The invasion: a poem to the Queen: By Mr. Hill.

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The Invasion: A POEM.

PRIDE of the World, permit an humble Muse

To snatch the Theme her Duty bids her choose,

That so the boundless Zeal which now inspires,

And warms my glowing Breast with Loyal Fires,

May teach my tow'ring Fancy to reherse

Your Godlike Actions in a lofty Verse:

So shall Your spreading Laurels never die,

Nor Your bright Deeds in dark Oblivion lie,

But Ages yet unborn shall learn to bless

The Author of those Joys their Children must possess.

Oh! cou'd You see with how sincere a Flame

My Soul expands in Raptures at Your Name!

How pure my Praise! how innocent my Song!

My Pray'rs how ardent! and my Zeal how strong!

You wou'd not, cou'd not think Your Virtuous Rays

Produc'd so base a Plant as mercenary Praise.

No hopes of Gain can stain my honest Pen,

Nor can I stoop to write like flatt'ring Men;

For tho', Obscure, 'mongst vulgar Crowds I lie,

Skreen'd from the SUN of Your enliv'ning Eye,

I bear a Loyal Soul, and dare to do

Beyond the Pow'r of Man, to serve a QUEEN like YOU.

But 'tis a needless Art I practise now,

Too low to HEAV'N and YOU we cannot bow;

For Majesty like Yours, and Pow'r Divine,

Whose dazling Rays with spotless Lustre shine,

By innate Force draw Praise from ev'ry Land,

Nor can we give You more than You command;

Envy herself can spy no doubtful Act,

Nor Malice from your witness'd Worth detract;

Faction, disarm'd, submits to what You do,

Nor can the brightest Praise reach Pow'r to flatter YOU.

Long had BRITANNIA mourn'd a cloudy Fate,

Depress'd with Fears for her divided State;

Long had each willing Sister wish'd in vain,

For Dreams alternate of the Crown and Chain

Invite 'em oft, oft bear 'em wide again:

Till Heav'n, indulgent to the doubtful Isle,

Look'd down with Pity, and vouchsaf'd a Smile;

What common Kings had found too hard to do,

Some Pow'r Coelestial must attempt anew;

Thence Jove shot down from Heav'n his brightest Ray,

To animate the purest part of Clay,

From which Great UNION Godlike ANNA came,

ANNA, the darling Favourite of Fame!

By Her the wond'rous Task was bravely done,

And the Coy Nymphs to kind Embraces won;

At Her Desire Heav'ns mighty Mandates fly,

And firm a Gordian Knot that Hell can ne'r unty.

In a rough part of Gallia's Warlike Land,

A craggy Ridge of Rocky Mountains stand,

Whose steep Ascents, and vast unmeasur'd Height

With pleasing Wonder strike the distant sight;

Their solid sides vast Tracts of Land surround,

And skreen bright Prospects of Enchanted Ground.

Here, on a gaudy Throne of glitt'ring State,

As Fortune changeable, but fix'd as Fate,

With Eagles Wings, and Virgins lovely Face,

Of Form inviting, and unequall'd Grace,

The Fiend Ambition sits, and shines around the place;

Imperial Crowns of Gold adorn her Head,

From whence, in wanton Curls, her Tresses spread;

Her Hands are elevated as her Look,

One holds a Bloody Sword, and one a Golden Book.

On her Right-hand appears her Sister Pride,

And crawling Envy guards the other side;

Of either Sex un-numbred Swarms appear,

And throng in Crowds to pay their Homage here;

On all alike the crafty Fury smiles,

With equal Art their various Thoughts beguiles,

First draws them on to Fate, then glories in their Spoils.

For round large Hills, o'erspread with shining Light,

With Gold refulgent, and with Diamonds bright,

Ten thousand Deaths in strange Disguises stand,

And crush the rash Invaders of that LAND.

Hither the News of ANNA's Honours came,

The pond'rous Message burst the Trump of Fame,

And ev'ry Fiend grew pale, and trembl'd at Her Name.

An awful Silence swiftly follow'd this,

And Envy's Snakes, with fright, forgot to hiss,

Till from her Throne the shock'd Ambition starts,

And in these Words her fix'd Resolves imparts:

Ha! shall I lose, at last, my boasted Pow'r?

