim lies, Or takes fome ruthlefs robber for his guide,
And prone beneath his cruel fabre dies.
The grove's green wave, the blue stream sparkling
And wandering far from her Platonic shade; Mourns o'er the ruins of her transient reign,
Nor unrepining fees her vifions fade.
The fairy race that fill'd her feftive train: Joy tcars his wreath, and Hope inverts her eye, And Folly wonders that her dream was vain.
§ 39. A Letter from Italy to the Right Honou able Charles Lord Halifax. In the year 1701. ADDISON.
WHILE you, my Lord, the rural fhades admire,
For wherefoe'er I turn my ravish'd eyes,
Renown'd in verfe each fhady thicket grows,
Sometimes, mifguided by the tuneful throng,
Yet run for ever by the Mufe's kill,
Oh could the Muse my ravish'd breaft infpire
To nobler taftes, and more exalted fcents;
Immortal glories in my mind revive,
An amphitheatre's amazing height
Here pillars rough with fculpture pierce the skies;
Still to new fcenes my wand'ring Mufe retires,
A new creation rifes to my fight;
Here pleafing airs my ravifh'd foul confound
How has kind Heaven adorn'd the happy land,
Thee, goddefs, thee Britannia's ifle adores;
Still fhew the charms that their proud hearts fubdued.
Fain would I Raphael's godlike art rehearse, And thew th' immortal labours in my verfe, Where, from the mingled ftrength of fhade and light,
Nor at the coarfenefs of our heaven repine,
Others with tow'ring piles may pleafe the fight,
But I've already troubled you too long,
Aufonia's ftates, the victor to reftrain,
Behind their everlasting hills fecur'd;
$40. The Campaign. ADDISON. To his Grace the Duke of Marlborough, 1703.
Her ornaments in peace, her ftrength in war;
WHILE crowds of princes your deferts pro- The vengeance due to their great death was near.
Our godlike leader, cre the ftream he pass`d,
Rheni pacator et Iftri
Omnis in hoc uno variis difcordia ceffit
CLAUD. de Laud. Stilic. Effe aliquam in terris gentem quae fua imperfa, fuo labore ac “periculo, bella gerat pro libertate ali rum. Nec hoc finitiinis, aut propir quae vicinitatis hominibus, ut terris continenti
44 junctis praeftet. Maria trajiciat: ne quod toto orbe terrarum injuftum imperium fit, et ubique jus, fas, lex, potentiima Liv. Hift. lib. 33.
Proud in their number to enrol your name;
The haughty Gaul beheld, with tow'ring pride,
Big with the fate of Europe, he renews
Our British youth, with in-born freedom bold,
Still to the rifing fun they take their way
O'er proftrate towns and palaces they pafs (Now cover'd o'er with woods, and hid in grafs) Breathing revenge; whilft anger and difdain Fire ev'ry breaft, and boil in ev'ry vein. Here fhatter'd walls, like broken rocks, from far Rife up in hideous view, the guilt of war; Whilft here the vine o'er hills of ruins climbs, Induftrious to conceal great Bourbon's crimes.
At length the fame of England's hero drew Eugenio to the glorious interview. Great fouls by instinct to each other turn, Demand alliance, and in friendship burn; A fudden friendship, while with ftretch'd-out rays They meet each other, mingling blaze with blaze. Polish'd in courts, and harden'd in the field, Renown'd for conquest, 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 fhewn : To fouls like thefe, in mutual friendship join'd, Heaven dares entrust the cause of human-kind.
Britannia's grateful fons appear in arms, Her harafs'd troops the hero's prefence warms; Whilft the high hills and rivers all around With thund'ring peals of British fhouts refound: Doubling their Ipeed, they march with fresh delight,
Eager for glory, and require the fight.
The march concludes, the various realms are
Thick'ning their ranks, and wedg'd in firm array
High on the works the mingling hofts engage
How many gen'rous Britons meet their doom, New to the field, and heroes in their bloom! Th' illuftrious youths, that left their native thore To march where Britons never march'd befo.e (Oh fatal love of fame! oh glorious heat, Only deftructive to the brave and great!) After fuch toils o'ercome, fuch dangers paft, Stretch'd on Bavarian ramparts, breathe their laft. But hold, my Mufe, may no complaints appear, Nor blot the day with an ungrateful tear: While Marlb'rough lives, Britannia's ftars difpenfe A friendly light, and thine in innocence: Plunging through feas of blood his fiery steed Where'er his friends retire, or foes fucceed; Thofe he fupports, thele drives to fidden flight," And turns the various fortune of the fight.
Forbear, great man, renowned in arms, fubear 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; Lct nations anxious for thy life abate This fcorn 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 deffiny depends on thine.
At length the long-difputea pafs they gain, By crowded arinics fortified in vain; . The war breaks in, the fierce Bavarians yield, And fee their camp with British legions fill'd. So Belgian mounds bear on their fhatter'd fides The fea's whole weight, increas'd with fwelling But if the rufhing wave a paffage finds, [tides; Enrag'd by wat'ry moons, and warring winds, The trembling peafant fees his country round Cover'd with tempefts, and in oceans drown'd.
