AN ODE, In Imitation of the SECOND ODE OF The Third BOOK OF HORACE.  
By Mr. PRIOR.   

AN ODE, etc.  

I.  
HOW long, deluded Albion, wilt Thou lie 
(a) 
Augustam, amici, Pauperiem pati  
Robustus acri Militiâ Puer  
Condiscat, & Parthos feroces  
Vexet eques metuendus hastâ.    
In the Lethargic Sleep, the sad Repose,  
By which thy close, thy constant Enemy,  
Has softly lulled Thee to Thy Woes?  
Or Wake, degenerate Isle, or Cease to own  
What Thy Old Kings in Gallic Camps have done;  
The Spoils They brought Thee back, the Crowns They won.  
WILLIAM, (so Fate requires) again is Armed;  
Thy Father to the Field is gone:  
Again MARIA Weeps Her absent Lord;  
For Thy Repose content to Rule alone.  
Are Thy Enervate Sons not yet Alarmed?  
When WILLIAM Fights, dare they look tamely on,  
So slow to get their Ancient Fame Restored,  
As nor to melt at Beauty's Tears, nor follow Valour's Sword?   

II.  
See the Repenting Isle Awakes,  
Her Vicious Chains the generous Goddess breaks:  
The Fogs around Her Temples are Dispelled;  
Abroad She Looks, and Sees Armed Belgia stand  
Prepared to meet their common Lords Command;  
Her Lions Roaring by Her Side, Her Arrows in Her Hand;  
And Blushing to have been so long withheld,  
Weeps off Her Crime, and hastens to the Field:  

(b) 
Vitamque sub Dio & trepidis agate  
In rebus.   Henceforth Her Youth shall be inur'd to bear  
Hazardous Toil and Active War:  
To march beneath the Dog-Stars raging Heat,  
Patient of Summer Drought, and Martial Sweat▪  
And only Grieve in Winter's Camps to find,  
Its Days too short for Labours They designed:  
All Night beneath hard heavy Arms to Watch;  
All Day to Mount the Trench, to Storm the Breach;  
And all the rugged Paths to tread,  
Where WILLIAM and His Virtue lead.   

III.  

(c) 
Est & fideli tuta silentio  
Merces, etc.   Silence is the Soul of War;  
Deliberate Counsel must prepare  
The Mighty Work, which Valour must complete:  
Thus WILLIAM Rescued, thus Preserves the State;  
Thus Teaches Us to Think and Dare;  
As whilst his Cannon just prepared to Breath  
Avenging Anger and swift Death,  
In the tried Mettle the close Dangers glow,  
And now too late the Dying Foe  
Perceives the Flame, yet cannot ward the Blow;  
So whilst in WILLIAM's Breast ripe Counsels lie,  
Secret and sure as Brooding Fate,  
No more of His Design appears  
Than what Awakens Gallia's Fears;  
And (though Guilts Eye can sharply penetrate)  
Distracted Lewis can descry  
Only a long unmeasured Ruin nigh.   

IU.  
On Norman Coasts and Banks of frighted Seine,  
Lo! the Impending Storms beg●n:  
Britannia safely through her Master's Sea  
Ploughs up her Victorious Way.  
The French Salmoneus throws his Bolts in vain,  
Whilst the true Thunderer asserts the Main:  
'Tis done! to Shelves and Rocks his Fleets retire,  
Swift Victory in Vengeful Flames  
Burns down the Pride of their Presumptuous Names:  
They run to Shipwreck to avoid our Fire,  
And the torn Vessels that regain their Coast  
Are but sad Marks to show the rest are lost:  
All this the Mild, the Beauteous, Queen has done,  
And WILLIAM's softer half shakes Lewis ' Throne:  
MARIA does the Sea command  
Whilst Gallia flies her Husband's Arms by Land,  
So, the Sun absent, with full sway, the Moon  
Governs the Isles, and rules the Waves alone;  
So juno thunders when her jove is gone.  
Iö Britannia! loose thy Ocean's Chains  
Whilst Russell strikes the Blow Thy Queen ordains:  
Thus Rescued, thus Revered, for ever stand,  
And bless the Counsel, and Reward the Hand,  
Iö Britannia! thy MARIA Reigns.   

