THE Horse and the Olive: OR, WAR and PEACE.
WITH
Moral Tale let Ancient
Wisdom move,
Which thus I sing to make the
Moderns wise:
Strong
Neptune once with sage
Minerva strove,
And rising
Athens was the
Victor's Prize.
By
Neptune, Plutus (Guardian Pow'r of Gain),
By Great
Minerva, Bright
Apollo stood:
But
Jove superior bad the Side obtain
Which best contriv'd to do the
Nation Good.
Then
Neptune striking, from the parted Ground
The Warlike
Horse came pawing on the Plain,
And as it toss'd its Mane, and pranc'd around,
By this, he cries, I'll make the
People Reign.
The
Goddess smiling gently bow'd the Spear,
And, rather thus they shall be bless'd, she said;
Then upwards shooting in the Vernal Air
With loaded Boughs the fruitful
Olive spread.
Jove saw what Gifts the
Rival Pow'rs design'd,
And took th' impartial Scales, resolv'd to show,
If greater Bliss in
Warlike Pomp we find,
Or in the
Calm which
Peaceful Times bestow.
On
Neptune's part he plac'd
Victorious Days,
Gay
Trophies won, and
Fame extending wide:
But
Plenty, Safety, Science, Arts, and
Ease,
Minerva's Scale with greater weight supply'd.
Fierce
War devours whom gentle
Peace wou'd save,
Sweet
Peace restores what angry
War destroys,
War made for
Peace with that rewards the Brave,
While
Peace its Pleasures from it self enjoys.
Hence vanquish'd
Neptune to the Sea withdrew,
Hence wise
Minerva rul'd
Athenian Lands,
Her
Athens hence in Arts and Honour grew,
And still her
Olives deck
pacifick Hands.
From
Fables thus disclos'd, a Monarch's Mind
May form just Rules to chuse the Truly-Great:
And
Subjects weary'd with Distresses find
Whose kind Endeavours most befriend the State.
Ev'n
Britain here may learn to place her Love,
If
Cities won her
Kingdoms Wealth have cost,
If
ANNA's Thoughts the PATRIOT-SOULS approve
Whose Cares restore that Wealth the Wars had lost.
But if we ask the
Moral to disclose
Whom best EUROPA'S
Patroness it calls,
Great
ANNA's Title no Exception knows,
And unapply'd in this the
Fable falls.
With Her no
Neptune or
Minerva vyes;
Whene'er she pleas'd her
Troops to Conquest flew,
Whene'er she pleases
Peaceful Times arise:
She gave the
Horse, and gives the
Olive too.
FINIS.
Printed for John Morphew, near Stationers-Hall.