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OF ENGLISH VERSE...ON THE EARL OF ROSCOMMON.

Thus Fabius gain'd repute of old,

When Roman glory gasping lay;
encil slow, in action cold,
His country sav'd, running away.

What better method could you take ?

When you by beauty's charms must move,
lad must at once a progress make
I th' stratagems of war and love.

1, that a princess' heart would gain,
Must learn submissively to yield;
De stubborn ne'er their ends obtain;
The vanquish'd masters are o' th' field.
Som, brave prince, with like success,
Still to increase your hop'd renown;
Lito your conduct and address,

Not to your birth, you owe a crown.
Pod Alva with the power of Spain
Could not the noble Dutch enslave;
Adviser Parma strove in vain,
For to reduce a race so brave.

They now those very armies pay

By which they were forc'd to yield to you;

Ther ancient birthright they betray,

By their own votes you them subdue.

The can then liberty maintain

Then by such arts it is withstood? Im to princes is a chain,

Te all that spring from royal blood.

OF ENGLISH VERSE.

Par may boast, as safely vain,

Ther works shall with the world remain :
Jon bound together, live or die,
The verses and the prophecy.

But who can hope his line should long
lag, a daily-changing tongue?
Wade they are new, envy prevails;
And as that dies, our language fails.
When architects have done their part,
The matter may betray their art:
Tae, if we use ill-chosen stone,
Son brings a well-built palace down.
Pets, that lasting marble seek,
Most carve in Latin or in Greek:

We write in sand, our language grows,
lad, Eke the tide, our work o'erflows.

Chacer his sense can only boast,
The chory of his numbers lost!
Years have defac'd his matchless strain,
And yet he did not sing in vain.

The beauties, which adorn'd that age,
The sting subjects of his rage,
ing they should immortal prove,
ewarded with success his love.
This was the gen'rous poet's scope;
A all an English pen can hope;
To make the fair approve his flame,
That can so far extend their fame.

Verse, thus design'd, has no ill fate,

If it arrive but at the date

Of fading beauty, if it prove
But as long-liv'd as present love.

UPON THE

EARL OF ROSCOMMON'S

69

TRANSLATION OF Horace, de arTE POETICA: AND OF
THE USE OF POETRY.

ROME was not better by her Horace taught,
Than we are here to comprehend his thought:
The poet writ to noble Piso there;
A noble Piso does instruct us here;
Gives us a pattern in his flowing style,
And with rich precepts does oblige our isle:
Britain! whose genius is in verse express'd,
Bold and sublime, but negligently dress'd.

Horace will our superfluous branches prune,
Give us new rules, and set our harp in tune;
Direct us how to back the winged horse,
Favour his flight, and moderate his force.

Though poets may of inspiration boast, Their rage, ill govern'd, in the clouds is lost. He, that proportion'd wonders can disclose, At once his fancy and his judgment shows. Chaste moral writing we may learn from hence; Neglect of which no wit can recompense. The fountain, which from Helicon proceeds, That sacred stream! should never water weeds, Nor make the crop of thoras and thistles grow, Which envy or perverted nature sow.

Well-sounding verses are the charm we use, Heroic thoughts and virtue to infuse: Things of deep sense we may in prose unfold, But they move more in lofty numbers told : By the loud trumpet, which our courage aids, We learn, that sound, as well as sense, persuades. The Muses' friend, unto himself severe, With silent pity looks on all that err: But where a brave, a public action shines, That he rewards with his immortal lines. Whether it be in council or in fight, His country's honour is his chief delight; Praise of great acts he scatters as a seed, Which may the like in coming ages breed. Here taught the fate of verses, (always priz'd With admiration, or as much despis'd) Men will be less indulgent to their faults, And patience have to cultivate their thoughts. Poets lose half the praise they should have got, Could it be known what they discreetly blot, Finding new words, that to the ravish'd ear May like the language of the gods appear, Such, as of old, wise bards employ'd, to make Unpolish'd men their wild retreats forsake : Law-giving heroes, fam'd for taming brutes, And raising cities with their charming lutes: For rudest minds with harmony were caught, And civil life was by the Muses taught. So, wandering bees would perish in the air, Did not a sound, proportion'd to their ear, Appease their rage, invite them to the hive, Unite their force, and teach them how to thrive : To rob the flowers, and to forbear the spoil; Preserv'd in winter by their summer's toil: They give us food, which may with nectar vie, And wax, that does the absent Sun supply.

