By Mr. ADDISON, of Mag. Coll. Oxon.

LONDON: Printed for Jacob Tonson, at the Judge's-Head near the Inner-Temple-Gate in Fleetstreet, M DC XCV.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE Sir John Sommers, Lord Keeper of the Great Seal.

IF yet Your Thoughts are loose from State Affairs,
Nor feel the Burden of a Kingdom's Cares;
If yet Your Time and Actions are Your own:
Receive the Present of a Muse unknown.
A Muse that, in Advent'rous Numbers, Sings
The Rout of Armies, and the Fall of Kings,
Brittain Advanc'd, and Europe's Peace Restor'd,
By Sommer's Counsels, and by NASSAU's Sword.
To You, my Lord, these daring Thoughts belong,
Who help'd to Raise the Subject of my Song;
[Page] To You the Hero of my Verse Reveals
His Great Designs, to You in Council tells
His Inmost Thoughts, determining the Doom
Of Towns Unstorm'd, and Battels yet to come.
And well cou'd You, in Your Immortal Strains,
Describe his Conduct, and Reward his Pains:
But since the State has all Your Cares engrost,
And Poetry in Higher Thoughts is lost,
Attend to what a lesser Muse Indites,
Pardon her Faults, and Countenance her Flights.
On You, my Lord, with anxious Fear I wait,
And from Your Judgment must expect my Fate,
Who, free from Vulgar Passions, are above
Degrading Envy, or Misguided Love;
If You, well-pleas'd, shall Smile upon my Lays,
Secure of Fame, my Voice I'le boldly Raise,
For next to what You Write, is what You Praise.

To the King.

