<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=426620" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Campaign, A Poem, To His Grace The Duke Of Marlborough</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">While crowds of princes your deserts proclaim, <br>Proud in their number to enrol your name; <br>While emperors to you commit their cause, <br>And Anna's praises crown the vast applause; <br>Accept, great leader, what the Muse recites, <br>That in ambitious verse attempts your fights. <br>Fir'd and transported with a theme so new, <br>Ten thousand wonders opening to my view <br>Shine forth at once; sieges and storms appear, <br>And wars and conquests fill the' important year: </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Rivers of blood I see, and hills of slain, <br>And Iliad rising out of one campaign. <br>The haughty Gaul beheld, with towering pride, <br>His ancient bounds enlarg'd on every side; <br>Pyrene's lofty barriers were subdued, <br>And in the midst of his wide empire stood; <br>Ausonia's states, the victor to restrain, <br>Opposed their Alps and Apennines in vain, <br>Nor found themselves, with strength of rocks immur'd, <br>Behind their everlasting hills secur'd;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The rising Danube its long race began, <br>And half its course through the new conquests ran; <br>Amaz'd and anxious for her soverign's fates, <br>Germania trembled through a hundred states; <br>Great Leopold himself was seiz'd with fear; <br>He gaz'd around, but saw no succour near; <br>He gaz'd, and half-abandon'd to despair. <br>His hopes on heaven, and confidence in pray;<br>To Britain's queen the nations turn their eyes, <br>On her resolves the western world relies,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Confiding still, amidst its dire alarms, <br>In Anna's conncils, and in Churchill's arms. <br>Thrice happy Britain, from the kingdoms rent, <br>To fit the guardian of the continent! <br>That sees her bravest son advanc'd so high, <br>And flourishing so near her prince's eye; <br>Thy favourites grow not up by fortune's sport, <br>Or from the crimes or follies of a court; <br>On the firm basis of desert they rise, <br>From long-try'd faith and friendship's holy tyes:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Their soverign's well-distinguish'd smiles they share, <br>Her ornaments in peace, her strength in war; <br>The nation thanks them with a public voice, <br>By showers of blessings heaven approves their choice; <br>Envy itself is dumb, in wonder lost, <br>And factions strive who shall applaud them most. <br>Soon as soft vernal breezes warm the sky, <br>Britannia's colours in the zephyrs fly; <br>Her chief already has his march begun, <br>Crossing the provinces himself had won,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Till the Moselle, appearing from afar, <br>Retards the progress of the moving war. <br>Delightful stream, had nature bid her fall <br>In distant climes far from the perjur'd Gaul; <br>But now a purchase to the sword she lies; <br>Her harvests for uncertain owners rise, <br>Each vineyard doubtful of its master grows, <br>And to the victor's bowl each vintage flows. <br>The discontented shades of slaughter'd hosts, <br>That wander'd on her banks, her heroes ghosts </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Hop'd, when they saw Britannia's arms appear, <br>The vengeance due to their great deaths was near. <br> Our godlike leader, ere the stream he past, <br>The mighty scheme of all his labours cast, <br>Forming the wondrous year within his thought; <br>His bosom glow'd with battles yet unfought. <br>The long laborious march he first surveys, <br>And joins the distant Danube to the Maese, <br>Between whose floods such pathless forests grow, <br>Such mountains rise, so many rivers flow:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The toil looks lovely in the hero's eyes, <br>And danger serves but to enhance the prize. <br> Big with the fate of Europe, he renews <br>His dreadful course, and the proud foe pursues! <br>Infected by the burning Scorpion's heat, <br>the sultry gales round his chas'd temples beat, <br>Till on the borders of the Maine he finds <br>Defensive shadows, and refreshing winds. <br>Our British youth, with in-born freedom bold, <br>Unnumber'd scenes of servitude behold, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nations of slaves, with tyranny debas'd, <br>(Their maker's image more than half defac'd) <br>Hourly instructed, as they urge their toil, <br>To prize their queen, and love their native soil. <br> Still to the rising sun they take their way <br>Through clouds of dust, and gain upon the day. <br>When now the Neckar on its friendly coast <br>With cooling streams revives the fainting host, <br>That chearfully his labours past forgets, <br>The mid-night watches, and the noon-day heats.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O'er prostrate towns and palaces they pass <br>(Now cover'd o'er with woods, and hid in grass), <br>Breathing revenge; whilst anger and disdain <br>Fire every breast, and boil in every vein: <br>Here shatter'd walls, like broken rocks, from far <br>Rise up in hideous views, the guilt of war, <br>Whilst here the vine o'er hills of ruin climbs, <br>Industrious to conceal great Bourbon's crimes. <br> At length the fame of England's hero drew <br>Eugenio to the glorious interview.