Classic Poem

O Harcourt, Whom th' ingenuous Love of Arts
Has carry'd from Thy native Soil, beyond
Th' eternal Alpine Snows, and now detains
In Italy's waste Realms, how long must we
Lament Thy Absence? Whilst in sweet Sojourn
Thou view'st the Reliques of old Rome; or what,
Unrival'd Authors by their Presence, made
For ever venerable, rural Seats,
Tibur, and Tusculum, or Virgil's Urn
Green with immortal Bays, which haply Thou,
Respecting his great Name, dost now approach
With bended Knee, and strow with purple Flow'rs;
Unmindful of Thy Friends, that ill can brook
This long Delay. At length, Dear Youth, return,
Of Wit, and Judgement ripe in blooming Years,
And Britain's Isle with Latian Knowledge grace.
Return, and let Thy Father's Worth excite
Thirst of Preeminence; see! how the Cause
Of Widows, and of Orphans He asserts
With winning Rhetoric, and well argu'd Law!
Mark well His Footsteps, and, like Him, deserve
Thy Prince's Favour, and Thy Country's Love.

Mean while (altho' the Massic Grape delights
Pregnant of racy Juice, and Formian Hills
Temper Thy Cups, yet) wilt not Thou reject
Thy native Liquors: Lo! for Thee my Mill
Now grinds choice Apples, and the British Vats
O'erflow with generous Cyder; far remote
Accept this Labour, nor despise the Muse,
That, passing Lands, and Seas, on Thee attends.

Thus far of Trees: The pleasing Task remains,
To sing of Wines, and Autumn's blest Increase.
Th' Effects of Art are shewn, yet what avails
'Gainst Heav'n? Oft, notwithstanding all thy Care
To help thy Plants, when the small Fruit'ry seems
Exempt from Ills, an oriental Blast
Disastrous flies, soon as the Hind, fatigu'd,
Unyokes his Team; the tender Freight, unskill'd
To bear the hot Disease, distemper'd pines
In the Year's Prime, the deadly Plague annoys
The wide Inclosure; think not vainly now
To treat thy Neighbours with mellifluous Cups,
Thus disappointed: If the former Years
Exhibit no Supplies, alas! thou must,
With tastless Water wash thy droughty Throat.

A thousand Accidents the Farmer's Hopes
Subvert, or checque; uncertain all his Toil,
'Till lusty Autumn's luke-warm Days, allay'd
With gentle Colds, insensibly confirm
His ripening Labours: Autumn to the Fruits
Earth's various Lap produces, Vigour gives
Equal, intenerating milky Grain,
Berries, and Sky-dy'd Plums, and what in Coat
Rough, or soft Rind, or bearded Husk, or Shell;
Fat Olives, and Pistacio's fragrant Nut,
And the Pine's tastful Apple: Autumn paints
Ausonian Hills with Grapes, whilst English Plains
Blush with pomaceous Harvests, breathing Sweets.
O let me now, when the kind early Dew
Unlocks th' embosom'd Odors, walk among
The well rang'd Files of Trees, whose full-ag'd Store
Diffuse Ambrosial Steams, than Myrrh, or Nard
More grateful, or perfuming flow'ry Beane!
Soft whisp'ring Airs, and the Larks mattin Song
Then woo to musing, and becalm the Mind
Perplex'd with irksome Thoughts. Thrice happy time,
Best Portion of the various Year, in which
Nature rejoyceth, smiling on her Works
Lovely, to full Perfection wrought! but ah,
Short are our Joys, and neighb'ring Griefs disturb
Our pleasant Hours. Inclement Winter dwells
Contiguous; forthwith frosty Blasts deface
The blithsome Year: Trees of their shrivel'd Fruits
Are widow'd, dreery Storms o'er all prevail.
Now, now's the time; e'er hasty Suns forbid
To work, disburthen thou thy sapless Wood
Of its rich Progeny; the turgid Fruit
Abounds with mellow Liquor; now exhort
Thy Hinds to exercise the pointed Steel
On the hard Rock, and give a wheely Form
To the expected Grinder: Now prepare
Materials for thy Mill, a sturdy Post
Cylindric, to support the Grinder's Weight
Excessive, and a flexile Sallow' entrench'd,
Rounding, capacious of the juicy Hord.
Nor must thou not be mindful of thy Press
Long e'er the Vintage; but with timely Care
Shave the Goat's shaggy Beard, least thou too late,
In vain should'st seek a Strainer, to dispart
The husky, terrene Dregs, from purer Must.
Be cautious next a proper Steed to find,
Whose Prime is past; the vigorous Horse disdains
Such servile Labours, or, if forc'd, forgets
His past Atchievements, and victorious Palms.
Blind Bayard rather, worn with Work, and Years,
Shall roll th' unweildy Stone; with sober Pace
He'll tread the circling Path 'till dewy Eve,
From early Day-spring, pleas'd to find his Age
Declining, not unuseful to his Lord.

