The battle of Ramillia: or, the power of union. A poem. In five books. By Mr. Dennis.

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- To the Right Honourable CHARLES, Lord HALIFAX.

- THE PREFACE.

- THE BATTLE OF RAMILLIA: OR, THE Power of UNION. LIB. I.

- THE BATTLE OF RAMILLIA: OR, THE Power of UNION. LIB. II.

- THE BATTLE OF RAMILLIA: OR, THE Power of UNION. LIB. III.

- LIB. IV.

- LIB. V.

- ERRATA.

The END.

THE BATTLE OF RAMILLIA: OR, THE Power of Union. A POEM.

In Five BOOKS.

By Mr. DENNIS.

LONDON, Printed for Ben. Bragg at the Raven in Pater-Noster-Row, 1706.

To the Right Honourable CHARLES, Lord HALIFAX.

My Lord,

THIS Poem which was writ with a Design to shew the Prevalence and Power of Union, could to no Person be more properly Addrest than Your Lordship, who have ever since You have appear'd in the World been so great a promoter of Union.

In those great Offices of the highest Trust; in which Your Lordship has been employ'd at the same Time, both by the Prince and the People, You have always made profession of those Publick and Noble Principles which alone are capable of Uniting the Prince and the People.

And while in the late Reign the Commons of England hearken'd to Your Lordship's Advice in Parliament, they were united in their Inclinations and their Designs to the great People whom they represented. The Nerves of War were duely supply'd, and that War was carried on Vigorously. The Greatness of France was sapp'd by degrees and insensibly Undermin'd, and prepar'd to receive a terrible Shock from the first Blow it should meet with. But as soon as Your Lordship's Enemies began to prevail in those Illustrious Assemblies, a Spirit of Parcimony ill Understood and worse Tim'd crept in amongst them, and forc'd the best and most discerning of Kings to make a fatal Peace, which has endanger'd the Liberties of all Europe, and the Power and Traffick of this Kingdom; and has cost this Nation so many Thousands of Lives and so many Millions of Money, and which makes us ev'n at present contented, in order to the ending this just and necessary War, to furnish those Supplies in the very midst of Scarcity, which we then grumbling with-held in the Height of the greatest Affluence.

My Lord, The late King who was so True and so Just a Judge of Men, was so very well convinc'd of Your Lordship's Services both to the Crown and the People, that He took care by two just and two grateful Acts, that is, by calling You up to the House of Peers, and making You Auditor of the Exchequer, that Your Country should never want Your Service in Parliament, nor the Crown Your Abilities in the great Employments of the State.

The extraordinary Regard which so great a King always express'd for Your Lordship's extraordinary Merit, provok'd Your Enemies to endeavour to fix on You the odious Name of Favourite, as they have since attempted to fasten it on some of Your Illustrious Friends. But with how much Malice, or how much Ignorance have both Attempts been made! For a Favourite is the Prince's meer Creature, whose only Merit is His Sovereign's Favour, and such an Object of the Prince's Favour is always that of the Peoples Scorn and Hatred, and often exposes the very Sovereign to the same Contempt and Hatred. Sovereign Princes are oblig'd by their Duty to God, themselves and their People, to shew most Regard for those who do most for the good of the People whom They govern. And when they perform that Duty, ev'n Kings are Justly Honour'd the more for the Merits of their Subjects. How Happy is the Nation where the Ministers of Kings become the Darlings of the People. How Happy was England during the Time of Your Administration! When Your Lordship was united both to the King and the People; when the People declar'd aloud by their Representatives in Parliament, that You had deserv'd the Honours by which the King distinguish'd You! How Happy are we now, when the Queen Employs the most extraordinary Persons in the Highest Employments, whose Praises are celebrated by the August Assemblies of Parliament, and ecchoed by every part of the Kingdom. Since never Princes were more universally esteem'd by the People of England than the late King and the present Queen, 'tis an Infallible sign that the same People approve of their chosen Ministers.

Your Lordship, who in the late Reign was constantly employ'd in uniting the King and the People, or the People and their Representatives, has been justly thought in this to be the fittest Person to maintain Union between the two Sovereign Princes in whom England is most concern'd. With how sensible a pleasure do all who have the Honour to know Your Lordship, consider the People of Hanover surveying You with a venerable Awe, as a Person employ'd in Affairs of the Highest Trust and the Highest Consequence by the Two greatest Princes that ever ruled the bravest People of Europe. The late King made choice of Your Lordship to stand in the Breach which Faction had made in the Ramparts of Liberty. The Queen has chosen You not only to resist but to attack Faction, and to drive it from its last Retrenchment, by settling and securing an intire Correspondence between Her Majesty and Her presumptive Heir. And the Queen could not possibly repose a greater Trust in Your Lordship than by employing You in an Affair, the Success of which, was of so dear concern to Her Majesty as the securing both the Court of Hanover and Her own Subjects, of Her hearty Intentions in Relation to the Act of Settlement. When that Court beheld in Your Lordship so glorious an Example of the British Greatness, how were they exalted to think what a People they were one Day to Govern, tho' may that be late. They began to think some of their future Subjects equal to Foreign Princes, and Your Lordship was entertain'd with the same Honours which are paid to them.

The great Things which Your Lordship has done for uniting the Prince and the Successour, the Prince and the People, and the People among one another, and for resisting the Force and Artifices of the Common Enemy, ought in gratitude to unite the Inclinations of all English Men to Your Lordship. To whom we have all so great Obligations, that we cannot so much as pay or receive the very least Summ without reflecting on our Engagements to the late King, and to You; to the late King, whose Image we see upon every single Piece, and to Your Lordship who plac'd it there; when in the midst of the publick Indigence (an Indigence like that of Tantalus that plagued us in the midst of Plenty, when the Miser rolling in full Bags might then first be truly said to be literally poor) Your Lordship by a political and noble Alchymy transmuted Pewter and sordid Brass to Silver and fine Gold, and by an Action so great and so beneficent, se¦cur'd real Property to those at Home, who had but the Shadow of it before, and reviv'd and restor'd the expiring Credit of the Nation abroad. Since My Lord Treasurer by his admirable Management of the Nerves of War, is so justly said to have had so great a share in the glorious Successes of the late Campaigns, Your Lordship sure must have no small one, since without what you have done, there could be no Management.

These, My Lord, are the publick Reasons for Addressing the following Poem to Your Lordship. There is a private one, and that is, that when a Man contracts so great a Debt as to make him Insolvent, the least thing that he can do is to acknowledge what he can never pay; thus Bankrupts, when they can make no other return, send their Creditors an Epistle. I have lately had very great Obligations to Your Lordship: You have been pleas'd to take some care of my Fortune at a Time when I most wanted it, and had least reason to expect it from You, since several things hinder'd my giving that constant attendance on You, which Persons of Quality so scrupulously exact from those of Inferiour Rank, and with which, when Your Lordship is generously pleas'd to Dispense, You plainly Declare, that Your Noble Notions of Liberty are not embrac'd by You as they are by many, either out of Pride, or on the account of Interest, but by a Principle of Exalted Reason, and Goodness, and Humanity. This is the first Opportunity which I have had since I receiv'd Your Favours of paying my Acknowledgments to You in so publick a manner, which I desire Your Lordship to accept with Your usual Goodness. But how false or how bounded is Human Virtue! And how few are Grateful without a Design of engaging their Benefactors or others to Heap more Benefits on them, by shewing that they can be sensible of them. This very Address to Your Lordship is not without an Intention of engaging You whose Judgment in these Matters is acknowledg'd by all the World, to defend, as far as Your Conscience will give You leave, one of the Boldest Poems that has been writ for several Years. But I who konw the vast Business in which You are engag'd, am presuming enough to apprehend rather Your not Reading than Your not Liking,

I am, My Lord, Your Lordship's most Humble, most Faithful and most oblig'd Servant, John Dennis.

THE PREFACE.

THough the attempt which I have made in the following Poem is very bold, yet I would not have the Reader believe it Rash. I think my self obliged, then to satisfie him without any Delay, that it is by no means designed to be a just Epick Poem. I know too little of the Nature of that Poem, and too much of my own infirmity ever to attempt to write one. But tho' this can by no means pass for a just Epick Poem, yet is it something of the Epick Kind, and bears the same proportion to a just Poem that a short and a faint Essay do's to a full and a perfect Treatise.

That which threw me into this way of writing was the very Subject of the Poem. The Duke of Marlborough has laid such High Obligations upon his Country, that nothing can be said too much of him, nor done too much for him. And this obliged me to endeavour to do something more Bold and more Great, than any thing that I had endeavoured to do formerly.

But no Poem that is not Religious can be great without extravagance or bold without rashness, which has been formerly prov'd. But there were but two ways of writing a Religious Poem upon this Occasion. The one was to do it by way of Hymn, and the other was to introduce Machines. The former being anticipated in the Poem which I wrote on the Battle of Bleinem; there remained only the latter.

But here I easily foresee that the following Objection will be made, and that is, that since what the Duke of Marlborough has done is in its self so great and so wonderful, what occasion was there to endeavour to adorn it by Fiction. To which I answer, that because what the Duke of Marlborough has done is in its self so wonderful that it appears incredible, and Truth it self has the Resemblance of Fable and of Fiction, for that very Reason I was encouraged to embellish it with the Ornaments of Poetry. This is the Defence that Boileau has made for himself in his fourth Epistle, for introducing Machines into his Description of the Passage of the Rhine. And if the Apology stands good for him, as it has always past hitherto, it is still better for me. For my Machines are Christian whereas his are Pagan, and consequently can raise no great Emotion in the Minds of the Readers, because they are incredible, according to one of his own Verses.

L' esprit n'est point emu de ce qu'il ne croit pas.

If any one objects that what I make my Machines say and act will no more be believed than what Boileau Attributes to the God of the Rhine, to that I answer, that though things did not actually pass before and in the Battle of Ramillies, as they are related here, yet he who believes the Christian Religion and a particular Providence, and Reflects upon a hundred Passages in the Old and new Testament, must allow, that there past something not altogether unlike it. We see it is the Opinion of the Duke himself, that the Hand of God was in it, that Heaven, which leaves most Events to common Causes, was immediately concerned in this. Now can any thing be more reasonable for one who believes that Heaven was immediately concerned on one side, than to believe that Hell, which our Religion tells us is always for opposing the great Designs of Heaven, was immediately concerned on the other. Thus the Design of this Poem is built and the Machines are introduced upon what happened to the Duke in the Battle, and what he himself wrote to one of our Ministers of State after it.

Thus I have given an Account of the Design of this Poem; How well that design is executed, I must leave to the Reader. As I have consulted my Friends who are fam'd for their Judgment in things of this Nature, as to what relates to the first four Books, and have had them by me long enough to form some Judgment of them my self, I know the Fort and the Foible of them. For the fifth I have neither had it by me long enough to make any Judgment of it my self, nor have I had time enough to consult my Friends about it. And therefore if there is any thing amiss in it, I must leave it to the indulgence of the Candid Reader. I only desire him to take notice, that having formerly describ'd with all the Application of which I was capable, a Battle gain'd by the same General, I was obliged to take a very different method in this Poem. I have only this to add, that I have not said so much as I thought to have done, of the Important Consequnces of the Battle of Ramellies, because I have some thoughts of writing a Pindarick Poem upon that great Action of Quintus Flaminius, which restored Liberty to the Grecian Citties. Between which Illustrious Roman and the Duke of Marlborough, a very just Parallel may be drawn.

THE BATTLE OF RAMILLIA: OR, THE Power of UNION.
LIB. I.

OF Belgian Provinces by Unions Pow'r

Deliver'd in Ramillia's Plain I sing.

I sing the Triumph of that wondrous Field,

Which rais'd the Fame of pious Anna's Reign

Above the Glory of great Henry's Days,

And equall'd Marlbro' to Heroick Chiefs

In Natures Youth and happier Climates born.

O Thou whose Wisdom and resistless Pow'r

Has brought to light this wondrous Birth of

Celestial Guardian of this Sacred Isle,

Genius of Warlike Britain, who awhile

Hast, left eternal Glory and the Sway

Of some Triumphant Hierarchy of Heav'n,

To shelter and protect these happy Realms;

Thou who with blissful Charity inspir'd,

Infusest Charity thro' ev'ry Heart,

And ev'ry Soul subjected to Thy Sway,

Teaching Thy much loud Britons to subdue

The Rage of France and Hell by Love Divine;

O dart such Rays of that Seraphick Flame

Into my Breast, that all my ravish'd Soul

May with immortal Charity be fir'd,

With Sacred Love of Britain's Godlike Sons,

That rais'd to Heav'n by that Celestial Fire,

It may attain a Song of wondrous Height,

May take a Flight above th'Anonian Hill,

And may proclaim thy Wisdom and thy Pow'r

And their Heroick Deeds in such a strain

As no fictitious Muse can ere inspire.

