THE Triumphs of PEACE, OR, THE GLORIES OF NASSAW. A Pindaric Poem. Occasioned by the Conclusion of the Peace between the Confederacy and France. Written at the time of His Grace the Duke of ORMOND'S Entrance into Dublin in Ireland, By Mr. JOHN HOPKINS. — Innumeris melior Pax una Triumphis. LONDON: Printed by B. Motte, and sold at the Dolphin in Fleetstreet, the Lute in S. Paul's Churchyard, and the Printing Press under the Royal Exchange, Cornhill. 1698. THE Design of this Poem, begins (after the Method of Pinder) to one great Man, and riseth to another; first touches the Duke, then celebrates the Actions of the King, and so returns to the Praises of the Duke again. Thus the Muses, playing on their Lyres, to make up Harmony, first strike one, and then another String. ERRATA. P. 8. v. 4. r. God's. p. 28. v. 5. r., after Banks. p 35. v. ult. for World. v. Globe. p. 38. v. 9 r. Fears. p. 64. v. 6. r. come. p. 65. v. 6. r. Sight. To the truly Honourable The Lord CUTTS. LET some with, servile, mean Devices bow, And bend their Souls, as well as Bodies, low; Flatter the Great, cringe deep, to gain Esteem, And by their own Dishonour, honour them. By Wiles like these, new Favours, poorly claim; I pay your Lordship, but what's paid by Fame, 'Tis through your Merits, not my own, I choose Thus to salute you by my rising Muse; Not fawning low, like others must she sue, She must fly up, to pay Respect to you. Let others spread their Patron's Feathers far, The Toys of Peace, your Laurels spread through War. Some Pride in Wreaths, which bolder Arms have made, But your own conquering Hands have decked your Head. To you, my Lord, a double Crown is due, At once the Hero, and the Poet too. Since NASSAW'S Actions still remain untold, While Dryden lives; immortal; yet he's old. 'Tis you, we hope, will make them far adored, And serve him with your Pen, as well as Sword. Beyond his Trumpets Clangors, make them known, Name NASSAW'S Acts, and all must know your own. With Powers unequal, I the Task resign, A Task too great for any Strength,— but thine. What other Genius can our Sovereign choose? War's your Delight, Bellona is your Muse. Your Pen and Sword with like Success you wield, Famed through your Study, glorious through the Field. With the same vigour and impulse of thought, Now may you write, as through the Plains you fought. In the Attempt, tho' my weak Genius fail, Be pleased at least, to recommend my Zeal. Unknown, this Favour dare I humbly claim, Unknown to you, my Lord, unknown to Fame. ay, like those Soldiers, which in War you led, Disdain to fear, while I have you, my Head; Your well-raised Greatness my Success secures, I grow assured of Fame, by trusting yours. Great both in Arts and Arms; our jove, in you, Secures his Lightning, and his Thunder too. Thus, should your Judgement my Presumption blame, Pleased shall this Semele expire in Flame; To you, my Lord, most fit, this Suit I move, You, who are placed at the Right Hand of jove. THE TRIUMPHS OF PEACE. I. BEhold my Muse uncalled appear, Hear her glad Voice, unasked she sings, And Lo! The Muses all are here, Fluttering they beat their silver Wings, Hark, how they strike the tuneful Strings, No jarring Notes are found, No Discord here is heard, Their peaceful music's so prepared, Harmony dwells in every single sound: Without the Muse's aid, Soft, charming Airs would now be made, And even of themselves the willing Strings would bond. II. The willing Strings, well-pleased, rejoice, At every touch they strait grow proud, And tell their ravishing Delights aloud. In equal measures they advance; See, how they rise, and seem to dance, To the sweet Music of their tuneful Voice. No murmuring Echoes do they raise, But each, when newly struck, complains In fainting, and in dying strains, And trembling Fears his rival's power to please. See, now revived, afresh they move, How strangely they control, And raise soft Music in my Soul! Less charming let your Numbers prove, Ye Sisters, use a gentler strain, My Heart is sure the Lyre you strike, Its rising String bound quick alike, And through excess of Pleasure, now I feel a Pain. III. O no, I should not bid you cease, Loud as the Trumpet sounds his Fame, Do ye his Virtues too proclaim, Loud as the People's Voice— 'tis glorious ORMOND'S Name. Sing ORMOND'S Name afar, Next mighty NASSAW, great in War. All, all ye Nine the Theme embrace, And far above War's Triumphs, raise the Triumphs of their Peace. Since ORMOND came, hushed is loud battle's Noise, Long time Bellona was engaged, In dreadful Storms the Goddess raged, But now the horrid Tempest's ore, Spent is the thundering Ocean's Voice, And the same Winds which made the Billows roar, Now serve to lull them on the shore, We know no Tumults here, but our tumultuous Joys. IV. When flaming Bolts around us fly, A while we view a cloudy Sky; Extremes breed Thunder in the Air; Nor know the Clouds to hold The jarring Seeds of Heat and cold. Thus too our Region does appear, With