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Our British youth, unus'd to rough alarms,
His toils, for no ignoble ends design'd,
Thus, when the forming muse would copy forth
Reeking in blood, and smear'd with dust and sweat; Whilst angry gods conspire to make him great.
Thy navy rides on seas before unprest, And strikes a terror through the haughty East; Algiers and Tunis from their sultry shore With horror hear the British engines roar, Fain from the neighb'ring dangers would they run, And wish themselves still nearer to the sun. The Gallic ships are in their ports confin'd, Deny'd the common use of sea and wind. Nor dare again the British strength engage ; Still they remember that destructive rage Which lately made their trembling host retire, Stunn'd with the noise, and wrapt in smoke and fire; The waves with wide unnumber'd wrecks were strow'd, And planks, and arms, and men, promiscuous flow'd.
Spain's numerous fleet, that perish'd on our coast,
Where'er the waves in restless errors roll,
At length, proud prince, ambitious Lewis, cease To plague mankind, and trouble Europe's peace; Think on the structures which thy pride has ras'd, On towns unpeopled, and on fields laid waste ; Think on the heaps of corps, and streams of blood, On every guilty plain, and purple flood,
Thy arms have made, and cease an impious war,
But stop not here : behold where Berkley stands,
Thus Ætna, when in fierce eruptions broke, Fills heav'n with ashes, and the earth with smoke; Here crags of broken rocks are twirl'd on high, Here molten stones and scatter'd cinders fly: Its fury reaches the remotest coast, And strews the Asiatic shore with dust.
Now does the sailor from the neighb'ring main Look after Gallic towns and forts in vain;
No more his wonted marks he can descry,
Here Russel's actions should my muse require ;
But who can run the British triumphs o'er, And count the flames disperst on every shore? Who can describe the scatter'd victory, And draw the reader on from sea to sea ? Else who could Ormond's godlike acts refuse, Ormond, the theme of every Oxford muse? Fain would I here his mighty worth proclaim, Attend him in the noble chase of fame, Through all the noise and hurry of the fight, Observe each blow, and keep him still in sight. Oh, did our British peers thus court renown, And grace the coats their great forefathers won ! Our arms would then triumphantly advance, Nor Henry be the last that conquer'd France. What might not England hope, if such abroad Purchas'd their country's honour with their blood : When such, detain'd at home, support our state In William's stead, and bear a kingdom's weight, The schemes of Gallic policy o'erthrow, And blast the councils of the common foe;
Direct our armies, and distribute right,
But stop, my muse, th' ungrateful sound forbear,
But see, at length, the British ships appear! Our Nassau comes ! and as his fleet draws near, T'he rising masts advance, the sails grow white, And all his pompous navy floats in sight. Come, mighty prince, desir'd of Britain, come! May heav'n's propitious gales attend thee home! Come, and let longing crowds behold that look, Which such confusion and amazement strook Through Gallic hosts : but, oh! let us descry Mirth in thy brow, and pleasure in thy eye; Let nothing dreadful in thy face be found ; But for awhile forget the trumpet's sound; Well pleas'd, thy people's loyalty approve, Accept their duty, and enjoy their love. For as, when lately mov'd with fierce delight, You plung'd amidst the tumult of the fight, Whole heaps of dead encompass'd you around, And steeds o'erturn'd lay foaming on the ground: So crown'd with laurels now, where'er you go, Around you blooming joys, and peaceful blessings flow.