Indissolubly firm; from Dubris south,
To northern Orcades, her long domain.
And now, thus leagued by an eternal bond,
What shall retard the Britons' bold designs,
Or who sustain their force, in union knit,
Sufficient to withstand the powers combin'd
Of all this globe? At this important act
The Mauritanian and Cathaian kings
Already tremble, and th' unbaptiz'd Turk
Dreads war from utmost Thule. Uncontrol'd
The British navy through the ocean vast
Shall wave her double cross, t' extremest climes
Terrific, and return with odorous spoils
Of Araby well fraught, or Indus' wealth,
Pearl, and barbaric gold: meanwhile the swains
Shall unmolested reap what Plenty strows
From well-stor❜d horn, rich grain, and timely fruits.
The elder year, Pomona, pleas'd, shall deck
With ruby-tinctur'd births, whose liquid store
Abundant, flowing in well-blended streams,
The native shall applaud; while glad they talk
Of baleful ills, caus'd by Bellona's wrath
In other realms; where'er the British spread
Triumphant banners, or their fame has reach'd
Diffusive, to the utmost bounds of this
Wide universe, Silurian cider borne
Shall please all tastes, and triumph o'er the vine.
Per ambages, Deorumque ministeria Præcipitandus est liber spiritus. Petronius.
Or English tipple, and the potent grain,
Which in the conclave of Celestial Powers
Bred fell debate, sing, nymph of heavenly stem,
Who on the hoary top of Pen-main-maur
Merlin the seer didst visit, whilst he sate
With astrolabe prophetic, to foresee
Young actions issuing from the Fates' divan.
Full of thy power infus'd by nappy ale,
Darkling he watch'd the planetary orbs,
In their obscure sojourn o'er Heaven's high cope;
Nor ceas'd till the grey dawn with orient dew
Impearl'd his large mustachoes, deep ensconc'd
Beneath his overshadowing orb of hat,
And ample fence of elephantin nose,
Scornful of keenest polar winds, or sleet,
Or hail, sent rattling down from wintry Jove.
(Vain efforts on his seven-fold inantle, made
Of Caledonian rug, immortal woof!)
Such energy of soul to raise the song,
Deign, goddess, now to me; nor then withdraw
Thy sure presiding power, but guide my wing,
Which nobly meditates no vulgar flight.
Now from th' ensanguin'd Ister's reeking flood
Tardy with many a corse of Boïan knight,
And Gallic deep ingulft, with barbed steeds
Promiscuous, Fame to high Olympus flew,
Shearing th' expanse of Heaven with active plume;
Nor swifter from Plinlimmon's steepy top
This poem is taken from a folio copy, 1706, communicated from the Lambeth Library by Dr. Ducarel, in which the name of Philips was inserted in the hand-writing of archbishop Tenison. It was
The staunch Gerfaulcon through the buxom air
Stoops on the steerage of his wings, to truss
The quarry, hern, or mallad, newly sprung
From creek, whence bright Sabrina bubbling forth
Runs fast a Naïs through the flowery meads,
To spread round Uriconium's towers her streams.
Her golden trump the goddess sounded thrice,
Whose shrilling clang reach'd Heaven's extremest
sphere.
Rouz'd at the blast, the gods with winged speed
To learn the tidings came: on radiant thrones,
With fair memorials, and impresses quaint
Emblazon'd o'er, they sate, devis'd of old
By Mulciber, nor small his skill I ween.
There she relates what Churchill's arm had wrought,
On Blenheim's bloody plain. Up Bacchus rose,
By his plump cheek and barrel belly know;
The pliant tendrils of a juicy vine
Around his rosy brow in ringlets curl'd,
And in his hand a bunch of grapes he held,
The ensigns of the god! With ardent tone
He mov'd, that straight the nectar'd bowl should
Devote to Churchill's health, and o'er all Heaven
Uncommon orgies should be kept till eve,
Till all were sated with immortal Moust,
Delicious tipple! that, in heavenly veins
Assimilated, vigorous ichor bred,
Superior to Frontiniac, or Bourdeaux,
Or old Falern, Campania's best increase;
Or the more dulcet juice the happy isles
From Palma or Forteventura send.