British fiery Rage, and gallic chilly Fear. But ORMOND does this Ill remove, ORMOND, the dreaded Thunder of our jove. And now the horrid shock is o'er, The Cold and Heat so tempered here, The Skies are all serene and clear. The Tempest laid with showers of Blood, Overflowing Europe with their Flood, Till Gallia's Thunder grumbled that it durst not roar. V. Strike Muses, strike your tuneful Strings, Hark how the Accent quickly dies, Now clap again your joyful Wings, The Notes, revived, more loud I hear, Just so our Nations do appear, And we, like them were struck, that we might higher rise, See how the sacred Sister's play, Behold how wantonly they fly, Beneath the Azure Sky; To airy Measures singing all the way. Wings to their Shoulders and their Feet are bound, Their Beauties shining heavenly bright As their Gods radiant Beams appear, Their Heads with peaceful Garlands crowned, Baskets of Roses on their Arms they bear; Now on some Tempe they alight, (For all our Fields deserve that Name, Since ORMOND to Hibernia came,) And now when first they touch the Ground, They strike their Lyres, which loudly sound, And Lo! Apollo's self, their mighty God is here. VI Their mighty God, surrounded all with Rays, Not crowned with Laurels, nor with Bays, Possessed, and ravished with Poetic Fire, (Such vigorous Heats our Joys inspire) Descends, and artfully he plays, Harmonious, moving, melting Lays, Not on his own, but on Hibernia's Lyre. Charmed with the Music he begun, Now does he all his Skill employ And swift to new Divisions run, Outrageous with his Pleasure grown, He finds that Lyre excel his own: Fierce with the Torrents of excessive Joy, The God grows warmer now, than when he guides the Sun. VII. Not his own Priestesses inspired, Were with such Fury on their Tripos fired; The foaming Virgin's sacred Breast Was but with dubious Oracles oppressed, Her Words, distorted as her Face, did come, Long straining into Doubt, The frothy Oracle pressed out, And all she uttered proved to be but useless Foam. Her Soul, though with Apollo filled, No glimpse of radiant Truth beheld, Her Speech did all in wild disorder run, Breathed out in clouds of Smoke it came, With scarce a flash of Flame, Dark, yet by Phoebus too inspired, by Phoebus' self, the Sun. VIII. Hark now, how loud he strikes his Lyre, 'Tis great, 'tis Godlike NASSAW'S Praise, The sweet, harmonious Numbers raise, None but Apollo here, (With Strings, which bright as his own beams appear, With Strings, whose sound can ne'er expire,) Is fit the sacred Acts to sing, (Which on the wings of Glory road,) Of mighty Britain's mightier King, Of Britain's King! ... O no— of Britain's God, Not with his own possessed, but with more heavenly Fire. IX. Hear, hear the Sounds repeated oft, All piercing, yet all charming soft, Just so NASSAW, both fierce and mild, Tho powerful as a God, seems gentle as a Child. Thus Heaven grows calm, which late did pour Incessant Storms, incessant Rain, Against whose Bolts no Force can stand, Now thundering with a furious Shower Upon the fenceless Plain, Now dashing Seas which loudly roar, And echo Thunder on the shore, And tearing Hills and Mountains, solid Waves of Land. X. See, see, each Muse forsakes her Lyre, Behold, behold, they all advance, And round their God Apollo dance; Hark how the Lyres themselves play on, Tho every Muse is from them gone, So fierce, and lasting were their Notes, they knew not to expire. Just of such nature were the Sounds of War, So hard great NASSAW struck the strings, (But those of Battle loudly jar) A while in shrill Returns their dismal Echo rings. So long that dreaded Hero played, We feared he knew not how to cease, But now, sweet Music of our discord made, He lulls our Difference into Peace. Jove's Fury lasts till all his Thunder's ore, But NASSAW holds when he might thunder more, And Harmony creates even from his Cannons Roar. XI. Behold a gentle Dove appears, And fluttering round Apollo's head, It's soft cerulean Wings does spread, And in its Bill a branch of Olives bears. The mighty Oceans once enraged, A dreadful War against the Mountains waged, Their Billows swelling always more, Which with a loud, insulting Roar, Lashed with their frothy Pride the shore, And foamed for Anger, rolled and curled, Oreflowing now unwonted Land, While nothing could their Force withstand, But free as Winds, disdained their Girdle of the Sand. Trophies and Spoils along with them they hurled, And road in noisy Triumph o'er the deluged World. XII. The Floods retired, the peaceful Dove, (That Silver Messenger of Love) Took its kind flight to search for Ground, Which quickly now it found, For God's fierce fiery Wrath was in the Waters drowned. So, late overwhelmed with Floods of War, Whose Tides came rolling on afar, Presenting here triumphant Hills, There gaping Graves between the Rills, While Winds proclaimed the Strife, and made the Billows jar. We now behold the Bird appear, An Olive-Branch we see her