Long have the Books of Fate foretold this Hour;

Either my Empire falls, or ANNA bleeds;

But I waste time in Words, behold my Deeds,

She said,—and on the Ground her Ensigns threw,

Extended wide her Wings, and upward flew,

And left her Train amaz'd and wondring at the View.

Near the fam'd Borders of the River Seine,

Whose gentle Streams in large Maeanders twine,

Whose swelling Floods by fertil Show'rs advance,

And kindly wash the fairest Plains of France,

Versailles, a small, but stately City, lies,

And rears her lofty Turrets to the Skies;

Proudly she boasts the Source whence Honours spring,

From the fix'd Residence of Gallia's King;

For there that Mighty Monarch's Palace stands,

Guarded by brawny Slaves in chosen Bands.

Here, on a Bed of State, the Tyrant lies,

Pregnant with Hopes to make the World his Prize;

Here different Passions round his Bosom roll,

And various Tortures rack his anxious Soul;

Here conscious Guilt invades his wish'd Repose,

And magnifies the Number of his Foes;

Now he has mounted the Triumphant Car,

Now sinks beneath the Weight of adverse War;

Here Hopes and Fears alternate Changes bring,

And here AMBITION finds her Fav'rite King.

An unexpected Sleep had clos'd his Eyes,

And seiz'd his Senses with a soft Surprize,

When to the place the angry Fury came,

Her Breast all boiling, and her Eyes shot Flame.

Son, says the Fiend, bright Darling of my Care,

Pride of my Hopes, and Subject of my Pray'r,

Rouze from the Damps in which your Senses steep,

'Tis not, oh! 'tis not Now a time to sleep.

Have I, for this, your lost Advantage sought?

For this your Pow'r with Blood of Nations bought?

Have I for this your daring Breast inspir'd,

And with hot Flames of War your Bosom fir'd?

Have your great Stratagems bound Europe fast?

And must a Woman break the Chain at last?

Ah Prince! betimes exert a vig'rous Care,

Betimes for Death or Victory prepare;

For oh! I fear, nay, more than fear, I know,

From' ANNA's Arm you must expect a Blow,

And who opposes Her has Heav'n to be his Foe.

In vain abroad your dreadful Cannons roar,

In vain your Fleets at home defend your Shoar;

In vain your Armies Foreign Vict'ries gain,

In vain Almanza gave you conquer'd Spain;

And, oh! in vain your baffl'd Soldiers fight,

While the two Barriers of your Pow'r Unite:

BRITAIN, Great Prince, by Heav'n and ANNA led,

Has join'd Two Bodies to One Sovereign Head;

And if divided She cou'd shake your Throne,

She may o'erturn it Now, since into UNION grown.

Rouze then, and swiftly form some vast Design,

Impending Dangers shou'd Dispatch incline;

Speed gives Success, by Time 'tis lost or won,

'Tis not 'twas bravely Thought, but bravely Done.

I know your Courage great, I know you Wise,

And therefore but remind you, not advise.

You have a British Prince attends your Court,

At least a Prince by His and Our Report;

Contested Titles we dispute in vain,

Kings should not mind the Justice, but the Gain.

Strike now; a Wound just clos'd you'll soon renew;

But, if neglected long, you'll find it hard to do.

She said,—and vanish'd swiftly from his sight,

Lost in the sable Clouds of dusky Night.

The frighted King in furious haste arose,

Forgot the softer thoughts of his Repose;

The Fury's Sting had touch'd his Vital Flood,

And raging Fevers heats enflam'd his Blood.

Revolving Thoughts consum'd the tedious Night,

And Eastern Skies display'd the Morning Light,

When the fierce King a hasty Summons sends,

And each commanded Officer attends;

The wond'ring Council in Confusion met,

By the King's side the young Pretender sate;

Fires in his Soul a flaming Wrath provoke,

While thus, with sparkling Eyes, the Gallick Tyrant spoke:

Lords of this Land, where I so long have reign'd,

Whose Loyalty your Courage has maintain'd,

I call'd you hither now, to let you know

I aim my Arrows at a British Foe;

Their sudden UNION has my Hopes betray'd,

We must dissolve the Tye that Knot has made,

Not meanly guard our own, but Hostile Shoars invade.