70

AD COMITEM MONUMETENSEM

DE BENTIVOGLIO SUO.

FLORIBUS Angligenis non hanc tibi necto corollam,
Cùm satis indigenis te probet ipse liber:
Per me Roma sciet tibi se debere, quòd Anglo
Romanus didicit cultiùs ore loqui.
Ultima quæ tellus Aquilas duce Cæsare vidit,
Candida Romulidum te duce scripta videt.
Consilio ut quondam Patriam nil juveris esto!
Sed studio cives ingenioque juvas.
Namque dolis liber hic instructus, & arte Batava,
A Belga nobis ut caveamus, ait.
Horremus per te civilis dira furoris

Vulnera; discordes Flandria quassa monet.
Hic discat miles pugnare, orare senator;
Qui regnant, leni sceptra tenere manu.

And at the court his interest does employ
That none, who 'scap'd his fatal sword, should die.
And now, these rash bold men their errour find,
Not trusting one, beyond his promise kind :
One! whose great mind, so bountiful and brave,
Had learn'd the art to conquer and to save.

In vulgar breasts no royal virtues dwell;
Such deeds as these his high extraction tell,
And give a secret joy to him 7 that reigns,
To see his blood triumph in Monmouth's veins ;
To see a leader, whom he got and chose,
Firm to his friends, and fatal to his foes.

But seeing envy, like the Sun, does beat
With scorching rays, on all that's high and great:
This, ill-requited Monmouth! is the bough
The Muses send, to shade thy conquering brow.
Lampoons, like squibs, may make a present blaze;
But time and thunder pay respect to bays.

Macte, Comes! virtute novâ; vestri ordinis ingens Achilles' arms dazzle our present view,

Ornamentum, ævi deliciæque tui !

Dum stertunt alii somno vinoque sepulti,
Nobilis antiquo stemmate digna facis.

TO MR. KİLLEGREW,

UPON HIS ALTERING HIS PLAY, PANDORA, FROM A TRAGEDY
INTO A COMEDY, BECAUSE NOT APPROVED ON THE STAGE.

SIR, you should rather teach our age the way
Of judging well, than thus have chang'd your play:
You had oblig'd us by employing wit,
Not to reform Pandora, but the pit,
For, as the nightingale, without the throng
Of other birds, alone attends her song,

While the loud daw, his throat displaying, draws
The whole assembly of his fellow daws:

So must the writer, whose productions should
Take with the vulgar, be of vulgar mould;
Whilst nobler fancies make a flight too high
For common view, and lessen as they fly.

ON THE

DUKE OF MONMOUTH'S EXPEDITION
INTO SCOTLAND, IN THE SUMMER SOLSTICE.

SWIFT as Jove's messenger, (the winged god")
With sword as potent as his charming rod,
He flew to execute the king's command,
And in a moment reach'd that northern land,
Where day, contending with approaching night,
Assists the hero with continued light.

On foes surpris'd, and by no night conceal'd,
He might have rush'd; but noble pity held
His hand a while, and to their choice gave space,
Which they would prove, his valour or his grace.
This not well heard, his cannon louder spoke,
And then, like lightning, through that cloud he
broke.