The few furviving focs difpers'd in flight (Refufe of fwords and gleanings of a fight) In ev'ry ruftling wind the victor hear, And Marlborough's form in ev'ry shadow fear, Till the dark cope of night with kind embrace Befriends the rout, and covers their difgrace.
To Donavert, with unrefifted force, The gay victorious army bends its courfe. The growth of meadows, and the pride of fields, Whatever fpoils Bavaria's fun er yields (The Danube's great increase) Britannia fhares, The food of armies and fupport of wars: With magazines of death, deftructive balls, And cannon doom'd to batter Landau's walls,
The victor finds each hidden cavern for'd,
Deluded prince! how is thy greatnefs crofs'd,
Unbounded courage and compaffion join'd, Temp'ring each other in the victor's mind, Alternately proclaim him good and great, And make the Hero and the Man complete. Long did he strive th' obdurate foe to gain By proffer'd grace, but long he ftrove in vain; Till, fir'd at length, he thinks it vain to fpare His rifing wrath, and gives a loofe to war. In vengeance rous'd, the foldier fills his hand With fword and fire, and ravages the land; A thoufand villages to afhes turns, In crackling flames a thousand harvests burns. To the thick woods the woolly flocks retreat, And mix'd with bellowing herds confus'dly bleat; Their trembling lords the common fhade partake, And cries of infants found in ev'ry brake: The lift'ning foldier fix'd in forrow stands, Loth to obey his leader's juft commands; The leader grieves, by gen'rous pity fway'd, To fee his juft commands fo well obey'd.
Though fens and floods poffefs the middle space, That unprovok'd they would have fear'd to pafs; Nor fens nor floods can ftop Britannia's bands, When her proud foe rang'd on their bordersstands.
But oh, my Mufe, what numbers wilt thou find To fing the furious troops in battle join'd! Methinks I hear the drum's tumultuous found The victors' fhouts and dying groans confound, The dreadful burft of cannon rend the fkies, And all the thunder of the battle rife. [prov'd, 'Twas then great Marlborough's mighty foul w.s That, in the fhock of charging hofts unmov'd, Amidft confufion, horror, and defpair, Examin'd all the dreadful feenes of war: In peaceful thought the field of death furvey'd, To fainting fquadrons fent the timely aid, Infpir'd repuls'd battalions to engage, And taught the doubtful battle where to rage. So when an angel by divine command With rifing tempcfts fhakes a guilty land, Such as of late o'er pale Britannia pafs'd, Calm and ferene he drives the furious blaft; And, pleas'd th' Almighty's orders to perform, Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the ftorm.
But now the trumpet, terrible from far, In fhriller clangors animates the war; Confed'rate 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 hoft he views Stretch'd out in deep array, and dreadful length, His heart dilates, and glories in his ftrength.
The fatal day its mighty courfe began, That the griev'd world had long defi'd in vain, States that their new captivity bemoan'd, Armies of martyrs that in exile groan'd, Sighs from the depth of gloomy dungeons heard, And pray'rs in bitterness of foul preferr'd, Europe's loud cries, that Providence affail'd, And Anna's ardent vows, at length prevail'd: The day was come when Heaven defign'd to thew His care and conduct of the world below.
Behold in awful march and dread array The long extended fquadrons shape their way! Death, in approaching terrible, imparts An anxious horror to the braveft hearts; Yet do their beating breasts demand the ftrife, And thirst of glory quells the love of life. No vulgar fears can British minds controul: Heat of revenge and noble pride of foul Orlook the foe, advantag'd by his poft, Luffen his numbers, and contract his hoft;
But fee the haughty houfchold-troops advance! The dread of Europe, and the pride of France. The war's whole art each private foldier knows, And with a general's love of conqueft glows; Proudly he marches on, and void of fear Laughs at the fhaking of the British spear: Vain infolence! with native freedom brave, The meaneft Briton fcorns the highest flave; Contempt and fury fire their fouls by turns, Each nation's glory in each warrior burns; Each fights, as in his arm th' important day And all the fate of his great monarch lay : A thoufand glorious actions, that might claim Triumphant laurels, and immortal fame, Confus'd in crowds of glorious actions lie, And troops of heroes undistinguish'd die. O Dormer, how can I behold thy fate, And not the wonders of thy youth relate! How can I fee the gay, the brave, the young, Fall in the cloud of war. and lie unfung! In joys of conqueft he refigns his breath, And, fill'd with England's glory, fmiles in death. The rout begins, the Gallic fquadrons run, Compell'd in crowds to meet the fate they fhun; Thoulards of fiery fteeds with wounds transfix'd, Floating in gore, with their dead mafters mix'd, 'Midft heaps of fpears and ftandards driven around, Lie in the Danube's bloody whirlpools drown'd. Troops of bold youths, born on the diftant Soane, Or founding borders of the rapid Rhone, Or where the Scine her flow'ry fields divides, Or where the Loire thro' winding vineyards glides, In heaps the rolling billows fweep away, And into Scythian feas their bloated corps convey. From Blenheim's tow'rs the Gaul, with wild Beholds the various havoc of the fight; [affright, His waving banners, that fo oft had food Planted in fields of death and ftreams of blood, So wont the guarded enemy to reach, And rife triumphant in the fatal breach,