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Great souls by instinct to each other turn, <br>Demand alliance, and in friendship burn: <br>A sudden friendship, while with stretch'd-out rays <br>They meet each other, mingling blaze with blaze, <br>Polish'd in courts, and harden'd in the field, <br>Renown'd for conquest, and in council skill'd, <br>Their courage dwells not in a troubled flood <br>Of mounting spirits, and fermenting blood; <br>Lodg'd in the soul, with virtue over-rul'd, <br>Inflam'd by reason, and by reason cool'd,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In hours of peace content to be unknown, <br>And only in the field of battle shown: <br>To souls like these, in mutual fiendship join'd, <br>Heaven dares intrust the cause of human-kind. <br> Britannia's graceful sons appear in arms, <br>Her harrass'd troops the hero's presence warms, <br>Whilst the high hills and rivers all around <br>With thundering peals of British shouts resound: <br>Doubling their speed, they march with fresh delight, <br>Eager for glory, and require the fight. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So the stanch hound the trembling deer pursues, <br>And smells his footsteps in the tainted dews, <br>The tedious track unraveling by degrees: <br>But when the scent comes warm in every breeze, <br>Fir'd at the near approach he shoots away <br>On his full stretch, and bears upon his prey. <br> The march concludes, the various realms are past; <br>Th' immortal Schellenberg appears at last: <br>Like hills th' aspiring ramparts rise on high, <br>Like valley's at their feet the trenches lie;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Batteries on batteries guard each fatal pass, <br>Threatening destruction; rows of hollow brass, <br>Tube behind tube, the dreadful entrance keep, <br>Whilst in thier wombs ten thousand thunders sleep, <br>Great Churchill owns, charm'd with the glorious sight, <br>His march o'er-paid by such a promis'd fight. <br> The western sun now shot a feeble ray, <br>And faintly scatter'd the remains of day: <br>Ev'ning approach'd; but oh what host of foes <br>Were never to behold that evening close! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thickening their ranks, and wedg'd in firm array, <br>The close-compacted Britons win their way; <br>In vain the cannon their throng'd war defac'd <br>With tracts of death, and laid the battle waste; <br>Still pressing forward to the fight, they broke <br>Through flames of sulphur, and a night of smoke, <br>Till slaughter'd legions fill'd the trench below, <br>And bore their fierce avengers to the foe. <br> High on the works the mingling hosts engage; <br>The battle, kindled into tenfold rage,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">With showers of bullets and with storms of fire <br>Burns in full fury; heaps on heaps expire, <br>Nations with nations mix'd confus'dly die, <br>And lsot in one promiscuous carnage lie. <br> How many generous Britons meet their doom, <br>New to the field, and heroes in the bloom! <br>Th' illustrious youghts, that left their native shore <br>To march where Britons never march'd before <br>(O fatal love of fame! O glorious heat <br>Only destructive to the brave and great!)</div><div style="margin:10px 0">After such toils o'ercome, such dangers past, <br>Stretch'd on Bavarian ramparts breathe their last. <br>But hold, my Muse, may no complaints appear <br>Nor blot the day with an ungrateful tear: <br>While Marlborough lives, Britannia's stars dispense <br>A friendly light, and shine in innocence. <br>Plunging through seas of blood his fiery steed <br>Where-e'er his friends retire, or foes succeed; <br>Those he supports, these drives to sudden flight, <br>And turns the various fortune of the fight.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Forbear, great man, renown'd in arms, forbear <br>To Brave the thickest terrors of the war, <br>Nor hazard thus, confus'd in crowds of foes, <br>Britannia's safety, and the world's repose; <br>Let nations anxious for thy life abate <br>This scorn of danger, and contempt of fate: <br>Thou liv'st not for thyself; thy Queen demands <br>Conquest and peace from thy victorious hands; <br>Kingdoms and empires in thy fortunes join, <br>And Europe's destiny depends on thine. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> At length the long-disputed pass they gain <br>By crowded armies fortify'd in vain; <br>The war breaks in, the fierce Bavarians yield, <br>And see their camp with British legions fill'd. <br>So Belgian mounds bear on their shatter'd sides <br>The sea's whole weight increas'd with swelling tides; <br>But if the rushing wave a passage finds, <br>Enrag'd by watery moons, and warring winds, <br>The trembling peasant sees his country round <br>Cover'd with tempests, and in oceans drown'd. