Augustus Britannicus: A POEM UPON THE CONCLUSION OF THE Peace of Europe. At Rijswick in Holland, upon the 20th. of September, 1697.  
Arma Virumque cano—  
— et magnos de Pace Triumphos.  
By Mr. I. PHILLIPS.  
LONDON, Printed; and Sold by E. Whitlock near Stationers-Hall, 1697.   

Augustus Britannicus:  
A POEM upon the Conclusion of the PEACE of Europe, etc.  

LONG had the Rage of War, with Sword and Fire,  
Laid waste the fertile Gardens of the Rhine;  
And the same Flames, to Belgium no less dire,  
Not all those spacious Regions could confine.   

Too narrow Limits for th' insatiate Range  
Of proud Ambition, thirsting after Blood;  
Eager of Rule, and still pursuing Change  
Of Slaughter, hungry Warfare's lawless Food.   

At the same time the Conflagration flew  
To th' utmost Borders of Imperial Sway;  
And wide Danubius' Streams now wider grew,  
By Battles swelled into a Crimson Sea.   

With Most Mahometan, Most Christian joins,  
And Friendship with Heaven's Foe is dearly bought▪  
If Heaven, they cried, desert our bold Designs,  
Let Hell be moved, and Secure thence be sought.   

While thus the Germane Arms divided toil,  
Th' Invader fumes to see himself opposed;  
The Lion's Strength assumes the Fox's Guile,  
And a swift Truce the Wounds of Europe close.   

But while secure the wearied Princes lay  
Enfolded in the tender Arms of Peace,  
(Pity their Fate, whom broken Oaths betray,  
And studied Treasons by Surprise oppress)   

They whom no Ties of Sacred Truth could hold,  
With rapid Force invade their peaceful Slumbers.  
Undreamt, unthought of, the swift Deluge rolled,  
O'respreading Regions with resistless Numbers.   

Quite through Batavia, like a lambent Wind,  
The speedy Hurricanes swept all before 'em;  
Art in defence with Nature vainly joined;  
No Mounds could stop the Torrents that o'repower 'em.   

Batavia thus her daily Losses mourned;  
Dispeopled by Despair, by Fear unmanned;  
You might have deemed old Noah's Flood reurned,  
To see the Sea let in to save the Land.   

Heaven oft permits such Chastisements as these;  
The Cause Heaven only knows, while we surmise:  
But when atoned, the Showers of Vengeance cease,  
And prone to save, Heaven th' Instrument supplies.   

From some hid Cause like this, the Change began;  
Celestial Pity on Batavia fell;  
And the same Hand that scourged, points out the Man,  
Who only could their Mischiefs back repel.   

Then for Relief to Great NASSAV they bowed,  
Whom Faction but a while before had scorned;  
NASSAV, to whose Famed Ancestors they owed  
The Liberty their Commonwealth adorned.   

He took the Reins, and drove the Chariot steady,  
That with new Beams their drooping lives recheared;  
Daring in Battle, and in Counsel ready,  
And by his Foes no less beloved than feared.   

Prudence in Youth, with youthful Valour joined,  
Stopped the Career of Uncompassionate Spoil;  
Their easy Conquests they as fast resigned,  
Like Inundations, when they back recoil.   

Fame spread him Wondrous, e'er he had begun,  
And talked of things that he was born to do,  
Which she proclaimed as if already done,  
And big with Prophecy, her Trumpet blue.   

When first these Tidings reached Versailles Court,  
They soon foresaw the Face of War would change;  
They now must drudge, who lately made a Sport  
Of yielding Danger, and unarmed Revenge.   

NASSAV appears, to be as soon renowned  
For early Contests in the Race of War;  
Europe has now her Guarding Angel found,  
While He becomes her Blessing, She his Care.   

The wary Luxemburg was posed to shun  
The first Attack of his Courageous Heat;  
Mons saw the Fox unearthed, and tamely run  
To seek new Covert from entire Defeat.   

The greater Genius of the Great NASSAV  
Inspired his Warlike Bands wherever they fought;  
His Conduct like the Hebrews Cloud they saw,  
And hastened to the Dangers which he fought.   