bear, Which with loose wanton Pride she flourishes in Air. We view no more the bloody Main, For now so great an Ebb is known, No springing Tides can rise again, NASSAW, more powerful than the Moon, Even while his Orb of Glory's greater grown, Lays the insulting Deluge soon; Death's dreadful Gulf may roar in vain, This mightier Planet can increase, yet never feel a wain. XIII. This mightier Planet, whom the Sun Could ne'er in glorious Toils outrun. Like that great Light, about the World The shining Glories of NASSAW diffusively are hurled. The darkest, the remotest Coast Resounds with Echoes of the Name, And, wrapped in everlasting Frosts, can boast A vigorous daring Warmth reflected by his Fame. His Fame, whose influencing Heat inspires, Those Confines of the Globe which cannot view his Fires. Just like that Radiant God he rose, Whose beamy Pencil paints the Skies, Climbing o'er Mountains by degrees, He gilds his way, wherever he goes, Beneath him far he quickly sees Each Hill, which to his view low as the Valleys lies. His Course of War a Triumph shows, And mildly still he smiles upon his cloudy Foes. XIV. His cloudy Foes, approaching near, By their Alliance now grow clear, And, should they ever blackly form Another horrid thundering Storm, Their dreadful Jars only themselves would tear. So he who made the brazen Bull before, Himself enclosed, first taught it how to roar, While NASSAW'S Sunshine warms our Isle, All Nature's works appear to smile. Britain, though washed with the destroying Flood, Is truly Albion now, made whiter even by Blood. Her chalky Cliffs shine with his Rays more bright, He makes our Day, and wanting him 'tis Night. Late (gracious Heaven!) ah! very late May he be seen beneath, Submitting slowly even to Fate, And setting calmly in the Seas of Death. Left Clouds and Storms the Universe overspread, When this great Sun descends, let not your Skies be red. XV. Then Nature's Course would backwards turn, Her Pulse disorderly would beat, Enraged with new, distempered Heat, And with fantastic Fury wildly burn. This Frame of Union here. Which now turns regularly round, And like the first Creation does appear, While Time's fixed Wheels move gently on, Soon as they seem more fast to run, Would, like a shattered Watch, be quickly all unwound. Soon differing Elements would jar, And straight this peaceful quiet World, More dreadfully involved in War, Would be, through wild Confusion to a Chaos hurled. XVI. But NASSAW, after his Decease, Secures us with a lasting Peace. His greater Genius will our Isles defend, And, when in Heaven, he will be Britain's Friend. Yet sure on Earth he must immortal grow, At least we think and wish him so. His glorious Actions too combine, (And great Exploits which soared so high,) To prove the Hero all divine, As if he was assured he could not die. His Preservation here below, The Omnipresence of heavens King may show. In Paths of Danger, foremost on he road, The Lord of Battles was this Warrior's God. XVII. O that I could such Numbers raise As might sustain his Praise. But my weak Muse starts at the Sound of War. Unpractised thus to soar, She cannot fly so far, And dreads the very Repetition of the Cannon's Roar. Long used in Groves, To fonder Loves. And only amorous Fights to sing, She cannot bear To Heaven the Hero through the Air, His Trophies and his Spoils would tyre her tender Wing. XVIII. Declaring the immortal Fame, Of Britain's Godlike Thund'rer's Name, I should myself immortal grow; Immortal? yes, I must be so. Ye Daughters, sprung from Memory, appear, And call to mind great NASSAW'S Actions here. Without your Aid, should you deny, His Actions cannot in Oblivion lie, Nor they nor their Renown can die. In after Ages Shades shall hear, (The Shades of Chiefs, which here were bold,) All listening with attentive Ear, Yet trembling too, with awful Fear, Even on black Lethe's Banks the Wonders of our Hero told. The Muse's Weakness I must here refuse, They, nor their God can bear my Flight, let Glory be my Muse. XIX. Be gone, you foolish, lambent Flame, Which warmed me, when I dwelled in Groves, And got among the Swains a Name, For singing Youths and Virgins Loves. Such painted Fires now disappear, For they avail not here, To light me on the Road to Fame. I feel, I feel my swelling Breast Is with a noble Rage possessed; A noble Rage in all my Parts does roll, Now, quick as lightning, through my Veins it flies, And flashes at my Eyes, And thunders in my Soul. XX. O could the fierce Emotions of my Thought Live like NASSAW'S, when in the Field he fought. Then, than I should be fit to raise Due Trophies to our Conquerour's Praise. My fiery Fancy I would here dispose To flash through all my Words, as he did through his Foes. It should, like Victory, his Tracks pursue, Which, clapping her unwearied Wings, Still joyful, o'er his Standards flew, And learned to soar, while as she soars, she sings. ay, thus inspired, should every Foe subdue, And gain, like NASSAW'S