Conduntur Reliquiæ

Matris admodum Venerabilis

(Secreto jaceat ne admodum prostituatur) Quæ mortua fuit dum viva,

Et viva dum mortua.

O Facinus impium & incredibile!
Defenfore deferta,

Patribus afflicta,

Filiis occifa,

Sacrificium, fuffragiis Tv TVTV,
Votivum, & Fanaticorum furore.

Ubi Monarcha agit contra Monarchiam,
Ecclefiaftici contra Ecclefiam,
Legislatores contra Legem,

Ægrotavit Nov 5. M. DC. LXXXVIII.

Obiit

M. DCC. V.

Epitaphium E. A.

Hic jacet E. A.

Semi-mortua, Semi-fepulta,
Non Romanorum vi,

Nec Fanaticorum Furore,
Sed fui ipfius Infidiis ruit.

Oh miferanda Ecclefia!

Cui Rex Batavus, & Patriarcha non Baptizatus.

VICTORY

VICTORY upon VICTORY: A Poem on the Succefs of his Grace the Duke of Marlborough over the French Forces near Tirlemont, 1705.

Ong did Naffau his Belgick Valour try,

Lo

By English Arms to curb French Tyranny: Vaft Sums were given, and great Armies rais'd, And Wonders done, that glorious Prince be prais'd; Whose matchlefs Conduct all Men must allow, Perform'd strange things, the Lord knows where (or how. He crofs'd the Seas, where bluft'ring Winds arose, And fear'd a Storm as little as his Foes. By force of Arms rang'd Flanders round about, To fight the French, but first to find them out, Which when he'd done, he pufh'd 'em here and

(there,

And did what lying Fame can best declare.
His Actions were profufely Great 'tis true,
He bomb'd old Bruffels, burnt St. Malloes too,
To th' everlasting Mem'ry of the Lord knows
who.

But Thou Great Marlborough, haft in two Cam-
Made happy ANN's surpass all other Reigns;
(paigns,
And by thy Conduct, at a mod❜rate Cost,
Retriev'd that Honour fourteen Years had lost.
In thy Great Soul, in equal ballance meet,
Both Mars's Courage and Apollo's Wit.

Thou

Thou doft with Temper all thy Actions fquare,, And art too Wife and Fortunate to err.

The World's great Tyrant dreads thy pow'rful

(Hand,

As if Jove's Thunder was at thy Command
On thy victorious Deeds looks pale and tame,
Envies thy Feats, and startles at thy Name!

Matchlefs and endless is the great Renown,
Which thou haft nobly won for England's Crown.
Bright Anna's Vertues, joyn'd with thy Success,
Shine equal to the Kingdom's Happiness.
Domeftick Jars are by her Scepter aw'd,
Whilft with Her Sword thou Wonders doft abroad.
Elizabeth 'tis true was Wife and Great,
And rul'd with Prudence a divided State;
Did mighty Things, outdone as yet by none,
Except good Ann that now afcends the Throne.
Elizabeth, to fhew her Judgment, chofe
The gallant Capel to chaftize her Foes,
Whose valiant Deeds made England's Glory fhine:
But his (Great Marlborough) ne'er could equal thine;
For thou already haft accomplish'd more,
Than e're was done by Prince or Peer before.
Effex, 'tis true, did wondrous Fame procure,
And long in Royal Favour slept fecure.
But thou art ftill deservedly more Great,
And tow'rft above his Virtues and his Fate.
Thy fortunate Success does Faction tame,
Maugers their Hopes, and difappoints their Aim,
Strikes back the Terror of their threatning Brow,
And makes them look confus'd, we know not how.
O happy Hero, Wife and Valiant Prince,
Darling of Heaven, and the Crown's Defence
The Nation's Bulwark, whofe refiftlefs Blows
Crush where they fall, and batter down our Foes.

The

The Pride and Glory of the Grand Allies,
The Terror of their trembling Enemies;
The Head that wifely does project the way
To conquer, and the Hand that wins the Day;
The trufty Champion of th' Imperial Throne,
Firm to their Int'reft, faithful to our own;
A Friend to the Hungarian Proteftants,
Scourge to Bavaria, and a Sting to France;
Worship'd by Pagan Hogen as a God,
Efteem'd at Home, belov'd and fear'd Abroad.
His Glorious Actions fill the World with News,
And are the only Themes of ev'ry Muse.
With Mirth and Joy he does whole Nations fill,
The World feems ftagnated when he stands ftill.
Blenheim and Hochftet witness his Success,
And this more dang'rous Conqueft does no lefs;
But with fresh verdant Lawrels crowns his Head,
Such as will out-wear Time, and never fade.
Cafar himself ne'er brought more Honour home,
Or brave Fabritius e'er do more for Rome,
Than Marlborough has perform'd in all degrees,
To England's Glory, and for Europe's Eafe.
Great Alexander in his youthful Heat,
Tis true, did all the Eastern World defeat,
And many potent Kingdoms over-run;
But Marlborough out-does all in conqu❜ring one.

Horace, Lib III. Ode III. Imitated.

HE Man that's Refolute and Juft,
Firm to his Principles and Truft,
Nor Hopes, nor Fears can blind;
No Paflions his Defigns controll,
Not Love, that Tyrant of the Soul,
Can shake his teddy Mind.

Not

Not Parties for Revenge engag'd,
Nor Threatnings of a Court enrag'd,
Nor Storms where Fleets defpair;
Not Thunder pointed at his Head;
The fhatter'd World may ftrike him dead,
Not touch his Soul with Fear.

From this the Grecian Glory rofe,
By this the Romans aw'd their Foes,
Of this their Poets fing;

These were the Paths the Heroes trod,
These Arts made Hercules a God,
And great Naffáu a King.

Firm on the rolling Deck he flood,
Unmov'd beheld the breaking Flood
With black'ning Storms combin'd:
Virtue, he cry'd, will force its Way,
The Winds may for a while delay,
Not alter our Design.

The Men whom felfifh Hopes inflame,
Or Vanity allures to Fame,

May be to Fears betray'd;
But here a Church for Succour flies,
Infulted Law expiring lies,

And loudly calls for Aid.

Yes, Britans, yes! with ardent Zeal
I come, the wounded Heart to heal,
The wounding Hand to bind!
See, Tools of Arbitrary Sway,
And Priests, like Locusts, icour away
Before the Western Wind