Joy flush'd on every face, and pleasing glee
Inward assent discover'd, till uprose
Ceres, not blithe, for marks of latent woe
Dim on her visage lour'd: such her deport
When Arethusa from her reedy bed
Told her how Dis young Proserpine had rap'd,
To sway his iron sceptre, and command
In gloom tartareous half his wide domain.
Then, sighing, thus she said-"Have I so long
Employ'd my various art, t' enrich the lap
Of Earth, all-bearing mother; and my lore
Communicated to the unweeting hind,
And shall not this pre-eminence obtain?"
Then from beneath her Tyrian vest she took
The bearded ears of grain she most admir'd,
Which gods call Chrithe, in terrestrial spe ch
Ycleped Barley. ""Tis to this," she cry'd,
"The British cohorts owe their martial fame
And far-redoubted prowess, matchless youth!
This, when returning from the foughten field,
Or Noric, or Iberian, seam'd with scars,
(Sad signatures of many a dreadful gash!)
The veteran, carousing, soon restores
Puissance to his arm, and strings his nerves!
And, as a snake, when first the rosy hours
Shed vernal sweets o'er every vale and mead,
Rolls tardy from his cell obscure and dank;
But, when by genial rays of summer sun
Purg'd of his slough, he nimbly thrids the brake,
Whetting his sting, his crested head he rears
Terrific, from each eye retort he shoots
Ensanguin'd rays, the distant swains admire
His various neck, and spires bedropt with gold:
published by T. Bennet, the bookseller for whom Blenheim was printed: another strong presumptive proof of this being by the same author. N.
So at each glass the harass'd warrior feels
Vigour renate; his horrent arms he takes,
And rusting falchion, on whose ample hilt
Long Victory sate dormant: soon she shakes
Her drowsy wings, and follows to the war,
With speed succinct; where soon his martial port
She recognizes, whilst he haughty stands
On the rough edge of battle, and bestows
Wide torment on the serried files, so us'd,
Frequent in bold emprize, to work sad rout,
And havoc dite; these the bold Briton mows,
Dauntless as deities exempt from fate,
Ardent to deck his brow with murald gold,
Or civic wreath of oak, the victor's meed.
Such is the power of Ale with vines embower'd,
While dangling bunches court his thirsting lip;
Sullen he sits, and sighing oft extols
The beverage they quaff, whose happy soil
Prolific Dovus laves, or Trenta's urn
Adorns with waving Chrithe (joyous scenes
Of vegetable gold!) secure they dwell,
Nor feel th' eternal snows that clothe their cliffs:
Nor curse th' inclement Air, whose horrid face
Scowls like that Arctic heaven, that drizzling sheds
Perpetual winter on the frozen skirts
Of Scandinavia and the Baltic main,
Where the young tempests first are taught to roar.
Snug in their straw-built buts, or darkling earth'd
In cavern'd rock they live: (small need of art
To form spruce architrave, or cornice quaint,
On Parian marble, with Corinthian grace
Prepar'd) there on well-fuel'd hearth they chat,
Whilst black pots walk the round with laughing Ale
Surcharg'd; or brew'd in planetary hour,
When March weigh'd night and day in equal scale:
Or in October tunn'd, and mellow grown
With seven revolving suns, the racy juice,
Strong with delicious flavour, strikes the sense.
Nor wants on vast circumference of board,
Of Arthur's imitative, large surloin
Of ox, or virgin-heifer, wont to browse
The meads of Longovicum (fattening soil
Replete with clover-grass, and foodful shrub.)
Planted with sprigs of rosemary it stands,
Meet paragon (as far as great with small
May correspond) for some Panchæan hill,
Embrown'd with sultry skies, thin-set with palm,
And olive rarely interspers'd, whose shade
Screens hospitably from the Tropic Crab
The quiver'd Arabs' vagrant clan, that waits
Insidious some rich caravan, which fares
To Mecca, with Barbaric gold full fraught.