self, a Crown of Laurel too. XXI. Hail, Mighty Monarch! Britain's King! Thy Glories Fame Shall through the Universe proclaim; The Universe shall with thy Praises ring. Far as thy Navy's spreading Wings can soar, Which is wherever Oceans roar, Far as thy Guns are heard, whose Thunder echoes more. Far as the Winds themselves can fly, Shall NASSAW'S Name be born— the very Winds shall bear it to the Sky. Fame can't enough thy Acts declare, Tho' she should use the Trumpets of thy War. While some small Hero's Honour, when he dies, Beneath the Rubbish of some City lies, Thy greater, and more strong Renown, When thou laidst siege to any Town, Even from the Ruins of the Place would more exalted rise. And by the blessed Event we see, The same proud Walls, which dared thy Arms oppose, Fell, to raise Monuments of Fame, for thee, Of Death, for thy deluded Foes. XXII. Those spreading Laurels thou hast now brought home, Have, with their Shade, for ever darkened Rome. Rome, whose bold Arms once round the Earth were hurled, Whilst on her seven great Hills high raised she stood, Her Hills, then swelled to Mountains with her Pride, And viewed her vassaled Earth, and her subjected Flood; While all the World was Rome, and Rome was all the World. Whatever was compassed by the ambient Tide, All the big Ocean grasps in his long Arms, Was won by warlike Rome's Alarms, But soon this Mistress of the Earth grown vain, Proud of the Trophies which her Champions won, Fell by the weight of her own Spoils pressed down, Her Triumphs for her Conquests conquered her again. XXIII. Such Favours to her Slaves she gave, They would ungratefully make her a Slave, And Rivals for her Empire grown, Vanquishing her, themselves were vanquished soon. She, that proud City, which the World laid waste, Subduing all the World, subdued herself at last. Now, her own Hills her Monuments appear, And that which Rome we call, Is great in nothing but her Fall, Seven Hills at first did all her Greatness bear, But, formed of ruin'd Heaps, how many now are there! Unless devouring Time, more greedy grown, (Rome, of all welcome Pomp bereavest,) In spite of Stone, Has eat those hard Remains, which she before had left. XXIV. Nought else, but Tiber, hastening to its Fall, Is now apparent of that mighty all. Swift through Time's Jaws secure it runs, And where its rapid Torrents come, Mourning the Ruins of its Rome, In its proud Course it murmurs o'er the scattered Stones. Tiber remains, while Rome's strong Towers decay, What's fleeting lasts, what's lasting fleets away. That City, whose Foundation stood On Paracidal Blood, Was sunk at last with the like sanguine Flood. Sunk from its glorious, warlike Toils, To mean Devices, and religious Wiles. When tumbled down beneath us low, She thought to undermine us so, And sprung her Mines; but with Pretences given, (Tho' deep as Hell) to blow us up to Heaven. XXV. But Godlike NASSAW does our Fear remove, (If ever Britain knew to fear, Tho' Rome, and with it, Hell were near.) The Echo of his Cannons roars On the far distant Roman Shores. And if their Rock-built Capitol now stood, How would it shake the nodding Load; Tottering, and trembling, it might serve to prove Our thunderer greater than its Guardian jove. He lays their City waste afar, Tho' built by the fierce Offspring of the God of War. More dreaded than their Carthaginian Foe, He does at once through Rocks and Oceans go. Our greater Hannibal they find can come Without a Passage o'er the Alps, to Rome. This God like Hero, with a Flood Not of Vinegar, but Blood, Had there obtained a speedier Passage so, Tore with his Cannon's Ball the Rocks, and melted with their Fire the Snow. XXVI. As once the bold, prodigious Sons of Earth, Puffed up with Minds as monstrous as their Form, Which gave their grand Presumption birth, Seemed well assured the Throne of jove to storm; And with a dreadful Conflict strove, Themselves the greater Gods to prove, Till Hercules with needful Aid, Struck with his Father's Bolts the haughty Rebels dead. They fell, with Thunder blasted on the Plain, And at their Fall,— the Earth in Echoes thundered back again. So Giant- Room raised her proud Front so high, Her swelling Bulk grown on her Hills so vast, The impious Monster seemed at last To dare to offer Combat to the Sky: But on her Head NASSAW hot Vengeance drove, NASSAW, the Hopes of Heaven, and Hercules of a more real jove. XXVII. Our mighty Hero onward came, Beyond Alcides in the Road to Fame. More than Twelve Labours he sustained, His Godlike Courage has o'ercome That much more monstrous Hydra, Rome ' And on his Shoulders Heaven has truly leaned. Far o'er the Globe his Conquests have been hurled, He cleans this vast Augean Stable of the World. ORMOND and CUTS his Pillars rose, To set a Ne plus ultra only to his Foes. So firm they bore their Monarch's Cause abroad, That each deserved to be a King-but great NASSAW a God. XXVIII. NASSAW, the pious, as the great, Who only conquers with