Bleinheim, a Poem

From low and abject themes the grov'ling museNow mounts aërial, to sing of armsTriumphant, and emblaze the martial actsOf Britain's hero; may the verse not sinkBeneath his merits, but detain a whileThy ear, O Harley, (though thy country's wealDepends on thee, though mighty Anne requiresThy hourly counsels) since with ev'ry artThy self adorn'd, the mean essays of youthThou wilt not damp, but guide, wherever found,The willing genius to the muses' seat:Therefore thee first, and last, the muse shall sing. Long had the Gallic monarch uncontroll'dEnlarg'd his borders, and of human forceOpponent slightly thought, in heart elate,As erst Sesostris, (proud Egyptian king,That monarchs harness'd to his chariot yok'd,(Base servitude!) and his dethron'd compeersLash'd furious; they in sullen majestyDrew the uneasy load.) Nor less he aim'dAt universal sway: for William's armCould naught avail, however fam'd in war;Nor armies leagu'd, that diversely assay'dTo curb his pow'r enormous; like an oak,That stands secure, though all the winds employTheir ceaseless roar, and only sheds its leaves,Or mast, which the revolving spring restores:So stood he, and alone; alone defy'dThe European thrones combin'd, and stillHad set at naught their machinations vain.But that great Anne, weighing th' events of warMomentous, in her prudent heart, thee chose,Thee, Churchill, to direct in nice extremesHer banner'd legions. Now their pristine worthThe Britons recollect, and gladly changeSweet native home for unaccustom'd air,And other climes, where diff'rent food and soilPortend distempers; over dank, and dry,They journey toilsome, unfatigu'd with lengthOf march, unstruck with horror at the sightOf Alpine ridges bleak, high stretching hills,All white with summer snows. They go beyondThe trace of English steps, where scarce the soundOf Henry's arms arriv'd; such strength of heartThy conduct, and example gives; nor smallEncouragement Godolphin, wise, and just,Equal in merit, honour, and success,To Burleigh, (fortunate alike to serveThe best of queens:) he, of the royal storeSplendidly frugal, sits whole nights devoidOf sweet repose, industrious to procureThe soldiers' ease; to regions far remoteHis care extends, and to the British hostMakes ravag'd countries plenteous as their own. And now, O Churchill, at thy wish'd approachThe Germans, hopeless of success, forlorn,With many an inroad gor'd, their drooping cheerNew animated rouse; not more rejoiceThe miserable race of men, that liveBenighted half the year, benumb`d with frostsPerpetual, and rough Boreas' keenest breath,Under the Polar Bear, inclement sky,When first the sun with new-born light removesThe long incumbent gloom; gladly to theeHeroic laurel`d Eugene yields the prime,Nor thinks it diminution, to be rank`dIn military honour next, althoughHis deadly hand shook the Turkestan throneAccurs`d, and prov`d in far divided landsVictorious; on thy pow`rful sword aloneGermania, and the Belgic coast relies,Won from th`encroaching sea: that sword great AnneFix`d not in vain on thy puissant side,When thee sh`enroll`d her garter`d knights among,Illustrating the noble list; her handAssures good omens, and Saint George`s worthEnkindles like desire of high exploits.Immediate sieges, and the tire of warRoll in thy eager mind; thy plumy crestNods horrible, with more terrific portThou walk`st, and seem`st already in the fight. What spoils, what conquests then did Albion hopeFrom thy achievements! yet thou hast surpass'dHer boldest vows, exceeded what thy foesCould fear, or fancy; they, in multitudeSuperior, fed their thoughts with prospect vainOf victory, and rapine, reck'ning whatFrom ransom'd captives would accrue. Thus oneJovial his mate bespoke: "O friend, observe,How gay with all th' accoutrements of warThe Britons come, with gold well fraught they comeThus far, our prey, and tempt us to subdueTheir recreant force; how will their bodies stripp'dEnrich the victors, while the vultures sateTheir maws with full repast!" Another, warm'dWith high ambition, and conceit of prowessInherent, arrogantly thus presum'd:"What if this sword, full