WHen now the Business of the Field is o're,
The Trumpets sleep, and Cannons cease to Roar,
When ev'ry dismal Eccho is decay'd,
And all the Thunder of the Battel laid;
Attend, Auspicious Prince, and let the Muse,
In humble Accents, milder Thoughts infuse.
Others, in bold Prophetick Numbers skill'd,
Set Thee in Arms, and led Thee to the Field,
My Muse expecting on the Brittish Strand,
Waits Thy Return, and welcomes Thee to Land:
She oft has seen Thee Pressing on the Foe,
When Europe was concern'd in ev'ry Blow;
But durst not in Heroick Strains rejoice;
The Trumpets, Drums, and Cannons drown'd her Voice:
She saw the Boyn run thick with Humane Gore,
And floating Corps lye beating on the Shore;
She saw Thee climb the Banks, but tri'd in vain
To Trace her Hero through the dusty Plain,
When thro' the thick Embattel'd Lines He broke,
Now plung'd amidst the Foes, now lost in Clouds of Smoke.
O that some Muse, Renown'd sor lofty Verse,
In daring Numbers wou'd Thy Toils reherse!
Draw Thee Belov'd in Peace, and Fear'd in Wars,
Inur'd to Noon-day Sweats, and Mid-night Cares!
But still the God-like Man by some hard Fate,
Receives the Glory of his Toils too late;
Too late the Verse the Mighty Act succeeds,
One Age the Hero, one the Poet breeds.
A Thousand Years in full Succession ran,
E're Virgil rais'd his Voice, and sung the Man
Who, driv'n by stress of Fate, such Dangers bore
On stormy Seas, and a disastrous Shore,
Before he settl'd in the Promis'd Earth,
And gave the Empire of the World its Birth.
Troy long had found the Grecians bold and fierce,
E're Homer Muster'd up their Troops in Verse;
Long had Achilles quell'd the Trojans Lust,
And laid the Labour of the Gods in Dust,
Before the Tow'ring Muse began her Flight,
And drew the Hero Raging in the Fight;
Engag'd in tented Fields, and rolling Floods,
Or Slaught'ring Mortals, or a Match for Gods.
And here, perhaps, by Fate's unerring Doom,
Some Mighty Bard lies hid in Years to come,
That shall in WILLIAM's God-like Acts engage,
And, with his Battels, warm a Future Age:
Hibernian Fields shall here thy Conquests show,
And Boyn be Sung, when it has ceas'd to flow;
Here Gallick Labours shall advance Thy Fame,
And here Seneff shall wear another Name.
Our late Posterity, with secret dread,
Shall view thy Battels, and with Pleasure read
How, in the bloody Field, too near advanc'd,
The guiltless Bullet on Thy Shoulder glanc'd.
The Race of NASS AUS was by Heav'n design'd,
To curb the proud Oppressors of Mankind,
To bind the Tyrants of the Earth with Laws,
And Fight in ev'ry Injur'd Nation's Cause;
The World's Great Patriots; they for Justice call,
And as They Favour, Kingdoms Rise or Fall.
Our Brittish Youth, unus'd to Rough Alarms,
Careless of Fame, and negligent of Arms,
Had long forgot to Meditate the Foe,
And heard unwarm'd the Martial Trumpet blow;
But now, inspir'd by Thee, with fresh delight,
Their Swords they brandish, and require the Fight,
[Page 4] Renew their Antient Conquests on the Main,
And Act their Fathers Triumphs o're again;
Fire'd, when they hear how Agincourt was strow'd
With Gallic Corps, and Cressy swam in Blood.
With eager warmth they Fight, Ambitious all
Who first shall storm the Breach, or mount the Wall;
In vain the thronging Enemy by force
Would clear the Ramparts, and repel their course;
They break through all, for WILLIAM leads the way,
Where Fires rage most, and loudest Engines play.
Namure's late Terrours and Destruction show,
What WILLIAM, warm'd with just Revenge, can do:
Where once a thousand Turrets rais'd on high
Their gilded Spires, and glitter'd in the Skie,
An undistinguish'd heap of Dust is found,
And all the Pile lies smoaking on the ground.
His Toils for no Ignoble Ends design'd,
Promote the common Welfare of Mankind;
No wild Ambition moves, but Europe's Fears,
The Cries of Orphans, and the Widdows Tears;
Opprest Religion gives the first Alarms,
And Injur'd Justice sets him in his Arms;
His Conquests Freedom to the World afford,
And Nations Bless the Labours of His Sword.
Thus when the forming Muse wou'd Copy forth
A perfect Pattern of Heroick Worth,
She sets a Man Triumphant in the Field,
O're Giants cloven down, and Monsters kill'd,
Reeking in Blood, and smeer'd with dust and sweat,
Whilst Angry Gods conspire to make him Great.
Thy Navy Rides on Seas before unprest,
And strikes a Terror through the Haughty East;
Algiers and Tunis from their sultry shore
With horrour heat the Brittish Engines Roar,
Fain from the neighb'ring dangers wou'd they run,
And wish themselves still nearer to the Sun.
The Gallick Ships are in their Ports confin'd,
Deny'd the common use of Sea and Wind,
Nor dare again the Brittish Strength Engage;
Still they remember that destructive Rage
Which lately made their trembling Host retire,
Stunn'd with the Noise, and wrapt in Smoak and Fire;
The Waves with wide unnumber'd Wrecks were strow'd,
And Planks, and Arms, and Men, promiscuous flow'd.
Spain's numerous Fleet that perisht on our Coast,
Cou'd scarce a longer Line of Battel boast,
[Page 6] The Winds cou'd hardly drive 'em to their Fate,