And You, young Prince, whose too unhappy Fate

Has cast you roughly from your Father's State,

Shall have my Help to lift you to a Throne

That justly is, or ought to be, your own:

It then remains, You shou'd the Dangers weigh

That may a while defer the happy Day;

Which if You dare but meet, the Task be Mine

To guide you safely through the vast Design;

The Gallick Fleet shall shake the British Shoar

With Force they never felt nor fear'd before;

My best Commanders shall attend your Fate,

And chosen Troops support your Kingly State.

This is my Will, your Answer I expect,

I have propos'd the Task, and will the Deed effect.

A rising Murmur from the buzzing Croud

Proclaim'd their Wonder and their Pleasure loud,

While the Pretender spoke, and as he spoke he bow'd.

Illustrious Prince, from whom my Fortune springs,

Great Dread of Nations, and great Chief of Kings,

Words want the Pow'r to speak my rising Joy,

Nor can my Tongue vain Eloquence employ;

Give me my Crown, and its Command shall shew

How much to Your great Soul I and my Subjects owe.

Green in the Field, unus'd to Wars Alarms,

Soldier in bloom, and yet unskill'd in Arms,

I'll bravely lead your conqu'ring Squadrons on,

And wade through Seas of Blood to reach my Throne;

Nor fear I Dangers, nor can doubt Success,

Hell cannot curse the Man whom You vouchsafe to bless.

He spoke,—The smiling King the Speech commends,

And sudden Orders o'er his Kingdom sends,

Surpris'd, the Council rose, and the great Congress ends.

Now from all parts the Din of War grows high,

And Trumpets sound their Summons to the Sky;

Tonitruous Drums in rougher Notes proclaim

The Soldiers Bus'ness, and their Leaders Aim:

Arms long neglected, now begin to shine,

And neighing Horses snort a Great Design;

The Warlike Ensigns that the Chiefs prepare,

In pendant Curlings fan the wanton Air;

Love's softer Arts no more amuse the Swains,

And Nymphs are left abandon'd in the Plains;

To War's great Call Troops of bold Youths advance,

The Pride of Valour, and the Bloom of France;

With sprightly Joy they hear the loud Alarms,

Forget their softer Dress, and shine in glitt'ring Arms:

To Dunkirk's Port with hasty Zeal they fly,

Where ready Ships of War in graceful Order lie.

And now the fatal Morn' began to peep,

When the strong Fleet must plough the Stormy Deep;

In the gay Town the chosen Army lay,

And with loud Shouts salute the welcome Day.

The tuneful Trumpets echo from afar,

With all the noisie Instruments of War;

The summon'd Chiefs to their fix'd places flew,

And into Order all their Forces drew;

The tops of Houses Crouds of Gazers heap,

And from the Windows Wives and Mothers weep;

With wringing hands a last Farewell they take,

And wish the War Success, each for her Husband's sake.

In the broad Front, with an unequall'd Pride,

They saw the rash Pretender boldly ride,

Grac'd by the Warlike Chiefs who rode on either side.

Twice Fifty gallant Troops march slowly on,

Whose Swords in frequent Wars had Vict'ries won;

With graceful Pride their tall Commanders tread,

And feather'd Plumes adorn each elevated Head;

Their sloping Spears shine thro' the City-gate,

And others bear for Arms the fiery Tubes of Fate.

Thus march the haughty Train in pompous State,

To gain the Strand, where ready Vessels wait;

A tempting Gale invites 'em soon aboard,

And from the Port their hasty Ships unmoor'd;

Saluting Cannons from the Bulwarks roar,

And the Fleets Thunder shakes the Friendly Shoar.

And now the formidable Ships of France

From their strong Port to the wide Seas advance;

Their tallow'd Keels divide the rolling Waves,

And their smooth sides the rising Ocean laves;

The skilful Mariners unfurl their Sails,

Whose flutt'ring Canvass courts the swelling Gales;

The manag'd Rudders break the Billows pow'r,

And make 'em guide what they wou'd else devour:

To dreadful breadth the bulky Squadrons spread,

Afrighted Neptune hides his hoary Head,

And the Sea-Monsters fly, struck with a pannnick Dread.

To Caledonian Land their Course they bend,

And on her Coast their threatning Pow'rs descend:

The craggy Rocks, that guard the Northern Shoar,

Trembl'd and shook at their loud Thunders roar,

And loos'n'd from their Roots, that never mov'd before.