"Thus Britain's hardy sons, of rustic mould,
Patient of arms, still quash th' aspiring Gaul,
Blest by my boon: which when they slightly prize,
Should they, with high defence of triple brass
Wide-circling, live immur'd, (as erst was tried
By Bacon's charms, on which the sickening Moon
Look'd wan, and cheerless mew'd her crescent horus,
Whilst Demogorgon heard his stern behest)
Thrice the prevailing power of Gallia's arins
Should there resistless ravage, as of old
Great Pharamond, the founder of her fame,
Was wont, when first his marshall'd peerage pass'd
The subject Rhone. What though Britannia boasts
Herself a world, with ocean circumfus'd?
'Tis Ale that warms her sons t' assert her claim,
And with full volley makes her naval tubes
Thunder disastrous doom to opponent powers!
"Nor potent only to enkindle Mars,
And fire with knightly prowess recreant souls:
It science can encourage, and excite
The mind to ditties blithe, and charming song.
Thou, Pallas, to my speech just witness bear:
How oft hast thou thy votaries beheld
At Crambo merry met, and hymning shrill
With voice harmonic each, whilst others frisk
In mazy dance, or Cestrian gambols show,
Elate with mighty joy, when to the brim
Chritheian nectar crown'd the lordly bowl.
(Equal to Nestor's ponderous cup, which ask'd
A hero's arm to mount it on the board,
Ere he th' embattail'd Pylians led, to quell
The pride of Dardan youth in hosting dire.)
Or if, with front unbless'd, came towering in
Proctor armipotent, in stern deport
Resembling turban'd Turk, when high he wields
His scimetar with huge two-handed sway.
Alarm'd with threatening accent, harsher far
Than that ill-omen'd sound the bird of night,
With beak uncomely bent, from dodder'd oak
Screams out, the sick man's trump of doleful doom:
Thy jocund sons confront the horrid van,
That crowds his gonfalon of seven foot size:
And with their rubied faces stand the foe;
Whilst they of sober guise contrive retreat,
And run with ears erect; as the tall stag
Unharbour'd by the woodman quits his layre,
And flies the yerning pack which close pursue,
So they not bowsy dread th' approaching foe:
They run, they fly, till flying on obscure,
Night-founder'd in town-ditches stagnant gurge,
Soph rowls on Soph promiscuous.-Caps aloof
Quadrate and circular confus'dly fly,
The sport of fierce Norwegian tempests, tost
By Thrascia's coadjutant, and the roar
Of loud Euroclydon's tumultuous gusts."
She said: the sire of gods and men supreme,
With aspect bland, attentive audience gave,
Then nodded awful: from his shaken locks
Ambrosial fragrance flew the signal given
By Ganymede the skinker soon was ken'd;
With Ale he Heaven's capacious goblet crown'd,
To Phrygian mood Apollo tun'd his lyre,
The Muses sang alternate, all carous'd,
But Bacchus murmuring left th' assembled powers.
COME, fill me a glass, fill it high,
A bumper, a bumper I'll have:
He's a fool that will flinch; I'll not bate an inch,
Though I drink myself into my grave.
Here's a health to all those jolly souls,
Who like me will never give o'er,
Whom no danger controls, but will take off their bowls,
And merrily stickle for more.
From many circumstances, I have little doubt. but this convivial song was by the author of The Splendid Shilling. There was, however, an earlier poet, of both the names of this author; who was nephew to Milton, and wrote some memoirs of his uncle, and several burlesque poems. N.
Drown Reason and all such weak foes,
I scorn to obey her command; Could she ever suppose I'd be led by the nose, And let my glass idly stand?
Reputation 's a bugbear to fools,
A foe to the joys of dear drinking, Made use of by tools, who 'd set us new rules, And bring us to politic thinking.
Fill them all, I'll have six in a hand,
For I've trifled an age away;
'Tis in vain to command, the fleeting sand
Rolls on, and cannot stay.
Come, my lads, move the glass, drink about, We'll drink the universe dry; We'll set foot to foot, and drink it all out, If once we grow sober, we die.
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