And all the Ocean labour'd with the weight.
Where-e're the Waves in restless Errors roll,
The Sea lies open now to either Pole:
Now may we safely use the Northern Gales,
And in the Polar Circle spread our Sails;
Or deep in Southern Climes, secure from Wars,
New Lands explore, and sail by other Stars;
Fetch uncontroll'd each Labour of the Sun,
And make the Product of the World our own.
At length, Proud Prince, Ambitious Lewis, cease
To plague Mankind, and trouble Europe's Peace;
Think on the Structures which thy Pride has rase't,
On Towns unpeopled, and on Fields laid waste;
Think on the heaps of Corps, and streams of Blood,
On every guilty Plain, and purple Flood
Thy Arms have made, and cease an impious War,
Nor waste the Lives entrusted to thy Care:
Or if no milder Thought can calm thy Mind,
Behold the great Avenger of Mankind,
See mighty NASSAU through the Battel ride,
And see thy Subjects gasping by his side:
Fain wou'd the pious Prince refuse th' Allarm,
Fain wou'd he check the Fury of his Arm;
[Page 7] But when thy Cruelties his Thoughts engage,
The Hero kindles with becoming Rage,
Then Countries stoln, and Captives unrestor'd,
Give strength to ev'ry Blow, and edge his Sword;
Behold with what resistless Force he falls
On Towns besieg'd, and thunders at thy Walls!
Ask Villeroy, for Villeroy beheld
The Town surrender'd, and the Treaty seal'd;
With what amazing strength the Forts were won,
Whilst the whole Pow'r of France stood looking on.
But stop not here, behold where Berkley stands,
And executes his injur'd King's Commands;
Around thy Coast his bursting Bombs he pours
On flaming Cittadels, and falling Tow'rs;
With hizzing streams of Fire the Air they streak,
And hurl Destruction round 'em where they break;
The Skies with long ascending Flames are bright,
And all the Sea reflects a quivering Light.
Thus Aetna, when in fierce Eruptions broke,
Fills Heav'n with Ashes, and the Earth with Smoke;
Here Crags of broken Rocks are twirl'd on high,
Here molten Stones and scatter'd Cindars flye,
Its Fury reaches the remotest Coast,
And strows the Asiatick Shore with Dust.
Now does the Sailor from the neighbouring Main
Look after Gallick Towns and Forts in vain,
No more his wonted Marks he can descry,
But sees a long unmeasur'd Ruin lie;
Whilst, pointing to the naked Coast, he shows
His wondring Mates where Towns and Steeples rose,
Where crowded Citizens he lately view'd,
And singles out the place where once St. Maloes stood.
Here Russel's Actions should my Muse require;
And wou'd my strength but second my desire,
I'de all his boundless Bravery reherse,
And draw his Cannons thundring in my Verse:
High on the Deck shou'd the Great Leader stand,
Wrath in his Look, and Lightning in his Hand;
Like Homer's Hector when he flung his Fire
Amidst a thousand Ships, and made all Greece retire.
But who can run the Brittish Triumphs o're,
And count the Flames disperst on ev'ry Shore?
Who can describe the scatter'd Victory,
And draw the Reader on from Sea to Sea?
Else who cou'd Ormond's God-like Acts refuse,
Ormond the Theme of ev'ry Oxford Muse?
[Page 9] Fain wou'd I here his Mighty Worth Proclaim;
Attend him in the Noble Chace of Fame,
Through all the Noise and Hurry of the Fight;
Observe each blow, and keep him still in sight.
Oh, did our Brittish Peers thus Court Renown,
And Grace the Coats, their Great Fore-Fathers won!
Our Arms wou'd then Triumphantly advance,
Nor Henry be the Last that Conquer'd France.
What might not England hope if such abroad,
Purchas'd their Country's Honour with their Blood:
When such, detain'd at home, support our State
In WILLIAM's stead, and bear a Kingdom's Weight,
The Schemes of Gallick Policy o're-throw,
And blast the Councils of the common Foe;
Direct our Armies, and distribute Right,
And render our MARIA's loss more light.
But stop, my Muse, th' ungrateful Sound forbear,
MARIA's Name still wounds each Brittish Ear:
Each Brittish Heart MARIA still does Wound,
And Tears burst out unbidden at the Sound;
MARIA still our rising Mirth destroys,
Darkens our Triumphs, and forbids our Joys.
But see, at length, the Brittish Ships appear!
Our NASSAU comes! And as his Fleet draws near,
[Page 10] The rising Masts advance, the Sails grow white,
And all the Pompous Navy floats in sight.
Come, mighty Prince, desir'd of Brittain, come!
May Heav'n's Propitious Gales attend Thee home!
Come, and let longing Crowds behold that look,
Which such Confusion and Amazement strook
Through Gallick Hosts: But, Oh! let us descrie
Mirth in thy Brow, and Pleasure in thy Eye;
Let nothing dreadful in thy Face be found,
But for a while forget the Trumpet's Sound;
Well-pleas'd, thy Peoples Loyalty approve,
Accept their Duty, and Enjoy their Love.
For as when lately mov'd with fierce delight,
You plung'd amidst the Tumult of the Fight,
Whole heaps of Death encompas'd you around,
And Steeds o're-turn'd lay Foaming on the Ground:
So Crown'd with Laurels now, where-e're you go,
Around you Blooming Joys, and peaceful Blessings flow.

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