Some, when the Press, by utmost Vigour screw'd,
Has drain'd the pulpous Mass, regale their Swine
With the dry Refuse; thou, more wise shalt steep
Thy Husks in Water, and again employ
The pondrous Engine. Water will imbibe
The small Remains of Spirit, and acquire
A vinous Flavour; this the Peasants blith
Will quaff, and whistle, as thy tinkling Team
They drive, and sing of Fusca's radiant Eyes,
Pleas'd with the medly Draught. Not shalt thou now
Reject the Apple-Cheese, tho' quite exhaust;
Ev'n now 'twill cherish, and improve the Roots
Of sickly Plants; new Vigor hence convey'd
Will yield an Harvest of unusual Growth.
Such Profit springs from Husks discreetly us'd!

The tender Apples, from their Parents rent
By stormy Shocks, must not neglected lye,
The Prey of Worms: A frugal Man I knew,
Rich in one barren Acre, which, subdu'd
By endless Culture, with sufficient Must
His Casks replenisht yearly: He no more
Desir'd, nor wanted, diligent to learn
The various Seasons, and by Skill repell
Invading Pests, successful in his Cares,
'Till the damp Lybian Wind, with Tempests arm'd
Outrageous, bluster'd horrible amidst
His Cyder-Grove: O'er-turn'd by furious Blasts,
The sightly Ranks fall prostrate, and around
Their Fruitage scatter'd, from the genial Boughs
Stript immature: Yet did he not repine,
Nor curse his Stars; but prudent, his fall'n Heaps
Collecting, cherish'd with the tepid Wreaths
Of tedded Grass, and the Sun's mellowing Beams
Rival'd with artful Heats, and thence procur'd
A costly Liquor, by improving Time
Equal'd with what the happiest Vintage bears.

But this I warn Thee, and shall alway warn,
No heterogeneous Mixtures use, as some
With watry Turneps have debas'd their Wines,
Too frugal; nor let the crude Humors dance
In heated Brass, steaming with Fire intense;
Altho' Devonia much commends the Use
Of strengthning Vulcan; with their native Strength
Thy Wines sufficient, other Aid refuse;
And, when th' allotted Orb of Time's compleat,
Are more commended than the labour'd Drinks.

Nor let thy Avarice tempt thee to withdraw
The Priest's appointed Share; with cheerful Heart
The tenth of thy Increase bestow, and own
Heav'n's bounteous Goodness, that will sure repay
Thy grateful Duty: This neglected, fear
Signal Avengeance, such as over-took
A Miser, that unjustly once with-held
The Clergy's Due; relying on himself,
His Fields he tended with successless Care,
Early, and late, when, or unwish't for Rain
Descended, or unseasonable Frosts
Curb'd his increasing Hopes, or when around
The Clouds dropt Fatness, in the middle Sky
The Dew suspended staid, and left unmoist
His execrable Glebe; recording this,
Be Just, and Wise, and tremble to transgress.

