Now , she said, let  exalt her Voice;
Nor let thy Conquests only be her Choice:
But when She sings great  from the Field
Return'd, the Hostile Spear and Captive Shield
In  Temple hung, and  taught to yield.
And when, as prudent  shall compleat
The Years design'd to perfect  State,
The swift-wing'd Power shall take her Trump again,
To sing Her Fav'rite  wond'rous Reign;
To recollect unweary'd  Toils,
Old Hall unequal to his Spoils;
The  Soldier from his high Command
Glorious, and  thrice Vanquish'd by his Hand:
Let Her at least perform what I desire;
With second Breath the Vocal Brass inspire:
And tell the Nations in no Vulgar Strain,
What Wars I manage, and what Wreaths I gain.