often drench'd in bloodOf base antagonists, with griding edgeShould now cleave the execrable headOf Churchill, met in arms! or if this hand,Soon as his army disarray'd 'gins swerve,Should slay him flying, with retentive gripe,Confounded, and appall'd! no trivial priceShould set him free, nor small should be my praiseTo lead him shackl'd, and expose to scornOf gath'ring crowds the Britons' boasted chief." Thus they, in sportive mood, their empty tauntsAnd menaces express'd; nor could their princeIn arms, vain Tallard, from opprobrious speechRefrain: "Why halt thee thus, ye Britons? whyDecline the war? shall a morass forbidYour easy march? Advance; we'll bridge a way,Safe of access. Imprudent, thus t' inviteA furious lion to the folds!" That boastHe ill abides, captiv'd in other plightHe soon revisits Britanny, that onceResplendent came, with stretch'd retinue girt,And pompous pageantry; O hapless fate,If any arm, but Churchill's, had prevail'd! No need such boasts, or exprobations falseOf cowardice; the military moundThe British files transcend, in evil hourFor their proud foes, that fondly brav'd their fate.And now on either side the trumpet blew,Signal of onset, resolution firmInspiring, and pernicious love of war.The adverse fronts in rueful conflict meet,Collecting all their might; for on th' eventDecisive of this bloody day dependsThe fate of kingdoms: with less vehemenceThe great competitors for Rome engag'd,Caesar, and Pompey, on Pharsalian plains,Where stern Bellona, with one final stroke,Adjudg'd the empire of this globe to one.Here the Bavarian Duke his brigades leads,Gallant in arms, and gaudy to behold,Bold champion! brandishing his Noric blade,Best temper'd steel, successless prov'd in field!Next Tallard, with his Celtic infantryPresumptuous comes: here Churchill, not so promptTo vaunt, as fight, his hardy cohorts joinsWith Eugene's German force. Now from each vanThe brazen instruments of death dischargeHorrible flames, and turbid streaming cloudsOf smoke sulphureous; intermix'd with theseLarge globous irons fly, of dreadful hiss,Singeing the air, and from long distance bringSurprising slaughter; on each side they flyBy chains connex'd, and with destructive sweepBehead whole troops at once; the hairy scalpsAre whirl'd aloof, while numerous trunks bestrewTh' ensanguin'd field; with latent mischief stor'dShow'rs of granadoes rain, by sudden burstDisploding murd'rous bowels, fragments of steel,And stones, and glass, and nitrous grain adust.A thousand ways at once the shiver'd orbsFly diverse, working torment, and foul routWith deadly bruise, and gashes furrow'd deep.Of pain impatient, the high prancing steedsDisdain the curb, and flinging to and fro,Spurn their dismounted riders; they expireIndignant, by unhostile wounds destroy'd. Thus through each army death, in various shapes,Prevail'd; here mangled limbs, here brains and goreLie clotted; lifeless some: with anguish theseGnashing, and loud laments invoking aid,Unpity'd, and unheard; the louder dinOf guns, and trumpets clang, and solemn soundOf drum o'ercame their groans. In equal scaleLong hung the fight, few marks of fear were seen,None of retreat: as when two adverse winds,Sublim'd from dewy vapours, in mid skyEngage with horrid shock, the ruffled brineRoars stormy, they together dash the clouds,Levying their equal force with utmost rage;Long undecided lasts the airy strife. So they, incens'd: till Churchill, viewing whereThe violence of Tallard most prevail'd,Came to oppose his slaught'ring arm; with speedPrecipitant he rode, urging his wayO'er hills of gasping heroes, and fall'n steedsRolling in death: destruction, grim with blood,Attends his furious course. Him thus enrag'dDescrying from afar some engineer,Dextrous to guide th' unerring charge, design'dBy one nice shot to terminate the war.With aim direct the levell'd bullet flew,But miss'd her scope (for destiny withstoodTh' approaching wound) and guiltless plough'd her wayBeneath his courser; round his sacred headThe glowing balls play innocent, while heWith dire impetuous sway deals fatal blowsAmongst the scatter'd Gauls. But O! bewareGreat warrior, nor too prodigal of lifeExpose the British safety: hath not JoveAlready warn'd thee to withdraw? ReserveThy self for other palms. Ev'n now thy aidEugene, with regiments unequal press'd,Awaits; this day of all his honours gain'dDespoils him, if thy succour opportuneDefends not the sad hour: permit not thouSo brave a leader with the vulgar herdTo bite the ground unnoted.