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Hence often palming on the thoughtless Croud,
They dim their Senfes with a pious Cloud.

But who with Patience hears them, when they speak,
And windy Bombast swells the bladder'd Cheek?
With the curs'd Plague of Vanity chastis'd,
And all defpifing, are by all defpis'd.

IF for another Clime your Fancy's bent,
Surmount the Pyreneans high Afcent;
From whofe aerial Eminence repair
To cooler Plains, and taste a milder Air.
The Gallic Region has a different View,
Various the Climate, and the People new.
The French and Spaniards equally are brave,
But Thofe as much too Light, as Thefe too Grave.
The French Affronts and Kindneffes regard
Alike, nor Thofe revenge, nor These reward:
Yet to this native Lenity is join'd

A Martial Vertue, and undaunted Mind;

A temper'd Courage, which no Fears can shake,
Nor Death in all his frightful Figures break.
What strange convulfiye Horrors have they spread
O'er trembling Rome, the World's once boafted Head,
When Brennus ravag'd, and when Bourbon led?
Thro Latian Fields the Gaulish Squadrons ran,
And hook the Capitol and Vatican.

Why fhould the Muse their numerous Laurels boast
Of conquer'd Nations on the Eastern Coast?
Why fhould the tell their Trophies and their Spoils,
Their Afian Labours, and their Libyan Toils?

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Thefe

These Triumphs antient Histories rehearse,
And Poets fing them in eternal Verse.
But like a Mistress, does good Fortune play,
Fond is her Courtship, and as fhort her Stay.
The French can conquer, but fome cross Event
Treads on Success, and blafts a brave Intent:
Whether the Caufe from too much Flame arife,
And Valour by Excefs of Valour dies

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Or they the conquer'd Foe too much despise,
By vaunting Infolence unhappy made,
And to unactive Luxury betray'd;

Or that their Genius prompt them to pursue
Things different in their kind, and always new:
By which Inconftancy their Bays are seen
To wither on their Brows, and feldom green.
Yet ftill their Prince they worship like a God,
Obedient Servants to his facred Nod :
To Monarchy devote, they chufe to bear
Whatever Yoke their Kings command to wear.
This is a true and undisputed Sway,

Nor is the Turk more abfolute than they,
Nor Ruffian Slaves more willingly obey.
Their Wills are Statutes, and a Law alone,
Whene'er they please to thunder from the Throne:
And if a Child the Scepter fhould enjoy,
The Gallic World bows to the Royal Boy :
If fprung from Ancestors, in Council wife,
And fam'd in Arms, he by Succeffion rise;

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Hereditary

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Hereditary Right's fo much their Choice,

In him, as in a Neftor, they rejoice,
And paffively obey his lifping Voice.

Why fhould I tell, how friendly Gallia pours
Her highest Favours on Trinacrian Shores ?
Gallia, to Strangers hofpitably kind,

Submits to foreign Rule her lofty Mind;
And oft to thofe who from far Countries came,
Has to her Bounty facrific'd her Fame.

Gallia, fo prodigal to Strangers grown,
Folds with a faft Embrace a People not her own;
And if she finds them fit for Grand Affairs,
Of Prudence, equal to a Kingdom's Cares,
She loads with Titles their deferving Wits,
And to the private Cabinet admits.

So he, who now affifts the Gallic Crown,
Whom Rome has honour'd with the Scarlet Gown,
Is to her Bofom taken, and repays

Whate'er fhe gives in Dignity or Praife.

This new Alcides on his Neck fuftains

The Globe of France, and holds the Empire's Reins:
Enur'd to Conqueft, and his Foes to bruise,
He Spain's Geryon with his Club fubdues.

NOR

NOR winning Manners, and a chearful Face
Will recommend alone the Gallic Race;
Whose Converfation's sweet ingaging Air,
Pleases alike the Witty and the Fair:
The Light and Grave in just Proportion join'd,
Divert the Paffions, and inftruct the Mind:
From difagreeing Concord they produce
A Harmony of valuable Ufe,

And marry folid Wisdom to the sprightly Mafe.
To them the Deities difclose their Springs,
Their brightest Fancies, and abftrusest things;
Minerva teaches, and Apollo fings.
Whate'er in eloquent Platonic Lines,
Whate'er in Homer or in Virgil fhines,
Whate'er Venufium's Poet did infpire,
The French have follow'd with an equal Fire,
And imitate the Trumpet and the Lyre,
Whether they fing of Battels and of Arms,
Or Woods refound fair Galatea's Charms;
In them the Roman and the Greek are found,
And Echo never heard a fweeter found.

IF then from Calais you defign to land
On England's vile, unhofpitable Strand,
There fhall you find a Race of monftrous Men
Where mangled Princes ftrew the Cyclops Den.
A false, ungrateful, and rebellious Brood,
New from a flaughter'd Monarch's facred Blood :
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They

They break all Laws, all Fancies they pursue,
And follow all Religions, but the True:

All there are Priefts, each differently prays,
And worships Heaven ten thousand various Ways:
If by the Mob the canting Fool's admir'd
The Brother's gifted, and the Saint's infpir'd:
Hence the Fanaticks rave, and wildly storm,
Convert by Piftol, and by Pike reform.
Nor are th' Enthusiasts so abhorrent grown
To holy, ceremonious Rites alone:
An English-man on all Extremes will run,
And by confent be wilfully undone.
If an Opinion thwart what Antients wrote,
He catches it, and bofoms up the Thought:
Alcides would his Club as foon refign,
As he a darling Herefy decline.

YET we must do the Sons of England Right,
Some Stars fhine thro the Horror of her Night:
For Navigation, and for Skill renown'd,
In failing the Terraqueous Globe around:

To them no Shore's untry'd, no Sea's unknown,

Where Waves have murmur'd, and where Winds have blown.

Tiphys and Fafon, who in Argo came,

Lay no Pretenfions to fo juft a Fame,

As Candifh, Willoughby, and Drake's immortal Name.

THE

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