V.  
From MARY's Conquests, and the Rescued Main,  
Let France look forth to Sambre's armed Shore,  
And boast her Joy for WILLIAM's Death no more.  
He lives, let France confess, the Victor lives:  
Her Triumphs for his Death were vain,  
And spoke her Terror of his Life too plain. 
(e) 
— Illum ex maenibus hosticis  
Matrona bellantis Tyranni  
Prospiciens, & adulta virgo  
Suspiret, eheu! ne rudis agminum  
Sponsus lacessat regius asperam  
Tactu leonem quem cruenta  
Per medias rapit ira Caedes.    
The mighty years begin, the day draws nigh,  
In which That One of Lewis ' many Wives,  
Who by the baleful force of guilty Charms,  
Has long enthrauled Him in Her withered Arms,  
Shall o'er the Plains from distant Towers on high  
Cast around her mournful Eye,  
And with Prophetic Sorrow cry:  
Why does my ruin'd Lord retard his flight?  
Why does despair provoke his Age to fight?  
As well the Wolf may venture to engage  
The angry Lion's generous rage;  
The ravenous Vulture, and the Bird of Night,  
As safely tempt the stooping Eagles flight,  
As Lewis to unequal Arms defy  
Yon Hero, crowned with blooming Victory  
Just triumphing o'er Rebel rage restrained,  
And yet unbreathed from Battles gained.  
See! all yon dusty Fields quite covered o'er  
With Hostil Troops, and ORANGE at their Head,  
ORANGE destined to complete  
The great Designs of labouring Fate,  
ORANGE the Name that Tyrant's Dread:  
He comes, our ruin'd Empire is no more,  
Down, like the Persian, goes the Gallic Throne,  
Darius flies, young Ammon urges on.   

VI  
Now from the dubious battle's mingled heat  
Let Fear look back, and stretch her hasty Wing, 
(f) 
Dulce & decorum est pro patriâ mori,  
Mors & fugacem prosequitur Virum  
Nec parcit imbellis jurentae  
Poplitibus timidoque tergo.    
Impatient to secure a base retreat:  
Let the pale Coward leave his Wounded King,  
For the vile privilege to breath,  
To live with shame in dread of glorious Death.  
In vain: for Fate has swifter Wings than fear,  
She follows hard, and strikes Him in the rear,  
Dying and Mad the Traitor bites the ground,  
His Back transfixed with a Dishonest Wound;  
Whilst through the fiercest Troops, and thickest Press,  
Virtue carries on Success;  
Whilst equal Heaven guards the distinguished brave,  
And Armies cannot hurt whom Angels save.   

VII.  
Virtue to Verse immortal Lustre gives, 
(g) 
Virtus repulsae nescia sordidae  
Intaminatis fulget honoribus  
Nec ponit aut sumit secures  
Arbitrio popularis aurae.    
Each by the other's mutual Friendship lives;  
Aeneas suffered, and Achilles fought,  
The Hero's acts enlarged the Poet's thought,  
Or Virgil's Majesty, and Homer's Rage  
Had ne'er like lasting Nature vanquished Age;  
Whilst Lewis then his rising Terror drowns  
With Drums Alarms and Trumpets Sounds,  
Whilst hid in armed Retreats and guarded Towns,  
From Danger as from Honour far,  
He bribe's close Murder against open War:  
In vain you Gallic Muses strive  
With laboured Verse to keep his Fame alive,  
Your mouldering Monuments in vain ye raise  
On the weak Basis of the Tyrant's Praise:  
Your Songs are sold, your Numbers are Profane,  
'Tis Incense to an Idol given,  
Meat offered to Prometheus ' Man,  
That had no Soul from Heaven.  
Against his Will you chain your frighted King  
On rapid Rhine's divided Bed;  
And Mock your Hero, whilst ye Sing  
The Wounds for which he never bled;  
Falsehood does poison on your Praise defuse,  
And Lewis ' fear gives Death to Boileau's Muse.   

VIII.  
On it's own Worth True Majesty is reared, 
(g) 
Virtus repulsae nescia sordidae  
Intaminatis fulget honoribus  
Nec ponit aut sumit secures  
Arbitrio popularis aurae.    
And Virtue is her own Reward,  
With solid Beams and Native Glory bright,  
She neither Darkness dreads, nor covets Light;  
True to Herself, and fixed to inborn Laws,  
Nor sunk by spite, nor lifted by Applause,  
She from Her settled Orb looks calmly down,  
On Life or Death, a Prison or a Crown.  
When bound in double Chains poor Belgia lay  
To foreign Arms, and inward strife a Prey,  
Whilst One Good Man buoyed up Her sinking State,  
And Virtue laboured against Fate;  
When fortune basely with ambition joined,  
And all was conquered but the Patriots mind,  
When Storms let loose, and raging Seas  
Just ready the torn Vessel to overwhelm,  
Forced not the faithful Pilot from his Helm,  
Nor all the Siren Songs of future Peace,  
And dazzling Prospect of a promised Crown,  
Could lure his stubborn Virtue down;  
But against Charms, and Threats, and Hell, He stood,  
To that which was severely good;  
Then, had no Trophies justified his Fame,  
No Poet blest his Song with NASSAW's Name,  
Virtue alone did all that Honour bring,  
And Heaven as plainly pointed out The KING,  
As when He at the Altar stood  
In all his Types and Robes of Power,  
Whilst at His Feet Religious Britain bowed,  
And owned him next to what We there Adore.   

