Gloria Britannorum: or, The British worthies. A poem. Being an essay on the characters of the most illustrious persons in camp or cabinet, since the Glorious Revolution to this present time. : More particularly, of the present ministry, under our most renowned sovereign Lord King George. : To which is added, an ode on His Majesty's coronation, and an elegy on the death of the late glorious Duke of Marlborough. / By a lover of the present happy constitution. ; [Two lines from Horace]

Gloria Britannorum.

SICILIAN Muse! the rural Strain forbear Nor urge the verdant Spring, nor blooming Year, Tho' Flora's Charms have sweetly tun'd thy Lyre, Yet now a nobler Theme my Verse does fire, To Sing of Heroes Deeds. Ye Heavenly Nymphs assist me with your Lays To Sing such Heroes worthy of your Praise, And you bright Sons of Harvard where the Nine, And Great Apollo consecrate their Shrine,

For Wisdom fam'd, the rude Attempt excuse, Accept an Off'ring from an Infant Muse, That in Advent'rous Numbers first would Sing The Fam'd NASSAU, the Great, the Warlike King. Next to my View a Cloud of Hero's rise, Whose Fame is wasted to the boundless Skies, Innumerable Years shall nee'r deface Such worthy Patriots, such a Wondrous Race.

Then dare my Muse! th' Immortal Man declare, How mild in Empire, yet how brave in War, Sing all his Toils, the Glorious Toils he took, To rescue Britain from th' impending Stroak Of grievous Servitude, and foreign Yoak. For this, th' intrepid Hero scorn'd his Ease, Plunging his Way thro' Winters faithless Seas, Saw the rude Winds impetuous swell the Main In Storms that round the Warriour rag'd in vain.

Embarqu'd in Liberty's Immortal Cause, WILLIAM the sacred Sword of Justice draws, Directs his Course for injur'd Albion's Shore To save Religion, and the Laws restore.

Stunn'd at his near approach the Romish Crew With guilty looks their dire Destruction view, Their Altars fall, their Priests no refuge find, But scour like Locusts 'fore the Western Wind. Now the old English Freedom dares return, WILLIAM arriv'd, no more does Albion mourn; Where'er his presence as the Sun appears It banishes all Clouds, dispels all Fears. See the glad Nation rise with one accord, With ravisht Joy to meet their welcom Lord, Who comes the English Glory to restore That in Luxutious Sloth lay sunk before. The British Lyon rouses at his call, Enlarg'd from Tyranny's Oppressive Thrall, Rampant he tears & foams with vengeful Roar, Snuffing th' approaching scent of Hostile Gore And shews how Bourbon might have fall'n before,

At his stern Voice drooping the Lilly lies, No more the dread of Europe now to rise, Pendant she lours, her true Complexion shows, And at the Victor's Thunder paler grows; Blasted with Fear, declines the brandisht Sword Of Nossau's mighty Prince and puissant Lord.

Hark! the melodious Trumpet's Sound I hear, Loud ecchoing Shouts surprize each listning Ear, Bells ringing, Bonfires blazing ev'ry where. Scarce do the British Youths their Joys contain, (Old English Liberty restor'd again) With Oaken Boughs & Laurel spread the Way, Immortal Garlands at his Feet they lay, Whilst the freed Nobles their Allegiance pay; Mirth, Wine, and Musick crown th' auspicious Day.

Long had the haughty French by Charles been spar'd, And James in open League with Rome appear'd;

Lewis without controul his Conquests gain'd, No Seas had yet with Gallick Blood been stain'd; But now as rons'd from dead lethargick Sleep, Britain again prepares to rule the Deep; Again Britannia's lovely Sons are Arm'd 'Gainst France, by NASSAU'S great Example warm'd. Fir'd with Revenge, their glitt'ring Swords prepare, And all the dreadful solemn pomp of War. ORANGE like Lightning at their head appears With firmest Soul, nor Death nor Danger fears. Immortal Deeds the Hero's Bosom warm, Then Ireland felt the Thunder of his Arm. To Flandria thence his awful Course he bends, Thither the Great Victorious Leader tends; Thither Britannia's freeborn Sons advance, And great NASSAU strikes Terrour into France.