design to treat. Forms, and then gains, like Providence, his Ends, He undergoes no fruitless Toil, His Warlike Cannons can't recoil. Success his Actions still attends; From Seas of Blood he rises bright, And round the Globe dispenses peaceful Light. No wild Ambition led him on, Nor did he climb, but stooped to Britain's Throne, And sought not to enslave his Foes, but to redeem his Friends. His pious Prayers from Heaven bring Blessings down, Blessings, the noblest Jewels of a Crown, His glorious Consort, since her late remove, Has interceded for these Isles above. A pleasing Influence does her Sweetness bear, Still o'er her Sacred Monarch here, And fills his Soul with Thoughts of Peace and Love. Revolving Pleasures must in Albion spring, While she's our Saint above, and he below, our King. XXIX. Behold Britannia rising from the Flood, Her chalky Cliffs not blushing now with Blood. See how she bounds upon the Seas, Behold how wantonly she plays, The Guardian Knot NASSAW has broke, Which was enslaved Britannia's Yoke. See how she dances on the Main, See the triumphant Ocean's Pride, Mark how the swelling Surges ride, Behold the joyful Billows dance again, And, with Excess of Joy grown vain, Beyond the Power of Tempests raise their Tide. From the Strong-hold, which sunk her, upwards hurled, Britannia now is freed, and may invade the World. XXX. The Sun itself, oppressed with cloudy Night, Beneath the Floods secures his Light, Britannia so beneath her Ocean's lay, But when she rises, all the World has Day. A while the jarring Waves engaged, A while in thundering Storms they raged, And gathering Skies a fatal Wreck presaged. The dreadful Seas were heard to roar, Tossing the angry Froth they bore, And their own Echoes answered on the shore. With threatening Brows, and furious Powers, Each at the other proudly towers; But long they urge not on the Race, Till calm with their own Fury grown, Their flowing Amity is closer shown, They run, and meet, and mingle, and embrace. The Seas, long tossed by Storms, and thundering Skies, Now from the Foam behold this Venus Isle arise. XXXI. NASSAW'S almighty Power, next God's we view, He the old World reforms, Dispels the Clouds and lays the Storms, And only God himself can frame a new. As when the rugged Chaos lay, Deep hushed in Silence; her dark, pregnant Womb Grown big with the great Birth to come, Rolled with a heavy Slowness on, Pangs from the fight Atoms does she bear; Till the great God of Light commanded Day; Then do the mighty Offsprings rise, And to their Spheres they swiftly run, The Globe, with its own Weight hangs poised amidst the Skies. And soon she views with a maternal Care, Her Elemental Twins, Earth, Water, Fire, and Air. To its bright Orb the Sun is upwards hurled, And with an Infant Smile shines on the neighbouring World. XXXII So gloomy Europe brooding War, The seeds of Discord riper grown, A long, long time aloud they jar. Till Godlike NASSAW'S Power was known; At his dread Word the Work is done, Their anxious Strife creates their Peace, Their Disagreements quickly cease, And all the several Orbs harmoniously move on. Smiling Britannia, chase cloudy Night, Round the united Globe dispenses beamy Light. NASSAW, like God, a World of Peace commands, He speaks the Word, Now let it be, 'Tis done; this World of Peace we see, Displaying him who formed it, blest it stands, Raised by its Maker's Breath, and fashioned by his Hands. XXXIII. Now may glad Halcyons build on Albion's Main, And pleased Astraea visit Earth again, Now may the Boyne its Shore's embrace, Late died with Blood of Heroes slain, It's harrass'd Waves shall now have Peace, Now may it flow with Crystal streams Gentle as those of Silver Thames, And sacred Poets on its Banks may be inspired in Dreams. Those Banks where glorious NASSAW stood, When, viewing with Disdain the Terrors of the Flood, He looked, and fought, and conquered like a God. XXXIV. Dreadfully loud, from shore to shore, The frighted Billows join to help the Cannons roar. Soldiers, and Chiefs renowned, expire, By Waters some, and some by the destructive Fire. Behold where conquering NASSAW wades, Behold how gloriously he leads, In vain the River ebbs, in vain It rolls its Current to the Main, To yield him passage as he treads, With purple Torrents straight it swells again. NASSAW, illustriously great, Pursues his Foes, and drives before him Fate. See the already altered Flood, View the red Waves, the Waves grow red with Blood. Our Hero more than Israel's Chief performs, Like him he safely makes his Way Through the destroying Surges of the Sea, And faces Thunder, and encounters Storms, With his commanding Sword, instead of Rod, He triumphs still, secured by Israel's powerful God. XXXV. The leading Prophet, at his People's head, Before the Host of cruel Pharaoh fled. On heaps the wondering Billows stood, While guarded Israel passed beneath, Secured, even by the Terrors of the Flood, And saved amidst the gaping Jaws of