Learn now, the Promise of the coming Year
To know, that by no flattering Signs abus'd,
Thou wisely may'st provide: The various Moon
Prophetic, and attendant Stars explain
Each rising Dawn; e'er Icy Crusts surmount
The current Stream, the heav'nly Orbs serene
Twinkle with trembling Rays, and Cynthia glows
With Light unsully'd: Now the Fowler, warn'd
By these good Omens, with swift early Steps
Treads the crimp Earth, ranging thro' Fields and Glades
Offensive to the Birds, sulphureous Death
Checques their mid Flight, and heedless while they strain
Their tuneful Throats, the tow'ring, heavy Lead
O'er-takes their Speed; they leave their little Lives
Above the Clouds, præcipitant to Earth.

The Woodcocks early Visit, and Abode
Of long Continuance on our temperate Clime,
Foretell a liberal Harvest: He of Times
Intelligent, th' harsh Hyperborean Ice
Shuns for our equal Winters; when our Suns
Cleave the chill'd Soil, he backward wings his Way
To Scandinavian frozen Summers, meet
For his num'd Blood. But nothing profits more
Than frequent Snows: O, may'st Thou often see
Thy Furrows whiten'd by the woolly Rain,
Nutricious! Secret Nitre lurks within
The porous Wet, quick'ning the languid Glebe.

Sometimes thou shalt with fervent Vows implore
A moderate Wind; the Orchat loves to wave
With Winter-Winds, before the Gems exert
Their feeble Heads; the loosen'd Roots then drink
Large Increment, Earnest of happy Years.

Nor will it nothing profit to observe
The monthly Stars, their pow'rful Influence
O'er planted Fields, what Vegetables reign
Under each Sign. On our Account has Jove
Indulgent, to all Moons some succulent Plant
Allotted, that poor, helpless Man might slack
His present Thirst, and Matter find for Toil.
Now will the Corinths, now the Rasps supply
Delicious Draughts; the Quinces now, or Plums,
Or Cherries, or the fair Thisbeian Fruit
Are prest to Wines; the Britons squeeze the Works
Of sedulous Bees, and mixing od'rous Herbs
Prepare balsamic Cups, to wheezing Lungs
Medicinal, and short-breath'd, ancient Sires.

But, if Thou' rt indefatigably bent
To toil, and omnifarious Drinks wou'dst brew;
Besides the Orchat, ev'ry Hedge, and Bush
Affords Assistance; ev'n afflictive Birch,
Curs'd by unletter'd, idle Youth, distills
A limpid Current from her wounded Bark,
Profuse of nursing Sap. When Solar Beams
Parch thirsty human Veins, the damask't Meads,
Unforc'd display ten thousand painted Flow'rs
Useful in Potables. Thy little Sons
Permit to range the Pastures; gladly they
Will mow the Cowslip-Posies, faintly sweet,
From whence thou artificial Wines shalt drain
Of icy Taste, that, in mid Fervors, best
Slack craving Thirst, and mitigate the Day.

Happy Iërne, whose most wholsome Air
Poisons envenom'd Spiders, and forbids
The baleful Toad, and Viper from her Shore!
More happy in her Balmy Draughts, (enrich'd
With Miscellaneous Spices, and the Root
For Thirst-abating Sweetness prais'd,) which wide
Extend her Fame, and to each drooping Heart
Present Redress, and lively Health convey.

See, how the Belgæ, Sedulous, and Stout,
With Bowls of fat'ning Mum, or blissful Cups
Of Kernell-relish'd Fluids, the fair Star
Of early Phosphorus salute, at Noon
Jocund with frequent-rising Fumes! by Use
Instructed, thus to quell their Native Flegm
Prevailing, and engender wayward Mirth.

What need to treat of distant Climes, remov'd
Far from the slopeing Journey of the Year,
Beyond Petsora, and Islandic Coasts?
Where ever-during Snows, perpetual Shades
Of Darkness, would congeal their livid Blood,
Did not the Arctic Tract, spontaneous yield
A cheering purple Berry, big with Wine,
Intensely fervent, which each Hour they crave,
Spread round a flaming Pile of Pines, and oft
They interlard their native Drinks with choice
Of strongest Brandy, yet scarce with these Aids
Enabl'd to prevent the suddain Rot
Of freezing Nose, and quick-decaying Feet.