But O' th' uncertain State of human Things! WILLIAM the dread, the Scourge of Tyrant Kings;

Must to inexorable Fate resign, Whilst the sad Nations mourn his Funeral Shrine. The time now came that Heaven expedient saw, The Hero shou'd from earthly Cares withdraw: But 'fore his greatest Soul to Heaven was fled, He rais'd himself upon his Couch, and said,

Can any more for Albion's Isle be done, Before this mortal Life's frail Glass is run? I'm now no more! but ANNA does succeed, By Her the Perjur'd Gaul shall surely Bleed. Let Shovel's Arm with Rook's the Fleet command And CHURCHILL head Britannia's Troops by Land: He shall the direful Stroke to France impart, None has a cooler Head, or warmer Heart. To Britain's Arms, by ANNA'S firm Decree, The World shall strike by Land as well as Sea. When she 〈◊〉〈◊〉 to Heavens Harmonious train, It is decreed that BRUNSWICK'S Line shall Reign.

To their long Rule no Bound's assign'd by Heav'n, That House the Powers have endless Empire giv'n, In them the English Glory shall survive, In them you'll have Plantagenets alive; They to remotest Climates shall give Law, And Plans of Peace for future Ages draw. Then Janus Temple shut, the din of Arms To Silence husht, no more shall dire Alarms From the rude God of War with flaming hand Threatning destructive Ruin o'er a Land, Or Britain's Wealth, or Briton's Blood de|mand. But all the Nations sooth'd to gentle Peace, Britain shall glory share with Freedom's Ease; Plenty shall flow profuse with a full horn, And peaceful Olives shall those Halcyon times adorn. Thus said, with faltring Speech the Hero cry'd, Britain adieu, then bow'd his Head and dy'd. Great Soul! ev'n in the latest hours of breath, Triumphs in England's Glory, smiles in Death.

Of SCHOMBERG next who at the Boyne did fall, Or RUSSEL who destroy'd at Sea the Gaul, I know not how to touch, or SOMMERS too Who Tully did for Eloquence out do.

Immortal WHARTON'S Praise must still be sung, His ready Wit, his sweet mellifluous Tongue; Who durst for Albion's safety out have pour'd, His greatest Soul to've seen her laws secur'd.

SARUM to sing requires Angelick Lays, For he exceeds the bounds of humane Praise; Wing'd with his starry plumes, he soars on high, By Saints and Angels welcom'd to the Sky: Clio beware, the sovereign Task resign, Urania can alone make BURNET shine, The Theme's all heavenly, sacred, all Divine,

STANHOPE, for Arms or Arts so lately fam'd, Shou'd with Eternal Numbers be proclaim'd; He may in either Shape be glorious shown, Or in the warlike Camp, or in the peaceful Gown. In vain my Muse attempts the Hero's might, Bold in the Field, and in the Senate bright; His Name in England's Story shall be told So long as BRUNSWICK'S Line does Albion hold; His Merit shall from Shore to Shore be fam'd, Wherever Britain's Liberty is nam'd; How thro' Iberian Coasts the Victor flew With uncontroul'd Success, his Thousands flew; At Sarragoss how Philip 'fore him fled, On Madrid's Walls the British Flag display'd, His Name to haughty Spamards yet a dread.

CADOGAN too, for Martial Prowess known, Shall in the sacred Chronicle be shown, And shine with endless Glory and Renown.

WHARTON the Young, the Wise, of Free|born Race, Whom all the Virtues, all Perfections grace; With steady Zeal pursues his Country's Cause, And in the Spring of Age asserts the Laws: Nor Hopes nor Fears the Generous Youth can bind, The Patriot's deep engraven in his Mind. Thus the Illustrious Roman Youths of old, Did Rome's Immortal Liberty uphold, And were among th' Eternal Powers enroll'd.