His fame, his conduct, and that martial look,
The guilty Scots with such a terrour strook,
That to his courage they resign the field,
Who to his bounty had refus'd to yield.
Glad that so little loyal blood it cost,
He grieves so many Britons should be lost:
Taking more pains, when he beheld them yield,
To save the flyers, than to win the field:

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Kept by the Muse as radiant, and as new,
As from the forge of Vulcan first they came;
Thousands of years are past, and they the same:
Such care she takes to pay desert with fame!
Than which, no monarch, for his crown's defence
Knows how to give a nobler recompense.

TO A

FRIEND OF THE AUTHOR,

A PERSON OF HONOUR, WHO LATELY WRIT A RELIGIOU
BOOK, ENTITULED, HISTORICAL APPLICATIONS, AN
OCCASIONAL MEDITATIONS UPON SEVERAL SUBJECTS.

BOLD is the man that dares engage

For piety, in such an age!

Who can presume to find a guard

From scorn, when Heaven's so little spar'd?
Divines are pardon'd; they defend
Altars on which their lives depend:

But the profane impatient are,

When nobler pens make this their care:
For why should these let in a beam
Of divine light to trouble them;

And call in doubt their pleasing thought,
That none believes what we are taught?
High birth and fortune warrant give
That such men write what they believe,
And, feeling first what they indite,
New credit give to ancient light.
Amongst these few, our author brings
His well-known pedigree from kings.
This book, the image of his mind,
Will make his name not hard to find:
I wish the throng of great and good
Made it less eas'ly understood!

ΤΟ Α

PERSON OF HONOUR,

UPON HIS INCOMPARABLE, INCOMPREHENSIBLE POEM,
ENTITLED THE BRITISH PRINCES.

SIR! you've oblig'd the British nation more,
Than all their bards could ever do before;
And, at your own charge, monuments, as hard
As brass or marble, to your fame have rear'd.

7 King Charles II.

For, as all warlike nations take delight

To hear how their brave ancestors could fight,
You have advanc'd to wonder their renown,
And no less virtuously improv'd your own;
That 'twill be doubtful, whether you do write,
Or they have acted, at a nobler height.
Yon, of your ancient princes, have retriev'd
More than the ages knew in which they liv'd;
Explain'd their customs and their rights anew,
Better than all their druids ever knew;
(¿dled those dark oracles as well

As those that made them could themselves foretell.
Far, as the Britons long have hop'd in vain,
Arthur would come to govern them again,
You have fulfill'd that prophecy alone,
And in your poem plac'd him on his throne.
Such magic power has your prodigious pen,
To raise the dead, and give new life to men,
Make rival princes meet in arms and love,
Thom distant ages did so far remove.
Fr, as eternity has neither past
For future, authors say, nor first nor last,
But is all instant, your eternal Muse
All ages can to any one reduce.

Then why should you, whose miracles of art
Can life at pleasure to the dead impart,
Trouble in vain your better-busied head,
Tobserve what times they liv'd in, or were dead?
For, since you have such arbitrary power,
were defect in judgment to go lower,
Or stoop to things so pitifully lewd,
As use to take the vulgar latitude.

For no man's fit to read what you have writ,
That holds not some proportion with your wit:
As light can no way but by light appear,
He must bring sense, that understands it here.

TO MR. CREECH,

ON HIS TRANSLATION OF LUCRETIUS.

WEAT all men wish'd, though few could hope to
We are now blest with, and oblig'd by thee. [see,
Thon! from the ancient learned Latin store,
G'st us one author, and we hope for more.
May they enjoy thy thoughts!-Let not the stage
The idlest moment of thy hours engage.
Each year that place some wondrous monster breeds,
And the wits' garden is o'er-run with weeds.
There farce is comedy; bombast call'd strong;
Sift words, with nothing in them, make a song.
Ts hard to say they steal them now-a-days;
For sure the ancients never wrote such plays.
These scribbling insects have what they deserve,
Not plenty, nor the glory for to starve.
That Spenser knew, that Tasso felt before,
And Death found surly Ben exceeding poor.
Heaven turn the omen from their image here!
May he with joy the well-plac'd laurel wear!
Great Virgil's happier fortune may he find,
And be our Cæsar, like Augustus, kind!