Death. Bulwarks of Waves the trembling People view. The barbarous Foe, outrageous, does pursue, And now the frighted Waters tremble too. Now Pharaoh's Hosts within the Floods appear, And the Red Sea grows pale with Fear; But soon the conscious Billows tumbling o'er, With their strong Torrent, down his swallowed Army bore. Just like the Waves, which their cursed Force controlled, The tottering Soldiers o'er each other roul'd. Sunk in the Gulf, they roar at Heaven in vain, And as it joined— the big, insulting Deluge roared again. XXXVI. But NASSAW flies not from his Foes, What Mortals dare, should NASSAW fly, pursue! In Waves he marches with his Armies on The Waters part not, but he leads them through! Here undivided Heaps of towering Seas, Make not more easy, but obstruct his ways, Securely bold, wherever he goes. By his own Providence the Work is done, Saved by no God like Wonders,— but his own. The Soldiers much, and much the Waters bore, Pressed with a ponderous Load of Fate, they roar. The worsted Foe, like them with storms oppressed, Heave up their troubled, panting Breast. Aloud their Cries resound from shore to shore, Overwhelmed by NASSAW'S conquering Squadrons, more, Than they themselves were with the Seas before, XXXVII. Behold the Waters painted gay with Blood, Behold the great NASSAW appear, Like Alexander in the Grannick Flood, Behold the rapid, boisterous Streams; While Britain's Chief fierce Bolts does bear, The Billows seem to flash out Flames, By Waves of Seas are Squadrons hurled, And Waves of Smoke roll o'er the Surges curled. Slaughter o'er Head, all terrible appears, Poison and Famine, Sword and Fire she bears. With dire, and deadly gaping Jaws, With sulphurous Breath, and Bloodshot Eyes, Those Mischiefs at her Throat she draws, First swallows them, and then does roar, She hungers, and she thirsts for more, Flapping her stubborn, Iron Wings, she flies, Grinning all horribly in Tears, Glaring in Faces of the fallen, and shrieking in their Ears. XXXVIII. Darkness, and gloomy Horror all confound, Ten thousand Fates on Billows brooding sit, By several Deaths the Soldiers fall, And wild Confusion covers all. Like the Sea's God great NASSAW rides, And bears before him rolling Tides. The very Waves, in Bulwarks, shield That Godlike Hero in the watery Field. No angry Bullet can the Conqueror hit, And even by Danger he's secured from Wound. Swift towards his Foes the hard urged Waves are gone, And he, the stronger Torrent, now comes rolling on. XXXIX. Rushing apace, his Army pours, Fierce as the Waves, which wash the shores. He, like the tenth great Billow raised, appears, And all before him down he bears. Firm as a Rock, amidst the Waves he stands, Unmoved with Tempests, and the Noise Of the loud Ocean's dreadful Voice, Dashing insulting Billows back upon the Lands. Like gloomy Skies, behold the darkened Flood, Behold great NASSAW like the ruling God. Hear Trumpets Clangors, all the loud Alarms, See where the glorious Leader goes, Behold NASSAW amidst whole Clouds of Foes, See how he lightens with his Eyes, and thunders with his Arms. XL. Behold how bravely now he ploughs his ways, Through flashes of the Fire, and flashes of the Seas. By their Almighty Chief led on, What Wonders has his Army done! The Sluice of Conquest drawn by NASSAW'S Hands, His Forces, like a Flood, came rolling on the Lands. All furious, on the Squadrons move, Now Blood and Slaughter fill the Plain, And raise another River to be passed again. Great NASSAW'S dreadful Legions stormed, And wondrous Godlike Acts performed, Before them far their Foes they drove, They were the flaming Bolts of their fierce, thundering jove, XLI. Horror, and gloomy Flashes of dire Light, Meet, and amaze, create, and yet confound the sigh. The echoing Voice of the fired Cannons broke, In gloomy Rolls of sulphurous Flame and Smoke, Clouded the frighted Day, and made a dreadful Night. Some Squadrons stand, and some retire, But straight they hear new-raised Alarms, The neighbouring Hills refound, To Arms, to Arms. Those by the Sword are slain, and others by the Fire. Helmets and Spears lie scattered on the ground, Thick Clouds, which of the Dust were made, Are, with the Blood of those who raised them, laid. The warlike Steeds prance o'er the Plain, And proudly toss their Foam around, But soon, their Riders falling from them slain, They run confusedly wild, and neighing back again. Their Squadrons broke, his Foes dread NASSAW shun, And with quick tremble shake,— like their own treacherous Grounds, o'er which they run. XLII. Great in Field-Battels, and in Sieges great, The Godlike Hero knows not to retreat, The mighty Hannibal, so far renowned, Knew how to gain, But all in vain, Without his Brother's Aid, he could not keep his ground. Both in our Chief revived we view, For he gains Conquests, and maintains them too. The blooming Wreath for ever grows, That once adorns great NASSAW'S Brows. The sacred Laurel unconcerned he wears, No