What shall I say of TOWNSHEND's honest Zeal: His Pains unwearied for the publick Weal? WALPOLE's immov'd Integrity relate: His Powerful Eloquence in warm Debate, Or deepest Judgment in Affairs of State? PARKER's inimitable Harangues show: Which with resistless Force unbounded Flow?

Shall I sweet COWPER's heavenly Style re|hearse, And Sing Encomium's with Eternal Verse? Show JEKYL's florid Parts which 'dorn the Hall, Or LECHMERE's ready Tongue that speaks them all?

But O' my Muse! on what Immortal String Wilt thou all conquering MARLBRO's Tri|umphs Sing? Relate perfidious base Bavaria's Fall, Or in the Bloody Danube plunge the Gaul; Show how from Blenheim's Towers they basely yield, Or broke in wild Confusion fly the Field? Ramillia's never fading Garland shew, What Laurels there adorn'd the Victor's Brow; On Judoign's Plain the purple Scene disclose, And Field bestrew'd with heaps of slaughter'd Foes.

'T was on a Summers Morn, the bloom of May, (As if just Heaven will'd a decisive Day)

With vaunting Pride the Gaul came forth to try Their Strength in Arms once more, conquer or dye; Boasting Success, furious Efforts they make, In bellowing Flames the Thundring Cannon spake, At whose dread Roar the Neigh bring Mountains quake. In Motion see their Horse from Wing to Wing, Dreadfull in Arms, that sound a clangorous Ring, The prancing Steeds fir'd with the din of War, With rage disdainful snuff the nitrous Air; Waving their sinewy Necks with fiery glare, Swallow the Ground with Fierceness, bound and tear, No more the Thunder of the Battel fear. Of threatned Dart, or Sword, or pointed Spear. Proud in their Ranks the firm Battalions stand, Eager for Fight, and Victory demand; 'Mongst whom the Houshold Troops in Splen|dor shine, Waiting the Charge with numerous Hosts to join.

But now Confed'rate Drums twang thro' the Air In solemn sound; the Eccho rings afar From Hill to Hill, tost o'er the tragick Verge, Whilst the shrill Trumpet sounds the bloody Charge; At which Command, the Troops with dauntless Mind Embattled Ranks in mighty Quadrate join'd, With Blenheim's Everlasting Trophys crown'd, Move on intrepid to the rapturous Sound Of Instrumental Harmony that breath'd Heroick Ardor to advent'rous Deeds: Under their Godlike Leader in the Cause Of Europe's Safety, Liberty, and Laws, Onward they move, profuse of generous Life, Eager for Glory, and demand the Strife. Th'impending Storm hangs instant o'er the Hills, And great Expectance every Soldier fills. But the loud Shout of Battel now began, And rushing Sounds of Arms, horrible clang?

The Battel join'd, loud Thunders rend the Sky. Deaths and a thousand flaming Dangers fly Across the Field; Lightning and Storms arise, Filling the Neighb'ring Boors with wild Surprize.

'Twas then Britannia's Chief, renown'd in Wars, In awful Form assum'd the Port of Mars; Whilst on his Victor Front with Graceful Air Deliberation sat, and publick Care; Thro' all the Storm dreadless & firm appear'd, With steady Hand the Helm of Action steer'd, Regardless of the mighty Thunder's fall, Tho' once so near approach'd the mur'dring Ball.

O' BRINGFIELD! hard, but glorious was thy Fate, Around thy Tomb a thousand Glories wait; That Tomb which now to latest Times must tell Where MARLBRO' Triumph'd, there how BRINGFIELD fell.

