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Since uncontroul'd thy Off-ſpring reign,
And ſport, and triumph on the harmleſs Main!
To manly Souls reſolv'd like theirs,
No Task has Danger, or no Danger, Fears.
Hence, Spirits of a Patrict-Mould,
Daringly Great, and fortunately Bold,
Climbing th' Imperial Seat, combine,
To ſift the baffled Claim of RiGht Divine;
And to the World Inſtruction gave,
Diſtinguiſhing the Subject from the Slave.
Then lawleſs Pow'r receiv'd its Doom,
And Liberty reviv'd with Native Bloom.
Tho' Nature, frugally inclin'd          
Has all her Gifts narrow Bounds confin'd;
What will not Art and Pains ſupply?
O'er Waves forbad ,in winged Tow'rs we fly,
And with Herculean Toil advance,
To ſhock the Pow'r of Hell, the Pride of France.
Nor Heavn't it ſelf is uningag'd ,
In Wars for Freedom, and for ANNA wag'd;
Rouz'd by Her Pious, Juſt Alarms,
Behold ! th ' avengeful Thunderer in Arms,
Surveys the Field with Slaughter ſpread,
And points his Churchill at the Tyrant's Head.

     LONDON: Printed for Jacob Tonſon. 1707.

                      (Printed)