Now was the Sun in Taurus mounted high,

And darting down his Genial Rays from Heav'n

Directly to the Bosom of the Earth,

Call'd forth each Plant and ev'ry tender Flow'r

From out their Wintry, secret warm Retreats,

And restor'd Nature and renew'd the World;

When the Confederate Troops call'd out by Fate,

And by their great Commanders awful Voice

Were from their wintry warlike Stations drawn

T'appear near Tongeren in fierce Array.

Full of that conqu'ring Spirit they appear'd,

Which drove the vanquish'd French or'e Blenheim's Field.

And in their Eyes a penetrating View

Might easily discern their Triumphs past,

And their amazing Victory to come.

All Nature seem transported at that Sight,

For Tyranny, Oppression, Discord, Fraud,

Injustice, Violence, and Barbarous Rage

Are all about to be expell'd the Earth,

And in their room Simplicity and Truth,

Justice, Security and gentle Ease,

And Peace and spotless Innocence, shall reign;

Therefore all Nature smil'd upon that Sight

And Gods, and Men, and Earth, and Heav'n rejoyc'd.

But Hell's black Tyrant soon took fierce Alarms

Which to infernal Torments added Stings,

And to infernal Fury fiercer Flames,

And doubled the Damnation in his Breast.

Upon the Steerage of his dusky Wings,

Up thro' the Ocean of the Air he sails;

In the midway he stopt between the Moon's

Resplendent Globe, and Earth's refulgent Ball,

At his great Palace there by Magick hung.

And thither a tremendous Council calls

Of Friends who now were roaming round the Earth,

In order to subject it to his Sway.

Up strait upon the Wing the Spirits sprung

At the Tartarean Trumpets thundring call,

And high above the Atmosphere they flew,

The World was in Convulsions at the Flight,

Earth trembled, sigh'd the Air, the Ocean groan'd,

Frequent, and full th'accurst Assembly grew,

Direful Appearances, amazing Forms,

Which barely seen had Pow'r to look Despair

And Death into the Hearts of wretched Men,

And wither in one moment all their strength.

As soon as the Infernal Crew were sate,

Up from his Throne th'outragious Tyrant rose,

His wrathful Forehead to a Frown he roul'd

That darken'd all the Sky, in fixing Plagues,

Inexprimable Terrors thro' the Souls

Of his Tartarean Ministers, that now

With sable Wings their flaming Eyes they veil'd,

And they who had th'obdurate Hearts of Fiends,

They who to all Hells Horrours were Inur'd,

They who eternal Torments could endure,

They could not bear their raging Tyrants Wrath

But shook like Men who frightful Fiends behold.

Collected in himself a while he stood,

But when the horrid Silence had prepar'd

th'accurst Assembly for his dreadful Voice

Thus from his Breast his Rage in Thunder broke▪

Are ye assembled then at my dread Call?

By Hell I thought ye durst t'have disobey'd,

So light, so despicable in your Ears

Has been of late the Tempest of my Voice.

But ye not only are assembled here,

But what is stranger, with those cruel Looks

And that relentless Air, with which when last

I met you here, you vainly made your Boast

You would subdue the World to my Fell Sway,

Would constitute me Universal King,

And pull the Thunderer from his noisie Throne.

Yes, yes, ye have the Looks and Meens of Fiends.

But O dire Shame, to Hell, to me, to all!

Your Deeds are so unworthy the great Name,

So Poor, so Mean, so almost dully Good,

That one would swear ye were grown Friends to Men,

And Servants to my Rival of the Sky;

Can ye be they who made your threatning vaunts,

That e'er yon Planet turn'd about the Sun,

(With that he pointed to Resplendent Earth

As tow'rds the East her Magnitude she rowl'd)

It a subjected Province should become,

Like these bright Tracts of all surrounding Air,

To our black Empire of the boundless Deep?

Can it be you who promis'd to or'erturn

The Kingdom there establish'd by Heaven's King,

Who there bears Sway wherever Reason rules?

Whose Empire is where ever Law commands?

For Reason is his secret whispering Voice,

And Law his proud Command promulg'd to all?

Can it be you who promis'd to extend

My Empire over all yon spotty Globe?

An Empire rul'd by Men instead of Laws,

Where human Passion sways and human Will;

Passion infus'd by us, and Will by us

Suggested and insensibly inspir'd?

Have ye perform'd what vauntingly ye swore?

No, tho' your Interest and your Glory both

Demanded it: for know Aerial Gods,

Where humane Passion reigns, and human Will,

There we not only Reign but are Ador'd.

Of this be sure Religion come from Heaven,

Will ne'er support an Empire rais'd by Hell;

Nor can the dreadful Empire rais'd by us,

Where Tyrant Man instead of Law controuls,

Endure Religion that from Heav'n descends,

Cast but your Eyes wherever we command;

And Man our Proxy reigns instead of Law;

There Men adore some vegetable Power,

Or their old crazy Priest they make their God

Or madly to Fanatick Prophets fall.

There they bow down to Stocks and sensele•… Stones;

That is, to Us and our Delusions bow,

And Tremble at the Gods they could create

Why have ye then round Earth supinely roam'd

Regardless of the grand Concern of Hell?

Or are your old seducing Arts forgot?

Or know ye not my Interests or your own?

Cast but your Eyes upon her Silver Globe,

As through the vast Abyss of Sky she rouls,

See that peculiar People chose by Heaven

To propagate its Empire upon Earth,

Which they, it seems, call Liberty, call Law

See how with Hearts too large to be confin'd

Within th'Eternal Fences of the Main,

They pass the Limits of the boundless Deep,

And every where my Rivals Rule extend!

Survey Earths shining Ball with sharpest Ken.

What Portion of her Planet can ye find,

But where the Glory of the British Name,

Or of her Councils or her Arms resounds?

Look what ev'n now the Britons boldly Act

In rough Germania, in Hesperian Land,

In Celtiberian and in Belgian Fields!

Mark yon assembled Squadrons near the Dyle!

Behold the conquering Spirit in their Eyes!

Hell! ye have suffer'd it to rise so high,

'Tis irresistible by human Powers

Unless by our Auxiliar Bands sustain'd.

See yonder their accurst Commander comes,

And yonder Conquest towring or'e him flies,

Whose well known Voice, the Goddess strait obey

As at his Master's call the Falcon stoops,

And his August Appearance is the Lure

That brings her swiftly rushing from the Skies▪

If once he joyns those Squadrons we are lost,

His high Appearance, when they once behold,

Hell can shew nought so Dreadful and so Dire

As can dismay the greatness of their Souls.

Ye Hosts of Terrors, ye remember well,

That when our fierce Auxiliar Bands sustain'd

Our dear Allies in Blenheim's deathless Field,

The Britons, though to every human Power,

Invincible, were forc'd to yield to Ours;

But when great Marlborough came impetu•• on,

And rallied them with that Heroick Air

With which he fires the Warlike Squadro• Souls:

Ye Stygian Gods, what Miracles we saw,

How they who Trembled but the Moment past,

Before the King of Terror's awful view,

Now fought like Gods above the reach of Fate!

His God-like Presence in a Moment rais'd

Their sinking Spirits and dispell'd their Fears;

His Voice, his sole Appearance made them bold.

With what resistless Fury they prest on:

Drove you with matchless Bravery on our Friends?

Tho' I look'd on, and tho' I menac'd high,

But all my clamour was in Thunder drown'd,

Till French and Fiends together vanish'd all,

And Howling sunk thro' Danube's Ghastful yawn

Down to our Empire of the Nether Deep.

Ye know, ye Stygian Gods, and oft have read,

Within the Adamantine Book of Fate,

That more amazing Wonders are reserv'd

To be perform'd by Marlborough's conquering Arm,

Unless with all our Power we interpose.

Lewis by me, and Destiny design'd,

T'extend my Empire and exalt my Name,

Above all Names that are ador'd on Earth;

Lewis, the Great, the Wise, the second Hope 〈◊〉 Hell,

The Man, the Monarch after my own Heart;

Who never yet transgrest my dread Com¦mands,

But makes them his Employment all the Day,

And Meditation all the watchful Night;

He, the great Image of my self express,

Presumptuous, Fraudulent, Revengeful, Prou•

Implacable, Inexorable, False,

Ev'n greatly and heroically False:

Who watchful as a roaring Lion roams

With Jaws expanded to devour his Prey,

And makes Religion his Pretence for Fraud,

For Cruelty, for dire Revenge, for Murder,

And every noble, every slagrant Vice;

O way to banish Virtue from the World!

O great Invention envied ev'n by me!

His Genius now from Marlborough's Genius shrinks,

And unless we support him, he must fall:

And can we then forsake th'Immortal Man?

Ah no! such Merit claims that at his Need

To guard him from our fierce insulting Foes,

We raise the noble Arrierban of Hell.

If Lewis falls, our Empire with him sinks,

We meet a second more opprobrious Fall,

For ev'n from Earth, for ev'n from Dust we fall.

O shameful Fall for us who aspir'd to Heaven,

For us who made Divinity our Aim!

Then Law and Reason will victorious reign,

Then Liberty eternal will become.

Then odious Virtue will possess the Earth,

And every glorious Vice be driv'n to Hell.

Exert your selves, ye Furies then, and act

Deeds worthy the Antagonists of Heaven.

Can ye forget? what? utterly forget

What once we acted, and what once we were?

Ah no! ye never can, for in your Breasts

Some Spirits unextinguish'd yet remain,

Some of those Godlike Spirits that inspir'd

Our Angel minds in that Eternal Field,

When girt with Adamant and glorious Flames▪

Against the Empire of great Heaven we fought▪

I must confess we lost th'Immortal Day,

But yet, we fought, ye Stygian Gods, we fought

With Spirit equal to the vast Design.

Fate gave our Enemy the Field, but Ours,

Ours was the Triumph, and the Glory Ours

Of great, aspiring, unexampled Minds

Who dar'd against the Omnipotent to War.

Can ye remember this? Can ye reflect

That ye for Angels were an equal Match,

And yield at last to Man, to Woman yield?

For 'tis a Woman, O ye Pow'rs, destroys

This mighty Champion of our Cause and Us;

For she directs, she animates, she fires

Those who o're Earth the Rule of Heav'n extend▪

'Tis she who out of pure Despight to me,

Contemns a boundless Arbitrary Reign,

And thinks it lovelier Empire, fairer Fame,

Upon my Rival poorly to depend,

Poorly to wear a Crown that Law may Rule,

And to make Reason and th'Almighty Reign,

Than be her self a Soveraign Goddess own'd

And by the Kingdoms of the Earth ador'd.

Had ye the Spirit with which once ye flam'd▪

There needed not this long and pow'rful Speech

The Godlike Cause in which ye stand engag'd,

The Cause of Empire and Eternal Fame,

Would move alone your Adamantine Hearts,

And urge you to great Acts, tho' I were Mute▪

Behold yon World, that fluctuates in the void

Know that's the Victor's Recompense Decreed▪

Now see your Female Adversary there,

See her a Suppliant, Earnest, Humble, Meek,

Behold her Prostrate, Abject on her Knees,

And Trembling at that Monarch of the Sky

Whom so magnanimously we defy.

No, ye can ne're see this and not disdain

That she should make that floating World a Heav'n,

Which we so greatly strive to make a Hell.

Thus he blasphem'd aloud, and while he spoke

Th'Assembly all the several movements felt

The various Passions that their direful King,

Who knew so well their Hearts design'd t'Inspire

Now pleas'd, now sad, now trembling, now enrag'd

With Envy wrack'd, or burning with disdain,

Or with desire of fierce Revenge inflam'd.

When he had done, unanimous they rent

The troubled Aether with a stormy Shout,

And to the Heaven of Heavens defiance hurl'd,

When suddenly a burst of Thunder broke

From the Empyrean, and th'avenging Bolt

Thro' thousands drives, and thousands lightning Blasts;

Then as a flock of •imerous Fowl takes Wing,

And seeks the inmost Covert of the Grove,

On hearing of the Fowler's fatal Gun,

That had of old their tender pinions gall'd;

So on the Wing th'infernal Angels sprung

Upon the Empyrean Thunders roar,

And sought the midmost Regions of the Air,

And the black Hemisphere and Realms of Night

But soon their impious daring they resum'd,

And up once more to the pure Aether slew.

Among the rest, there was a fantom Dire

Of all that fell from Heav'n the fiercest Fiend,

The fiercest and most cruel Fiend that fell,

Discord, the Daughter of dire Lucifer,

Begot when his prodigious Lust ran high

On Pride, when with her hottest Flames she burn'd;

Gigantick was her Stature and her Looks

Like Demogorgon's •ere, at which Hell shakes.