The Gaul repuls'd, still burn with fresh Desires, And love of Conquest every Bosom Fires; But they for glorious Conquest strive 〈…〉〈…〉, Nor do the furious Battel long maintain; Broke and o'erthrown their Horse with dread|ful Foil, Back in tumultuous Rout the Foot 〈◊〉〈◊〉, Nor dare again Brittanick Powers engage Now kindled into more than tenfold Rage, Whose Center-shaking Guns when once they spoke In Blaze of Sulphur, and thick Clouds of Smoke, Charon grew faint with sorrying Souls to Hell, Such Hecatombs of haughty Frenchmen fell. Now droop'd their Silver Ensigns lost in Flight, To Gallic Empire boding Eternal Night, Broken Battallions squandring baste away To pass unseen, and sculk behind the Day, And leave the vanquish'd Field the Victors Prey.

Thus have I seen a Fleet with well spread Sail Quit Harbour pompous with a flattering Gale; With gilded Pride and Lustre brave the Day, Their Streamers fluttering in the Zephyrs play; When on a sudden Storms and Tempests rise, And Jove descends in Lightning from the Skies; Broke and confounded on the boisterous Main, Strive the next Port with shatter'd Sides to gain, Untaught the raging Billows to sustain.

Proceed, my Muse, the lofty Theme pursue To Oud'nard's bloody Field of Crimson hue; There let Vandome's opprobrious rout appear, Or Lisle's vast Conquest crown the wondrous Year. But O' what Numbers can suffice to tell The vast Exploits of War that Year befel? Blazon the pompous Field of Battel won, Or let the vanquish'd Gaul before him run;

Traverse the Conquer'd Realms, the wide Campaign, Thro' Seas of Blood, o'er vasty Hills of Slain, And see whole Armies drag the Victor's Chain.

Sing Villars too with triple Trench immur'd, With Blaugie's stubborn Oaks and Pines secur'd, Tell how the deep mouth'd Tubes with hide|ous Roar, Flaming Destruction, guard their Camp before; Legions of Troops in Swarms behind them lie, And Briton's Power, & MARLBRO's Arm defie. Delusive Thought! the Trumpet sounds to Arms, Whilst loud Huzza's the Gallick Camp Alarms, Britannia's Bands move toward the Gloomy Wood Like a thick Tempest hovering in a Cloud. Amazing Scene! What thundering Storms ensue, What fiery Hail, what flaky Lightnings flew,

When the fierce Bands in furious Battle join'd With force superior, but with braver mind, Undaunted Bosoms tempt the Edge of Death, In Freedom's Cause proud to resign their Breath.

Long was the Fight and dubious, and the Plain Drank deep of Crimson; Here their last Cam|paign Choice hardy Veterans made; Stern Generals here, Lie gasping, Valiant; Still in their Looks ap|pears Great Magnanimity, now bleeding lie And stretch'd o'th' purple Bed of Honour dye.

Till now the Battel hung in even Scale, Which Side Victoria flatter'd hard to tell; But now th' enraged Britons bear down all With Force impetuous 'fore 'em; now the Gaul Beneath the Victors Thunder fainting fall:

Nor Tube nor Trench their rapid Force restrain; Britannia's Bands the dreadful Entrance gain, And Blood and Slaughter rages o'er the Plain. Here might you've seen the Trenches overspread With mangled Trunks, and Bodies of the Dead, Till the discolour'd Earth thus dy'd in Grain, Blush'd to behold such Shambles of the Slain; Nay the pale Furies stood like trembling Elves, Wondring to see Men do more than themselves.

The Gaul now broke, in panick dread they run, Amaz'd to find their lofty Ramparts won. And own themselves by MARLBRO's Pow|er outdone. Such were th' Effects of his Deliberate Care, Victoria still attended CHURCHILL's Spear: Where'er the mighty Chief in Battel join'd Glad Victory always to his Arms enclin'd, And FOUR the Laurel to his Temples bind.

No more of Pompey now, or Julius tell, Nor on Great Ammon's Son's vast Story dwell,

MARLBRO' on Hochstet's glorious Plain did more, Than they in all their boasted Wars before, In HIM concentred all that e'er they knew, Experience, Wisdom, Judgment, Valour too, In heat of Action brave, in Conduct clear, Strange & averse to nought but Pride & Fear.

