h was the Liquid Plain; the fleeping Wind; to the Sea, than to its Master, kind,

'd a Treasure, which we value more

All the Deep e'er hid, or Waters bore. e, with a Superiour Genius born,

s Chance with Infolence, and Death with Scorn;

efs and Ice in vain obstruct his way, d is near, and Nature must Obey;

g'd with our Hopes the Boat fecurely rode, afar and his Fortune were the Load.

th eager Transport Belgia met her Son, rembling for the danger He had run; ertain of her Joy, she bow'd her Head, eft her Lord, Bleft his Return, and said,

Paffion by long Abfence does improve, nakes that Rapture which before was Love, k on my old, my intermitted Bliss, by my former Pleasure measure this;

Not

Not by these feeble Pillars which I raise, Unequal to sustain the Heroe's praise, Too faint the Colours, and too mean the To represent Your Glories, or my Heart These humble Emblems are design'd to sh Not how we wou'd Reward, but what we Here from your Childhood take a fhort Re How Holland's Happiness advanc'd with y How her ftout Vessel did in Triumph ride And mock'd the Storms, while Orange wa Guide.

What fince has been our Fate--I need no (Ill fuiting with the Bleffings of the day.) Our better Fortune with our Prince was g Conqueft was only there where He led o Like the Palladium, wherefoe'er You go, You turn all Death and Danger on the Fo In You we but too fadly understood How Angels have their Spheres of doing G

Elfe the fame Soul which did Your Troops poffefs,
And Crown'd their daring Courage with Success,
Had taught our Fleet to triumph o'er the Main,
And Fleurus had been still a guiltless Plain.
What pity 'tis, ye Gods! an Arm and Mind
Like Yours, fhou'd be to time and place confin'd2
But Thy return fhall fix our kinder fate,

For Thee our Councils, Thee our Armies wait;
Discording Princes fhall with Thee combine,
And center all their Interests in Thine,
Proud of Thy Friendship, shall forego their Sway,
As Rome Her great Dictator did obey;

And all united make a Gordian knot,

Which neither Craft shall loose,nor Force shall cut.

AN

་་།

AN

EPISTLE

ΤΟ

Monfieur Boileau.

Invicing his MUSE to forfake the

FRENCH INTEREST,

And CELEBRATE the

KING of ENGLAND.

By Edmund Arwaker.

S