Her Native Country was the Heav'n of Heav'ns,

But Heav'n, as soon as born, disclaim'd the Fiend,

With Lightnings and with Thunders drove her out,

For Happiness still fl•es the raving Fiend,

And Peace and Joy with her can never dwell.

As from her Birth she was expell'd from Heaven

So by her cruel Father's dire Decree,

She banish'd was from all the Bounds of Hell,

As one who might elsewhere far better serve,

The growing Empire of her dreadful Sire,

But at her parting, half her Serpent Brood

She left behind, and to the very Heart

Her own inexorable Father stung,

That with the Torment ever since he roars.

Thus banish'd from high Heaven, and driv'n from Hell,

She among miserable Mortals dwells,

A false and most inhospitable Guest,

Who all her warmest Friends torments the most:

Tho' banish'd from her Father's Realms below,

Yet not one Fiend of all th'infernal Host

Endeavours to extend, with so much Zeal,

The spreading Empire of Hell's horrid sway.

To others, or her self, no Rest sh' allows,

Alternately afflicted with th'Extreams,

Of burning Fury, and tormenting Fear,

And sharp Remorse, with all her deadliest Stings,

Arm'd all the Fears and Furies of her Soul;

To this infernal Council she was call'd:

And when the Whirlwind of Applause was o're,

Up rose the Subtle and the Cruel Fiend.

As rising, her Gorgonian Head she shook,

With all its Snakes, that from their livid Eyes,

Shot Hell's blue Fire, and from their baleful Mouths

Darted a Thousand forky poisnous Tongues,

A thousand Hisses at th'Assembly threw;

Each frighted Spectre gave a fearful Start,

As a poor Swain that underneath his Feet,

Spies a fell Adder bloated with his Rage;

And lifting up his angry Crest on high,

Springs back, while to his Heart his Blood retire▪

And none but Lucifer himself had Pow'r,

To cast one look npon the raging Fiend,

And he himself grew Stupid at the sight,

Like old Laoeoon's dismal Statue look'd,

That seems not fashion'd by the Sculptor's Art,

But shews a Wretch with Horror stupid grown,

And petrified with Woe and with Despair,

And as the hideous Hag began to Scream,

Th'accurst Assembly gave a second Start,

Th'accurst Assembly gave a dreadful Yell:

With equal fright shall all th'Infernal Host,

And equal Horror hear at the last Day,

The sounding clangour of th'Eternal Trump,

Which universal Nature shall untune,

And the bad Angels roaring drive to Hell,

Then bar the Gates with Adamantine Bolts,

Which then shall to Eternity be clos'd.

Such was her Air unutterably dire,

And such her hideous Voice, and thus she spoke.

Have we the Patience then of stupid Saints,

Ye Gods, to hear all this without Reply?

Nay, our insulting Tyrant to applaud,

For his unjust and barbarous Reproach?

But this, tho' spoke to all, is meant to me;

For without me, not all the Host of Hell

Has pow'r t'enlarge its dreadful Monarch's sway.

Am I of want of Knowledge then accus'd,

Or want of Diligence t'extend thy Pow'r?

O burning Indignation! O Disdain!

O slander, worthy of dire Lucifer;

And darst thou thus accuse me falsly here,

Upon this Throne of thy Imperial Pow'r,

Encompass'd with ten Thousand Spirits round,

By mighty Angels serv'd, and ev'n by me?

From whence is all this Pomp, this Pow'r deriv'd?

This Emulation of the Thunderers State?

Before I knew thee, what wert thou in Heav'n?

A servile Ministrel bred to Cringe and Fawn,

And flatter thy proud Arbitrary Lord.

But I an Emperor made thee of a Slave;

Of a base Flatterer, a Blasphemer bold,

The Rival and the Antagonist of him,

Whom thou so slavishly obey'dst before.

Millions of Angels to thy side I drew,

I gave them Spirit to assert thy Cause

Against thy thundring Rival and his Slaves;

In that eternal Day, which tho' we lost,

We triumph'd in defeat; O matchless Fame!

For we dissolv'd his universal Sway,

An Empire by our overthrow we gain'd:

And thou a poor precarious Lord before

Becam'st the independant King of Hell.

I founded thy Dominion upon Earth,

I propagate in humane Hearts thy Sway:

For where I dwell not, thou canst never reign;

No, there dull Union dwells, there lazy Peace

And Reason, and thy hated Rivals Law.

Have I not Lewis now for fifty Years

Inspir'd, possessing all his mighty Soul?

I fir'd that Soul to all those vast Designs

That made it worthy thee, and worthy me.

His sanguinary Orders I inspir'd,

And then perform'd them with this Bloody hand,

And all the European World laid bare.

'Twas I embru'd his fierce dragooning Slaves,

In Fathers and in Brothers guiltless Blood:

A Sea of guiltless Blood this Hand has spilt:

Thy Rival's Images by Millions I

In Rancour to th'Original defac'd,

That thou might'st Triumph o're the vanquish'd World,

And Lewis might thy great Vicegerent Reign.

If now he flies before victorious Anne,

Can I with Justice be condemn'd or blam'd?

Think'st thou 'tis to the Woman that I yield?

No, 'tis to him from whom thou fledst amain,

With this Assembly here of potent Gods,

And all the great, th'united Host of Hell.

'Tis to that Wisdom, and that Power Divine,

Which Day and Night on that victorious Queen,

As on the conquering Hierarchies attends;

Is it my Fault if that Religious Queen,

By ev'ry Action and by ev'ry Voice,

Inspires her Britons with Celestial Love?

If by thy Rival she is taught t'employ,

Great Souls by him and Destiny design'd,

And by profoundest depths of Reason fit,

T'unite her Subjects first, and then Mankind?

Am I to be condemn'd, if while Abroad

Great Marlborough in indissoluble Bonds,

The thwarting Interests of the Nations joyns?

At Home Godolphin temperates the rage

Of Factions, which for Mastery contend,

And makes Confusion, which is weakness, yield

To Order, which is Strength, as he Above

The Rage of warring Atoms reconcil'd;

Or causing them t'engage with moderate Strife;

Yet Strife, where that prevails, which most agrees

With those eternal Laws that Rule the Whole,

Mingled the Elements, and made the World.

I freely own, that those our Mortal Foes

Grow more pernicious to us every Hour.

They are come t'Associate now with William's Friends;

William, whose Name we Fiends with Horror hear;

Ev'n with his firmest faithfullest Friends they advise

Who never shrunk from his detested side,

Tho' with a thousand Dangers compast round,

By home-bred Traytors and by foreign Foes.

Th'audacious Men, who insolently dar'd

To set up Liberty and pull down us,

When France and Hell reign'd Paramount on Earth,

When they had nought but Ruine to expect

From such a cursed desperate Attempt:

With these they now consult, in these confide,

And these victorious Anne delights t'employ.

To Spain she Mordant and Ravigni sends,

And Montague himself to German Plains

Is hurried, in extream despight to me,

Where his wise Councils and his pow'rful Voice

Threaten my very Being to destroy,

And menace all this dreadful Host in me.

Therefore unless we make one last Effort,

One great Attempt that's worthy of my Rage,

Britain Farewel, and Tyranny Adieu,

Adieu, the Reign of Hell's despotick Sway!

Britain Unanimous as well as Free,

Will soon Enfranchise and Unite the World,

But not the pow'rfullest Fiend of all that fell

From Heav'n, of all that own thy boundless Sway,

Dares make that horrible Attempt but I.

And now, ev'n now, I form the glorious Plan,

As the Confederates by uniting Thrive,

Success continuing will Cement them more:

But their Felicity to come, depends

Upon yon Squadrons in the Belgian Plains;

Should they th'adverse Event of Battle feel,

All that Great Anne has done t'unite Mankind,

I can with Ease in one Campaign o'rethrow.

Yon Squadrons I have view'd and have review'd

With all the Inquisition of my Eyes.

I view'd them, and I sigh'd, to find their Heads

And Hearts united by great Marlborough's Care,

Which makes them the just Terror of us all.

But here by Hell, and all Hell's Pow'rs I swear,

Hear it ye God's, who rule the unbounded Air,

Hear it ye Horrors of th'Abiss profound,

Ye black Attendants on Eternal Night!

Hear it ye Deities, assembled here

In Council, to maintain Hell's horrid Sway!

And thou whom all these dreadful Pow'rs obey▪

Whose Frown makes Gods above, and God below,

And all the frighted Universe, except

The stedfast Empyraean Tremble; Hear,

Hear me great Lucifer, while by thy self,

Thy dire inviolable self I swear

That I with Spirit great as the Design,

Great as the glorious Cause, and worthy me,

I that audacious General will destroy,

I those victorious Squadrons will o'rethrow,

And still in spight of Earth, in spight of Heav'n,

Discord, and Lucifer, and Hell shall reign.

She said, and not expecting a Reply,

Down tow'rds the Earth she wheel'd her airy Flight;

And Lucifer dismiss'd th'Infernal Pow'rs.

The End of the First Book.

THE BATTLE OF RAMILLIA: OR, THE Power of UNION.
LIB. II.

NOW in the midmost Region of the Air,

Descending Discord meets the Beldame Night,

As Westward she her Sable Chariot drives,

Old Night the Fury places by her side,

And her black shaggy Mantle o'r her throws.

As Discord sat by the dark grizly Hag,

Discord more hideous seem'd, and Night more foul.

As they were hurried by their coal black Steeds,

And the soft Chariot slid thro' Midnight Air,

A motley Equipage before, behind,

And on each side the Journeying Furies flew.

For there flew Treason with her looks askew,

And Subornation clad in dismal Black,

And Stygian Envy of a livid Hue;

And yellow Jealousy with Eyes suffus'd,

And faithless Fraud in particolour'd Robe,

And Murder pale distain'd with sanguine Dye,

And ugly Slander speckled like a Toad,

With livid Spots upon a saffron Hue

Over her Arms, her Belly, and her Thighs;

But Serpentine her Head and deadly Eyes,

And from her Mouth she hurl'd her forky Tongue,

And hideous was her Hiss, and mortal was her Sting.

Then lame Adultery, and Incest blind,

And sly Hypocrisy, with Holy Leer,

Came lagging in the Rear with Reverend Gown,

And darting many a sow'r Grimace he flew,

And sigh'd profoundly with inverted Eyes,

And bang'd his Stomacher with sounding Strokes;

But all affected was, and all was false;

For nervous were his Limbs, and bold his Brow;

His dimpled Cheek was of Vermilion Dye;

His Chin a Fabrick with two Stories built;

His wanton Eye-balls sparkled as they roll'd;

His pamper'd side was with a sevenfold Shield,

Defended of impenetrable Brawn;

His Paunch was prominent above the rest,

And like a goodly Promontory hung.

The Silver Moon above th'Horizon peep'd,

And frighted at the monstrous Scene retir'd;

The conscious Stars withdrew their sickning fires,

And Nature that abhorr'd the dismal sight,

Redoubled all the Terrors of the Dark.

As o're Campania's Viney Downs they flew,

The Centinels of Nature took the Alarm,

The watchful Dogs in ev'ry Village bay'd,

And hungry Wolves forsook their Prey to Howl▪

And the wing'd Prophets of Nocturnal Sky,

The fatal Raven croak'd, the ghastful ScriechOwl scream'd.

When to the glittering Palace they approach'd,

Where Lewis in a restless slumber lay

Upon th'uneasy Down, from the black Carr

Discord alights, the golden Turrets shook,

The Doors flew open with a hollow Groan,

And the Fiend enter'd where the Tyrant lay.

Then throws off her immense Gigantick Form,

And the Gorgonian Terrors of her Front,

And Maintenon appears in Shape and Air;

And she, who a fall'n Angel was before,

Is a decay'd affected Beauty now.

When she the Royal Curtains drew, she saw

The Tyrant tossing on the restless Plume;

Haughty and Stern, and thoughtful ev'n in Sleep;

Revolving mighty Mischiefs in his Mind;

His Forehead furrow'd by an angry Frown,

And on his clouded Brow sate cruel Care.

And now and then he gave a fearful Start,

And from his Heart drew many a guilty Groan.

Ev'n Discord gaz'd with Pleasure at that sight,

And the Fiend smil'd that never smil'd before.

And canst thou Sleep in this malignant Hour,

Said she, when ev'ry Star's against thee leagu'd?

How fall'n, how chang'd from that transcendant State,

In which the gazing World admir'd thee once,

When thou wert grown the Terror ev'n of Kings,

And dreadful Scourge of the Worlds potent Lords!

When thou the Earth so rapidly laid'st waste,

That Victory came panting in thy Rear,

And wanted Wings t'o'rtake thy impetuous March▪

When Emulous of the Meridian Sun

Thy Glory blaz'd, and thou had'st Hope to shine

Sole Monarch of the desolated Earth,

As he sole Tyrant of the desart Sky.