But let not this disturb thy tuneful head;
Thou writ'st for thy delight, and not for bread:
The art not curst to write thy verse with care,
But art above what other poets fear.

at may we not expect from such a hand,
That has, with books, himself at free command?
Them know'st in youth, what age has sought in vain,
And bring'st forth sons without a mother's pain.

So easy is thy sense, thy verse so sweet,
Thy words so proper, and thy phrase so fit,
We read, and read again, and still admire [fire!
Whence came this youth, and whence this wondrous

Pardon this rapture, sir! But who can be
Cold and unmov'd, yet have his thoughts on thee?
Thy goodness may my several faults forgive,
And by your help these wretched lines may live.
But if, when view'd by your severer sight,
They seem unworthy to behold the light,
Let them with speed in deserv'd flames be thrown!
They'll send no sighs, nor murmur out a groan,
But, dying silently, your justice own.

THE TRIPLE COMBAT.

WHEN through the world fair Mazarine had run,
Bright as her fellow-traveller, the Sun,
Hither at length the Roman eagle flies,
As the last triumph of her conquering eyes.
As heir to Julius, she may pretend

A second time to make this island bend;
But Portsmouth, springing from the ancient race
Of Britons, which the Saxon here did chase,
As they great Cæsar did oppose, makes head,
And does against this new invader lead.
That goodly nymph, the taller of the two,
Careless and fearless to the field does go.
Becoming blushes on the other wait,
And her young look excuses want of height.
Beauty gives courage; for she knows the day
Must not be won the Amazonian way.
Legions of Cupids to the battle come,
For little Britain these, and those for Rome.
Dress'd to advantage, this illustrious pair
Arriv'd, for combat in the list appear.
What may the Fates design! for dever yet
From distant regions two such beauties met.
Venus had been an equal friend to both,
And Vict'ry to declare herself seems loath;
Over the camp with doubtful wings she flies,
Till Chloris shining in the field she spies.
The lovely Chloris well-attended came,
A thousand graces waited on the dame:
Her matchless form made all the English glad,
And foreign beauties less assurance had.
Yet, like the three on Ida's top, they all
Pretend alike, contesting for the ball:
Which to determine, Love himself declin'd,
Lest the neglected should become less kind.
Such killing looks! so thick the arrows fly!
That 'tis unsafe to be a stander-by.

Poets, approaching to describe the fight,
Are by their wounds instructed how to write
They with less hazard might look on, and draw
The ruder combats in Alsatia ;

And, with that foil of violence and rage,
Set off the splendour of our golden age:
Where Love gives law, Beauty the sceptre sways,
And, uncompell'd, the happy world obeys.

OF AN

ELEGY MADE BY MRS. WHARTON
ON THE EARL OF ROCHESTER.

THUS mourn the Muses! on the hearse
Not strowing tears, but lasting verse;

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CHLORIS! what's eminent, we know,
Must for some cause be valued so:
Things without use, though they be good,
Are not by us so understood.
The early Rose, made to display
Her blushes to the youthful May,
Doth yield her sweets, since he is fair,
And courts her with a gentle air.
Our stars do show their excellence,
Not by their light, but influence:
When brighter comets, since still known,
Fatal to all, are lik'd by none.
So, your admired beauty still
Is, by effects, made good or ill.

UPON OUR LATE LOSS OF

THE DUKE OF CAMBRIDGE.

THE failing blossoms, which a young plant bears,
Engage our hope for the succeeding years:
And hope is all which Art or Nature brings,
At the first trial, to accomplish things.
Mankind was first created an essay;
That ruder draught the deluge wash'd away.
How many ages pass'd, what blood and toil,
Before we made one kingdom of this isle!
How long in vain had Nature striv'd to frame
A perfect princess, ere her highness came?
For joys so great we must with patience wait,
'Tis the set price of happiness complete.
As a first-fruit, Heaven claim'd that lovely boy:
The next shall live, and be the nation's joy.