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> The few surviving foes disperst in flight, <br>(Refuse of swords,a nd gleanings of a fight) <br>In every rustling wind the victor hear, <br>And Marlborough's form in every shadow fear, <br>Till the dark cope of night with kind embrace <br>Befriends the rout, and covers their disgrace. <br> To Donavert, with unresisted force, <br>The gay victorious army bends its course. <br>The growth of meadows, and the pride of fields, <br>Whatever spoils Bavaria's summer yields</div><div style="margin:10px 0">(The Danube's great increase), Britannia shares, <br>The food of armies and support of wars: <br>With magazines of death, destructive balls, <br>And cannon doom'd to batter Landau's walls, <br>The victor finds each hidden cavern stor'd, <br>And turns their fury on their guilty Lord. <br> Deluded prince! how is thy greatness crost, <br>And all the gaudy dream of empire lost, <br>That proudly set thee on a fancy'd throne, <br>And made imaginary realms thy own! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thy troops, that now behind the Danube join, <br>Shall shortly seek for shelter from the Rhine, <br>Nor find it there! Surrounded with alarms, <br>Thou hop'st the assistance fo the Gallic arms; <br>The Gallic arms in safety shall advance, <br>And crowd thy standards with the power of France, <br>While, to exalt thy doom, th' aspiring Gaul <br>Shares thy destruction, and adorns thy fall. <br> Unbounded courage and compassion join'd, <br>Tempering each other in the victor's mind,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alternately proclaim him good and great, <br>And make the Hero and the Man compleat, <br>Long did he strive th' obdurate foe to gain <br>By proffer'd grace, but long he strove in vain; <br>Till, fir'd at length, he thinks it vain to spare <br>His rising wrath, and gives a loose to war. <br>In vengeance rous'd, the soldier fills his hand <br>With sword and fire, and ravages the land, <br>A thousand villages to ashes turns, <br>In crackling flames a thousand harvests burns.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To the thick woods the wolly flocks retreat, <br>And mixt with bellowing herds confus'dly bleat: <br>Their trembling lofds the common shade partake, <br>And cries of infants sound in every brake: <br>The listening soldier fixt in sorrow stands, <br>Loth to obey his leader's just commands: <br>The leader grieves, by generous pity sway'd, <br>To see his just commands so well obey'd. <br> But now the trumpet terrible from far <br>In shriller clangors animates the war;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Confederate drums in fuller concert beat, <br>And echoing hills the loud alarm repeat: <br>Gallia's proud standards, to Bavaria's join'd, <br>Unfurl their gilded lilies in the wind; <br>the daring prince his blasted hopes renews, <br>And, while the thick embattled host he views <br>Stretched out in deep array, and dreadful length, <br>His hearts dilates, and glories in his strength. <br> The fatal day its mighty course began, <br>That the griev'd world had long desir'd in vain;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">States that their new captivity bemoan'd, <br>Armies of martyrs that in exile groan'd, <br>Sighs from the depth of gloomy dungeons heard, <br>And prayers in bitterness of soul preferr'd, <br>Europe's loud cries, that Providence assail'd, <br>And Anna's ardent vows at length prevail'd; <br>The day was come when heaven design'd to show <br>His care and conduct of the world below. <br> Behold in awful march and dread array <br>The long extended squadrons shape thier way!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Death, in approaching terrible, imparts <br>An anxious horror to the bravest hearts; <br>Yet do their beating breasts demand the strife, <br>And thirst of glory quells the love of life. <br>No vulgar fears can British minds control: <br>Heat of revenge, and noble pride of soul, <br>O'erlook the foe, advantag'd by his post, <br>Lessen his nmbers,a nd contract his host; <br>Though fens and floods possest the middle space, <br>That unprovok'd they would have fear'd to pass;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor fens nor floods can stop Britannia's bands, <br>When her proud foe rang'd on their borders stands. <br> But O, my Muse, what numbers wilt thou find <br>To sing the furious troops in battle join'd! <br>Methinks I hear the drums tumultuous sound <br>The victor's shouts and dying groans confound, <br>The dreadful burst of cannon rend the skies, <br>And all the thunder of the battle rise. <br>'Twas then great Marlborough's mighty soul was prov'd, <br>That, in the shock of charging hosts unmov'd,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Amidst confusion, horror, and despair, <br>Examin'd all the dreadful scenes of war: <br>In peaceful thought the field of death survey'd, <br>To fainting squadrons sent the timely aid, <br>Inspir'd repuls'd battalions to engage, <br>And taught the doubtful battle where to rage. <br>So when an angel by divine command <br>With rising tempests shaks a guilty land, <br>Such as of late o'er pale Britannia past,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Calm and serene he