Yet in those Happy, in those glorious Days,

No profound Sleep could ever lull thy Soul,

And rarely, rarely Slumber clos'd thy Eyes.

But all the Day, and all the live long Night,

Care kept thee watching, to inflame the World,

And to divide and to destroy Mankind.

Now by victorious Marlborough brought low,

Here thou liest buried in inglorious Ease,

While with unwearied Vigilance he wakes,

And ev'n this now the vollied Thunder grasps,

That is about to part with hideous Roar,

And all thy trembling Provinces amaze;

Strike forty Thousand of thy Veterans dead,

Strike ev'n thee dead their Arbitrary Lord,

And with thy Person kill thy very Fame,

Unless this Moment thou prevent'st the Blow.

What fatal Hour is lost in soft Repose?

Has adverse Fortune cool'd thy tow'ring Pride,

Or has Age quench'd thy noble Lust of Soul,

And that aspiring Flame that rais'd thy Thoughts

To Affectation ev'n of Godhead once?

Can he who aim'd erewhile at nothing less

Than reigning King of Kings and Lord of Lords,

Can he a Rival bear in Empire now?

And art thou to a poor Despondence grown,

Of Lording it o'r all this Western World?

Yet hast thou Reason to despond indeed,

Unless thou art eternally Intent

To disunite whom thou pretend'st t'o'rthrow

The few Gigantick Hunters of Mankind,

Who universal Empire here acquir'd,

All of them vast Advantages enjoy'd,

Which Heav'n and Nature have deny'd to thee▪

Cyrus, great Caesar, and the Son of Jove,

Young Hammon, led their conqu'ring Troops themselves,

Were themselves brave, sometimes to Rashness Brave;

And the undaunted Squadrons which they led,

When they were Conquerors, were always free▪

And could a more exalted Virtue boast

Than those who yielded to their conqu'ring Arms.

But here Thou li'st supinely at Thy Ease,

And buried in opprobrious Sloath, pretend'st

To do thy Work by Journey men of War;

Yes, by Thy baffled Mareschals Thou pretend'st,

Day Labourers, who for Thy Glory drudge,

To conquer Heroes fighting for their own,

Fierce Warlike People, Thou pretend'st t'o'rcome

By the Inhabitants of soft Anjou,

Or Squadrons in delicious Touraine bred,

And by dejected and desponding Slaves,

Freeborn magnanimous Nations to o'rthrow;

But Freemen ne're were vanquish'd yet by Slaves,

Nor Warlike Nations by a wanton Crew.

If in thy great Designs Thou would'st succeed,

Divide those Foes, and fight them with themselves,

Then by each others Arms enslave them all,

And what Thou want'st in Personal Command,

Or Valour; or the Hardness of Thy Troops,

Supply by Fraud and old notorious Arts.

But take Occasion by the Forelock still,

And let no Minute pass, no Moment slip,

That may be employ'd to disunite their Force,

And by dividing to confound their Pow'r.

Such an important Moment is This now,

In which Thou liest dissolv'd in fatal Sleep,

The Reins of Empire yielding up to Chance,

And dead and stupid to the Charms of Fame.

But tho' thou slumber'st, know I always wake

And Day and Night or'e thy dear Interest brood▪

To cherish it like tender Birds their Young.

And now am come, thou dearest of Mankind,

Dearer than Pleasure to me, dear as Pride,

Dear as the Godlike Pleasure of Revenge,

Am come to rouze Thee from thy inglorious Ease,

And my own Empire to advance in Thine.

True, said the Tyrant, who had all this while

Been shaking off the Downey Bands of Sleep,

If that a strong Desire to Rule the World,

Inspires and Agitates my High-born Soul,

'Tis but to lay it at thy Lovelier Feet,

And that the Ruler of the Land and Main

May be a happier Slave and worthier Thee.

And let the boundless Liberty you take,

Which had been Death to any one but Thee,

Declare the Boundless Pow'r thy wondrous Charms

Have given Thee o're ev'n my ambitious Soul.

But why do'st Thou, who hast the Pow'r to pierce

The intimat'st Recesses of my Heart,

Who rul'st it with as Arbitary Sway

As I my self would all the World controul,

So cruelly upbraid me without Cause?

Canst thou believe, I poorly have giv'n o're

My great Design of Universal Sway?

Canst Thou believe I lie extended here

Out of a low inglorious Indolence,

Or mean Despondence of Success, which ne••

Can seize a towring fiery Soul like mine?

No, never shall my Soul Abatement feel

Of its high Passion for eternal Fame,

But as I Thee adore with fiercer Flame

Than all that in my warmest Youth I felt,

Ev'n for the brightest of Thy charming Sex,

For Montespan, or lovely La Fontange,

Or tender La Valiere, so Age it self

Does but augment my noble Lust of Fame;

'Tis my first Principle of Life, by which

I speak, and move, and act, and think, and am▪

And Lewis, when that fails, must be no more.

O could I but the Weaknesses suppress

Of this frail Flesh, and conquer the Desire

And Need of Nutriment and soft Repose,

As I th'Infirmities have overcome

Of my great Mind, extinguishing Remorse,

Driving Compassion out, and stifling Shame,

Then without Interval the glorious Cares

Of Empire should employ my Aspiring Soul,

Under which now sometimes my Nature sinks,

And I by sordid Elements are forc'd

To feed the thinking Parts expiring Flame,

And seek new Life within the Arms of Death▪

But soon I shake off his dull Chains, and then

At once to Life and Glory I return.

Whether 'twas partial Destiny or Chance

That gave Victorious Marlborough the Day

In a dire Hour, at Bleinem's fatal Field,

(O fatal Field to all my Aspiring Thoughts,

I will forget that ever Thou hast been,

And think of Universal Sway again)

Yet to the Terror of my wondring Foes,

I still recover'd that amazing Blow,

Renew'd the fainting Courage of Troops,

My Loss recruited and retriev'd my Pow'r.

Me canst Thou then of Indolence accuse,

Or of Despondence or abated Fire?

Me, whose unwearied Care has since opprest

The Dilatory Germans on the Rhine;

Opprest them on Verona's wondring Stream,

And oblig'd Fortune, in her own Despight,

Against her worthless Favourites to declare.

O I had laid a Scheme which would have sunk,

And utterly confounded all my Foes,

If Fate in Tempests had not interpos'd,

Upon th'Adige and the Rhine I fought.

Only with Men, and there I found Success,

In Spain I was constrain'd to yield to Heav'n,

For 'twas the loud Artillery of Heav'n

That from me snatch'd the Celtiberian Tow'r,

And baffled my whole Providence at once;

But whence can this transporting Fury Spring,

Or what makes this the great deciding Hour?

To whom the Fury eagerly reply'd:

By that disastrous Disappointment Spain,

The Pride for which contending Nations fight,

Depends upon this very fatal Hour,

Which here Thou squander'st in inglorious Ease.

Spain is in utmost Danger to be lost,

Unless Thou rousing wilt prevent the Blow.

And Spain in Danger will deject our Friends,

And give more daring Spirit to our Foes;

And bind them in indissoluble Bonds.

Consider how they all prepare t'Unite,

England and Scotland stretch their Sinewey Arms,

Both eager in a strict Embrace to meet,

And for the future like two Sisters live;

By their great Mother's Wisdoms reconcil'd.

In England too by wise Godolphin's Care,

Faction has lost its Ferment and grows mild;

The very Tygress Faction is grown tame;

The Listless Germans whom thy wondrous Arts

So nobly have divided and brought low,

Some lucid Intervals of Concord find,

And publick Spirit and Will surely leave,

Their shameful Quarrels and opprobrious Sloath,

If Spain should from thy baffled Arms be torn,

That Loss will calm the fierce Hungarian's Rage,

And Spirit jealous Venice to declare

Against th'Invader of fair Italy.

If Spain the Golden Prize of Battles lost,

No Stratagem, nor Violence, nor Art,

Can thy exhausted Treasury Supply.

And then thy numerous Armies vanish all,

And leave Thee to the Scorn of thy proud Foes,

Even thy own Slaves (and that's the Blow of Fate)

Ev'n thy own vile obsequious Slaves will rise

And take rebellious Arms against their King:

Then from the Pyrenaeans to the Rhine.

Adieu Thy Conquests, and perhaps Thy Crown,

But nought, assure thy self can Spain retrieve,

But a surprizing and stupendous Blow

Struck suddenly upon the Belgian Dyle.

A sudden and surprizing Blow struck there,

While this the great Campaign of Fate be¦gins

Will give thee sure occasion to detach

Part of thy conqu'ring Troops to Philip's Aid,

To push thy Advantage on th'astonish'd Rhine,

Thy Friend the lost Elector to restore,

And penetrate to inmost Austria's Clime,

Which then in vain shall wait great Marlborough's Aid,

That will constrain the Empire to recal

The new Supplies to Illustrious Eugene sent,

And give thee time to finish Savoy's Fate.

That fatal Blow will once again divide

Confederated Pow'rs, will Venice awe,

Exasperate the fierce Pannonian Mars,

Amaze the Germans, and the Dutch confound,

Prevent that Union now design'd between

The English and the Caledonian States,

And in both Realms rekindle factious Rage,

Rouze up thy sleeping Arbitrary Friends,

Ferment them still with more fanatick Rage,

That our declining Empire will sustain,

And will advance thro' all the Christian World,

And wipe away the Stains of Bleinem's shameful Day.

To whom the grizly Tyrant thus reply'd:

O why hast thou once more so rashly rouz'd

The Serpent slumbring in my wounded Breast,

Which when awake still gnaws my mangled Head▪

And greedily devours my vital Blood.

O Bleinem! bane to my aspiring Thoughts!

At whose Idea all come tumbling from their Height.

Bleinem! the Hag that in the dead of Night,

My Fancy rides and drives soft Sleep away;

The very Tyrant of my ambitious Soul,

Blast to my Hopes of Universal Sway,

Which wither ail and die when thou appear'st,

And only by forgetting thee Revive.

'Twas there by such a rash presumptuous Fight,

As what thou now provok'st me to Repeat,

That forty Thousand of my conqu'ring Troops,

That always conquer'd till that cursed Hour,

Were, like ripe Corn in Autumn, mow'd in Heaps;

Those Heaps in Ranks extended on the Plain,

Too plenteous Harvest of that bloody Field?

Which broke the Hearts and Spirits of the rest,

And interrupted all my vast Designs,

Made all my Friends despond, my Foes insult,

And laid my Weakness open to the World:

For as my greatness, and my awful Pow'r,

Lay in Opinion more than real Strength,

Th'Opinion which the Nations had conceiv'd,

Fortune was grown Immutable as Fate,

And always would attend my conqu'ring Arms,

That fatal Days Calamities Event,

Undeceiv'd all the Christian World at once,

And made me grow the very Scorn of those

To whom I was most Terrible before.

Me would'st thou have repeat, the dangerous risk

Of Battle, when thou hast thy self observ'd,

That to subdue, I must divide my Foes,

And then enslave them by each others Arms,

That warlike Nations ne'r were Vanquish'd yet

By softer Ones, nor Free born Souls by Slaves;

Know'st thou not then, that to divide my Foes,

I must remain, not only without Fight,

But without War, O Gods, for that blest Hour!

One short liv'd Truce would more advance my Fame,

And spread my Empire, than ten Victories▪

He said, and thus the subtle Fiend reply'd:

True, if Fallacious Truce thou could'st obtain,

I before Victory would Truce advise;

But since thy Foes have been so oft betray'd,

And mock'd all Hope of faithless Peace in vain,

Therefore the Mischief ill Success has done,

Must be by sudden Victory repair'd.

Nor need'st thou run a dangerous risk to o'recome,

What lost the fatal Day at Blenheim's Field?

What but Presumption grown from long Success,

Which •aus'd thee to abandon thy old Arts,

And vainly to rely on fanci'd Power;

Because Aetheral Victory had oft

Perch'd on thy waving Streamers, when thy Troops,

By odds of Numbers overwhelm'd their Foes,

By long Success grown insolently vain;

Thou fondly thought'st t'o'recome on equal Terms,

Unknowing of the Troops thou wert t'engage,

And wondrous Merit of their matchless Chief.

Hence the Disaster of that Fatal Day;

But when to your old Methods you return'd,

With them Success and Victory return'd.

For the prevented Germans you surpriz'd

Upon th'Adige and th'astonish'd Rhine,

And both their Armies easily o'rethrew,

Both by superior Numbers overwhelm'd,

And in their Leaders Absence both opprest.

Ruine th'Allies upon the Belgian Plains

Opprest by the same Odds, before their Chiefs

Arrive, before their various Pow'rs are join'd.

