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  Or if no milder thought can calm thy mind,
  Behold the great avenger of mankind,
  See mighty Nassau through the battle ride,
  And see thy subjects gasping by his side: 
  Fain would the pious prince refuse the alarm,
  Fain would he check the fury of his arm;
  But when thy cruelties his thoughts engage,
  The hero kindles with becoming rage,
  Then countries stolen, and captives unrestored,
  Give strength to every blow, and edge his sword.
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  Behold with what resistless force he falls
  On towns besieged, and thunders at thy walls! 
  Ask Villeroy, for Villeroy beheld
  The town surrendered, and the treaty seal’d,
  With what amazing strength the forts were won,
  Whilst the whole power of France stood looking on. 
     But stop not here:  behold where Berkley stands,
  And executes his injured king’s commands! 
  Around thy coast his bursting bombs he pours
  On flaming citadels and falling towers;
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  With hissing streams of fire the air they streak,
  And hurl destruction round them where they break;
  The skies with long ascending flames are bright,
  And all the sea reflects a quivering light. 
     Thus AEtna, when in fierce eruptions broke,
  Fills heaven with ashes, and the earth with smoke;
  Here crags of broken rocks are twirled on high,
  Here molten stones and scattered cinders fly: 
  Its fury reaches the remotest coast,
  And strows the Asiatic shore with dust.
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     Now does the sailor from the neighbouring main
  Look after Gallic towns and forts in vain;
  No more his wonted marks he can descry,
  But sees a long unmeasured ruin lie;
  Whilst, pointing to the naked coast, he shows
  His wondering mates where towns and steeples rose,
  Where crowded citizens he lately view’d,
  And singles out the place where once St Maloes stood. 
     Here Russel’s actions should my Muse require;
  And, would my strength but second my desire,
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  I’d all his boundless bravery rehearse,
  And draw his cannons thundering in my verse: 
  High on the deck should the great leader stand,
  Wrath in his look, and lightning in his hand;
  Like Homer’s Hector, when he flung his fire
  Amidst a thousand ships, and made all Greece retire. 
     But who can run the British triumphs o’er,
  And count the flames dispersed on every shore? 
  Who can describe the scattered victory,

  And draw the reader on from sea to sea?
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  Else who could Ormond’s godlike acts refuse,
  Ormond the theme of every Oxford Muse? 
  Fain would I here his mighty worth proclaim,
  Attend him in the noble chase of fame,
  Through all the noise and hurry of the fight,
  Observe each blow, and keep him still in sight. 
  Oh, did our British peers thus court renown,
  And grace the coats their great forefathers