But hold, my Muse;—Forget thy Foes a while,

And turn a pleasing look to BRITAIN's Isle,

On whose bless'd Fortunes Heav'n and ANNA smile.

Soon had the watchful Eyes of PROVIDENCE,

That ever wake and move for Her Defence,

Perceiv'd the black Design, their Forces seen,

And told their Numbers to the happy QUEEN:

The Loyal Senate flame with gen'rous Fire,

And their Examples ev'ry Breast inspire;

At the first Summons Crouds unnumber'd meet,

And throw their Lives and Fortunes at Her Feet.

Two British Fleets then plough'd the distant Main,

One bore her Natives to the Coast of Spain,

Others in Midland Seas Vict'ries on Vict'ries gain.

Mean while Domestick Shoars unguarded lie,

No equal Force to meet the Foe was nigh;

But ANNA needs not that, for Heav'n is Her ALLIE.

Yet at Her Call tall Ships in Numbers meet,

And form, with wond'rous haste, a Mighty Fleet;

O'er the rough Seas commanded Squadrons fly,

In their swift way no dang'rous Barriers lie,

From Her they claim their Force, their Fortune from the Sky.

Now the brave Britons, whom the Seas obey,

O'er moving Mountains force their watry Way,

Their crowded Sails leave loit'ring Birds behind,

And their stretch'd Breadth monopolize the Wind.

Eager to fight, their Ships for War prepare,

Fly thro' the Seas, and sail upon the Air;

Each lab'ring Hull the wond'ring Waves divides,

And shakes the frighted Billows from her sides;

Their bending Masts yield to the pow'rful Gales,

And groaning Beams below proclaim the pond'rous Sails.

When from their Watch the Fleets each other spy,

With equal Joy contiguous Sails they ply,

And look like two black Clouds gath'ring from either Sky.

Each to just length contract their spreading Line,

And glitt'ring Weapons from their Rigging shine;

Death, here invited, leaves the peaceful Shoar,

And lies conceal'd in ev'ry Cannon's Bore,

Tempting their fiery Rage, and courting them to roar.

Britannia's Sons with chearful Shouts come nigh,

And their loud Triumphs pierce the vaulted Sky;

On the high Decks the graceful Chiefs appear,

Invite the Battle, and disdain to fear;

Their sprightly Trumpets loud Defiance sound,

And wond'ring Fishes dance in Shoals around;

With gentle force the Southern Breezes blow,

And bear their dreadful Thunder on the Foe.

But when the bold Pretender saw their Pow'r,

And felt their Anger in a Sulph'rous Show'r,

His gifted Sword forsook his trembling Hand,

And his roll'd Eyes survey'd the distant Land,

His fault'ring Tongue forgot a while to speak,

And knocking Knees with sudden shocks grow weak;

Strangely surpriz'd his anxious Thoughts appear,

And drowns his Senses in the Gulph of Fear.

Thus, when the Noble Lion sleeping lies,

Nor dreads the Danger of a base Surprize,

Some envious Fox, who fears an open Strife,

With treach'rous Guile attempts his Royal Life;

But when He's seiz'd, and in vindictive Claws,

Quakes with a guilty Fear, beneath the grasping Paws.

Now the rash Gallick Chiefs amaz'd look'd round,

No Hopes of Safety but by Flight they found,

With heedless haste they clap their Helms a-lee,

And raise a short-liv'd Storm, by breaking up the Sea;

No more the Ships in their first Order join,

Confusion now divides the scatter'd Line,

O'er the wide Ocean spread, they lose their State,

And fly disorder'd from pursuing Fate;

They crowd more Sail than Rigging can supply,

Grasp all the Winds that whizz along the Sky,

And court the Tempests they were us'd to fly:

O'erloaden Vessels crack beneath their weight,

And ev'ry Plank gapes wide, and opens Death a Gate:

Close to the Waves they lay their prostrate sides,

The chalky Keel high o'er the Surges rides,

And their swift Prows raise Foam upon the murm'ring Tides.