Nor less the Sable Borderers of Nile,
Nor who Taprobane manure, nor They,
Whom sunny Borneo bears, are stor'd with Streams
Egregious, Rum, and Rice's Spirit extract.
For here, expos'd to perpendicular Rays,
In vain they covet Shades, and Thrascias' Gales,
Pining with Æquinoctial Heat, unless
The Cordial Glass perpetual Motion keep,
Quick circuiting; nor dare they close their Eyes,
Void of a bulky Charger near their Lips,
With which, in often-interrupted Sleep,
Their frying Blood compells to irrigate
Their dry-furr'd Tongues, else minutely to Death
Obnoxious, dismal Death, th' Effect of Drought!

More happy they, born in Columbus' World,
Carybbes, and they, whom the Cotton Plant
With downy-sprouting Vests arrays! Their Woods
Bow with prodigious Nuts, that give at once
Celestial Food, and Nectar; then, at hand
The Lemmon, uncorrupt with Voyage long,
To vinous Spirits added (heav'nly Drink!)
They with Pneumatic Engine, ceaseless draw,
Intent on Laughter; a continual Tide
Flows from th' exhilerating Fount. As, when
Against a secret Cliff, with soddain Shock
A Ship is dash'd, and leaking drinks the Sea,
Th' astonish'd Mariners ay ply the Pump,
No Stay, nor Rest, 'till the wide Breach is clos'd.
So they (but chearful) unfatigu'd, still move
The draining Sucker, then alone concern'd,
When the dry Bowl forbids their pleasing Work.

But if to hording Thou art bent, thy Hopes
Are frustrate, shou'dst Thou think thy Pipes will flow
With early-limpid Wine. The horded Store,
And the harsh Draught, must twice endure the Sun's
Kind strengthning Heat, twice Winter's purging Cold.

There are, that a compounded Fluid drain
From different Mixtures, Woodcock, Pippin, Moyle,
Rough Eliot, sweet Permain, the blended Streams
(Each mutually correcting each) create
A pleasurable Medly, of what Taste
Hardly distinguish'd; as the show'ry Arch,
With listed Colours gay, Or, Azure, Gules,
Delights, and puzles the Beholder's Eye,
That views the watry Brede, with thousand Shews
Of Painture vary'd, yet's unskill'd to tell
Or where one Colour rises, or one faints.

Some Cyders have by Art, or Age unlearn'd
Their genuine Relish, and of sundry Vines
Assum'd the Flavour; one sort counterfeits
The Spanish Product, this, to Gauls has seem'd
The sparkling Nectar of Champaigne; with that,
A German oft has swill'd his Throat, and sworn,
Deluded, that Imperial Rhine bestow'd
The Generous Rummer, whilst the Owner pleas'd,
Laughs inly at his Guests, thus entertain'd
With Foreign Vintage from his Cyder-Cask.

Soon as thy Liquor from the narrow Cells
Of close-prest Husks is freed, thou must refrain
Thy thirsty Soul; let none persuade to broach
Thy thick, unwholsom, undigested Cades:
The hoary Frosts, and Northern Blasts take care
Thy muddy Bev'rage to serene, and drive
Præcipitant the baser, ropy Lees.

And now thy Wine's transpicuous, purg'd from all
It's earthy Gross, yet let it feed awhile
On the fat Refuse, least too soon disjoin'd
From spritely, it, to sharp, or vappid change.
When to convenient Vigour it attains,
Suffice it to provide a brazen Tube
Inflext; self-taught, and voluntary flies
The defecated Liquor, thro' the Vent
Ascending, then by downward Tract convey'd,
Spouts into subject Vessels, lovely clear.
As when a Noon-tide Sun, with Summer Beams,
Darts thro' a Cloud, her watry Skirts are edg'd
With lucid Amber, or undrossy Gold:
So, and so richly, the purg'd Liquid shines.

Now also, when the Colds abate, nor yet
Full Summer shines, a dubious Season, close
In Glass thy purer Streams, and let them gain,
From due Confinement, Spirit, and Flavour new.

