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The feverish air, fann'd by a cooling breeze,
The fruitful vales set round with shady trees,
And guiltless men, who danced away their time,
Fresh as

their

groves, and happy as their clime. Had we still paid that homage to a name, Which only God and Nature justly claim, The western seas had been our utmost bound, Wherepoets still might dream the sun was drown'd; . And all the stars that shine in southern skies Had been admired by none but savage eyes.

Among the' asserters of free Reason's claim, Our nation's not the least in worth or fame. The world to Bacon does not only owe Its present knowledge, but its future too. Gilbert' shall live till loadstones cease to draw, Or British fleets the boundless ocean awe; And noble Boyle, not less in Nature seen, Than his great brother read in states and men. The circling streams, once thought but pools of (Whether life’s fuel or the body's food) [blood, From dark oblivion Harvey's ? name shall save; While Ent3 keeps all the honour that he gave. Nor are you; learned friend, the least renown’d, Whose fame, not circumscribed with English Flies, like the nimble journies of the light, [ground, And is, like that, unspent too in its flight. Whatever truths have been by Art or Chance Redeem'd from error or from ignorance, Thin in their authors, like rich veins of ore, Your works unite, and still discover more:

I William Gilbert, M. D. ob. Nov. 30, 1603. ? William Harvey, M. D. ob. June 30, 1657.

3 Sir George Ent, President of the College of Physicians, &c. ob. 1689.

Such is the healing virtue of your pen,
To perfect cures on books as well as men.
Nor is this work the least; you well may give,
To men new vigour, who make stones to live.
Through you the Danes, their short dominion lost,
A longer conquest than the Saxons boast. [found
Stone-Henge, once thought a temple, you have
A throne, where kings, our earthly gods, were

crown'd;
Where by their wondering subjects they were seen,
Joy'd with their stature, and their princely mien.
Our Sovereign here above the rest might stand,
And here be chose again to rule the land.

These ruins shelter'd once his sacred head,
When he from Wor’ster's fatal battle fled,
Watch'd by the Genius of this royal place,
And mighty visions of the Danish race.
His refuge, then, was for a temple shown;
But, he restored, 'tis now become a throne,

TO THE

LADY CASTLEMAINE,

UPON HER ENCOURAGING HIS FIRST PLAY.

1663.

As seamen, shipwreck'd on some happy shore,
Discover wealth in lands unknown before,
And, what their art had labour'd long in vain,
By their misfortunes happily obtain;
So my much-envied Muse, by storms long toss'd,
Is thrown upon your hospitable coast,

And finds more favour by her ill success,
Than she could hope for by her happiness.
Once Cato's virtue did the gods oppose,
While they the victor, he the vanquish’d, chose ;
But
you

have done what Cato could not do,
To choose the vanquish’d, and restore him too.
Let others still triumph, and gain their cause
By their deserts, or by the world's applause;
Let Merit crowns, and Justice laurels give,
But let me, happy, by your pity live.
True poets empty fame and praise despise;
Fame is the trumpet, but your smile the prize.
You sit above, and see vain men below
Contend for what you only can bestow:
But those great actions others do by chance,
Are, like your beauty, your inheritance:
So great a soul, such sweetness join'd in one,
Could only spring from noble Grandison.
You, like the stars, not by reflection bright,
Are born to your own heaven and your own light;
Like them are good, but from a nobler cause,
From your own knowledge, notfrom Nature's laws.
Your power you never use but for defence,
To guard your own or others’ innocence:
Your foes are such as they, not you, have made,
And Virtue may repel, though not invade.
Such courage did the ancient heroes show, [blow;
Who, when they might prevent, would wait the
With such assurance as they meant to say,
We will o'ercome, but scorn the safest way.
What further fear of danger can there be ?
Beauty, which captives all things, sets me free.
Posterity will judge by my success,
I had the Grecian poet's happiness,

Who, waiving plots, found out a better way;
Some god descended, and preserved the play.
When first the triumphs of your sects were sung
By those old poets, Beauty was but young,
And few admired the native red and white,
Till poets dress’d them up to charm the sight :
So Beauty took on trust, and did engage
For sums of praises till she came to age.
But this long-growing debt to poetry
You, justly, Madam, have discharged to me,
When your applause and favour did infuse
New life to my condemn'd and dying Muse.

TO HER ROYAL HIGHNESS

THE DUCHESS OF YORK,

ON THE MEMORABLE VICTORY GAINED BY THE DUKE OVER

THE HOLLANDERS, JUNE 3, 1665 ; AND ON HER JOURNEY AFTERWARDS INTO THE NORTH.

MADAM,
When, for our sakes, your hero you resign'd
To swelling seas, and every faithless wind;
When

you
released his

courage,

and set free A valour fatal to the

enemy; You lodged your country's cares within your breast, (The mansion where soft love should only rest) And, ere our foes abroad were overcome, The noblest conquest you had gain’d at home. Ah, what concerns did both your souls divide ! Your honour gave us what your love denied : And 'twas for him much easier to subdue Those foes he fought with, than to part from you

That glorious day, which two such navies saw,
As each, unmatch'd, might to the world give law,
Neptune, yet doubtful whom he should obey,
Held to them both the trident of the sea: [cast,
The winds were hush'd, the waves in ranks were
As awfully as when God's people pass'd :
Those, yet uncertain on whose sails to blow,
These, where the wealth of nations ought to flow.
Then with the Duke your Highness ruled the day;
While all the brave did his command obey,
The fair and pious under you did pray.
How powerful are chaste vows! the wind and tide
You bribed to combat on the English side.
Thus to your

much-loved lord you did convey
An unknown succour, sent the nearest way.
New vigour to his wearied arms you brought,
(So Moses was upheld while Israel fought.)
While, from afar, we heard the cannon play,
Like distant thunder on a shiny day,
For absent friends we were ashamed to fear,
When we consider'd what you ventured there.
Ships, men, and arms, our country might restore,
But such a leader could supply no more.
With generous thoughts of conquest he did burn,
Yet fought not more to vanquish than return.
Fortune and Victory he did pursue,
To bring them, as his slaves, to wait on you.
Thus beauty ravish'd the rewards of fame,
And the fair triumph'd when the brave o'ercame.
Then, as you meant to spread another way,
By land, your conquests, far as his by sea,
Leaving our southern clime, you march'd along
The stubborn north ten thousand Cupids strong.

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