The wond'ring Britons view their sudden Flight,

And bless with shouts the unexpected sight;

With equal haste, by diff'rent Causes led,

To equal breadth their Conqu'ring Squadrons spread;

Well-manag'd Sails their stately Line extend,

And their stiff Masts to the strong Canvass bend;

Swiftly they scud along the wat'ry Plain,

And by degrees a short Advantage gain,

Then tempt their Rivals to dispute the Day,

And with loud Cannons summon them to stay:

From their tall sides a gen'rous Thunder roars,

Echoing Defiance to the distant Shoars,

While from the Gallick Sterns base Bullets fly,

And Clouds of shameful Smoak invade the blushing Sky.

In vain th'intrepid Britains tempt the Fight,

In vain they strive to stop their eager Flight,

In vain to animate their Foes they try,

Beckon the Dangers Nature bids 'em fly,

And court the bloody Blows which Heav'n and France deny.

Long had their Ships, divided, urg'd their way,

And grac'd the Seas that did their Pow'r obey,

When a brave Few, more happy than the rest,

With greater Speed, but equal Courage bless'd,

O'ertake the hindmost of the Hostile Fleet,

And with unwelcome Shouts their pow'rful Rivals greet.

From each side now successive Thunder flies,

On the rough Waves contending Vessels rise,

Alternate Show'rs of Death blue Sulphur rain,

Oceans of Blood the wat'ry Surface stain,

And spread their purple Horror o'er the Main.

Britannia's Sons with brave Resentment flame,

Gallia must now support her sinking Fame,

One side for Honour fights, and one for Shame.

Hot Wombs of Brass new Births of Fire prepare,

Thunder on Thunder shakes the smoaky Air,

Sulphureous Clouds in curling Volumes rise,

And Nitrous Gloom obscures the ambient Skies,

Till dreadful Lightning flashing thro' the Night,

Discloses horrid Scenes with momentary Light.

Promiscuously the Ships in Battle join,

Observe no Order, keep no formal Line,

But strive by diff'rent Arts, to compass one Design;

With deadly Force Here adverse Bullets meet,

And with rough Shocks, and breaking Fury greet,

Here rising Waves the meeting Vessels dash,

And join their bulky Sides with hideous Crash;

Now grapling Sailors Hand to Hand contend,

Some desp'rately assail what some defend;

Here Sword from Sword with fearful Noise rebounds,

Here weighty Fauchions fix their dreadful Wounds,

Here by destructive Musquets Crowds expire,

And adverse Parties fight in Storms of Fire;

Three Elements in strange Disorder join,

In vain the strugling Flames attempt to shine,

Thro' rising Surges red-hot Bullets fly,

And dash the hissing Waters to the Sky;

With unresisted Force they onward roar,

Disjoin the Ships that closely fought before,

And shake the troubled Seas, and drive 'em to the Shoar.

Now was the Time BRITANNIA shou'd advance

Her deathless Glories on the Fall of France,

Sing, Loyal Muse, by what strange turn of Fate

The faithless Foe preserv'd his sinking State;

Say by what means Jove's Favour was obtain'd,

And how, by him secur'd, they Dunkirk's Port regain'd.

Shock'd at the growing Thunder of the Fight,

And eager to behold the bloody Sight,

Imperial Jove descends, enthron'd on Clouds,

And Heav'n's bright Host attends in shining Crouds;

At his Command the strengthen'd Air supports

The num'rous Rulers of Celestial Courts,

Who, stretch'd at wanton Ease, observant lye,

And frame a glorious Heav'n below the Sky.

Not far from hence, amidst th'unfathom'd Sea,

There stands a Rock, strong in a vast degree,

Its tow'ring sides the roughest Storms out-brave,

And mock the Fury of the fiercest Wave,

High on its craggy Top old Neptune stood,

Lord of the Regions of the briny Flood;

Around his Head a whistling Tempest blew,

And his long Hair high from his Temples flew,

His rais'd Right Hand his powerful Trident shook,

And the loud Ocean trembled at his Look.

Soon as he saw the thund'ring God descend,

And fear'd the Consequence that might attend,

He rais'd his dreadful Voice, and thus began,

While the hush'd Seas in awful silence ran.