For this Intent, the subtle Chymist feeds
Perpetual Flames, whose unresisted Force
O'er Sand, and Ashes, and the stubborn Flint
Prevailing, turns into a fusil Sea,
That in his Furnace bubbles sunny-red:
From hence a glowing Drop, with hollow'd Steel
He takes, and by one efficacious Breath
Dilates to a surprising Cube, or Sphære,
Or Oval, and fit Receptacles forms
For every Liquid, with his plastic Lungs,
To human Life subservient; By his Means
Cyders in Metal frail improve; the Moyle,
And tastful Pippin, in a Moon's short Year,
Acquire compleat Perfection: Now they smoke
Transparent, sparkling in each Drop, Delight
Of curious Palate, by fair Virgins crav'd.
But harsher Fluids different lengths of time
Expect: Thy Flask will slowly mitigate
The Eliot's Roughness. Stirom, firmest Fruit,
Embottled (long as Priameian Troy
Withstood the Greeks) endures, e'er justly mild.
Soften'd by Age, it youthful Vigor gains,
Fallacious Drink! Ye honest Men beware,
Nor trust its Smoothness; The third circling Glass
Suffices Virtue: But may Hypocrites,
(That slyly speak one thing, another think,
Hateful as Hell) pleas'd with the Relish weak,
Drink on unwarn'd, 'till by inchanting Cups
Infatuate, they their wily Thoughts disclose,
And thro' Intemperance grow a while sincere.

