But now a purchase to the sword she lies,
Her harvests for uncertain owners rise,
Each vineyard doubtful of its master grows,
And to the victor’s bowl each vintage flows. 
The discontented shades of slaughtered hosts,
That wandered on her banks, her heroes’ ghosts,
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Hoped, when they saw Britannia’s arms appear,
The vengeance due to their great deaths was near. 
Our godlike leader, ere the stream he passed,
The mighty scheme of all his labours cast,
Forming the wondrous year within his thought;
His bosom glowed with battles yet unfought. 
The long, laborious march he first surveys,
And joins the distant Danube to the Maese,
Between whose floods such pathless forests grow,
Such mountains rise, so many rivers flow: 
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The toil looks lovely in the hero’s eyes,
And danger serves but to enhance the prize. 
Big with the fate of Europe, he renews
His dreadful course, and the proud foe pursues: 
Infected by the burning Scorpion’s heat,
The sultry gales round his chafed temples beat,
Till on the borders of the Maine he finds
Defensive shadows and refreshing winds. 
Our British youth, with inborn freedom bold,
Unnumbered scenes of servitude behold,
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Nations of slaves, with tyranny debased,
(Their Maker’s image more than half defaced,)
Hourly instructed, as they urge their toil,
To prize their queen, and love their native soil. 
Still to the rising sun they take their way
Through clouds of dust, and gain upon the clay;
When now the Neckar on its friendly coast
With cooling streams revives the fainting host,
That cheerfully its labours past forgets,
The midnight watches, and the noonday heats.
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O’er prostrate towns and palaces they pass,
(Now covered o’er with weeds and hid in grass,)
Breathing revenge; whilst anger and disdain
Fire every breast, and boil in every vein: 
Here shattered walls, like broken rocks, from far
Rise up in hideous views, the guilt of war,
Whilst here the vine o’er hills of ruin climbs,
Industrious to conceal great Bourbon’s crimes,
At length the fame of England’s hero drew,
Eugenio to the glorious interview.
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Great souls by instinct to each other turn,
Demand alliance, and in friendship burn;
A sudden friendship, while with stretched-out rays
They meet each other, mingling blaze with blaze. 
Polished in courts, and hardened in the field,
Renowned for conquest, and in council skilled,
Their courage dwells not in a troubled flood
Of mounting spirits, and fermenting blood: 
Lodged in the soul, with virtue overruled,
Inflamed by reason, and by reason cooled,
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In hours of peace content to be unknown,
And only in the field of battle shown: 
To souls like these, in mutual friendship joined,
Heaven dares intrust the cause of humankind. 
Britannia’s graceful sons appear in arms,