----Swift and fierceAs wintry storm, he flies, to reinforceThe yielding wing; in Gallic blood againHe dews his reeking sword, and strews the groundWith headless ranks; (so Ajax interpos'dHis sevenfold shield, and screen'd Laertes' son,For valour much, and warlike wiles renown'd,When the insulting Trojans urg'd him soreWith tilted spears): unmanly dread invadesThe French astony'd; straight their useless armsThey quit, and in their swift retreat confide,Unseemly yelling; distant hills returnThe hideous noise. What can they do? or howWithstand his wide-destroying sword? or whereFind shelter thus repuls'd? behind with wrathResistless, th' eager English champions press,Chastising tardy flight; before them rollsHis current swift the Danube, vast, and deepSupreme of rivers; to the frightful brink,Urg'd by compulsive arms, soon as they reach'd,New horror chill'd their veins; devote they sawThemselves to wretched doom; with efforts vain,Encourag'd by despair, or obstinateTo fall like men in arms, some dare renewFeeble engagement, meeting glorious fateOn the firm land; the rest discomfited,And push'd by Marlborough's avengeful hand,Leap plunging in the wide extended flood:Bands, num'rous as the Memphian soldieryThat swell'd the Erythraean wave, when wall'dThe unfroze waters marvellously stood,Observant of the great command. UpboreBy frothy billows thousands float the streamIn cumbrous mail, with love of farther shore;Confiding in their hands, that sed'lous striveTo cut th' outrageous fluent: in this distress,Ev'n in the sight of death, some, tokens showOf fearless friendship, and their sinking matesSustain; vain love, though laudable! absorb'dBy a fierce eddy, they together soundThe vast profundity; their horses pawThe swelling surge, with fruitless toil: surcharg'd,And in his course obstructed by large spoil,The river flows redundant, and attacksThe ling'ring remnant with unusual tide;Then rolling back, in his capacious lapEngulfs their whole militia, quick immers'd.So when some swelt'ring travellers retireTo leafy shades, near the cool sunless vergeOf Paraba, Brazilian stream; her tailOf vast extension, from her wat'ry den,A grisly Hydra suddenly shoots forth,Insidious, and with curl'd envenom'd trainEmbracing horribly, at once the crewInto the river whirls; the' unweeting preyEntwisted roars, the parted wave rebounds. Nor did the British squadrons now surceaseTo gall their foes o'erwhelm'd; full many feltIn the moist element a scorching death,Pierc'd sinking; shrouded in a dusky cloudThe current flows, with livid missive flamesBoiling, as once Pergamean Xanthus boil'd,Inflam'd by Vulcan, when th' swift-footed sonOf Peleus to his baleful banks pursu'dThe straggling Trojans: nor less eager droveVictorious Churchill his desponding foesInto the deep immense, that many a leagueImpurpl'd ran, with gushing gore distain'd. Thus the experienc'd valour of one man,Mighty in conflict, rescu'd harass'd pow'rsFrom ruin impendent, and th' afflicted throneImperial, that once lorded o'er the world,Sustain'd. With prudent stay, he long deferr'dThe rough contention; nor would deign to routAn host disparted; when, in union firmEmbody'd, they advanc'd, collecting allTheir strength, and worthy seem'd to be subdu'd;He the proud boasters sent, with stern assault,Down to the realms of night. The British souls,Exult to see the crowding ghosts descendUnnumber'd; well aveng'd, they quit the caresOf mortal life, and drink th' oblivious lake.Not so the new inhabitants; they roamErroneous, and disconsolate, themselvesAccusing, and their chiefs, improvidentOf military chance; when lo! they see,Through the dun mist, in blooming beauty fresh,Two lovely youths, that amicably walk'dHis mingled parents, and portended