Just Heaven! how does thy mighty Power deride  
The Vain Results of Human Providence!  
Vast were the Foes Designs, and Heaven defied,  
Became the Scorn of daring Insolence.   

But deep Contrivance, what it least designed,  
Did but Materials for his Trophies heap;  
Versailles did but sow, by Fate made kind,  
The Harvest Britain's Hero was to reap.   

Long had the British Empire sadly born  
Four Ponderous Yokes, unprosp'rous and unblessed;  
Her Martial Glory lost, and made the Scorn  
Of that Proud Realm which once her Arms possessed.   

O'erwhelming was the last Tempestuous Rage,  
Upon her Liberties, Religion, Laws;  
What Refuge then, but humbly to engage  
The Faith's Defender to defend her Cause!   

'Tis only for an Iliad to make known  
In lofty Strains, the Wonders that he wrought,  
Lions to Hares transformed, th' Encounter shun,  
And from his dreaded Name for shelter sought.   

The Vaunting Host, that late in smoky fight,  
On Hounslow-Plain took Towns, and Battles won,  
By unseen Danger quelled, became a Sight  
For Mirth, to see an Army in a Swoon.   

The Chieftain's Fear had chilled the Martial Mass;  
In vain the Drum and Trumpet rend the Sky;  
While pale Affright appeared in James' Face;  
So sweet was Life to him who feared to die.   

It may be deemed that Gild of Evil's done,  
Beheld preceding NASSAV's warlike Train,  
heavens Brandished Sword, that like the Saber shone,  
That guarded Eden from less Criminal Man.   

It was the least that Gratitude could do,  
To Crown the Author of the Bliss they craved;  
For nothing but a Crown became his Brow;  
Since none more fit to rule what he had saved.   

The Crown was Gold, but yet with Thorns beset,  
A Crown of painful Cares, but yet a Crown  
That new Occasions gave to mitigate  
The Toils of War with Wreaths of fresh Renown.   

A powerful Foe Hibernia then Possessed,  
Lord of her Towns, and Master of the Field,  
Vainly misled, and slighting easy Rest,  
To Foreign Chains they tame Submission yield.   

With awkward Zeal, and false Religion mad,  
(Oft times the dangerous Frenzy of the Mind)  
They, their own Foes, their native Hearths betrayed,  
And to subdue themselves with Foreign Conquest joined.   

Great Britain's Monarch could not brook the Hand  
of Rebel Fury wildly laying waist  
So fair a Portion of his wide Command,  
But straight to Vengeance makes undaunted haste.   

He did but Land, and march, and only saw,  
When panic Terror seized th' Insulting Foe:  
They fled, and left a Realm to take new Law  
From him they scorned to own an Hour ago.   

Thus Caesar, when the bold Pharnaces ranged  
Bythinia's Plains with uncontrolled surprise,  
But went and viewed, and Roman Loss revenged,  
Returned a Wonder to the Gazèr's Eyes.   

Never did Prince say less, nor Prince do more;  
Men looked and listened, talked their Hopes and Fears;  
Ne'er so much Silence, so much Noise before,  
Yet nothing comes to light, till all appears.   

This secret Conduct heavens great sovereign taught,  
When first from Darkness beauteous Order shone;  
The goodly Frame was to perfection brought,  
And Angels nothing saw till all was done.   

There was no need for him to seek for Fame;  
Fame saw designed Occasions court him round;  
Occasions multiplied to spread his Name  
Beyond what more than Fame could e'er resound.   

Not greater Labours did Alemena's Son  
In aid of Mankind boldly undergo:  
He pitying Greece by Monsters overrun,  
Those Monsters quelled, and laid Oppression low.   

Such was the Task that our Alcides pressed  
In aid of Christendom to undergo,  
Monsters the same, and the Design as vast,  
Those Monsters quelled, to lay Oppression low.   

Nemaean Lions, Erymanthian Boars,  
Lernaean Hydra's, Geryons Triple-headed  
Stymphalian Harpies, and more fell Centaurs,  
These were the Monsters Europe then invaded.   

For Man degenerate into Brute, no less  
Embosoms every Brutish Appetite;  
Only what Brutes in various Forms possess,  
His Wits improve, and all in one unite.   