The Farmer's Toil is done; his Cades mature,
Now call for Vent, his Lands exhaust permit
T' indulge awhile. Now solemn Rites he pays
To Bacchus, Author of Heart-cheering Mirth.
His honest Friends, at thirsty hour of Dusk,
Come uninvited; he with bounteous Hand
Imparts his smoaking Vintage, sweet Reward
Of his own Industry; the well fraught Bowl
Circles incessant, whilst the humble Cell
With quavering Laugh, and rural Jests resounds.
Ease, and Content, and undissembled Love
Shine in each Face; the Thoughts of Labour past
Encrease their Joy. As, from retentive Cage
When sullen Philomel escapes, her Notes
She varies, and of past Imprisonment
Sweetly complains; her Liberty retriev'd
Cheers her sad Soul, improves her pleasing Song.
Gladsome they quaff, yet not exceed the Bounds
Of healthy Temp'rance, nor incroach on Night,
Season of Rest, but well bedew'd repair
Each to his Home, with unsupplanted Feet.
E'er Heav'n's emblazon'd by the Rosie Dawn
Domestic Cares awake them; brisk they rise,
Refresh'd, and lively with the Joys that flow
From amicable Talk, and moderate Cups
Sweetly' interchang'd. The pining Lover finds
Present Redress, and long Oblivion drinks
Of Coy Lucinda. Give the Debtor Wine;
His Joys are short, and few; yet when he drinks
His Dread retires, the flowing Glasses add
Courage, and Mirth: magnificent in Thought,
Imaginary Riches he enjoys,
And in the Goal expatiates unconfin'd.
Nor can the Poet Bacchus' Praise indite,
Debarr'd his Grape: The Muses still require
Humid Regalement, nor will aught avail
Imploring Phœbus, with unmoisten'd Lips.
Thus to the generous Bottle all incline,
By parching Thirst allur'd: With vehement Suns
When dusty Summer bakes the crumbling Clods,
How pleasant is't, beneath the twisted Arch
Of a retreating Bow'r, in Mid-day's Reign
To ply the sweet Carouse, remote from Noise,
Secur'd of fev'rish Heats! When th' aged Year
Inclines, and Boreas' Spirit blusters frore,
Beware th' inclement Heav'ns; now let thy Hearth
Crackle with juiceless Boughs; thy lingring Blood
Now instigate with th' Apples powerful Streams.
Perpetual Showers, and stormy Gusts confine
The willing Ploughman, and December warns
To Annual Jollities; now sportive Youth
Carol incondite Rhythms, with suiting Notes,
And quaver unharmonious; sturdy Swains
In clean Array, for rustic Dance prepare,
Mixt with the Buxom Damsels; hand in hand
They frisk, and bound, and various Mazes weave,
Shaking their brawny Limbs, with uncouth Mein,
Transported, and sometimes, an oblique Leer
Dart on their Loves, sometimes, an hasty Kiss
Steal from unwary Lasses; they with Scorn,
And Neck reclin'd, resent the ravish'd Bliss.
Mean while, blind British Bards with volant Touch
Traverse loquacious Strings, whose solemn Notes
Provoke to harmless Revels; these among,
A subtle Artist stands, in wondrous Bag
That bears imprison'd Winds, (of gentler sort
Than those, which erst Laertes Son enclos'd.)
Peaceful they sleep, but let the tuneful Squeeze
Of labouring Elbow rouse them, out they fly
Melodious, and with spritely Accents charm.
'Midst these Disports, forget they not to drench
Themselves with bellying Goblets, nor when Spring
Returns, can they refuse to usher in
The fresh-born Year with loud Acclaim, and store
Of jovial Draughts, now, when the sappy Boughs
Attire themselves with Blooms, sweet Rudiments
Of future Harvest: When the Gnossian Crown
Leads on expected Autumn, and the Trees
Discharge their mellow Burthens, let them thank
Boon Nature, that thus annually supplies
Their Vaults, and with her former Liquid Gifts
Exhilerate their languid Minds, within
The Golden Mean confin'd: Beyond, there's naught
Of Health, or Pleasure. Therefore, when thy Heart
Dilates with fervent Joys, and eager Soul
Prompts to persue the sparkling Glass, be sure
'Tis time to shun it; if thou wilt prolong
Dire Compotation, forthwith Reason quits
Her Empire to Confusion, and Misrule,
And vain Debates; then twenty Tongues at once
Conspire in senseless Jargon, naught is heard
But Din, and various Clamour, and mad Rant:
Distrust, and Jealousie to these succeed,
And anger-kindling Taunt, the certain Bane
Of well-knit Fellowship. Now horrid Frays
Commence, the brimming Glasses now are hurl'd
With dire Intent; Bottles with Bottles clash
In rude Encounter, round their Temples fly
The sharp-edg'd Fragments, down their batter'd Cheeks
