Now Side by Side the panting Rivals ftand,
And fix their Eyes upon th' appointed Hand:
The Signal giv'n, spring forward to the Race;
Not fam'd Camilla ran with fleeter Pace.
Nora, as Lightning fwift, the reft o'er-pafs'd,
While Shevan fleetly ran, yet ran the last.
But, Oonah, thou hadst Venus on thy fide;
At Nora's Petticoat the Goddess ply'd,
And in a trice the fatal String unty'd.
Quick ftop'd the Maid, nor wou'd, to win the Prize,
Expose her hidden Charms to vulgar Eyes.
But while to tye the treach'rous Knot she staid,
Both her glad Rivals pass the weeping Maid.
Now in despair fhe plies the Race again,
Not winged Winds dart swifter o'er the Plain
She (while chafte Dian aids her hapless Speed).
Shevan outstrip'd. ----- nor further cou'd fucceed..
For with redoubled hafte bright Oonah flies,
Seizes the Goal, and wins the nobleft Prize.
Loud Shouts and Acclamations fill the Place,
Tho' Chance on Oonah had beftow'd the Race;
Like Felim none rejoyc'd a lovelier Swain
Ne'er fed a Flock on the Fingalian Plain.
Long he with fecret Paffion lov'd the Maid,
Now his encreafing Flame itfelf betray'd.
Stript for the Race how bright did fhe appear!
No Cov'ring hid her Feet, her Bofom bare,
And to the Wind she gave her flowing Hair.
A thoufand Charms he faw, conceal'd before,
Thofe, yet conceal'd, he fancy'd still were more.
Felim, as Night came on, young Oonah woo'd;
Soon willing Beauty was by Truth subdu’d.
No jarring Settlement their Bliss annoys,
No Licence needed to defer their Joys.
Oonah ere Morn the sweets of Wedlock try'd;
The Smock she won a Virgin, wore a Bride.
Upon the happy Disappointment of the French Invafion, in favour of the Pretended Prince of Wales.
Written in the Year 1707.
Sacred Bards! O all ye tuneful Throng!
Raife Anna's Name in an immortal Song.
Let ev'ry Breast the tuneful God inspire,
Kindle Poetic Flames, a true Celestial Fire.
Let fofter Ovid now neglected lie,
And foar on Maro's Pinions to the Sky,
Let Cam's fam❜d Sons in lofty Numbers fing,
And Ifis' Swans their rival Mufick bring.
Let Garth renew his pleasing Strains, and draw
Fam'd Anna's Form as bright as great Nassau ;-
Her let the Virgins in their Songs proclaim,
And smiling Babes lifp out the darling Name;
Let ev'ry Voice her lafting Praise resound,
And paffing Winds convey the Chorus round
No bafe Impoftor can disturb thy Reign; His vain Attempts thou mockeft with Disdain, Thou Emprefs of the Land, thou Goddefs of the Main, So have I feen a Meteor blaze on high, Dance thro' the fpaces of the liquid Sky, Then quickly fade, and in a moment die. Go Purple Cheat! Let St. Germain contain Thy narrow Empire, and thy baffled Train. There rule thy Fill, and fancy'd Scepters wield, And Kingdoms in Utopian Regions build. In State and Port with Latian Cafars vie, Act the Mock Prince, and mimic Majefty; Let crowds of Slaves around thy Table wait, Attend thy Nod, and truckle to thy State. Such vifionary Realms does Lewis give,
And fuch the Crowns his faithful. Friends receive.
Britannia's generous Sons behold with Scorn
A Popish Pageant by Contrivance born:
Hold, puny Wretch; the Briton is too brave,.
Sooner he'll free-born die than live a Slave.
Let the base Turk and Gauls ignoble Swains
Their Fetters hug, and glory in their Chains;
But all ye Heav'nly Pow'rs permit that we
May live like Men, and breathe in Liberty.
As tow'ring Spain did to Eliza yield, And own'd her Sov'raign of the wat'ry Field, When Drake and Rawleigh lafting Trophies rear'd, And early in the Book of Fame appear'd:
So Gallic Fleets victorious Anna's fly;
Trufting to Canvas Wings, they dare not try
The British Force, nor caft the fatal Die;
Now Leak and Bing with Noble Dursley gain
Eternal Honours on the briny Main,
Whilft crowds of Hero's undiftinguish'd fhine,
Above the Wing of fuch a Mufe as mine,
Whofe gallant Breafts have future Wars in view,
Deftin'd to fave old Worlds, or conquer new.
Then whither, poor Pretender, wilt thou fly? Thy Patron fees, too late, thy Ruin nigh,
In fome dark Convent hide thee from the Day,
Shave thy thin Skull, and to St. Lewis pray:
Let Pater-nofters be thy conftant Theme;
But never more of promis'd Empires dream.
(More grateful than Sabaan Odours far)
Play round the Nofe, and wanton in the Air;
May Afculapius let him always want
The Virtues of the Health-reftoring Plant
Or let th' unworthy Sinner be confin'd
To abject Weeds of fome Plebeian kind..
Bacchus his Herb fhould have for its Abode
The Workmanfhip of the Etnean God,
Well-polifht Steel, that, like the Mimick Glafs,.
Reflects the Image of the Smoaker's Face,
And lets him fee how well a taper Pipe,
Of Mold refin'd, becomes his humid Lip..
Such, fuch à Seat is worthy to receive.
The Myftick, Dionyfian, fhort-cut Leaf.
|