Stretch'd out in deep array, and dreadful length, The fatal day its mighty course began, That the grieved world had long desired in vain ; States that their new captivity bemoan'd, Armies of martyrs that in exile groan'd, Sighs from the depth of gloomy dungeons heard, His care and conduct of the world below. Behold, in awful march and dread array An anxious horror to the bravest hearts; THE BATTLE OF BLENHEIM. But O, my muse, what numbers wilt thou find To sing the furious troops in battle join'd! Methinks I hear the drum's tumultuous sound, The victor's shouts and dying groans confound; The dreadful bursts of cannon rend the skies, 287 'Twas then great Marlbro's mighty soul was proved. That, in the shock of charging hosts unmoved, Examined all the dreadful scenes of war ; In peaceful thought the field of death survey'd, And taught the doubtful battle where to rage. "ALL IN THE DOWNS." BY JOHN GAY. [JOHN GAY was born at Barnstaple, in Devonshire, in 1688, and, after having been educated at the Grammar School of his native town, was bound apprentice to a silk mercer in London; but, not liking the business, he obtained his discharge before the expiration of his time, and commenced writing poetry. His joy at being released from the drudgery of a shop is described in his "Rural Sports." He became domestic secretary to the Duchess of Monmouth; and, in 1714, went to Hanover with the Earl of Clarendon, as secretary to the embassy, but returned in two months. His "Beggar's Opera," the success of which exceeded anything of the kind ever known, was written in revenge for his receiving no further promotion from the Court. A supplement to it, entitled "Polly," was not allowed to be performed; but its publication proved extremely lucrative. The "Beggar's Opera" brought him 400/. but "Polly" realized about 1,200/. One edition of his poems produced 1,000/.; and South Sea stock, which he received as a present, was at one time worth 20,000l. though it became valueless when the bubble burst. Pope and Swift were deeply attached to Gay, and the affection was mutual. He died in 1732, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. Gay's works have not retained their popularity; their licentiousness is not redeemed by elegance. But his fables are still read with pleasure, and some of his songs are full of tenderness.] ALL in the Downs the fleet was moor'd, The streamers waving in the wind, "Oh! where shall I my true love find! William, who high upon the yard Rock'd with the billow to and fro, Soon as her well-known voice he heard, PP |