Brother, whose happier Fate has plac'd you high,

And fix'd you Ruler of the starry Sky,

Welcome, oh welcome, for you come in time,

To see me punish an unequal'd Crime:

ANNA the Great, the Just, of matchless Worth,

Whom Fate decrees the Empress of the Earth,

Urg'd by the pious Flames of mutual Love,

And such as almost equals yours above,

Gives the Command of the subjected Main

To her blest Consort GEORGE the Royal DANE;

Long has that happy PRINCE successful been,

And Rul'd the Navies of his Darling QUEEN,

Till o'er the wond'ring World He spread Her Fame,

And distant Nations trembled at her Name;

My self with Pleasure all my Pow'r resign'd,

Gave Him a full Command o'er Seas and Wind,

For I submitted still to all that She design'd.

Yet Now, O daring Insolence! this Foe,

Whose wide Ambition injur'd Nations know,

At her lov'd Breast has aim'd a treach'rous Blow;

But see the conqu'ring British Fleet advance,

Whose dreadful Cannons bear the Fate of France.

He said,—and as he wou'd have spoken more,

Jove cast his Eyes upon the Gallick Shoar,

Henceforth, he cry'd, Rash Prince, more humble grow,

Nor tempt the Anger of your British Foe:

Fate now protects you, if again you dare

Invade that Land, a bloody Fall beware.

This said,—a dusky Cloud he downwards threw,

And Scenes of Darkness 'twixt the Navies drew,

Then smil'd in Neptune's Face, and upwards flew.

The furious God with Wonder view'd the Deed,

And curs'd the Safety Jove to France decreed;

He bent his stormy Brow against the Skies,

Amazing Fires flash'd swiftly from his Eyes,

And mad with raging Passion, loudly cryes,

Hah! dares he thus invade a Brother's Right?

Tho' I can ne'er repel his New-fram'd Night,

I'll curse with equal Plagues their shameful Flight.

He said,—and made his willing Tritons meet,

To guard from gath'ring Storms the British Fleet,

Then with his Trident struck the hollow Rock,

That three times trembled with the mighty shock,

Thence issued Boreas with impetuous roar,

And shook the boyst'rous Seas from Shoar to Shoar,

Successive Waves in wat'ry Hills rise steep,

Disclosing all the Horrors of the Deep,

Commission'd Billows o'er each other roul,

And frightful Prospects shock the bravest Soul.

The Gallick Fleet the Tempest soon o'ertakes,

And on their Ships with dreadful Horror breaks;

Now with strange Force the swelling Surges rise,

And lift the mounting Vessels to the Skies,

Then from their Keels the faithless Waters fall,

And to the muddy Bottom drop 'em all.

The trembling Sailors ply their Ropes in vain,

And gaping Planks admit the roaring Main,

Their shatter'd Sails in num'rous pieces fly,

And Tempests blow their Streamers to the Sky,

Disjointed Rudders float upon the Waves,

And groaning Numbers sink in wat'ry Graves,

Disabled Vessels meet with sudden Shocks,

And some are dash'd with force upon the Rocks,

Some shrieking Mariners midst Waves Expire,

Some dye by strange Diseases, some by Fire,

Death in all Shapes, and horrid Pomp appears,

And growing Dangers swell beyond their Fears,

Plague, Wind and Sea 'gainst perjur'd France combine,

And in her Ruin firm Confed'rates join,

Till long-deserv'd Fatigues and Hazards o'er,

A scatter'd Remnant gain their native Shore.

Such Fate may ANNA's Foes for ever find,

May HEAV'N on Her still smile, nor Hell disturb Her Mind.

FINIS.

The Invasion: A POEM TO THE QUEEN.

By Mr. HILL.

Nil actum est, inquit, nisi, Gallo milite, Portas

Frangimus, & Regno vexillum pono Britanno,

Quantulus at rediit?

Juv. Sat. 10.

LONDON: Printed for THO. BICKERTON at the Golden Flower-de-Luce in St. Paul's Church-Yard. 1708.

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The invasion: a poem to the Queen: By Mr. Hill.

Hill, Aaron, 1685-1750.

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http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/3337

ID [isbn10]

1106003365

ID [isbn13]

9781106003362

ID [TCP]

K001415.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3309771626

ID [ECLL]

0099700500

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— The invasion: a poem to the Queen: By Mr. Hill., Hill, Aaron, 1685-1750.. 16p. ; 2⁰. London :: printed for Tho. Bickerton,. 1708.. [On the Pretender's attempted invasion of Scotland.] [Reproduction of original from the Harvard University Houghton Library.] [Foxon, H221] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCN2164.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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