Yet could the Toil not fright our Hero's Mind,  
Nor all the Hazards he was sure to meet;  
And still his Conduct all so well designed,  
Never so slow, as when to danger fleet.   

He saw that more than Strength would be required;  
Nor did Alcides' Strength alone prefer;  
To Jove's Assistant, Prudence, he retired,  
And there consults the Dubious Fate of War.   

Many oppressed, yet variously engaged,  
And different Interests their Passions sway;  
In Union only Wrong and Violence raged,  
And on the Innocent in Bloody Consort preyed.   

Nothing but Concord and a warlike Chief  
This shattered Body could compactly join  
With Fear irresolute for their Relief,  
Not knowing whence their Safety to divine.   

So fast the Deluge still came rolling on  
As soon whole Regions filled with pale Dismay:  
They knew not what to seek, nor what to shun;  
They moaned their Harms, unwilling to obey.   

From this rude Chaos of unsteady Thoughts  
A Glorious League Great Britain's Monarch framed:  
He soon confirmed their Minds, allayed their Doubts  
And with new Life their drooping Souls inflamed.   

It might be deemed a Work the nearest wrought  
To that which all things into Order brought;  
A League so Sacred, and so fast the Knot,  
Not to be loosed, nor, like the Gordian, cut.   

A League like this, by Universal Greece  
Against th' insulting Persian Monarch made,  
Repelled th' Invader back, a Sacrifice  
By his Ambition to his Shame betrayed.   

This League to Britain's Sovereign bowed her Knees,  
And him the wronged Princes made their Head;  
He gave their Motions Laws, and his Decrees  
Like the Amphyction Council's were obeyed.   

Resistance thus emboldened, potent-grew;  
Numbers met Numbers, while experienced War  
With artful Horrors did her Game pursue,  
And Banquets fresh each Day for Death prepare.   

The Air was forced, the fiery Element  
To mingle with the Flames of dismal Fight;  
As if Officious Man would Heaven prevent,  
And burn the World into its Primitive Night.   

For Man, who always had th' unhappy Fate  
Of most ingenious to destroy his Race,  
Scorns his pursuit should find a safe Retreat,  
And his industrious Arm not reach the Place.   

Yet all this while the Fields neglected lay,  
That with their timely Harvests wont to crown  
The longing Barns; Affright drives all away;  
Few left to sow; few left to purchase what was sown.   

Those Fields now thicker sown with Human Bones,  
The Seed of Slaughter that gives no Return,  
The Neighbouring Cities wail, dispeopled Towns,  
By Nature blessed, by cruel War forlorn.   

Widows and Orphans, Peasant, and the Lord,  
Temples Profaned, and Ravished Virgins, all  
Bemoaned the Havocks of the wasteful Sword;  
Such was the Ravage menaced Europe's Fall.   

Such were the Torrents which the League opposed,  
And Britain's Sovereign the Pious Chief,  
Who, Victim-like, a Sacred Life exposed,  
While both Divine and Human begged Relief.   

The Contest so much the more Obstinate  
While pampered Honour, there, for Empire strove;  
Here, timorous Zeal inflamed their Martial Heat,  
And Fear of Chains did Fears of Death remove.   

All Men have Swords and Youth, and Wills prepared  
Their Darling Freedom to defend or die,  
Impugning haughty Violence, undeterred,  
That would impose unwilling Slavery.   

Nine Times the Sun his Annual Race had run,  
And in his towering Solstice warmed both Poles,  
And all the while the Bloody Game went on;  
The Winner only Death, by more than common Tolls.   

In Steenkirk Fields a large Repast he met;  
Where Fortune stopped the Havocks of his Sword,  
Who there had soon decided Europe's Fate,  
Had not foreseeing Doom on purpose erred.   

Fame, big with wonder at the first Attacks,  
Bid Fortune stop, lest more her Wings should tyre:  
Fortune obeyed, and too unkindly slacks  
The farther Progress of the Victor's Fire.   

Old Luxemburgh, who had enough that Day,  
Was glad to see the Lion back retreat,  
And in his Bloody Trenches quiet lay,  
Admiring what he could not imitate.   

