By the same [_i. e._, Annandius].

The twelfth stanza:

Thrice happy they! but why my muse,
To rural pastimes so profuse?
The crouded city surely yields,
More joy than ice and snowy fields?
Here folks are witty and well dress'd,
And blooming beauty is caress'd
In ev'ry form art can devise-- }
With soothing flattery solemn lies, }
And all that nymphs deluded prize }
Here fashions reign, and modes prevail,
And in twelve moons again grow stale,
Thus ever vary, ever change,
Yet ever please--a thing most strange!
And here each thing is told that's new }
What _Loundoun_ or what _Richlieu_ do, }
Each secret expedition too-- }
And then great FREDERICK'S _noble_ feats,
When he th' imperial forces beats.
Such themes the lazy hours beguile;
There's nothing else that's worth our while.
* * * * *

_Amer. Mag. and Mo. Chron._, I-238, Feb. 1758, Phila.

To the Proprietors, &c.

GENTLEMEN:

The honour of becoming a father has made me desirous of ushering the
following _Ode_ into the world, which is my own true, honest, and
lawfully begotten birth. I, therefore know of no better method than to
commit it to the care of gentlemen of your abilities and public
character; for if it remains with me it must live and die in
obscurity.

Philadelphia, February 25th.
PHILANDREIA.

ON THE COMPLEAT VICTORY GAIN'D BY
HIS PRUSSIAN MAJESTY OVER THE FRENCH
AND IMPERIAL ARMY, THE 5TH OF NOVEMBER, 1757.

A _Pindaric_ Ode.

'Tis he! 'tis he! I hear him from afar,
Thundering like the God of War;
To Rosbach's plains, in dread array,
The god-like hero bends his way!
Hark! the rattling rumbling noise of drums!
He comes, he comes!
See, _Prussia's_ awful king's at hand!
He speaks, he speaks! attentive stand!
His well known voice, the gallant warriours hear,
And bend their wide-extended wings both front and rear,
Which half enclose him round.
Stern as the face of war, and yet serene, }
With grace attractive, and majestic mein, }
Was the mighty monarch seen. }
With martial rage each bosom glow'd,
While from his lips those moving accents flow'd--