With hizzing streams of fire the air they streak,
And hurl deftruction round 'em where they break,
The skies with long afcending flames are bright,
And all the fea reflects a quivering light.

Thus Ætna, when in fierce eruptions broke,
Fills heav'n with ashes, and the earth with smoke:
Here crags of broken rocks are twirl'd on high,
Here molten stones and scatter'd cinders fly:
Its fury reaches the remoteft coaft,
And ftrows the Afiatic shore with dust.

Now does the failor from the neighb'ring main

Look after Gallic towns and forts in vain;
No more his wonted marks he can descry,
But fees a long unmeasur'd ruin lie;
Whilft, pointing to the naked coast, he shows
His wondring mates where towns and steeples rofe,
Where crowded citizens he lately view'd,
And fingles out the place where once St. Maloes stood.
Here Ruffel's actions should my Muse require:
And would my strength but fecond my defire,
I'd all his boundless bravery rehearse,
And draw his cannons thund'ring in my verse;
High on the deck should the great leader ftand,
Wrath in his look, and light'ning in his hand;
Like Homer's Hector when he flung his fire

Amidst a thousand ships, and made all Greece retire.

But who can run the British triumphs o'er, And count the flames disperst on ev'ry shore? Who can defcribe the scatter'd victory, And draw the reader on from sea to fea? Elfe who cou'd Ormond's God-like acts refuse, Ormond the theme of ev'ry Oxford Muse ? Fain wou'd I here his mighty worth proclaim, Attend him in the noble chase of fame, Through all the noise and hurry of the fight, Observe each blow, and keep him still in fight. Oh, did our British peers thus court renown, And grace the coats their great fore-fathers won! Our arms would then triumphantly advance, Nor Henry be the last that conquered France. What might not England hope, if fuch abroad Purchas'd their country's honour with their blood: When fuch, detain'd at home, support our ftate In WILLIAM'S stead, and bear a kingdom's weight, The schemes of Gallic policy o'erthrow, And blaft the counsels of the common foe; Direct our armies, and distribute right, And render our MARIA'S loss more light. But stop, my Muse, 'th ungrateful found forbear, MARIA'S name still wounds each British ear: Each British heart MARIA still does wound, And tears burst out unbidden at the found;

MARIA

MARIA still our rising mirth destroys,
Darkens our triumphs, and forbids our joys:

But fee, at length, the British ships appear!
Our NASSAU comes! and as his fleet draws near,
The rifing mafts advance, the fails grow white,
And all his pompous navy floats in fight.
Come, mighty Prince, defir'd of Britain, come!
May heav'n's propitious gales attend thee home !
Come, and let longing crowds behold that look,
Which such confufion and amazement strook
Through Gallic hosts: but, oh! let us descry
Mirth in thy brow, and pleasure in thy eye;
Let nothing dreadful in thy face be found,
But for a-while forget the trumpet's found;
Well pleas'd, thy people's loyalty approve,
Accept their duty, and enjoy their love.
For as when lately mov'd with fierce delight,
You plung'd amidst the tumult of the fight,
Whole heaps of dead encompass'd you around,
And steeds o'er-turn'd lay foaming on the ground;
So crown'd with laurels now, where-e'er you go,
Around you blooming joys, and peaceful blessings flow.

A Tran

E

A Translation of all

VIRGIL's Fourth Georgic,

Except the Story of ARISTÆUS.

Thereal fweets shall next my Muse engage,
And this, Mecenas, claims your patronage,
Of little creatures wondrous acts I treat,
The ranks and mighty leaders of their state,
Their laws, employments, and their wars relate.
A trifling theme provokes my humble lays,
Trifling the theme, not so the Poet's praife,
If great Apollo and the tuneful Nine
Join in the piece, and make the work divine.
First, for your bees a proper station find,
That's fenc'd about, and shelter'd from the wind;
For winds divert them in their flight, and drive

The swarms, when loaded homeward, from their hive.
Nor sheep, nor goats, must pasture near their stores,
To trample under foot the springing flowers;
Nor frisking heifers bound about the place,
To spurn the dew-drops off, and bruise the rifing grafs;
Nor must the lizard's painted brood appear,
Nor wood-pecks, nor the swallow harbour near.
They waste the swarms, and as they fly along
Convey the tender morsels to their young.

Let

Let purling streams, and fountains edg'd with moss,
And shallow rills run trickling through the grafs;
Let branching olives o'er the fountain grow,
Or palm shoot up and shade the streams below;
That when the youth, led by their princes, shun
The crowded hive, and sport it in the fun,
Refreshing springs may tempt 'em from the heat,
And shady coverts yield a cool retreat.

Whether the neighb'ring water stands or runs,
Lay twigs across and bridge it o'er with stones;
That if rough storms, or fudden blafts of wind
Should dip, or fcatter those that lag behind,
Here they may settle on the friendly stone,
And dry their reeking pinions at the fun.
Plant all the flow'ry banks with Lavender,
With store of Sav'ry scent the fragrant air,
Let running Betony the field o'erspread,
And fountains foak the Violet's dewy bed.

Tho' barks or plaited willows make your hive,
A narrow inlet to their cells contrive;

For colds congeal and freeze the liquors up,
And, melted down with heat, the waxen buildings drop,
The Bees, of both extremes alike afraid,

Their wax around the whistling crannies spread,
And fuck out clammy dews from herbs and flow'rs,
To smear the chinks, and plaifter up the pores:

For