Wonders then these far greater Lansden saw,  
Where Skill and Courage, Art and Number fought;  
Battles were now Examples, thence to draw  
New Patterns how young Captains should be taught.   

Old Luxemburg, for only him did Fame  
A Match for Britain's Hero still exalt,  
Dreamt only hot Pursuit; but grew more tame,  
To see his daring Foe make steady Halt.   

Long the Dispute who Victory should control,  
And Streams of Blood the Verdant Fields imbrued,  
While Slaughter strewed thick Banquets for the Fowl  
That on the Alms of Battle wait for Food.   

And all the while Great Britain's Hero flew  
To every Part, where thickest Danger called;  
Exposed to Vulgar Fury, still in view;  
But where dark Clouds of Smoak his Sacred Person veiled.   

At length great Luxemburg grew Pale with Fear  
To see his shattered Troops in Flight pursued,  
And all his Laurels won had withered here,  
Had fresh Enforcements not the Fight renewed.   

Yet those fresh Succours did but serve to stop  
The Victor's Chase, and force him to recoil;  
He left his Foe the Marks of vanished Hope,  
And kept the Glory of the former Foil.   

Honour and Gold have, both, the same hard Fate;  
Both may be bought too dear, but Honour most,  
Since Victory purchased at too dear a Rate  
Is by the Vanquished won, but by the Victor lost.   

Namur must next advance our Hero's high Renown,  
Beyond what Agamemnon won by Ten Years Toil;  
So long those Hero's fought to force one Town  
Not then subdued, till Fraud did Strength beguile.   

Namur, like Zion, deemed Impregnable;  
And if her Gates spoke Truth, ne'er to be won,  
As if secured by Doom of Oracle  
In the Palladium of a French Battoon.   

Here, had a nobler Theme for Homer been,  
While Gods against Gods, and Hero's Hero's fought;  
And if the far-famed Hector fought within  
The far more famed Achilles fought without.   

Continual Thunder rends the Sky, as when  
Assailing Giants against jove rebelled,  
And all the while, a more amazing Scene,  
Smoak Day made Night, and Flame o'er Night prevailed.   

Phoebus' beheld th' emboldened Flames aspire,  
And how the distant Air in Sulphur burned;  
What, is the World, he cried, again on Fire,  
And my unruly Chariot overturnd?   

Th' Assaults, the Combats sung by Homer's Muse,  
Or what the Roman Prowess could renown,  
Three Years 'fore Salem's Walls disdaining Truce,  
Were here in Feats of dismal War outdone.   

At length, when the full Feast of Death was o'er,  
And rude Attacks had mowed down all within,  
The weak Remainder loud for Aid implore,  
And they saw Succour that was only seen.   

Fain would the gallic Chief have saved the Town,  
And vowed the Strength of France to signalise;  
But all in vain; the Strength of France looked on,  
While lost Namur became the Victor's Prize.   

While thus the Sword raged on, and dubious War  
In bloody Triumph road, the gallic Heat  
Began to cool; France could no longer bear  
Th' incessant Toil of Sisiphus' Fate.   

She found, that should she still prolong her Wars,  
She had an Overpowering Genius met;  
For Kings have all, like Magnitudes of Stars,  
Or Ranks of Angels, more of Lesle and Great.   

'Twas therefore fruitless longer to contend  
With Britain's Genius, and her Wealth beside;  
Consumed within, her Treasures at an end,  
And only rich in Vaunts, and blust'ring Pride.   

She saw kind Nature idle, wanting Art;  
Autumn forgot to bear, and Spring to bloom,  
While Strength and Youth must to the Camp depart,  
And toil Abroad to lay her waste at Home.   

Who but would prise so fair a Guest as Peace?  
The fairest Maid that e'er from Heaven was sent;  
Yet France contemned her, and abhorring Rest,  
From Europe chased the lovely Innocent.   

Only in Albion she found safe Retreat;  
Her Prince caressed the Darling of his Care,  
As she, to whom he vowed his Martial Heat,  
And for whose sake alone he made just War.   

No wonder then, the slighted Maid took ill  
The Wrongs from gallic Fury long sustained;  
Mild as she is, she could not reconcile  
With those so long her Favours had disdained.   