Mixt Gore, and Cyder flow: What shall we say
Of rash Elpenor, who in evil Hour
Dry'd an immeasurable Bowl, and thought
T' exhale his Surfeit by irriguous Sleep,
Imprudent? Him, Death's Iron-Sleep opprest,
Descending careless from his Couch; the Fall
Luxt his Neck-joint, and spinal Marrow bruis'd.
Nor need we tell what anxious Cares attend
The turbulent Mirth of Wine; nor all the kinds
Of Maladies, that lead to Death's grim Cave,
Wrought by Intemperance, joint-racking Gout,
Intestine Stone, and pining Atrophy,
Chill, even when the Sun with July-Heats
Frys the scorch'd Soil, and Dropsy all a-float,
Yet craving Liquids: Nor the Centaurs Tale
Be here repeated; how with Lust, and Wine
Inflam'd, they fought, and spilt their drunken Souls
At feasting Hour. Ye Heav'nly Pow'rs, that guard
The British Isles, such dire Events remove
Far from fair Albion, nor let Civil Broils
Ferment from Social Cups: May we, remote
From the hoarse, brazen Sound of War, enjoy
Our humid Products, and with seemly Draughts
Enkindle Mirth, and Hospitable Love.
Too oft alas! has mutual Hatred drench'd
Our Swords in Native Blood, too oft has Pride,
And hellish Discord, and insatiate Thirst
Of other's Rights, our Quiet discompos'd.
Have we forgot, how fell Destruction rag'd
Wide-spreading, when by Eris' Torch incens'd
Our Fathers warr'd? What Hero's, signaliz'd
For Loyalty, and Prowess, met their Fate
Untimely, undeserv'd! How Bertie fell,
Compton, and Granvill, dauntless Sons of Mars,
Fit Themes of endless Grief, but that we view
Their Virtues yet surviving in their Race!
Can we forget, how the mad, headstrong Rout
Defy'd their Prince to Arms, nor made account
Of Faith, or Duty, or Allegiance sworn?
Apostate, Atheist Rebells! bent to Ill,
With seeming Sanctity, and cover'd Fraud,
Instill'd by him, who first presum'd t' oppose
Omnipotence; alike their Crime, th'Event
Was not alike; these triumph'd, and in height
Of barbarous Malice, and insulting Pride,
Abstain'd not from Imperial Bloud. O Fact
Unparallel'd! O Charles! O Best of Kings!
What Stars their black, disastrous Influence shed
On Thy Nativity, that Thou shou'dst fall
Thus, by inglorious Hands, in this Thy Realm,
Supreme, and Innocent, adjudg'd to Death
By those, Thy Mercy only wou'd have sav'd!
Yet was the Cyder-Land unstain'd with Guilt;
The Cyder-Land, obsequious still to Thrones,
Abhorr'd such base, disloyal Deeds, and all
Her Pruning-hooks extended into Swords,
Undaunted, to assert the trampled Rights
Of Monarchy; but, ah! successless She
However faithful! then was no Regard
Of Right, or Wrong. And this, once Happy, Land
By home-bred Fury rent, long groan'd beneath
Tyrannic Sway, 'till fair-revolving Years
Our exil'd Kings, and Liberty restor'd.
Now we exult, by mighty ANNA's Care
Secure at home, while She to foreign Realms
Sends forth her dreadful Legions, and restrains
The Rage of Kings: Here, nobly She supports
Justice oppress'd; here, Her victorious Arms
Quell the Ambitious: From Her Hand alone
All Europe fears Revenge, or hopes Redress.
Rejoice, O Albion! sever'd from the World
By Nature's wise Indulgence, indigent
Of nothing from without; in One Supreme
Intirely blest; and from beginning time
Design'd thus happy; but the fond Desire
Of Rule, and Grandeur, multiply'd a Race
Of Kings, and numerous Sceptres introduc'd,
Destructive of the public Weal: For now
Each Potentate, as wary Fear, or Strength,
Or Emulation urg'd, his Neighbour's Bounds
Invades, and ampler Territory seeks
With ruinous Assault; on every Plain
Host cop'd with Host, dire was the Din of War,
And ceaseless, or short Truce haply procur'd
By Havoc, and Dismay, 'till Jealousy
Rais'd new Combustion: Thus was Peace in vain
Sought for by Martial Deeds, and Conflict stern:
'Till Edgar grateful (as to those who pine
A dismal half-Year Night, the orient Beam
Of Phœbus Lamp) arose, and into one
Cemented all the long-contending Pow'rs,
Pacific Monarch; then her lovely Head
Concord rear'd high, and all around diffus'd
The Spirit of Love; at Ease, the Bards new strung
Their silent Harps, and taught the Woods, and Vales,
In uncouth Rhythms, to echo Edgar's Name.
Then Gladness smil'd in every Eye; the Years
Ran smoothly on, productive of a Line
Of wise, Heroic Kings, that by just Laws
Establish'd Happiness at home, or crush'd
Insulting Enemies in farthest Climes.