lightning of his Foes is known, Nor Bolts so dreaded as his own, His spreading Crown ne'er shrinks at what War's Thunder dares. XLIII. Godlike Success his Purposes attend, He could deliver, and he can defend. His Conquests are as sure his own, As when some Bar which blocked the way, Removed, to let the Waters play, Inviting now the powerful Torrent down, The powerful Torrent rowls amain, Along the steep descent of the vast Mountain born, With Rocks, and Hills from their Foundations torn, Bearing huge Trophies down, and deluging the Plain. Victorious grown, the Water's rage no more, Of lasting Conquest thus possessed, How fierce soever they rushed before, Now in triumphant Peace they rest. Those Hills and Rocks which in the deep have lain, Sunk with their own cursed Weight, can never rise again. XLIV. His Arms NASSAW does with such Prudence wield, He makes his Sword at once his Sword, and Shield. That Sword, which bulwarked Towns have feared, While towers have trembled, when aloft 'twas reared. More fierce than battering Rams it shakes their Walls, Like dreadful Comets from afar, Whereere 'tis seen, it threatens War, And desolate Ruin stalks behind, where e'er enraged it falls. Thus at Namur, NASSAW, thy Siege was laid, While Breaches, which thy Guns had made, Were soon filled up with the thick rolling dead. In vain, Salmoneus-like, thy Foes A while their brazen Hold maintain, desperate their wild Ambition grows, To dare to thunder on thee in the Plain, Till thou, the real jove, sent thy destroying Thunder back again. XLV. From their strong Battlements thy Foes are driven, As if with Flashes, and with Bolts from Heaven. Thy direful Bombs through Air's vast Regions fly, Flaming with pregnant Vengeance through the Sky, Hissing with thousand Fates, by which poor Mortals die. Now, from their flight they fall beneath, The Houses, which security were thought, Have worse Destruction on the People brought; The Bombs the Roof, and Rafters rudely tore, The Stones and Timber with them down they bore, Breaking, they scattered into Death, And now their very Safeguard hurts them more. Down, with the Houses, Desolation comes, And that, which brought them Death, prepared them Tombs. XLVI. Hark from that Battery, how the dreadful Balls Knock at the Ramparts, and the Walls! Behold, so wondrous thick they fly, They cannot now annoy, Discharged, in mighty Heaps they lie, Obstructing only there the way, Where other angry Bullets play, And stop those Breaches, which they should destroy. The teeming Cannons from the tottering Town, Pour fast their dreadful Offsprings down, Which, almost at the minute of their Birth, Are straight again entombed in Earth. Now NASSAW thundering at his Army's Head, Not in a Shower of Gold, but Led, jove-like, resistless bold he pours, Into their strong-built, brazen towers. Where Victory lay, his Danae, concealed, ●ushing, he fiercely wooed, and as he wooed, prevailed. XLVII. Conquering, and triumphing at once, he comes, With Trumpets Clangors, Cannons roar, and Drums. Fast through the Streets rowls down a purple Flood; (While NASSAW only minds the Fight, Far from the pious-Hero's sight.) Mixed with the Groans of Soldiers, as they die, The Shrieks of ravished Virgins pierce the Sky, And Swords of cruel Warriors blush with Blood. Slaughter, and wild Confusion damp the Town, Till Godlike NASSAW makes it all his own. See the besieged for Mercy call, Their Gates now stop them flying more Than ere they stopped their conquering Foes before. Wild and distractedly they run, The Soldiers Outrages to shun, Ere universal Vengeance swallows all. But the mild NASSAW strait no Terror wore, And calmed his Soldiers, and himself forbore, Relenting soon, he gives the peaceful Word, And nobler Virtue shows,— knowing to sheathe as well as draw his Sword XLVIII. The very Terror of great NASSAW'S Name, Resounds so dreadful on the Coasts of Fame. Where he decrees a Kingdom's Doom, He need but go, appear, and overcome. The high-famed jove, whenever he warred, But for his flaming Bolts was feared. Loudly renowned for those alone, The dread Phlegraean Field he won, With those, and only those he knew The Giant Rebels to subdue, But Godlike NASSAW more himself has done, At once the thunderer, and the Thunder too. XLIX. Nor are his Conquests here confined to shore, But known where'r his Guns upon the Billows roar. Sprung in the Praetor's Ship, 'tis said of old, The Romans could a Laurel Branch behold, In all NASSAW'S without a Wonder now, Surprised Spectators of the Globe may see That flourishing, victorious Tree, And sprinkled still with Blood it would for ever grow. Beyond what Rome could boast, his Navy flies, It sweeps the Oceans, and almost the Skies. While British Streamers by the Winds are curled, And Canvas Wings are spreading, all unfurled. His Fleets are NASSAW'S Eagles, which orefly the World. L. Each, like that Royal Bird above, Bears the fierce Ensigns of the ruling jove. The fiery Youth, who thought to