Selected quad for the lemma: virtue_n
Text snippets containing the quad
|
ID |
Title |
Author |
Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
STC |
Words |
Pages |
|
A55910
|
An ode in imitation of the second ode of the third book of Horace by Mr. Prior.
|
Prior, Matthew, 1664-1721.; Horace. Carmina Liber 3:2.
|
1692
(1692)
|
Wing P3514; ESTC R8273
|
4,647
|
12
|
AN ODE In Imitation of the SECOND ODE OF The Third BOOK OF HORACE By Mr. PRIOR AN ODE c. I. HOW long deluded Albion wilt Thou lie In the Lethargic Sleep the sad Repose By which thy close thy constant Enemy Has softly lull'd 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 Arm'd 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 Alarm'd When WILLIAM Fights dare they look tamely on So slow to get their Ancient Fame Restor'd As nor to melt at Beauties Tears nor follow Valours Sword II. See the Repenting Isle Awakes Her Vicious Chains the generous Goddess breaks The Foggs around Her Temples are Dispell'd Abroad She Looks and Sees Arm'd Belgia stand Prepar'd 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 Henceforth Her Youth shall be inur'd to bear Hazardous Toil and Active War To march beneath the Dog-Stars raging Heat Patient of Summers Drought and Martial Sweat And only Grieve in Winters Camps to find Its Days too short for Labours They design'd 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. Silence is the Soul of War Deliberate Counsel must prepare The Mighty Work which Valour must compleat Thus WILLIAM Rescued thus Preserves the State Thus Teaches Us to Think and Dare As whilst his Cannon just prepar'd to Breath Avenging Anger and swift Death In the try'd 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 discry Only a long unmeasur'd Ruine nigh IV. On Norman Coasts and Banks of frighted Seine Lo the Impending Storms begâ—n Britannia safely through her Masters Sea Plows up her Victorious Way The French Salmoneus throws his Bolts in vain Whilst the true Thunderer asserts the Main 'T is done to Shelves and Rocks his Fleets retire Swift Victory in Vengeful Flames Burns down the Pride of their Presumptuous Names They run to Shipwrack to avoid our Fire And the torn Vessels that regain their Coast Are but sad Marks to shew 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 Iuno thunders when her Iove is gone Iö Britannia loose thy Oceans Chains Whilst Russell strikes the Blow Thy Queen ordains Thus Rescued thus Rever'd 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 Terrour of his Life too plain 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 enthraul'd Him in Her wither'd Arms Shall o're the Plains from distant Towers on high Cast a-round her mournful Eye And with Prophetick 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 Lyons generous rage The ravenous Vultur and the Bird of Night As safely tempt the stooping Eagles flight As Lewis to unequal Arms defy Yon' Heroe crown'd with blooming Victory Just triumphing o're Rebel rage restrain'd And yet unbreath'd from Battels gain'd See! all yon' dusty Fields quite cover'd o're With Hostil Troops and ORANGE at their Head ORANGE destin'd to compleat The great Designs of labouring Fate ORANGE the Name that Tyrants 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 Battel 's mingled heat Let Fear look back and stretch her hasty Wing 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 Traytor bites the ground His Back transfix'd with a Dishonest Wound Whilst through the fiercest Troops and thickest Press Virtue carries on Success Whilst equal Heaven guards the distinguisht brave And Armies cannot hurt whom Angels save VII Virtue to Verse immortal Lustre gives Each by the other's mutual Friendship lives Aeneas suffer'd and Achilles fought The Heroes acts enlarg'd the Poets thought Or Virgil's Majesty and Homer's Rage Had ne're like lasting Nature vanquish'd Age Whilst Lewis then his rising Terrour drowns With Drums Alarms and Trumpets Sounds Whilst hid in arm'd Retreats and guarded Towns From Danger as from Honour far He bribes close Murder against open War In vain you Gallic Muses strive With labour'd Verse to keep his Fame alive Your mouldring Monuments in vain ye raise On the weak Basis of the Tyrants Praise Your Songs are sold your Numbers are Prophane 'T is Incense to an Idol given Meat offer'd 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 Heroe whilst ye Sing The Wounds for which he never bled Falshood does poyson on your Praise defuse And Lewis ' fear gives Death to Boileau's Muse. VIII On it 's own Worth True Majesty is rear'd And Virtue is her own Reward With solid Beams and Native Glory bright She neither Darkness dreads nor covets Light True to Her self and fix't to inborn Laws Nor sunk by spight 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 buoy'd up Her sinking State And Virtue labour'd against Fate When fortune basely with ambition joyn'd And all was conquer'd but the Patriots mind When Storms let loose and raging Seas Just ready the torn Vessel to o'rewhelm Forc'd not the faithful Pilot from his Helm Nor all the Syren Songs of future Peace And dazling Prospect of a promis'd Crown Could lure