See Lyon-Hearted Richard, with his Force
Drawn from the North, to Jury's hallow'd Plains!
Piously valiant, (like a Torrent swell'd
With wintry Tempests, that disdains all Mounds,
Breaking a Way impetuous, and involves
Within its Sweep, Trees, Houses, Men) he press'd
Amidst the thickest Battel; and o'er-threw
What-e'er withstood his zealous Rage; no Pause,
No Stay of Slaughter, found his vigorous Arm,
But th' unbelieving Squadrons turn'd to Flight
Smote in the Rear, and with dishonest Wounds
Mangl'd behind: The Soldan, as he fled,
Oft call'd on Alla, gnashing with Despite,
And Shame, and murmur'd many an empty Curse.

Behold Third Edward's Streamers blazing high
On Gallia's hostile Ground! his Right witheld,
Awakens Vengeance; O imprudent Gauls,
Relying on false Hopes, thus to incense
The warlike English! one important Day
Shall teach you meaner Thoughts! Eager of Fight,
Fierce Brutus Off-spring to the adverse Front
Advance resistless, and their deep Array
With furious Inroad pierce; the mighty Force
Of Edward, twice o'erturn'd their desperate King,
Twice he arose, and join'd the horrid Shock:
The third time, with his wide-extended Wings,
He fugitive declin'd superior Strength,
Discomfited; persu'd, in the sad Chace
Ten Thousands ignominious fall; with Bloud
The Vallies float: Great Edward thus aveng'd,
With golden Iris his broad Shield emboss'd.

Thrice glorious Prince! whom, Fame with all her Tongues
For ever shall resound. Yet from his Loins
New Authors of Dissention spring; from him
Two Branches, that in hosting long contend
For Sov'ran Sway; (and can such Anger dwell
In noblest Minds?) but little now avail'd
The Ties of Friendship; every Man, as lead
By Inclination, or vain Hope, repair'd
To either Camp, and breath'd immortal Hate,
And dire Revenge: Now horrid Slaughter reigns;
Sons against Fathers tilt the fatal Lance,
Careless of Duty, and their native Grounds
Distain with Kindred Blood, the twanging Bows
Send Showers of Shafts, that on their barbed Points
Alternate Ruin bear. Here might you see
Barons, and Peasants on th' embattled Field
Slain, or half dead, in one huge, ghastly Heap
Promiscuously amast: with dismal Groans,
And Ejulation, in the Pangs of Death
Some call for Aid, neglected; some o'erturn'd
In the fierce Shock, lye gasping, and expire,
Trampled by fiery Coursers; Horror thus,
And wild Uproar, and Desolation reign'd
Unrespited: Ah! who at length will end
This long, pernicious Fray? What Man has Fate
Reserv'd for this great Work? -- Hail, happy Prince
Of Tudor's Race, whom in the Womb of Time
Cadwallador foresaw! Thou, Thou art He,
Great Richmond Henry, that by nuptial Rites
Must close the Gates of Janus, and remove
Destructive Discord: Now no more the Drum
Provokes to Arms, or Trumpet's Clangor shrill
Affrights the Wives, or chills the Virgin's Bloud;
But Joy, and Pleasure open to the View
Uninterrupted! With presaging Skill
Thou to Thy own unitest Fergus' Line
By wise Alliance; from Thee James descends,
Heav'ns chosen Fav'rite, first Britannic King.
To him alone, Hereditary Right
Gave Power supreme; yet still some Seeds remain'd
Of Discontent; two Nations under One,
In Laws and Int'rest diverse, still persu'd
Peculiar Ends, on each Side resolute
To fly Conjunction; neither Fear, nor Hope,
Nor the sweet Prospect of a mutual Gain,
Cou'd ought avail, 'till prudent ANNA said
LET THERE BE UNION; strait with Reverence due
To Her Command, they willingly unite,
One in Affection, Laws, and Government,
Indissolubly firm; from Dubris South,
To Northern Orcades, Her long Domain.

And now thus leagu'd by an eternal Bond,
What shall retard the Britons' bold Designs,
Or who sustain their Force; in Union knit,
Sufficient to withstand the Pow'rs combin'd
Of all this Globe? At this important Act
The Mauritanian and Cathaian Kings
Already tremble, and th' unbaptiz'd Turk
Dreads War from utmost Thule; uncontrol'd
The British Navy thro' the Ocean vast
Shall wave her double Cross, t' extreamest Climes
Terrific, and return with odorous Spoils
Of Araby well fraught, or Indus' Wealth,
Pearl, and Barbaric Gold; mean while the Swains
Shall unmolested reap, what Plenty strows
From well stor'd Horn, rich Grain, and timely Fruits.
The elder Year, Pomona, pleas'd, shall deck
With ruby-tinctur'd Births, whose liquid Store
Abundant, flowing in well blended Streams,
The Natives shall applaud; while glad they talk
Of baleful Ills, caus'd by Bellona's Wrath
In other Realms; where-e'er the British spread
Triumphant Banners, or their Fame has reach'd
Diffusive, to the utmost Bounds of this
Wide Universe, Silurian Cyder borne
Shall please all Tasts, and triumph o'er the Vine.