He hath nothing farther to premife, but that the Reader must not expect to be pleased with every particular poem which is here prefented to him. It is impoffible to furnish out an entertainment of this nature, where every part shall be relished by every guest it will be fufficient, if nothing is fet before him, but what has been approved by those of the most acknowledged taste.

ON THE

PROSPECT OF PEACE,

A POE M.

To the LORD PRIVY-SEAL.

By Mr. TICKEL L.

-Sacerdos

Fronde fuper MITRAM, et fælici comptus oliva. VIRG.

Con

Ontending kings, and fields of death, too long Have been the fubject of the British song. Who hath not read of fam'd Ramilia's plain, Bavaria's fall, and Danube choak'd with slain?

A 4

Exhaufted

Exhausted themes! A gentler note I raise,
And fing returning Peace in fofter lays.
Their fury quell'd, and martial rage allay'd,
I wait our heroes in the fylvan fhade:
Difbanding hofts are imag'd to my mind,
And warring pow'rs in friendly leagues combin'd;
While ease and pleasure make the nations smile,
And heav'n and ANNA blefs Britannia's ifle.

Well fends our Queen her mitred BRISTOL forth,
For early counfels fam'd, and long-try'd worth,
Who, thirty rolling years, had oft with-held
The Suede and Saxon from the dusty field;
Compleatly form'd, to heal the Christian wounds,
To name the kings, and give each kingdom bounds ;
The face of ravag'd nature to repair,

By leagues, to foften earth, and heav'n by pray'r;
To gain by love, where rage and flaughter fail,
And make the crofier o'er the fword prevail.

So when great Mofes, with JEHOVAH's wand, Had scatter'd plagues o'er stubborn Pharaoh's land, Now spread an hoft of locufts round the shore, Now turn'd Nile's fatt'ning ftreams to putrid gore; Plenty and gladness mark'd the priest of God, And fudden almonds fhot from Aaron's rod.

O thou,

O thou, from whom these bounteous bleffings flow, To whom, as chief, the hopes of peace we owe, (For next to thee, the man whom kings contend To ftile companion, and to make their friend, Great STRAFFORD, rich in every courtly grace, With joyful pride accepts the second place,) From Britain's ifle, and Ifis' facred fpring, One hour, oh! liften while the Muses fing. Though ministers of mighty monarchs wait, With beating hearts, to learn their masters' fate, One hour forbear to fpeak thy Queen's commands, Nor think the world, thy charge, neglected ftands The blissful profpects, in my verfe display'd, May lure the stubborn, the deceiv'd persuade, Ev'n thou to peace shalt speedier urge the way, And more be haften'd by this short delay.

The haughty Gaul, in ten campaigns o'erthrown, Now ceas'd to think the western world his own. Oft had he mourn'd his boafting leaders bound, And his proud bulwarks fmoaking on the ground; In vain with pow'rs renew'd he fill'd the plain, Made tim❜rous vows, and brib'd the faints in vain; As oft his legions did the fight decline,

Lurk'd in the trench, and skulk'd behind the line.

Before

Before his eyes the fancy'd javelin gleams;

At feafts he starts, and feems dethron'd in dreams ; On glory past reflects with fecret pain,

On mines exhaufted, and on millions flain.

To Britain's Queen the scepter'd fuppliant bends,
To her his crowns and infant race commends,
Who grieves her fame with chriftian blood to buy,
Nor asks for glory at a price fo high.

At her decree the war fufpended stands,
And Britain's heroes hold their lifted hands:
Their open brows no threat'ning frowns difguife,
But gentler paffions sparkle in their eyes.
The Gauls, who never in their courts could find
Such temper'd fire with manly beauty join'd,
Doubt if they're thofe, whom dreadful to the view
In forms fo fierce their fearful fancies drew,
At whofe dire names ten thousand widows prefs'd
Their helpless orphans clinging to the breast.
In filent rapture each his foe furveys,

They vow firm friendship, and give mutual praife.
Brave minds, howe'er at war, are fecret friends,
'Their gen'rous difcord with the battle ends;
In peace they wonder whence diffention rofe,
And ask how fouls fo like could e'er be foes.