joyUnspeakable; thou, his associate dearOnce in this world, nor now by fate disjoin'd,Had thy presiding star propitious shone,Should'st Churchill be! But Heav'n severe cut shortTheir springing years, nor would, this isle should boastGifts so important! Them the Gallic shadesSurveying, read in either radiant lookMarks of excessive dignity and grace,Delighted; 'till, in one, their curious eyeDiscerns their great subduer's awful mien,And corresponding features fair; to themConfusion! Strait the airy phantoms fleet,With headlong haste, and dread a new pursuit;The image pleas'd with joy paternal smiles. Enough, O muse; the sadly-pleasing themeLeave, with these dark abodes, and re-ascendTo breathe the upper air, where triumphs waitThe conqu'ror, and sav'd nations joint acclaim.Hark, how the cannon, inoffensive now,Gives signs of gratulation; struggling crowdsFrom ev'ry city flow; with ardent gazeFix'd, they behold the British guide, of sightInsatiate; whilst his great redeeming handEach prince affects to touch respectful. See,How Prussia's King transported entertainsHis mighty guest; to him the royal pledge,Hope of his realm, commits (with better fate,Than to the Trojan chief Evander gaveUnhappy Pallas), and intreats to showThe skill and rudiments austere of war.See, with what joy, him Leopold declaresHis great deliverer; and courts t' acceptOf titles, with superior modestyBetter refus'd. Meanwhile the haughty KingFar humbler thoughts now learns; despair, and fearNow first he feels; his laurels all at onceTorn from his aged head, in life's extreme,Distract his soul; nor can great Boileau's harpOf various sounding wire, best taught to calmWhatever passion, and exalt the soulWith highest strains, his languid spirits cheer:Rage, shame, and grief, alternate in his breast. But who can tell what pangs, what sharp remorseTorment the Boian prince? From native soilExil'd by fate, torn from the dear embraceOf weeping comfort, and depriv'd the sightOf his young guiltless progeny, he seeksInglorious shelter, in an alien land;Deplorable! but that his mind averseTo right, and insincere, would violateHis plighted faith: why did he not acceptFriendly composure offer'd? or well weigh,With whom he must contend? Encount'ring fierceThe Solymaean Sultan, he o'erthrewHis moony troops, returning bravely smear'dWith paynim blood effus'd; nor did the GaulNot find him once a baleful foe: but when,Of counsel rash, new measures he pursues,Unhappy prince! (no more a prince) he seesToo late his error, forc'd t' implore reliefOf him, he once defy'd. O destituteOf hope, unpity'd! Thou should'st first have thoughtOf persevering steadfast; now upbraidThy own inconstant ill-aspiring heart.Lo! how the Noric plains, through thy default,Rise hilly, with large piles of slaughter'd knights,Best men, that warr'd still firmly for their prince,Though faithless, and unshaken duty show'd;Worthy of better end. Where cities stood,Well fenc'd, and numerous, desolation reigns,And emptiness, dismay'd, unfed, unhous'd,The widow, and the orphan stroll aroundThe desert wide; with oft retorted eyeThey view the gaping wall, and poor remainsOf mansions, once their own (now loathsome hauntsOf birds obscene), bewailing loud the lossOf spouse, or sire, or son, ere manly primeSlain in sad conflict, and complain of fateAs partial, and too rigorous; nor findWhere to retire themselves, or where appeaseTh' afflictive keen desire of food, expos'dTo winds, and storms, and jaws of savage beasts. Thrice happy Albion! from the world disjoin'dBy Heav'n propitious, blissful seat of peace!Learn from thy neighbour's miseries to prizeThey welfare; crown'd with nature's choicest gifts,Remote thou hear'st the dire effect of war,Depopulation, void alone of fear,And peril, whilst the dismal symphonyOf drums and clarions other realms annoys.T' Iberian sceptre undecided, hereEngages mighty hosts in wasteful strife;From diff'rent climes the flow'r of youth descendsDown to the Lusitanian vales, resolv'dWith utmost hazard to enthrone their prince,Gallic, or Austrian; havoc dire ensues,And wild uproar: the natives, dubious whomThey must obey, in consternation