494} ANNUAL REGISTER, 1706. 
. IL. 
For, lo! on yon devoted shore, 
Still through the bieeding ranks of war, 
His burning axles steep’d in gore, 
Ambition drives his iron car, 
Still his eyes, in fury roll’d, 
Glare on fields by arms o’errun; 
Still his hands rapacious hold 
Spoils injurious inroad won ; 
And, spurning with indignant frown 
The sober olive’s proffer’d crown, 
Bids the brazen trumpet’s breath 
Swell the terrific blast of destiny and death, 
a 
Hit. 
Shrinks Britain at the sound? Though, while her eye 
O’er Europe’s desolated plains she throws, 
Slow to avenge, and mild in victory, 
She mourns the dreadful scene of war and woes : 
Yet, if the foé, misjudging, read 
Dismay in Pity’s gentlest deed, 
And, construing mercy into fear, 
The blood-stain’d arm of battle rear, 
By insult rous’d, in just’resentment warm, 
She frowns defiance on the threat’ning storm ; 
And, far as Ocean’s billows roar, 
By every wave-encircled shore, 
From where o'er icy seas the gaunt wolf roves, 
To coasts perfum’d by aromatic groves ; 
As proudly to the ambient sky 
Tn silken folds her mingled crosses fly ; 
The soothing voice of Peace is drown’d 
A while in war’s tumultuous sound, 
' Andstrains, from Glory’s awful clarion blown, 
Float in triumphant peal around Eritannia’s throne. 
\ 
A beautiful SPRING in a VILLAGE. 
From Poems by S, T. Coreripet. 
(yt more, sweet stream, with slow foot wand’ring nearp , 
1 bless the milky waters, cold and clear. 
Escap’d the flashing of the noontide hours 
With-one fresh garland oj Pierian flowers 
(Ere from thy Zephyr-haunied brink I turn) 
My ianguid hand stall wreath thy mossy urn 3” 
For, not through pathless grove with murmur rude, 
Thou soothest the sad wood-nymph SOLITURGs 