drives the furious blast; <br>And, pleas'd th' Almighty's orders to perform, <br>Rides in the whirlwind, and directs the storm. <br> But see the haughty houshold troops advance! <br>The dread of Europe, and the pride of France. <br>The war's whole art each private soldier knows, <br>And with a General's love of conquest glows; <br>Proudly he marches on, and void of fear <br>Laughs at the shaking of the British spear: <br>Vain insolence! with native freedom brave,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The meanest Briton scorns the highest slave; <br>Contempt and fury fire their souls by turns, <br>Each nation's glory in each warrior burns: <br>Each fights, as in his arm th' important day <br>And all the fate of his great monarch lay: <br>A thousand glorious actions, that might claim <br>Truimphant laurels, and immortal fame, <br>Confus'd in crouds of glorious actions lie, <br>And troops of heroes undistinguish'd die. <br>O Dormer, how can I behold thy fate,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And not the wonders of thy youth relate! <br>How can I see the gay, the brave, the young, <br>Fall in the cloud of war, and lie usung! <br>In joys of conquest he resigns his breath, <br>And, fill'd with England's glory, smiles in death. <br> The rout begins, the Gallic squadrons run, <br>Compell'd in crouds to meet the fate they shun; <br>Thousands of fiery steeds with wounds transfix'd, <br>Floatting in gore, with their dead masters mixt, <br>'Midst heaps of spears and standards driven around,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lie in the Danube's bloody whirl-pools drown'd <br>Troops of bold youths, born on the distant Soane, <br>Or sounding borders of the rapid Rhone, <br>Or where the Seine her flowery fields divides, <br>Or where the Loire through winding vineyards glides, <br>In heaps the rolling billows sweep away, <br>And into Scythian seas their bloated corps convey. <br>From Blenheim's towers the Gaul, with wild affright, <br>Beholds the various havock of the fight; <br>His waving banners, that so oft had stood</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Planted in fields of death and streams of blood, <br>So wont the guarded enemy to reach, <br>And rise triumphant in the fatal breach, <br>Or pierce the broken foe's remotest lines, <br>The hardy veteran with tears resigns. <br> Unfortunate Tallard! Oh, who can name <br>The pangs of rage, of sorrow, and of shame, <br>That with mixt tumult in thy bosom swell'd, <br>When first thou saw'st thy bravest troops repell'd, <br>Thine only son pierc'd with a deadly wound,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Chok'd in his blood, and gasping on the ground, <br>Thyself in bondage by the victor kept! <br>The chief, the father, and the captive, wept. <br>An English Muse is touch'd with generous woe, <br>And in th'unhappy man forgets the foe! <br>Greatly distrest! they loud complaints forbear, <br>Blame not the turns of fate, and chance of war; <br>Give thy brave foes their due, nor blush to own <br>The fatal field by such great leaders won, <br>The field whence fam'd Eugenio bore away </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Only the second honours of the day. <br> With floods of gore that from the vanquish'd fell <br>The marshes stagnate, and the rivers swell. <br>Mountains of slain lie heap'd upon the ground, <br>Or midst the roarings of the Danube drown'd; <br>Whole captive hosts the conqueror detains <br>In painful bondage, and inglorious chains; <br>Ev'n those who 'scape the fetters and the sword, <br>Nor seek the fortunes of a happier lord, <br>Their raging King dishonours, to compleat</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Marlborough's great work, and finish the defeat. <br> From Memminghen's high domes, and Augsburg's walls, <br>The distant battle drives th' insulting Gauls; <br>Freed by the terror of the victor's name <br>The rescued States his great protection claim; <br>Whilst Ulme th' approach of her deliverer waits, <br>And longs to open her obsequious gates. <br> The hero's breast still swells with great designs, <br>In every thought the towering genius shines; <br>If to the foe his dreadful course he bends,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">O'er the wide continent his march extends; <br>If sieges in his labouring thoughts are form'd <br>Camps are assaulted, and an army storm'd: <br>If to the sight of his active soul is bent <br>The fate of Europe turns on its event. <br>What distant land, what region, can afford <br>An action worthy his victorious sword? <br>Where will he next the flying Gaul defeat, <br>To make the series of his toils compleat? <br> Where the swoln Rhine rushing with all its force</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Divides the hostile nations in its course, <br>While each contracts its bounds, or wider grows, <br>Enlarg'd or straighten'd as the river flows, <br>On Gallia's side a mighty bulwark stands, <br>That all the wide-extended plain commands; <br>Twice, since the war was kindled, has it try'd <br>The victor's rage, and twice has chang'd its side; <br>As oft whole armies, with the prize