AUGUSTUS * 1.1 next, in Day of Battel bold, Amongst the noblest Hero's stands Enroll'd; Sublimely Great, for mighty Actions born, Britennia's sacred Annals to adorn; My Pen is not sufficient for his Praise, Bellona on his Head has fix'd the Bayes.

Nor must I leave unsung the Youth † 1.2 divine, Britannia's Hopes, betwixt the Elbe and Rhine, Like to the Morning Dew his Goodness flows, And as a Root for after Ages grows, Ingenuous, candid, free, of generous Race, Mirrour of Wit, adorn'd with e'ery Grace,

So much his sweet engaging Charms invite, That justly he's esteem'd the Worlds delight. When young the Tree, yet choicest Fruit appears, What may we not expect from riper Years.

But above all, see mighty BRUNSWICK'S Star, Shines forth refulgent in the glorious Sphere, With dazling Light does as the Sun appear! Not only here his kindly Rays descend, His Goodness does to all the World extend; From Pole to Pole, Britannia's Fame he bears, And gives new Lustre to the Crown he wears; His powerful Treaties o'er the World prevail, No Widows now their Husbands Blood bewail; Captives from Chains his generous Schemes release, Does the proud Spaniards sultry Rage appease, And sooths the rugged Northern world to peace.

But O' what Joys perpetual must they share, Who feel th' effects of his immediate Care!

Happy the Land that his just rule obeys! Happy the Realms! where'er his Empire sways, By CAESAR'S rule, Justice and Truth abound, And all the Year's with Peace & Plenty crown'd; By HIM our Flocks in safety range the Plain; Secure, the Seaman ploughs the boist'rous Main; The lab'ring Fields with Plenty crown the Year, And Liberty its golden Head does rear: Not Saturn's Age could boast an happier Reign, Shou'd that be true which witty Poets feign, That perfect Virtue then on Earth remain'd. Sure Heaven itself propitious deign'd to Smile When Britain's States declar'd in awful Style BRUNSWICK the Great Defender of our Isle. Our Pipes shall therefore Sing HANOVER'S Praise, Thro' all our Grotto's with immortal Lays; His Temples shall be deck'd with Ivy round, And every Village shall his Name resound.

What boundless Prospect now before me lies! Ten thousand Scenes of Bliss for Albion rise, HANOVER'S Reign Octavian Times curvies.

Our Fleets shall now the furthest Coasts attain, Loaden with Wealth shall safe return again, The Product of the World without controul, Shall with the beauteous Thames Triumphant rowl.

No more shall Civil Discord's Fury rage, Nor Broils domestick Britain's Arms engage, War's dreadful sound no more shall Albion hear Nor Goth, nor Gaul's insulting thundrings fear, But the whole Globe shall BRUNSWICK'S Name revere. Religious Truths in purity shall shine, Tho' Rome in bloody League with High-Church join To root them out, they firm as Heaven remain, Whilst giddy Zealots spend their rage in vain, Unable to answer Ho••dly's nervous Strain CAESAR shall Live, Britannia's Scepter sway, And all with chearful Hearts his Rule obey; Peace now Triumphant o'er the World shall ride, And HE the Affairs of Europe always guide;

Then Mars shall up his murd'ring Engines fold, And GEORGE the Balance of the World shall hold.

But where, presumptuous Muse! dost thou aspire, Thy Genius toucht not with the sacred Fire; Forbear on such a mighty Theme t'engage, Not Sing of Patriots with unequal rage; Rather some humble Country Subject choose, That better suits thy 〈◊〉〈◊〉 and feeble Muse, Then on so great, so vast a Subject dwell, Which only thou in mean ignoble Verse canst tell.

Notes

• * 1.1

  Prince of Wales.
• † 1.2

  Prince Frederick.