Our eager youth to distant nations run,
To visit fields their valiant fathers won;
From Flandria's shore their country's fame they trace,
Till far Germania shews her blasted face.
Th' exulting Briton asks his mournful guide,
Where his hard fate the lost Bavaria try'd;
Where Stepney grav'd the stone to  fame:
He points to Blenheim, once a vulgar name;
Here fled the Houshold, there did Tallard yield,
Here Malb'rough turn'd the fortune of the field;
On those steep banks, near Danube's raging flood,
The Gauls thrice started back, and trembling stood;
When, Churchill's arm perceiv'd, they stood not long,
But plung'd amidst the waves, a desperate throng;
Crowds whelm'd on crowds dash'd wide the watry bed,
And drove the current to its distant head.