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JANUS, did ever to thy wond'ring eyes,
So bright a Scene of Triumphs rife?
Did ever Greece or Rome ſuch Lawrels wear
As Crown'd the laſt Auſpicious Year?
When firſt at Blenheim ANNE her Enſigns ſpread,
And Marlbrough to the field the ſhouting Squadrons led.
In vain the Hills and Streams oppoſe,
In vain the hollow Ground in faithleſs hillocks roſe :
To the rough Danube's winding ſhore
His ſhatter'd Foes the Conqu'ring Hero bore.


THEY ſee with ſtaring haggard Eyes,
The rapid Torrent rowl, the foaming Billows rife.
Amaz'd, agaſt, they turn, but find
In Marlbrough's Arms a ſurer fate behind.
Now his red Sword aloft impends,
Now on their ſhrinking Heads deſcends ;
Wild diſtracted with their Fears,
They juſtling, plunge amid the founding deeps,
The Flood away the ſtrugling Squadrons ſweeps,
And Men and Arms and Horſes whirling bears.
The frighted Danube to the Sea retreats,
The Danube ſoon the flying Ocean meets,
Flying the Thunder of Great ANNA's Fleets.


ROOK o're the Seas aſſerts Her ſway,
Flames o're the trembling Ocean play,
And Clouds of Smoke involve the day ;
Affrighted Europe hears the Canons roar,
And Afric ecchoes from it's diſtant Shore.
The French unequal in the fight,
In force ſuperior take their flight ;
Factions in vain the Hero's worth decry,
In vain the Vanquiſh'd triumph while they fly.

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