drive the Sun, Would here much greater Rashness shun, From Flames so fatal he would fly, Not daring to attempt this wat'ry Sky, And swift, as NASSAW'S Foes, would from it trembling run. Those Foes, whom Britain has the Power to bind To ask their mighty Monarch's Leave, And humbly too the Grant receive, To press the Ocean, and to use the Wind. Nor Storms, nor Rocks they fear, nor dangerous Shores, Like they dread Navy, when its Thunder roars. Thy Fleets, great NASSAW, bear thy liquid sway, As absolute they rule the Empire of the Sea, As if the Universe were drowned, and there were none upon the Globe, but they. LI. But now thy Fleet's, and Army's Power may cease, Terrors in War, but Ornaments in Peace, So, ere from Heaven the great Apostate fell, Seraphs with Hosts Satannick fiercely raged, And dreadful, dubious Wars they waged; But the avengeful Godhead soon, With Force peculiarly his own, Struck the presuming Rebel down, And fixed him in the depth of that vast Empire, Hell. Seraphs again their Hallelujahs sing, His Power divine secures his Throne, He reigns, but in himself alone, And by Omnipotence in Heaven, remains its King. LII. No Force NASSAW can of his Glories rob, Where'r he treads, he bends the Globe, No Force can reach him, but the Force of Heaven, By which his Conquests, and his Power of conquering is given. Such Strength, such Vigour did he show, Such Transports ravished Fortune feels, To him alone she will be constant now, And her own Chariot quits, to follow NASSAW'S Wheels. The World by hostile Rage he could subdue, But (more than ever other Chiefs could do) In making Peace, his mighty self he conquered too. LIII. And yet beneath his Heat of fiery War, His Subjects happy in their Monarch made, Securely dwelled in peaceful shade; The Shelter of his Laurels spread so far. When Saturn ruled, His Reign controlled The happy Earth with flourishing days of old; But when his Son obtained the Throne, The Iron Age appears, the Golden gone. But here, changed Heaven puts on a different Brow, The Iron Age with Saturn fled, And thundering jove, the Ruler in his stead, Blest with his Reign,— we find the Golden Age is now. LIV. Far may his Empire and his Sway extend, May Britain long be his, as he is Britain's Friend. Still with such Ardour may his Subjects burn, And generous Warmth, as when they saw him come, With victory smiling on his Face, and all triumphant home. So were they blest themselves, while blessing his return. When in the Streets vast Clouds of People ran, Their Eyes flash Lightnings, which they bear, And, Io NASSAW, oft is thundered in the Air, They all shout, Io NASSAW, that immortal Man. Immortal Man,— Ono,— immortal God Whom unconcerned, the wondering People see, So mild he in his Chariot road, Spectators so admired him as they stood. There was not one,— but felt the Pride of Triumph more than he. Of what can happy Britain's now despair, When Peace is brought them by the God of War! LV. Return, ye Muses, tune your Lyres To ORMOND'S Praise, his Merit this requires. A Crown of Laurels, and of Olives mixed, Give NASSAW first, but give to ORMOND next. ORMOND, whose Race does, Phenix-like, arise, A brighter Offspring when the Parent dies. Hibernia blest with present Power, Waits till its own loved ORMOND shall be given, All seem assured that he should bless them more; Fonder of him— than they would be of others sent from Heaven. Wielding the flaming Sword of Justice here, He would the Cherub of the place appear, This can the mighty ORMOND do, Make it a Paradise, and guard it too. Blessed as our primitive Parents then, Beneath his Government, and NASSAW'S Reign, The People ne'er would fall again; Nor from their Seat of Bliss would willingly be hurled, Tho' for the universal Rule of the subjected World. Blest are these Isles, nor shall their Blessings cease, While NASSAW reigns, the God of War, and he the Prince of Peace. FINIS. TO THE KING. PUT off, dread Sir, those awful Looks, and smile, Be only now the Glory of our Isle. Lay down the Terror; such a Mildness show, As when the Captives of your Arms you view. Thus may the Subject with the Prince confer, What the Muse speaks, the Monarch stoops to hear: Secure she flies, none imps her sacred Wings, Free as the Winds, which bear her, on she sings, And flutters boldly o'er the Heads of Kings. Dares, like the Royal Bird, undaunted rove, And plays with Light'ning, which belong to jove. The Gods allow our Offerings should be given, We send our Praise, as well as Prayers to Heaven. Even the Almighty, who was all before, Commands us Mortals to extol him more. Not that our Thoughts his Attributes can crown, But that he so may shed his Blessings down. Thus, from our Claims to thee our Honour's spring, The greatest Conqueror, and the greatest King. Defending still what you have once restored, You sway your Sceptre, as you wield your Sword. In humblest Thanks, and Vows, we make return, Heaven bestows Favours; Mortals Incense burn. FINIS.