Then with Success return to thy old Arts,

And by Division break their potent League,

Thy Orders strait to the Bavarian send

Thy numerous Belgian Garrisons to drain,

And swell thy Troops assembling on the Dyle;

Then as a Torrent to a Deluge swell'd,

Disdains its Banks, and makes its roaring way

With dreadful Devastation, so may they,

Scorning their Lines, o'reflow th'adjacent Plains▪

While Desolation marks their hideous Course,

And the surpriz'd Confederate Forces leave

The same eternal Monument of Pow'r,

Which at Morat the fam'd Burgundians left.

But Rouze, lay hold upon this fatal Hour,

Think that the very next may be too late:

This Hour great Marlborough for his Camp sets forth,

Whom thou must still industriously avoid,

Avoiding Marlborough, Lewis may be Great;

Thou hast already felt his nervous Arm,

Whose towring Genius all the Genii dares,

Of thy weak Marshals, which before it Cow'r;

He the great Qualities alone enjoys,

Of all thy Chiefs who are, and who have been.

Great Conde's Spirit and his wondrous Fire,

Joyn'd with that Presence of commanding Soul,

That keeps intirely Master of it self,

And Master of the furious God of War;

When with dire Looks, and with a dreadful Roar,

He Foams, and all the God runs mad with Rage.

Great Marlborough has Luxemburgh's dispatch,

His subtle Turns, and his sagacious Views;

The Wisdom and Sedateness of Turenne,

His dauntless Valour with his Thought profound,

And vast Capacity, and all that Skill,

So admirable in the Art of Death,

Which fix'd th'inconstancy of Fortunes Will,

And made her doat on Wisdom's Charms divine.

Rouze thy self then, beware that fatal Man,

Issue thy dread Commands this Moment out,

And let the great deciding Blow be given,

E'r Destiny and Marlborough arrive.

The Fury said, the Tyrant gave Consent,

To the Bavarian strait his Orders sends,

His numerous Belgian Garrisons to drain,

And swell his Troops assembling on the Dyle,

Which to the Army, thro the dreary Shades,

Thence to the various Towns the impetuous Daemon bore.

The End of the Second Book.

THE BATTLE OF RAMILLIA: OR, THE Power of UNION.
LIB. III.

AURORA had not painted yet the World,

With various Dyes, restoring ev'ry Hue,

That Night had with her miscreant Hand expung'd;

Nor were th'Attendants on the Night retir'd▪

The starry Host of Heav'n, and Host of Hell;

And still the wakeful Dog took soft Repose,

And still the prouling Wolf persu'd his Prey,

No Shepherds Pipe was on the Mountains heard,

Nor Hunters Bugle in the Ecchoing Vales;

When the shrill Trumpet rouz'd up drowsy Mars,

Death's Bugle in the Chase of Humane Blood,

The Beasts of Nature to their Dens retir'd,

And the whole Forrest trembled at the sound:

The Beasts of Nature fear'd, alas, in vain▪

Tho' Fate a solemn Hunting had prepar'd,

For Man the Huntsman was, and Man the Prey.

Before the Dawn, throughout the Belgian Plains,

The Garrisons their Tyrants Voice obey;

Forth from their several Fortresses they march,

From Oudenard, Courtray, Dendermond, and Liere,

From Brussels, Louvain, Mechlin, Antwerp, Ghent.

Belgia, that lately cast to Heav'n her Eyes

For Help, her Eyes, for Chains her Arms restrain'd;

Belgia, the Mother of a Hundred Towns,

Now Beautiful, and Rich, and Great, and Gay,

Once more with secret Pride her Sons surveys,

And once more boasts of her Immortal Race;

That joyous lift their towry Fronts on high,

As when kind Nature by the help of Art,

And secret Influence of indulgent Heav'n,

Throws off a long and dangerous Disease;

Once more she to her self delightful grows,

And once more Beauty and long absent Grace,

And Strength and Joy, unspeakable return;

So the disburthen'd Belgian Towns rejoyc'd,

〈◊〉 which the Squadrons march by several Ways,

To reach the Camp by false Bavaria form'd,

And there like Torrents in the Ocean joyn:

Now a more potent numerous Host they seem'd▪

Than that with which the Son of Jove, the East,

Or mightier Julius overcame the West.

Confiding in their Numbers they grow Fierce,

Haughty, Presumptuous, insolently Vain,

And their dilated Hearts distend with Pride,

Their Lines disdaining with a Roar they pass,

And the mad Torrent tow'rds Ramillia rowls:

They the Confederate Troops resolve t'attack,

Before their various Nations all are joyn'd;

Before victorious Marlborough arrives.

Now, with a chosen few, rides Villeroy,

And falfe Bavaria, to survey th'Allies;

With hideous Air, and with Gigantick Stalk,

Before them the infernal Goddess strides.

Approach'd Victorious Malborough she finds

Arriv'd, and curses the provoking sight,

She finds that from His Presence all the Troops

Assume Immortal Spirit, and an Air

So dreadful that it makes ev'n Furies shake,

Ev'n her the fiercest Fiend of all the Damn'd▪

Now Discord to the Gallick Camp return'd

The false Bavarian's Shape and Air assumes,

And thus she Anxious Villeroy accosts.

Hast thou observ'd, how yon Confederate Troops

Inferiour in their Numbers far to ours,

Yet carry Conquest in their flaming Eyes;

And yet their Veteran and their Boldest Troops

Have often fled before the Gallick Pow'r,

Whence now this Spirit, this Superiour Fire?

From Liberty the Mareschal strait replys,

'Tis from the Bravery of the English Troops,

Who with Immortal Liberty inspir'd,

And with the Love of Glory all inflam'd,

Infect the Nations with Their noble Fire,

As Man was form'd to Lord it over Beasts

Freemen were pre-ordain'd to vanquish Slaves▪

And this th'event had shewn in William's Reig•

Had but His honest Mind suspected Thee.

To whom the Fury instantly reply'd,

'Tis true, the English merit all our Praise,

A Nation Fierce, Magnanimous and Free,

Valiant from Freedom, from their Clima•• Brave,

Who in their fierce Attacks with Fury made,

And in their firmness to sustain the Efforts

Of their outragious and their pressing Foes,

Equal the Warlik'st Nations of the World,

But in their Rallying Rage surpass them all.

Your Gallick Troops with Fury know t'assault,

But never yet endur'd the fierce Attacks

Of their bold Foes when obstinately urg'd,

Our Germans with much Constancy sustain

But when our Squadrons once are broke they'r lost,

The English Rally still with greater Rage

Than they at first attack th'astonish'd Foe,

While with their eager Shouts the Welkin rings.

As a fierce Bull who furiously contends

For the fair She that has his Heart subdu'd,

And for the Empire of the Flow'ry Meads,

Recedes from his proud Rival to return

With more impetuous Shock, more dreadful Rage

While with His clash the ecchoing Vale resounds,

So when the Britons from the Field retreat

They rally with no less amazing Fire.

But the great Changes of the World below

Are brought about by Heav'n and not by Man;

For 'tis a Jealous God who rules the Sky,

Jealous of Glory and in Love with Praise.

And when the Wonders of his Might He shews

And brings to pass astonishing Events,

Events which all the under World amaze,

'Tis not by Strength of Nations that He works

For that would look meer Human Might to all;

But by select Celestial Spirits sent

For that Design from His own Heav'n and form'd

Of finer Clay, and in a nobler Mould

Than are the vulgar Race of Mortal Men,

And animated with Diviner Fire.

That when to all th'astonish'd World they appear

With more than Human Qualities endued,

Th'astonish'd World may be constrain'd to own,

And they themselves confess, that what they do

Is by th'immediate Hand of Heav'n perform'd.

The noblest Nations have deriv'd their Fame,

And all their Greatness from the God-like few,

And when These fail them, they are lost, undone,

And grow the Scorn of their Insulting Foes,

Or are quite swallow'd in th'Abyss of Time.

Mareschal, reflect on Ancient Days, and say,

What wondrous Acts did Persians e're perform

Before or after their great Cyrus reign'd?

Say, was not Macedon e're Philip sway'd

Obscure, unworthy of the Voice of Fame?

And when victorious Alexander died,

Did not its Spirit and its matchless Fame

And Empire with the God-like Man expire?

The Romans ow'd the Glories of their State,

And vast extent of Empire to a few.

As by their noblest Writers is confest.

As far as now fair England's Glory flies,

What had it done before great Edward reign'd?

Except but His and Conqu'ring Henry's Days,

Where was its Glory till Eliza came?

And by Her Wisdom and Heroick Mind

Sustain'd the Freedom of the Lab'ring World.

With Hers ev'n England's Life and Soul expir'd,

And then its Neighbours meanly it betray'd,

Or turn'd upon it self its own inglorious Arms▪

Till at the last the God-like William came,

He came, and their declining Spirits rais'd,

He gave them their Religion, and their Anne,

She Freedom and the Might of Malb'rough gave▪

As William was betray'd, undone by me,

Mareschal by us great Malborough too must fall▪

On which depends to morrow's fatal Day.

For from His Presence yon audacious Troops

Derive the dauntless Spirit in their Eyes,

From which they flash intollerable Fire.

Ev'n thou thy self, for I remark'd it well;

Thou wert agreeably surpriz'd and rais'd

When his August Appearance thou beheld'st

Worthy the Grandeur of th'immortal Mind,

Commanding as the Form of the first Man,

While His great Maker's Image He retain'd,

And Empire sate upon his Lordly Brow,

The World's Imperial Ruler and his own,

Before Celestial Reason had been taught

Her Subject Passion poorly to obey,

And the degenerating Mind debas'd

The Majesty and Empire of the Meen.

When e're His Troops behold that noble Form,

All His great Actions, all His high Exploits,

Present themselves before their wondring Minds,

Gelderland conquer'd with its warlike Towns▪

And Liege and Limbourgh as by Magick rise,

And to their view present their stately Tow'rs,

Dire Schellenbourg's impenetrable Fort

Carried against the Choice of all our Pow'rs,

And Bleinem's everlasting Day appears

And stunns with Rapture their astonish'd Minds.

The Trumpet with its Clangour tears their Ears,

And then they charge, and once again they fight

Their Battles o're, and triumph once again,

And then the World wants force t'oppose their Pow'r,

Whom to defeat we Malborough must destroy,

For firmly yon audacious Troops believe

'Tis not from Fortune these Successes flow,

But from the Wisdom of their wondrous Chief,

His vast Capacity, his flaming Zeal,

His restless Labour and perpetual Thought,

His dreadless Spirit and His just Designs,

Indeed so just have been His great Designs,

So exquisite His Conduct, so profound,

Not one false step in Four renown'd Campaigns,

So bright His humble Modesty has shone

In still consulting His Illustrious Friends,

His Counsellors so few, so justly chose,

His Secrets kept from the most piercing Eyes,

His Constancy in executing all

That has so well consulted been, so firm,

His Spirit as a Captain so sublime

And as a Souldier so Invincible,

That Mareschal to remove Him we must Hire

The fiercest and most desperate of thy Men,

For my Bavarians will that Task refuse,

Or Twenty Thousand of yon bravest Troops

Will less obstruct our great Success than He.

Hadst thou beheld at Bleinem's dreadful Field

In the Distress of the stupend'ous Day,

This matchless Man at once a prudent Chief

And a most daring Combatant, supply

With His own Valour ev'ry prest Brigade,

Each brave Battalion of His fainting Host;

For wheresoever Death and Danger flew

T'appall His Squadrons with their ghastly glare,

There Malborough on the Wings of Thunder flew

Till He brought Conquest back and won the Day,

Till Fate He with Majestick Meen dispens'd,

And seem'd the dreadful Delegate of Jove;

Hadst thou seen this at Bleinem's dreadful Field,

Mareschal, thou wouldst of Victory despair,

Or else conclude this fatal Man must die.

But could'st thou with a sharp sagacious Eye

Survey the wonders of his matchless Mind,

What Apprehension then would pierce thy Breast,

Then what Astonishment would strike thy Mind?

For, O the jarring Talents which appear,

Uniting all their Factions in His Soul!

The Heat, the Cold, the Liveliness, the Weight,

The Gravity, th'astonishing Dispatch,

The Providence, the Intrepidity,

The Fire and the Sedateness of His Soul,

And the Revenging Thunder of His Might

Discharg'd without a Tempest on His Breast,

Or a black lowring Cloud upon His Brow!

Tempests without He raises and He calms,

But His great Mind immovable remains.

And these great Qualities by turns He shews,

Not as His Fancy, Humour, Passion call,

But guided all by Wisdom's sacred Law,

As he who made this all the Seasons guides,

And alters Hot and Dry, and Moist and Cold,

By what the changing Universe requires.

