With fmiles fhe fees the threat'ning billows rise,
Spreads fmooth the furge, and clears the louring skies;
Light, o'er the deep, with flutt'ring Cupids crown'd,
The pearly conch and filver turtles bound;
Her treffes fhed ambrofial odours round.

Amidft the world of waves fo ftands ferene
Britannia's ifle, the Ocean's stately queen ;
In vain the nations have confpir'd her fall,
Her trench the fea, and fleets her floating wall;
Defenceless barks, her powerful navy near,
Have only waves and hurricanes to fear.
What bold invader, or what land opprefs'd,
Hath not her anger quell'd, her aid redrefs'd?
Say, where have e'er her union croffes fail'd,
But much her arms, her juftice more prevail'd ?
Her labours are to plead th' Almighty's cause,
Her pride to teach th' untam'd barbarian laws:
Who conquers, wins by brutal ftrength the prize;
But 'tis a godlike work to civilize.

Have we forgot, how from great Ruffia's throne
The king, whofe pow'r half Europe's regions own,
Whose scepter waving, with one shout rush forth
In fwarms the harnefs' d millions of the north;
Through realms of ice purfu'd his tedious way,
To court our friendship, and our fame furvey!

}

Peter the Great, who visited England in the year 1698, and refided here fome time.

3

Hence

1

.

Hence the rich prize of useful arts he bore,
And round his empire spread the learned store,
{T' adorn old realms is more than new to raise,
His country's parent is a monarch's praise.)
His bands now march in just array to war,
And Cafpian gulfs unusual navies bear;
With Runic lays Smolensko's forests ring,
And wond'ring Volga hears the Muses fing.
Did not the painted kings of India greet
Our Queen, and lay their fceptres at her feet?
Chiefs who full bowls of hoftile blood had quaff'd,
Fam'd for the javelin, and invenom'd shaft;
Whofe haughty brows made favages adore,
Nor bow'd to lefs than ftars, or fun before:
Her pitying smile accepts their fuppliant claim,
And adds four monarchs to the Chriftian name.

Bleft ufe of pow'r! O virtuous pride in kings!
And like his bounty, whence dominion fprings!
Which o'er new worlds makes heaven's indulgence fhine,
And ranges myriads under laws divine!

Well bought with all that those sweet regions hold,
With groves of fpices, and with mines of gold.

Four Indian kings or chiefs, of the fix nations lying between New England and Canada, arrived in England in the year 1710, and had a public audience of the queen on the 19th of April. They continued here about two or three weeks, and were entertained during that time by feveral perfons of quality. Mention is made of them in the Tatler, No, 171, and the Spectator No. 50.

Fearless

:

Fearless our merchant now pursues his gain,
And roams fecurely o'er the boundless main.
Now o'er his head the polar Bear he fpies,
And freezing fpangles of the Lapland skies;
Now fwells his canvass to the fultry Line,
With glitt'ring fpoils where Indian grottoes fhine;
Where fumes of incenfe glad the fouthern feas,
And wafted citron fcents the balmy breeze.
Here nearer funs prepare the rip'ning gem,
To grace great ANNE's imperial diadem;
And here the ore, whose melted mass shall yield

On faithful coins each memorable field;

Which, mix'd with medals of immortal Rome,
May clear difputes, and teach the time to come.
In circling beams fhall godlike ANNA glow,
And Churchill's fword hang o'er the proftrate foe;
In comely wounds fhall bleeding worthies ftand,
Webb's firm platoon, and Lumley's faithful band!

k

Bold Mordaunt in Iberian trophies dress'd,

And Campbell's m dragon on his dauntless breaft;
Great Ormond's " deeds on Vigo's fpoils enroll'd,
And Guifcard's knife on Harley's Chili gold.

General Webb.

* General Lumley, brother to the earl of Scarborough.

1 Charles Mordaunt, earl of Peterborough, commander in chief in

* The duke of Ormond was commander of the land forces at the

taking of Vigo, October 12, 1702.

And

And if the Mufe, O BRISTOL, might decree,
Here Granville noted by the lyre should be,
The lyre for Granville, and the cross for thee.

Such are the honours grateful Britain pays,
So patriots merit, and fo monarchs praise.
O'er diftant times fuch records fhall prevail,
When English numbers, antiquated, fail:
A trifling fong the Mufe can only yield,
And footh her foldiers panting from the field;
To fweet retirements fee them fafe convey'd,
And raise their battles in the rural fhade.
From fields of death to Woodstock's peaceful glooms
(The poet's haunt) Britannia's hero comes-
Begin, my Mufe, and foftly touch the ftring:

Here Henry' lov'd; and Chaucer learn'd to fing.

Hail fabled grotto! hail Elyfian foil!

Thou fairest spot of fair Britannia's isle!
Where kings of old conceal'd forgot the throne,
And beauty was content to shine unknown;
Where love and war by turns pavilions rear,
And Henry's bow'rs near Blenheim's dome appear;
The weary'd champion lull in foft alcoves,

The nobleft boaft of thy romantic groves.

O George Granville, Efq; afterwards Lord Landfdowne.

* Henry II.

}

Chaucer is faid to have written feveral of his poems at Woodstock.

Oft,

"

Oft, if the Muse prefage, fhall he be feen

By Rofamonda fleeting o'er the green,

In dreams be hail'd by heroes' mighty fhades,

And hear old Chaucer warble through the glades:
O'er the fam'd echoing vaults his name shall bound,
And hill to hill reflect the favourite found.

Here, here at least thy love for arms give o'er,
Nor, one world conquer'd, fondly wish for more.
Vice of great fouls alone! O thirst of fame !
The Mufe admires it, while fhe ftrives to blame;
Thy toils be now to chafe the bounding deer,
Or view the courfers ftretch in wild career;
This lovely scene shall footh thy foul to reft,
And wear each dreadful image from thy breaft;
With pleasure, by thy conquefts fhalt thou fee
Thy Queen triumphant, and all Europe free ;
No cares henceforth fhall thy repose destroy,
But what thou giv'ft the world, thyself enjoy.

Sweet folitude! when life's gay hours are paft,
Howe'er we range, in thee we fix at laft;
Tofs'd through tempeftuous feas (the voyage o'er)
Pale we look back, and bless the friendly shore.
Our own ftrict judges, our paft life we fcan,
And ask if glory hath enlarg'd the span ?
If bright the prospect, we the grave defy,
Truft future ages, and contented die.

When firangers from far-diftant climes fhall come,
To view the pomp of this triumphant dome!

Where