wait,Till rigid conquest will pronounce their liege.Nor is the brazen voice of war unheardOn the mild Latian shore; what sighs and tearsHath Eugene caus'd! How many widows curseHis cleaving falchion! Fertile soil in vain!What do thy pastures, or thy vines avail,Best boon of heav'n! or huge Taburnus, cloth'dWith olives, when the cruel battle mowsThe planters, with their harvest immature?See, with what outrage from the frosty north,The early valiant Swede draws forth his wingsIn battailous array, while Volga's streamSends opposite, in shaggy armour clad,Her borderers; on mutual slaughter bent,They rend their countries. How is Poland vex'dWith civil broils, while two elected kingsContend for sway? Unhappy nation, leftThus free of choice! The English, undisturb'dWith such sad privilege, submiss obeyWhom Heav'n ordains supreme, with rev'rence due,Not thraldom, in fit liberty secure.From scepter'd kings, in long descent deriv'd,Thou Anna rulest, prudent to promoteThy people's ease at home, nor studious lessOf Europe's good; to thee, of kingly rightsSole arbitress, declining thrones, and pow'rsSue for relief; thou bidd'st thy Churchill go,Succour the injur'd realms, defeat the hopesOf haughty Louis, unconfin'd; he goesObsequious, and the dread command fulfils,In one great day. Again thou giv'st in chargeTo Rooke, that he should let that monarch know,The empire of the ocean wide diffus'dIs thine; behold! with winged speed he ridesUndaunted o'er the lab'ring main, t' assertThy liquid kingdoms; at his near approachThe Gallic navies, impotent to bearHis volley'd thunder, torn, dissever'd, scud,And bless the friendly interposing night. Hail, mighty Queen, reserv'd by fate, to graceThe new-born age; what hopes we may conceiveOf future years, when to thy early reignNeptune submits his trident, and thy armsAlready have prevail'd to th' utmost boundHesperian, Calpe, by Alcides fix'd,Mountain sublime, that casts a shade of lengthImmeasurable, and rules the inland waves!Let others, with insatiate thirst of rule,Invade their neighbours' lands, neglect the tiesOf leagues, and oaths; this thy peculiar praiseBe still, to study right, and quell the forceOf kings perfidious; let them learn from thee,That neither strength, nor policy refin'dShall with success be crown'd, where justice fails.Thou with thy own content, not for thy self,Subduest regions; generous to raiseThe suppliant knee, and curb the rebel neck.The German boasts thy conquests, and enjoysThe great advantage; nought to thee redoundsBut satisfaction from thy conscious mind. Auspicious Queen, since in thy realms secureOf peace, thou reign'st, and victory attendsThy distant ensigns, with compassion viewEurope embroil'd; still thou (for thou aloneSufficient art) the jarring kingdoms' ire,Reciprocally ruinous; say whoShall wield th' Hesperian, who the Polish sword,By thy decree; the trembling lands shall hearThy voice, obedient, lest thy scourge should bruiseTheir stubborn necks, and Churchill in his wrathMake them remember Bleinheim with regret. Thus shall the nations, aw'd to peace, extolThy pow'r, and justice; jealousies and fears,And hate infernal banish'd shall retireTo Mauretania, or the Bactrian coasts,Or Tartary, engend'ring discords fellAmongst the enemies of truth; while artsPacific, and inviolable loveFlourish in Europe. Hail Saturnian daysReturning! In perpetual tenor runDelectable, and shed your influence sweetOn virtuous Anna's head; ye happy days,By her restor'd, her just designs complete,And, mildly on her shining, bless the world. Thus from the noisy crowd exempt, with ease,And plenty bless'd, amid the mazy groves;(Sweet solitude) where warbling birds provokeThe silent muse, delicious rural seatOf Saint John, English Memmius, I presum'dTo sing Britannic trophies, inexpertOf war, with mean attempt; while he intent(So Anna's will ordains) to expediteHis military charge, no leisure findsTo string his charming shell; but when return'dConsummate peace shall rear her cheerful head,Then shall his Churchill, in sublimer verseFor ever triumph; later times shall learnFrom such a chief to fight, and bard to sing.