o'erjoy'd, <br>Have the long summer on its walls employ'd. <br>Hither our mighty chief his arms directs,<br> <br>Hence future triumphs from the war expects; <br>And though the dog-star had its course begun, <br>Carries his arms still nearer to the sun: <br>Fixt on the glorious action, he forgets <br>The change of seasons, and increase of heats; <br>No toils are painful that can danger show, <br>No climes unlovely, that contain a foe. <br> The roving Gaul, to his own bounds restrain'd, <br>Learns to incamp within his native land, <br>But soon as the victorious host he spies,<br> <br>From hill to hill, from stream to stream he flies: <br>Such dire impressions in his heart remain <br>Of Marlboroough's sword, and Hochsset's fatal plain: <br>In vain Britannia's mighty chief besets <br>Their shady coverts, and obscure retreats; <br>They fly the conqueror's approaching fame, <br>That bears the force of armies in his name. <br> Austria's young monarch, whose imperial sway <br>Sceptres and thrones are destin'd to obey, <br>Whose boasted ancertry so high extends,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That in the pagan gods his lineage ends, <br>Comes from afar, in gratitude to own <br>The geat supporter of his father's throne: <br>What tides of glory to his bosom ran, <br>Clasp'd in th' embrace of the godlike man! <br>How were his eyes with pleasing wonder fixt <br>To see such fire with so much sweetness mixt, <br>Such easy greatness, such a graceful port, <br>So turn'd and finish'd for the camp or court! <br> Achilles thus was form'd with every grace,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Nireus shone but in the second place; <br>Thus the great father of almighty Rome <br>(Divinely flusht with an immortal bloom <br>That Cytherea's fragrant breath bestow'd) <br>In all the charms of his bright mother glow'd. <br> The royal youth by Marlborough's presence charm'd, <br>Taught by his counsels, by his actions warm'd, <br>On Landau with redoubled fury falls, <br>Discharges all his thunder on its walls, <br>O'er mines and caves of death provokes the fight,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And leans to conquer in the hero's fight. <br> The British chief, for mighty toils renown'd, <br>Increas'd in titles, and with conquests crown'd, <br>To Belgian coasts his tedious march renews, <br>And the long windings of the Rhine pursues, <br>Clearing its borders from usurping foes, <br>Amd blest by rescued nations as he goes. <br>Treves fears no more, freed from its dire alarms; <br>And Traerbach feels the terror of his arms: <br>Seated on rocks her proud foundations shake,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">While Marlborough presses to the bold attack, <br>Plants all his batteries, bids his cannon roar, <br>And shows how Landau might have fall'n before. <br>Scar'd at his near approach, great Louis fears <br>Vengeance reserv'd for his declining years, <br>Forgets his thirst of universal sway, <br>And scarce can teach is subjects to obey; <br>His arms he finds on vain attempts employ'd, <br>Th' ambitious projects for his race destroy'd, <br>The works of ages sunk in one campaign, <br>And lives of millions sacrific'd in vain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Such are th' effects of Anna's royal cares: <br>By her, Britannia, great in foreign wars, <br>Ranges through nations, wheresoe'er disjoin'd, <br>Without the wonted aid of sea and wind, <br>By her th' unfetter'd Ister's states are free, <br>And taste the sweets of English liberty: <br>But who can tell the joys of those that lie <br>Beneath the constant influence of her eye! <br>Whilst in diffusive showers her bounties fall</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Like heaven's indulgence, and descend on all, <br>Secure the happy, succour the distrest, <br>Make every subject glad, and a whole people blest. <br> Thus would I fain Britannia's wars rehearse, <br>In the smooth records of a faithful verse; <br>That, if such numbers can o'er time prevail, <br>May tell posterity the wondrous tale. <br>When actions, unadorn'd, are faint and weak, <br>Cities and countries must be taught to speak;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Gods may descend in factions from the skies, <br> And rivers from their oozy beds arise; <br>Fiction may deck the truth wth spurious rays, <br>And round the hero cast a borrow'd blaze. <br>Marlborough's exploits appear divinely bright, <br>And proudly shine in their own native light; <br>Rais'd of themselves, their genuine charms they boast, <br>And those who paint them truest praise them most.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Joseph+Addison">Joseph Addison</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=426620" data-title="The Campaign, A Poem, To His Grace The Duke Of Marlborough de Joseph Addison" data-description="While crowds of princes your deserts proclaim, Proud in their number to enrol your name; While emperors to you commit their cause, And Anna's praises crown the vast applause; Accept, great leader, what the Muse recites, That in ambitious vers..."></div> </div> </div>

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