IX.  
Say joyful Maese, and Boin's Victorious Flood,  
(For each has mixed his Waves with Royal Blood)  
When WILLIAM's Armies passed, did He retire,  
Or view from far the battle's distant Fire?  
Could He believe His Person was too dear?  
Or use His Greatness to conceal His Fear?  
Could Prayers or Sighs the dauntless Hero move?  
Armed with Heaven's Justice, and His People's Love,  
Through the first Waves He winged His venturous Way,  
And on the Adverse Shore arose,  
(Ten thousand flying Death's in vain oppose)  
Like the great Ruler of the Day,  
With Strength and Swiftness mounting from the Seas:  
Like Him all Day He Toiled, but long in Night  
The God had eased His wearied light,  
‛ Ere Vengeance left the stubborn Foes,  
Or WILLIAM's Labours found repose.  
When His Troops faltered, stepped not He between,  
Restored the dubious Fight again,  
Marked out the Coward that durst fly,  
And led the fainting Brave to Victory?  
Still as she fled Him, did He not overtake,  
Her doubtful course, still brought Her Bleeding back?  
By His keen Sword did not the Boldest fall?  
Was He not King, Commander, Soldier, All—?  
His Dangers such, as with becoming Dread,  
His Subjects yet Un-Born shall Weep to Read;  
And were not those the only Days that ere  
The Pious Prince refused to hear  
His Friends Advices, or His Subject's Prayer.   

X.  
Where e'er old Rhine his fruitful Water turns,  
Or fills his Vassals Tributary Urns;  
To Belgia's saved Dominions, and the Sea,  
Whose righted Waves rejoice in WILLIAM's sway.  
Is there a Town where Children are not Taught,  
Here Holland Prospered, for here ORANGE Fought,  
Through Rapid Waters, and through flying Fire:  
Here rushed the Prince, Here made whole France retire.—  
By different Nations be this Valour blest,  
In different Languages confessed,  
And then let Shannon Speak the rest:  
Let Shannon Speak, how on her wondering Shore,  
When Conquest hovering on his Arms did wait,  
And only asked some Lives to Bribe her o'er.  
The Godlike Man, the more than Conqueror,  
With high Contempt sent back the specious Bait,  
And Scorning Glory at a Price too great,  
With so much Power such Piety did join,  
As made a Perfect Virtue Soar  
A Pitch unknown to Man before,  
And lifted Shannon's Waves o'er those of Boyne.   

XI.  
Nor do his Subjects only share  
The Prosperous Fruits of His Indulgent Reign;  
His Enemies approve the Pious War,  
Which, with their Weapon, takes away their Chain:  
More than His Sword, His Goodness strikes His Foes;  
They Bless His Arms, and Sigh they must oppose.  
Justice and Freedom on his Conquests wait,  
And 'tis for Man's Delight that He is Great:  
Succeeding Times shall with long Joy contend,  
If He were more a Victor, or a Friend:  
So much His Courage and His Mercy strive,  
He Wounds, to Cure; and Conquers, to Forgive.   

XII.  
Ye Heroes, that have Fought Your Country's Cause,  
Redressed Her Injuries, or Formed Her Laws,  
To my Adventurous Song just Witness bear,  
Assist the Pious Muse, and hear Her Swear,  
That 'tis no Poet's Thought, no Flight of Youth,  
But solid Story, and severest Truth,  
That WILLIAM Treasures up a greater Name,  
Than any Country, any Age, can Boast:  

(g) 
Virtus recludens immeritis Mori  
Coelum, negatâ tentat iter viâ  
Coetusque vulgares & udam  
Spernit humum fugiente pennâ.   And all that Ancient Stock of Fame  
He did from His Forefathers take,  
He has improved, and gives with Interest back;  
And in His Constellation does unite  
Their scattered Rays of Fainter Light:  
Above or Envy's lash, or Fortune's Wheel,  
That settled Glory shall for ever dwell  
Above the Rolling Orbs, and common Sky,  
Where nothing comes that e'er shall Diego   

XIII.  
Where Roves the Muse? Where thoughtless to return  
Is her short lived Vessel Born,  
By Potent Winds too subject to be tossed?  
And in the Sea of WILLIAM's Praises lost?  
Nor let her tempt that Deep, nor make the Shore  
Where our abandoned Youth She sees  
Shipwrackt in Luxury, and lost in Ease;  
Whom nor Britannia's Danger can alarm,  
Nor WILLIAM's Exemplary Virtue warm:  
Tell 'em however the King can yet Forgive  
Their Guilty Sloth, their Homage yet Receive,  
And let their wounded Honour live:  
But sure and sudden be their just Remorse;  
Swift be their Virtues rise, and strong its Course; 
(h) 
— Saepe Diespiter  
Neglectus incesto addidit Integrum  
Rario antecedentem Scelestum  
Deseruit Pede poena Claudo.    
For though for certain Years and destined Times,  
Merit has lain confused with Crimes;  
Though jove seemed Negligent of human Cares,  
Nor Scourged our Follies, nor returned our Prayers.  
His Justice now Demands the equal Scales,  
Sedition is Suppressed, and Truth Prevails:  
Fate it's great Ends by slow Degrees Attains,  
And Europe is Redeemed, and WILLIAM Reigns.   
FINIS.