But Pride, that's always humble when brought low,  
By our Famed WILLIAM's Prowess sore distressed,  
Submissive grows, and France, now taught to bow,  
From injured Peace implores contemned Rest.   

By her despised, by WILLIAM's Cares engaged,  
She knew that only he could Peace command;  
He, that to fix her Throne fierce Wars had waged,  
Yet gave her safeguard in a Copious Land.   

But he who knew the Blessing he possessed,  
To easy Offers scorned to prostiute  
The Sacred Honour of his Virgin Guest,  
And safely guarded the Hesperian Fruit.   

The wondering World, that heard the Boasts of France,  
Who as her Alms the Peace of Europe vaunted,  
At the same time admired the vain Pretence  
Of giving others what herself she wanted.   

Her Numbers could not scare the Sacred League,  
Nor Victories only in Te Deums won,  
Peace would not be deluded by Intrigue,  
Nor Laws receive from her who valued none.   

Nothing but Mediation fixed on Honour's Faith,  
And Overtures by equal Reason swayed,  
Could make the Generous Prince his Anger sheath,  
By just Redress of injured Peace allayed.   

At length was found a Prince of high Renown,  
To Honour true, to Peace no less sincere;  
And all applaud the Choice so kindly won  
To poise the Balance of this grand Affair.   

Had you th' Assembly seen at Rijswick met  
You there had seen a Council of the Gods,  
Such as in Jove's Apartment doomed the Fate  
Of Priam's Ilium, and the Grecian Feuds.   

France, that Occasion by the Forelock held,  
Great Britain's sovereign hastens to atone;  
It was no more than what her Fears compelled,  
To court him first from whom her Fears begun.   

She owns Him Potent, High, and Most Serene,  
Forced to attest what well she knew before;  
For only Words could never make him mean  
Who in his Crown still France's Lilies wore.   

Espoused Interest suffers harsh Divorce;  
Though Friend and sworn Allye the Nuptials made;  
Titus in vain for Syria's Queen implores,  
For still Superior Law must be obeyed.   

The Potent, Most Serene, and the Most High  
Held awful Rule in his Majestic Hand;  
And this, like some controlling Prodigy,  
Made France yield more, while others less demand.   

No longer France must bear the Name of Great,  
That first from War derived affected Growth,  
But ne'er by Peace procured: He's only fit  
To wear that Name, who keeps the Keys of both.   

Thus all agreed, Blessed Peace the Concord sealed,  
And lowly Grateful to the best of Kings,  
As once the Cherubims God's Covenant veiled  
Covered all Europe with her Silver Wings.   

Her Joy was such, that she would needs return  
And to Great WILLIAM once more pay her Vows;  
Resolved in all her Glory to adorn  
The Triumphs of his Conquests o'er her Foes.   

And then it was the Goddess thus begun;  
Hail, Mighty Monarch, Wonder of the Earth;  
From Hero's sprung, with all their Virtues joined in One,  
As Heaven had held a second Consult at your Birth.   

May I be long a Servant to your Throne,  
Blessed in your Reign, like Saturn giving Law  
To Three fair Realms, and all the Sea your own,  
Where your feared Navies keep the turbulent World in Awe.   

Soft in your Sway, and willingly obeyed:  
May you be always all Mankind's desire;  
To distant climes, so may your Wisdom spread,  
And many Sheba's your Renown admire.   

Counsel and Justice be your chief Supports;  
Both Jove's Concomitants, and both Divine;  
With them be safe from all the foul Efforts  
Of Treason brooding dangerous Design.   

ne'er may my Presence pamper idle Ease,  
But such as gives to Noble Arts repose;  
Such as for which the toiling Ploughman prays,  
And Commerce sues; whence our Abundance flows.   

And when at Nestor's Years you part from hence  
Where Happy Monarches rule new Realms of Bliss,  
Be still our Angel, as you were our Prince,  
And favour in that World, what you preserved in this.   
FINIS.   

ADVERTISEMENT.  
BY the same Author, In Memory of our Late Most Gracious Lady, Mary Queen of Great Britain, France, and Ireland. A Poem: Printed for john Harris, at the Harrow in Little Britain.