Is't possible we can a Moment doubt

If we this dangerous General shall destroy,

Who having these repugnant Talents joyn'd

Confederated in his mighty Soul,

Talents which none besides of Human kind

Enjoys, appears design'd by all-wise Heav'n,

Who nought creates in vain to perform Deeds

Surpassing all the rest of Mortal Race.

Who the great Qualities of twenty Chiefs

Possessing still atchieves the Exploits of more▪

Whose Passion for his own accursed Cause

So flaming is, so deadly is His Hate,

And so invincible to us and ours,

That not content to act in His own Sphere,

And ev'ry Hour new Wonders to perform,

He does the Duty with unwearied Pains

Of Foreign Generals, which with all their Thought,

And all the God-like Greatness of their Souls

They were unable to perform themselves.

Where-ever the Allies appear in Arms

Their brave Battalians Malb'rough's Influence feel.

With Him their noblest Actions they concert,

He furnishes their bravest Chiefs with Troops,

And with unhop'd for Treasure He supplies.

Yet while to others He gives Pow'r to act

His own unwearied Vigilence is such,

His Care, His Labour, His eternal Thought,

As if all others had refus'd to act,

As if th'inimitable Man were left

With Atlantean Shoulders to sustain

The more than Mortal Burden of the War.

Indeed whatever has been greatly done

In Germany, or in the Belgian Plains,

Has under his Auspicious Power been done:

For He observing with Judicious Thought,

That thro' a tedious War your Gallick Pow'rs

By the Division of th'Allies prevail'd,

Or ow'd Their Conquests to My secret Arts▪

Or by their Numbers gain'd their great Success▪

That They the Field eternally declin'd

Unless by vast Advantages sustain'd,

As conscious of the Weakness of their Cause,

The Weakness of their boldest Veteran Troops

And falseness of Imaginary Pow'r,

Which Two set Battles fought on equal Terms

Would soon demonstrate to the Christian World,

That ev'n in Fight they close Engagement shunn'd

Till they had tam'd their most intrepid Foes

By odds of Numbers wearied and opprest,

He this remarking with sagacious Thought

His Conduct in each Point to theirs oppos'd,

And chang'd the Form and Fortune of the War.

By His eternal Vigilance His Troops

Are still too numerous to be flank'd by ours;

And while He meditates His great Exploits,

His secret, His impenetrable Heart

Defended stands from Treason's piercing Eye,

(That Caution from great William's Fate he drew)

Then He the fatal Hour of Combat seeks

And finds with penetrating Thought, or makes

Either half-way, he Bald Occasion meets,

Or like a Hunter He persues her Flight,

Till she at Bay her clustring Forelock turns,

Then in the dreadful Field assails your Pow'rs,

Nor suffers you with Fury to assault;

For which you by the Christian World are fam'd.

Nor wages then a cool and distant War,

But presses on you with redoubled Might;

And in upon your firmest Squadrons breaks

Till with his Horse their shatter'd Ranks he tears,

Nor made by Nature, nor by Climate form'd

The Thunder of such Fury to sustain;

And chiefly, which has render'd Him to us

A dangerous and a formidable Foe,

That no Divisions fraudulently sown

Among th'Allies might hurt the general Cause,

There is but one who breaths th'Aetherial Air,

And ev'n that one is Malborough's second self,

So careful to augment or to maintain

Among the various Potentates abroad;

That Union which with a Celestial Voice

Great Anna to her Brittains recommends;

He obviates growing Feuds, Dissensions grown

He reconciles, the Interests He adjusts,

And He concerts of each Confederate Pow'r,

And in one general Interest mingles all,

As Streams from East and West, and North and South,

Are mix'd in Ocean's vast Abyss, and lost.

He Nations, and their Kings, with Thoughts inspires,

Above all little, selfish, low Designs,

And fills them with a publick glorious Fire.

In all these things the wondrous Man's concern'd,

Which so destructive are to us and ours;

With so much Zeal, with such Assiduous Thought,

With such unwearied Pains, no length of Time,

Nor any Distance of Remotest Place,

Nor the Intemperance of Heat and Cold,

Nor Pleasures specious and alluring Bait,

(The God like Man, alas, no Pleasure knows,

But what the Ruler of yon Heav'n pursues,

To do great Good and Glory to acquire)

No, nor the base Ingratitude of those,

Whom Day and Night He watches to preserve,

Nor ought that Earth, nor ought that Hell invents;

Nought but the Stroke of Destiny alone

Is able to obstruct His generous Course,

Is able to retard His noble Speed

In the Carrier of everlasting Fame.

But with Himself He high Designs revolves,

Or those who execute those high Designs

With that familiar Greatness He receives,

Which makes Him the Delight of all the Good,

And the Felicity of all the Brave.

As from these wondrous Talents in Him joyn'd

All that astonishing Success proceeds

Which is become the Darling Theme of Fame,

The Theme on which th'eternal Talker doats,

So by that high Success is Malbrough grown

The Joy of all the Happy Nations round,

The Hope and Consolation of the Rest,

The Confident of the most Jealous States,

The great Example of Earth's Demy-gods,

And the just wonder of the Christian World.

But with the Squadrons who his Voice obey

So sacred His Authority is grown,

So is He honour'd, lov'd, almost ador'd

By the brave Souldier His adopted Care,

Whom with a pious Father's tenderest Love

He guards from Danger and from Want He shields,

That when, nor Interests loud and pow'rful Voice,

Nor smarting Shame, nor their dear Countrey's Love,

Nor love of Glory longer can prevail

Upon their fainting Spirits to sustain

The fierce Attacks of our Assaulting Bands,

His Meen, His great Appearance fires their Souls,

His potent Voice the Squadrons new creates,

Gives them new Life, new Spirit and new Hope,

Nay, certainty of Conquest and of Fame,

But Mareshal for some Time I have observ'd

Surprize, and Joy, and Wonder in thy Eyes.

To whom transported Villeroy replys;

Tis true, with Joy and Wonder I have heard

Thy generous Praise of such a deadly Foe:

For when so many English have been found

Who have with basest Calumnies repaid

His mighty Benefits as great and strong

As ever Hero on his Country laid,

That Thou shouldst do the glorious Hero right,

Thou, who by force of His victorious Arm

Art fall'n from such a Height, O whither fall'n!

Fall'n from thy Empire, from thy Glory fall'n,

From those which Thou enjoy'dst, and from the Hope

Of Those at which Thy vast Ambition aim'd,

That thou shouldst do the wondrous Hero right,

That thou shouldst draw the lovely Features like,

And place the noble Piece in its true Light,

Shews something so magnanimously great

As all the generous English would extol,

And God-like Malborough himself admire.

To whom the Fury in Bavaria's Form,

The Praise I merit not, I must refuse,

'Tis not a generous Frailty in my Mind,

But great Revenge, the Attribute of Gods,

That makes me just to Malborough's hateful Name.

Small Generosity's requir'd to praise

A Merit which by all the World's extoll'd,

And which in spight of Slanders cankring Bite,

Will be th'eternal Ornament of Fame.

If keen Detraction could have hurt His Name

Or Person, I Detraction would have us'd.

For 'tis with bitterest Gall that I extol

The Hero, whom to crush I must commend.

Since Calumnies have been essay'd in vain,

And Slanders of the blackest hue been tryed

At once his Fame and Person to destroy,

And against Both have signified no more

Than Morning Mists against the Julian Sun,

His rising Glory has dispell'd them all;

'Tis time to try what Truth may effect at last,

And on her own loud Champion turn her Arms.

This Hero I in just proportions drew,

That thou may'st be convinc'd by the rich Draught,

The way t'attack th'Allies with wish'd Success

Is this pernicious General to destroy,

That whole Brigades less Dangerous are than He.

That while yon Troops His noble Form inspires,

They will Impenetrable still remain,

And Fate will follow him as it does Jove.

If then our Interest's pretious in our Eyes,

If Victory has Charms for our great Minds,

If Glory, if the vast, th'inspiring Cause

For which great Lewis steels our nervous Arms,

Which is the Empire of the Universe,

Can thaw our Blood, our drooping Spirits raise,

We must the boldest of your Men suborn

This Formidable Hero to destroy,

Or else expect a second Bleinem here,

Thou wilt in shameful Bonds once more be led

As thou by Conquering Eugene wert before,

Or grow the Object of the Peoples Scorn

And the Parisian Rabbles Headstrong Rage,

And I shall from my Government be chas'd,

As from Bavaria I before was driven.

The Fury said, and Villeroy turn'd Pale,

And look'd with Eyes unwilling to consent,

Yet fearful to deny; which when the Fiend

Observ'd, she with Imperious Tone rejoyn'd,

Think 'tis thy Absolute, thy Awful Lord,

Tis Lewis who commands thee to obey,

Canst thou assist an Arbitrary King,

To make His boundless Will His only Law,

And then examine if that Will be just?

Know'st thou not that 'tis criminal in Slaves

T'affect more Virtue than their Tyrants shew.

She said, when with prevailing Shades the Night

Came on, and Villeroy's Confusion hid;

Under whose Pitchy Mantle both conceal'd

To execute their dire Design retir'd.

The End of the Third Book.

LIB. IV.

WHile Discord by great Malb'rough's Fate contrives

T'extend the Empire of Hells dreadful sway

The World's Almighty Ruler with that Eye,

That sees thro' all th'Infinitude of Space,

That sees thro' all th'Infinitude of Time,

From th'Empyrean views the Raving Fiend,

And to the Son th'Eternal Father speaks,

And while He speaks the Angels drop their Lyres,

And all their melting Hallelujahs cease;

The Heav'ns with all their Jocund Orbs are still,

Are hush'd, attentive to the Voice Divine,

To which their Sounds are Discord, all the Globes

That rowl thro' Space Immense a Moment rest,

A Moment their Eternal Course suspend,

And tremble while their great Creator speaks.

Behold, he to the Filial Godhead says,

With how much Fury our outragious Foe

Proceeds His impious Vice-Roy to maintain,

Against our Servant and Vicegerent Anne,

How against Malb'rough's Life he Discord Arms,

And she the fiercest of the French suborns

T'assault Him in to Morrow's wrathful Field.

Let us against the Raging Fiend oppose

One of our Angels burning most with Zeal,

And most with blissful Charity inspir'd,

Let Him descend and with Celestial Might

Resist the Malice of Infernal Rage,

And betwixt Malborough interpose and Fate,

That he may Conquer and that we may Reign,

And all the Nations joyn in Bonds of Love,

And Quiet to the weary World return.

He said, the Angelick Bands resume their Lyres,

And their transporting Symphonies renew,

Th'Harmonious Spheres renew their wondrous Dance,

With Hallelujahs Heaven again resounds,

Immortal Transport runs thro' ev'ry Mind,

Immortal Pleasure brightens ev'ry Face,

In Circles the Angelick Bands embrace,

And rush into each others Arms with Joy

Which Tongues of Angels never can express,

And never can the Heart of Man conceive,

And ev'ry Circle in Seraphick Song

The God of Union sings, the God of Peace.

Next to the Deity there stood an Orb

Of glorious Seraphim, a wondrous Orb,

Who had the Wings, the Brightness and the Power

Of mighty Seraphim▪ but Human Forms,

Of all the bright Inhabitants of Heaven,

None burn'd with blissful Charity like them,

Or copied th'Eternal Son like them;

Like Him in Human Shape they appear'd in Heav'n,

Like Him they once had Bodies of frail Flesh,

And sojourn'd here in Mortal Limbs below,

And long with Death and Dangers here they shone▪

And Mortal Misery and Mortal Care

The Nations to unite in Bonds of Peace,

And vindicate the warring Saints below

From the abhorr'd usurping Reign of Hell,

From foul Idolatry and lawless Pow'r,

And •pread Messiah's Righteous Kingdom here

Of Sacred Liberty and Sacred Law,

And of Religion undefil'd and pure.

And here, when they had suffer'd much and long,

And bore what none but Godlike Minds could bear,

Th'Immortal Spirits broke their Mortal Bands,

And swift ascended to the Heav'n of Heav'ns

Triumphant, there in Human likeness sate

(That Human likeness which on Earth they grac'd)

Near to the Son of Man in Bliss enthron'd,

And some Resemblance of His Glory bore

As of His Sufferings they before had born.

To this refulgent and this wondrous Orb

The Filial Godhead thus himself addres•

Ye Host of Seraphim who once were Men

Who bore the Misery of Mortal Life

Like me, and bore the cruel Pains of Death

T'unite Mankind among themselves in Love,

And spread my Father's Kingdom over Earth;

Which of ye freely will descend to save

The Brittish Hero from impending Fate,

Him who in Charity the Nations binds

And Pious Anna's Conqu'ring Host commands,

That we may triumph, and that we may reign,

Him Lucifer and Discord raging Fiends

Contrive with Hellish Fury to destroy.

Forth from the Spirits of that shining Orb

A glorious Spirit shoots on gorgeous Wings,

Wings with bright Purple and with Gold array'd,

And down before the Sovereign Throne he lights.

Of all th'Angelick Sanctities of Heav'n

None fill'd the Empyrean with the Fame

Of what He acted and He suffer'd here

Like Him, no Angel of all Heav'n like Him

Breath'd forth Immortal Love to Mortal Men.

A Crown of Radiant Beams adorn'd His Head,

And wing'd His Shoulders were, and wing'd His Feet,

Lightning serene flew darting from His Eyes,

And Lightning round his radiant Temples plaid.

And in his Face there much Resemblance shone

Of Him who once this happy Island sway'd.

Who mov'd by Charity for wretched Men

That He the lab'ring Nations might preserve

Came flying on the Wings of all the Winds,

And rescued sinking Brittain from Her Fate.

His Face much likeness of His Earthly Bloom,

But a more heightned beauteous likeness bore,

For now instead of Misery and Care,

And fatal Disappointment, fatal Woe,

And all the Frailties that on Dust attend,

Upon His Countenance perpetual Youth,

Celestial Vigour and Celestial Bloom,

And Immortality appear'd, and Joy

Eternal, Inexpressible, Divine.

On His first Motion th'Empyrean Heav'n

With tuneful Shouts of Acclamation rung,

Th'Harmonious Thunder of Extatick Joy.

When ev'ry Angel clap'd His Golden Wings,

And ev'ry Angel struck His wondrous Lyre,

And sung His Praise in high Seraphick Song,

Who could vouchsafe to leave Eternal Joys,

And could to Earth the Seat of Woe descend,

Where he had born what never Mortal bore,

To rescue Malb'rough His adopted Care.

'Tis like thy self, like thy own fervent Zeal,

Thou good and faithful Servant, said the Son.

With speed then to the rowling Earth descend,

And thereupon to morrow's wrathful Day

The Day for Vengeance pre-ordain'd by us,

Defend thy Malborough in Ramillia's Plain,

And He the Christian World will there defend.

But e're the Sun dispells the Shades of Night,

Present thy self in Vision to His Eyes,

And with Celestial Hope His Soul inspire

Of present Conquest, and of future Fame

On Earth, and of Eternal Glory here.

Tell Him of Provinces by Union's Pow'r

Deliver'd in Ramillia's fatal Plain;

Lay His own Danger too before His Eyes

But hide th'event of that, that His great Soul

And dreadless Virtue may be fully try'd,

And may to Earth and Heav'n more glorious shine.

With Joy descend, to honour thy Descent

On it, a wondrous Birth of Fate attends,

A wondrous change in Europe shall be wrought,

Ten thousand Terrours shall attend thy flight

And Vengeance to amaze the Impious World.

The Time by high Foreknowledge pre-ordain'd

At last is come when Satan shall no more,

Nor his Vicegerent Tyrants plague the Earth.

But Lewis was permitted to attain

To such uncommon Height of Lawless Pow'r,

As Pelgia, Italy and Spain to add

To former Countries impiously obtain'd,

To grasp the Indies in his Threatning Hand,

And in his Thought the Empire of the Earth,

That Vengeance sent from us might pierce him more

By his surpizing unexpected Fall;

And the Example strike the Impious World

With greater Terrour, and our Hand appear.

When He who has been fifty rowling Years

Raising the Fabrick of his Pow'r to Heav'n

Shall find it in a Moment dash'd to Hell

By the Revenging Thunder of our Might;

When all the Turbant Tyrants of the East

From Bosphorus to farthest Indies climb

Shall hear their Western Brother's fall, shall hear

And tremble at his Ruines hideous Sound:

When Men turn'd Atheists by his long Success

Shall be confounded and turn pale and shake,

And own there is a Being far-above

And an amazing Providence beyond

What their weak Minds have pow'r to comprehend;

Then Impious War shall vex the Earth no more,

But Love Divine shall Human Hearts unite,

And Peace shall to the wearied World return.

He ended, and the Angel bowing low

Towards Earth precipitates his glorious flight

While th Empyrean Thunder loudly roars:

Th'Angelick Lyres, and Dulcimers, and Lutes,

And solemn Organs change their melting Strains,

And with fierce Warlike Symphony resound;

And when the Instruments Divine repose

Again the Thunder bellows thro' the Sky;

To that the Instruments again Respond,

And thrice the Thunder, thrice the wrathful Lyres

Alternate dreadful Sounds throughout the Sky.

Tremendous Signal of Revenge Divine

Of Vengeance to be executed now,

The Terrours of th'Almighty take th'Alarm,

And after the descending Angel fly.

As thro' the Atmosphere He wheels His flight,

And cleaves with His Eternal Plumes the Air,

Of golden Light He draws a glorious Trail,

He gilds the paler Moon's Resplendent Beams,

He gilds the Silver Clouds with Golden Dye;

And all th Illustrious Horrours of the Night.

Th'Infernal Spirits from His passage fly,

And all the wing'd ill Omens of the Air;

And Care, and Pain, and Sorrow, and Despair

Fly from His Sacred Presence far away.

Before him Peace, Tranquillity and Joy,

Immortal Pleasures march before, behind

Th'amazing Terrours of th'Almighty march.

As near to Judoignes fatal Plain He flew,

Like a descending Star direct He shoots

Into the Tent where Mighty Malb'rough lay,

And in a Dream fought great Ramillia's Field.

But ev'n in Sleep his Passions he controuls

With Independant and with Lordly Sway,

His very Dream was regular, serene,

No Fear nor Rage disturb'd his God-like Mind

Whom th'Angel now descended thus salutes.

Hail Champion of the Sacred Cause of Heav'n!

Hail Ornament of Earth! hail Dread of Hell!

Illustrious Soul call'd out by me and Fate

To turn the Fortune of the Western World.

From the bright Realms of Everlasting Joy

With Pleasure I am sent to visit Thee,

O worthy Successour to me in Arms!

O Care of Heav'n! O Delegate of Fate!

How have I been sollicitous beyond

What is allow'd to blissful Minds above

For Anna, for Britannia, and for Thee!

And yet when I ascended up to Heav'n

I neither Her nor thee entirely left;

For at my parting I left Friends below—

O Men, with whom ev'n Angels may consult,

And on the Firmness of their faithful Zeal,

And on their vast Capacity depend!

For all my Friends are Anna's Friends and Thine,

And will unchangeably respect my choice;

But Hell and Hell's dire Missionaries here

With Rage implacable thy Life pursue,

For Bleinem in their Minds has fix'd deep Wounds,

Wounds which no length of Days can cure, but Time

Exulcerates, and Festers, and Gangrenes.

From Bleinem's mortal Day worse Days they expect

No less than Ruine of their Empire here;

Therefore to Morrow all their Mortal Darts

Will levell'd be at thy Illustrious Head,

And imminent the Danger is and great.

But Danger will but raise the noble Fire

Of Thy exalted Soul intent on things

Above this groveling and this worthless World.

And if thou fall'st, like Sampson Thou wilt fall,

And bitterly Thy Foes lament Thy Fate;

Whatever for Thy Person Heav'n ordains,

Yet Heav'n its Champion never will permit

To leave the World inglorious, unreveng'd,

A wondrous Victory attends thy Arms,

Great in it self and in its Sequel vast,

Whose ecchoing Sound thro' all the West shall run.

Transporting the glad Nations all around,

Who oft shall doubt, and oft suspend their Joy,

And oft imagine all an empty Dream;

The Conquerour himself shall cry amaz'd,

'Tis not our Work, alas we did it not,

The Hand of God, the Hand of God is here

For Thee, so great shall be thy high Renown,

That Fame shall think no Musick like thy Name:

Around the circling Globe it shall be spread,

And to the World's last Ages shall endure.

Heroes of Ancient Times Thou shalt eclipse,

And the most lofty most aspiring Man,

Shall want th'Assurance in his secret Pray'rs

To ask such high Felicity and Fame

As Heav'n has freely granted Thee, yet this

That seems so great, so glorious to Thee now

Would look how low, how vile to Thy great Mind,

If I could set before thy astonish'd Eyes

Th'excess of Glory and th'excess of Bliss

That is prepar'd for Thy aspiring Soul

When Thou arriv'st at everlasting Day.

O could embodied Mind but comprehend

The Glories of the Intellectual World,

Or I the blissful Secret were allowd;

But Fate forbids, to Mortals to reveal,

O I could lay a Scene before thy Eyes

Which would distract Thee with transporting Joy;

Fire the rich Blood in thy Illustrious Veins,

Make ev'ry Nerve with fierce Convulsions start,

Blast all thy Spirits and thy Life destroy,

Thou could'st not tast th'extatick Bliss and live:

As one who has liv'd thirty tedious Years,

And ever since his wretched Birth been Dark,

His visual Orbs with cloudy Films o'recast,

And in the Dungeon of the Body dwelt

In utter Ignorance of Nature's Works

And Wonders of this vast material World,

And has no Notion e're conceiv'd of Light,

Or Colours, or the verdant Flow'ry Earth,

Or the stupendous prospect of the Sky;

If then he finds some Artist whose nice Hand

Couches the Cataracts and clears his Eyes,

And all at once a Flood of glorious Light,

And this bright Temple of the Universe,

The crystal Firmament, the blazing Sun,

All th'amazing Glories of the Heavens,

All the great Maker's high Magnificence

Come rushing thro' His Eyes upon His Soul,

He cannot bear th'astonishing Delight,

But starts, exclaims, and stamps, and raves, and dies:

So the vast Glories of the upper World,

If they were set before embodied Mind

Would oppress Nature and extinguish Life.

For all the Beauties of the World that's seen

As glorious as they look to Human Eyes

Are little, are contemptible to them,

Like glimmering Star-light to the Blaze of Day.

For Thee let this suffize the Share of Bliss

And Glory that's prepar'd for Thee above,

Is such as shall distinguish Thee from most:

For since the Glory of the Just in Heav'n

Is equal to their Charity on Earth,

What must be thine who labour'st to unite,

Who labour'st to felicitate a World.

I say not this to fortifie thy Mind

Against the Fear of Death, Thou hast no Fear,

For Thou hast been familiar with Him long,

Been often dauntless with Him Face to Face,

And calmly look'd upon His Gorgon Eye,

As finding nothing there t'affright a Soul

That conscious is of Glory, Bliss and Life,

Unbounded all as vast Eternity.

Ev'n I not more intrepid was on Earth

Than Thou, nor am not more undaunted now:

But this is said, that on this dreadful Day

Thou may'st do Deeds that may excel ev'n thine,

And surpass Him who all the World transcends.

Thou shalt have Millions of Immortal Minds

Glorious Spectators of thy Immortal Acts,

And tow'ring o're Thee still Thou shalt behold

Bright Victory and me, he said, and now

The stormy Drum awak'd the Pow'rs of War,

And now the Angel disappears from sight,

And His Bright Shape dissolves into the Morn.

The End of the Fourth Book.

LIB. V.

FULL of the glorious Vision Malborough wakes,

For when the Angel vanish'd from His Eyes,

He shot half Heav'n into the Heroes Mind,

His Mind was with Immortal Hope inspir'd,

Celestial Confidence, Celestial Fire,

A Flame that in his noble Breast aspir'd

To things above the Greatness of this World,

And Joy which Human Hearts can ne're conceive,

Unspeakable, Transporting, yet Serene,

Wisdom's Serene Companion and Her Friend,

Prophetick of Felicity and Fame.

Awak'd, He rises from His Bed in haste,

And after Him in hast the Sun arose,

Impatient to behold his wondrous Deeds.

Gazing He sees the Grandeur of his Meen

Exalted with a Dreadful Majesty;

And all the Honours heightned of His Eyes,

And all th'Heroick Virtues of His Mind,

All but His great Contempt of Death encreas'd,

For that was Sovereign in His Soul before,

And while the Sun above th'Horizon rose

Ten thousand brighter Glories from the Skies

Descended to behold, or to assist

In the Contention of th'Eternal Day.

For the Immortal Day was to decide

No trifling small Affairs, no mean Dispute,

The Limits of small Kingdoms, or the Bounds

Of poor Provincial Tributary Lords,

But the Contention of th'Eternal Day

Was to decide in great Ramillia's Field,

If God should reign o're His own Works below,

Or Hell usurp them with Tyrannick Sway.

And now the dreadful Trumpet sounds to Arms,

When distant Clangours are like Ecchoes heard,

Th'Angelick Trumpet of Celestial Fame,

Which to Immortal Deeds excites their Souls.

And now they march t'attack th'embattel'd Foe,

And now in terrible Array appear,

Awaiting their Commanders Awful Voice,

Like Tempests low'ring in the Heav'ns they look

That black'ning all the Sky in silence stand

Before th'outragious Wrack of Heav'n begins,

Like the Virgilian God of Winds their Chief,

Who musters sounding Storms and rules their Rage.

With pleasure He their Martial Eyes surveys

And finds them with Heroick Rage inspir'd,

He finds they want no Speech to raise their Souls

To mightiest Deeds, for in their Eyes He sees

They have already gain'd the glorious Day.

Up to the Heav'ns His Eyes the Hero casts,

And there the Angel with His flaming Sword

And Victory with Eagles Wings He spies

Towring along the vast Aethereal Space.

And now a glorious Flame from Heav'n descends

And agitates and shakes His mighty Soul:

And this is the first Hour that e're He found

Its Movements difficult to be restrain'd,

With Ardor strait He gives the fatal Word,

And now the Trumpet sounds the dreadful Charge,

And like the last Eternal Trump it sounds,

For now at hand the End of Time appears,

And the expiring Worlds last ghastful Hour,

For Hideous is the Face of Nature now,

The Heav'ns are all on fire, the Welkin burns,

Earth trembles, and the Air tormented groans.

The warring Elements, Earth, Air and Fire

Are raging in stupend'ous motion all,

And Earth with Air confounded, and with Fire.

And Bursts of horrid Thunder rend the Heav'ns

And seem to be expiring Natures Groans;

But no swift Motion, no Impetuous Rage

Of missive Earth, or of exploded Air,

Or of expanded Fire can equal half

Th'outragious Motions of undaunted Minds

Divinely swift in Tenements of Clay.

While to th'Attack th'embattell'd Squadrons move,

And clashing with amazing Fury joyn,

On one side th'Angel and bright Victory,

On th'other Discord with th'Infernal Pow'rs

And all the Auxiliaries of Heaven and Hell

Their mighty Movements for a while suspend

The Motions of frail Mortals to behold,

Who Transports of Immortal Fury shew

Above the weak Condition of poor Dust

Above the frail Concerns of wretched Men.

While wondring they behold with all their Eyes

The whole Confederate and the Gallick Pow'rs

Raging and working like divided Seas

Which Adverse Storms against each other drive,

While Jove's Artillery rattling o're them flies,

All their admiring Eyes are chiefly bent

On Malborough's ev'ry Motion, ev'ry Look,

Next Him Argyle drew all their wondring Eyes,

Argyle the Young, the Beautiful, the Brave,

Fit for deep Counsels ev'n in early Bloom,

Of Thought profound, without Experience Wise,

Without the Ruinous Expence of Years;

In Counsel all Sedateness and all Thought

But in the Bloody Field all Rage, all Fire;

Champion of Union in the Bloody Field,

Where still the God-like Youth made War for Peace.

In Cabinets He Union too advis'd,

And in grave Senates constantly He strove

The jarring Nations to unite in Love.

With dreadful Majesty great Malborough march'd,

And like the fancied God of War He look'd,

When He flies Thund'ring o're the Plains of Thrace,

And Terrours march before His Iron Carr,

And sounding Devastation comes behind.

Argyle was like the fancied God of Love

When He contracts His Brow and bends His Bow,

And drawing his Inevitable Shafts

Wounds deeply Human Breasts t'unite their Hearts.

Without their furious Britons both appear,

And Foreign Squadrons to the Charge they lead.

But Germans, Danes and Dutch turn Britons all

When Britons Genius in its God-like Chiefs

Shines out, and fires them to Immortal Deeds,

And leads them to the Charge, unknowing to retire.

O would some Angel give me force to paint

The dreadful stalk of Discords sounding March,

Between conflicting Hosts, before her march'd

Ten thousand Terrours, Natives all of Hell,

Commanded by their grizly Monarch Death.

Each stride entrench'd the Earth on which she strode,

The Air was tempested, the Aether frown'd,

Mean while the Snaky Horrours of her Head

Were wrapt in pitchy Clouds, from which her Eyes

Red Lightning Dart, and Thunder was her Voice.

As sternly she the Field of Death surveys,

And finds that Fate in ev'ry other part

Was doubtful, but where mighty Malb'rough shin'd,

There Victory, there Destiny declar'd;

She gives a monstrous Yell that frighting shakes

The utmost Fortresses of Belgian Land;

The Mountains tremble at the horrid Din,

The Vales re-bellow to the monstrous Roar.

When thus the Terrours and their grizly King

The Fury in a frightful Tone accosts.

Have ye then found an over-match at last?

Are ye contented basely to submit

To the Efforts of yon Confederate Pow'rs?

O're which till Malb'rough at their Head appear'd

Ye always have prevail'd, nay now prevail

O're Squadrons which remote from Him engage,

But see He comes, this Thunderbolt of War!

Look how against the Storm He Headlong drives!

By all that's Impious upon us He drives!

Nay now, He's in the midst of us! He's here!

He unconcern'd and only we amaz'd!

Is it then possible that one frail Man

Can thus resist the Force of all your Pow'rs,

And drive you frighted back upon your Friends?

And can ye poorly bear th'extream Affront?

Ye Host of Terrours and thou grizly Death,

If ye are Terrours arm'd with deadly Stings,

If thou art Death, my cruel Off-spring Death,

And not an empty Bugbear to scare Boys;

Oh fly, oh seize, dispatch th'audacious wretch

Oh pierce Him, stab Him in the vitall st Part!

Ha! how agast with stupid Eyes thou star'st,

To see this Briton amidst all thy Pow'rs

Serene, and with a Dauntless Brow appear!

Thou Fool! with all this Calm and Dreadless Brow,

This is no God, but a meer Mortal Man,

As subject to Thy Arm as the vile Slave.

Muster Thy Terrours then in dire Array!

And scare this hitherto undaunted Brave,

Then, then be ready with thy Fatal Dart,

Let me alone to give Thee certain aim

And so dispatching one we conquer all.

But who, tho' Master of an Angel's Force,

An Angel's Genius, and an Angel's Voice,

Of Song Celestial, Eloquence Divine,

Can worthily describe in dreadful Style

The fearful March of the Infernal Pow'rs

Who now prepare t'attack great Malb'rough's Life!

Grim Death his meager Skeleton expands

Into a Form Immense, then musters all

His Terrours in astonishing Array,

And charges them t'appear to Mortal Eyes.

His Terrours put on their most hideous Forms,

Forms which with Horrour Nature sees and shakes,

And from its Out-works Trembling Life retreats,

And to the Heart its Cittadel retires.

In Phalanx then the Hero they assail,

The God-like Hero views them and reviews,

Considers them, disdains them and repells:

But into Madness starts the generous Steed

At the dire sight, he flies, he bounds, he foams,

Flashes of Lightning from his Eye-Balls flie,

And from his Nostrils curling Clouds of Smoak;

Then shrieking on his hindmost Feet he springs,

Then groans, and floundring with his Rider falls.

The Gaul and the Bavarian rend the Sky,

Discord returns the Roar of vast Applause,

And Death and all th'Infernal Pow'rs rejoyce;

But thro' th'Allies a mortal Murmur runs,

And all their Spirit's with their Hero fall'n,

And Victory has Charms for them no more;

The Heavn'ly Spirits are themselves concern'd,

And for a Moment wonder what this means,

And doubt least they mistook the Voice of Fate.

The Ruffians now whom Discord had suborn'd

Present a Hundred Fusees at His Life,

At once an Hundred Fiery Globes discharge,

But a strong unseen Hand diverts them all.

Grim Death bestrides Him with a Gyant stride,

And scowls upon Him with a Wall-ey'd glare;

Then lifting brandishes His fatal Dart,

Yet wants the pow'r to strike but looks askew,

And cannot bear the Heroes dauntless Eye,

When Discord cries aloud, O strike my Son!

Is not our dreadful Adversary fall'n,

Yes from the Pinnacle of Glory fall'n,

Fall'n in a Moment to the abjectest State?

O foolish Sentence! Judgment falsly past!

For hear the Angel in th'Aethereal Space.

O greatest Thou, he cries, of Mortal Men,

Who art as Dauntless in the Arms of Death

As we whom Heav'n has plac'd above His reach!

Serene as when Thou o'recam'st at Bleinem's Field!

Then Conquest saw Thee Humble and Serene,

Death finds Thee firm and undejected now.

O greatest Thou, he cries, of Mortal Men,

Courage surpassing Human, God-like State,

Which nothing can depress and nothing raise!

Never was Mortal more severly tryed,

But now 'tis past, and perfect art Thou found,

And worthy found to free the Lab'ring World.

For since within the very Arms of Death

Thou hast the high Security enjoy'd

Of Blissful Beings who can die no more,

Thou shalt their high Felicity enjoy,

For thy unshaken Mind can bear it all.

What Angels dictate, and what Angels do

(Whose Words and Acts are swifter than our Thoughts)

In Moments, Mortals cannot speak in Hours.

Down He comes shooting on His Golden Wings,

And on the Spot in all His Glory lights

Where in the Arms of Death His Malb'rough lay.

The Hero quicken'd by th'approach of Heav'n

Springs from th'embrace of Death, and on His Feet

As swift as are the Wings of Lightning Bounds.

The Heavenly Spirits in th'Aetherial Space,

And all the Empyrean Shouts for Joy,

When He who while He sojourn'd here on Earth

First His Command to God-like Malbro' gave,

Sent down from Heaven now gives it Him once more.

The Troops are wild with extasie of Joy

To see their General from the Bonds of Death

To Conpuest and Eternal Glory rise;

Death from Immortal Splendour roaring flies

And yelling Discord flies from Love Divine.

Now the Brave Squadrons to His Aid arrive,

And now another fiery Steed present,

And with their cries the eager Hero urge

To lead them on to everlasting Fame,

The Hero mounts, the Squadrons rend the Skies,

Mounting with Him to Heav'n their Spirits soar.

The Hero mounts, but Discord while He mounts

And Death outragious to be thus repuls'd

Level a Canon at His Sacred Head,

But from His Sacred Head the pondrous Ball

Diverted, Bringfield who remounts Him kills,

And consecrates Him to Eternal Fame

Who dies for such a Chief in such a Cause.

Thro' the Confederate Troops the Angel now

The Spirit of Celestial Union spreads,

And He who while he sojourn'd here on Earth

First bound the Nations in the Bonds of Love

Is sent from Heav'n that Union to confirm

And to augment in great Ramillia's Field.

Malb'rough remounted feels the Joys of Heav'n,

The Wisdom and the Force of Gods He feels.

And now He leads the shouting Squadrons on

Daring as if they were Immortal all;

With Hearts and Souls unanimous they advance,

United as they were one Nation all,

One Family, Relations all, and Friends.

One Interest have They all, one Noble Cause,

With Fury inexpressible They advance,

And greatly each resolves to Die for all.

The French who brave Resistance made till now,

Now can Their fierce Attacks no longer bear.

They can no longer bear their very Eyes

And fatal Meens, but fainting all recoil,

And Death and Discord with their Hell-born Host

Headlong upon their Gallick Friends are diven,

The routed Gauls Divide, Disband, Disperse,

They flie, the Angel waves His Flaming Sword,

At which expected Signal on the Wing

Th'Amazing Terrours of th'Almighty stoop,

And persecute and plague their broken Rear;

Make some precipitate their shameful Flight,

While others basely beg for wretched Life,

And others Trembling Faint, and Sink, and Die

Thus Discord and the Gaul were forc'd to yield

To Malb'rough and to Union's Sacred Pow'r.

ERRATA.

Page 24. line 1. for retire read retires▪ p. 53. l. 9. for Head r. Hear•. p. 55. l. 3. for Calamities r. Calamitous p. 56. l. 5. after mock'd, a Comma. Ibid. for in vain r. is vain.

Information about this book

Title statement

The battle of Ramillia: or, the power of union. A poem. In five books. By Mr. Dennis.

Dennis, John, 1657-1734.

Publication

Distributor

University of Oxford Text Archive
Oxford University Computing Services
13 Banbury Road
Oxford
OX2 6NN
ota@oucs.ox.ac.uk

ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/5191

ID [isbn10]

1106021908

ID [isbn13]

9781106021908

ID [TCP]

K107134.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3312211835

ID [ECLL]

0388000900

Availability

Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License

Source

— The battle of Ramillia: or, the power of union. A poem. In five books. By Mr. Dennis., Dennis, John, 1657-1734.. [26],132p. ; 8⁰. London :: printed for Ben. Bragg,. 1706.. [With an errata slip pasted at foot of p.132.] [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [Foxon, D221] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT135406.] [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).]

Creation

Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2p5.xsl, TEI @ Oxford.

Editorial practices

This electronic text file was keyed from page images and partially proofread for accuracy. Character capture and encoding have been done following the guidelines of the ECCO Text Creation Partnership, which correspond roughly to the recommendations found in Level 4 of the TEI in Libraries Guidelines. Digital page images are linked to the text file.