INSTRUCTIONS TO A PAINTER,

FOR THE DRAWING OF THE POSTURE AND PROGRESS OF
HIS MAJESTY'S FORCES AT SEA, UNDER THE COMMAND
OF HIS HIGHNESS-ROYAL: TOGETHER WITH THE BAT-
TLE AND VICTORY OBTAINED OVER THE DUTCH, JUNE
3, 1665.

FIRST draw the sea; that portion, which between
The greater world, and this of ours, is seen:
Here place the British, there the Holland fleet,
Vast floating armies! both prepar'd to meet.
Draw the whole world, expecting who should reign,
After this combat, o'er the conquer'd main.
Make Heaven concern'd, and an unusual star
Declare th' importance of th' approaching war.

Make the sea shine with gallantry, and all
The English youth flock to their admiral,
The valiant duke! whose early deeds abroad
Such rage in fight, and art in conduct show'd.
His bright sword now a dearer interest draws,
His brother's glory, and his country's cause.

Let thy bold pencil, hope and courage spread
Through the whole navy, by that hero led:
Make all appear, where such a prince is by,
Resolv'd to conquer, or resolv'd to die.
With his extraction, and his glorious mind,
Make the proud sails swell, more than with the
Preventing cannon, make his louder fame [wind:
Check the Batavians, and their fury tame.
So hungry wolves, though greedy of their prey,
Stop, when they find a lion in their way.
Make him bestride the ocean, and mankind
Ask his consent to use the sea and wind:
While his tall ships in the barr'd channel stand,
He grasps the Indies in his armed hand.

Paint an east-wind, and make it blow away Th' excuse of Holland for their navy's stay: Make them look pale, and, the bold prince to shun, Through the cold north, and rocky regions run. To find the coast where morning first appears, By the dark pole the wary Belgian steers; Confessing now, he dreads the English more Than all the dangers of a frozen shore; While from our arms, security to find, They fly so far, they leave the day behind. Describe their fleet abandoning the sea, And all their merchants left a wealthy prey; Our first success in war make Bacchus crown, And half the vintage of the year our own. The Dutch their wine and all their brandy lose, Disarm'd of that, from which their courage grows! While the glad English, to relieve their toil, In healths to their great leader drink the spoil.

His high commands to Afric's coast extend, And make the Moors before the English bend : Those barbarous pirates willingly receive Conditions such as we are pleas'd to give. Deserted by the Dutch, let nations know, We can our own and their great business do; False friends chastise, and common foes restrain, Which, worse than tempests, did infest the main. Within those straits, make Holland's Smyrna fleet With a small squadron of the English meet; Like falcons these, those like a numerous flock Of fowl, which scatter to avoid the shock. There paint confusion in a various shape, Some sink, some yield, and, flying, some escape. Europe and Africa, from either shore, Spectators are, and hear our cannon roar; While the divided world in this agree, Men that fight so, deserve to rule the sea. But, nearer home, thy pencil use once more, And place our navy by the Holland shore; The world they compass'd while they fought with But here already they resign the main : [Spain Those greedy mariners, out of whose way Diffusive Nature could no region lay, At home, preserv'd from rocks and tempests, lie, Compell'd, like others, in their beds to die. Their single towns th' Iberian armies prest; We all their provinces at once invest, And in a month ruin their traffic more, Than that long war could in an age before. But who can always on the billows lie? The wat❜ry wilderness yields no supply.

6

Spreading our sails, to Harwich we resort,
And meet the beauties of the British court.
Th' illustrious dutchess, and her glorious train,
(Like Thetis with her nymphs) adorn the main.
The gazing sea-gods, since the Paphian queen
Sprung from among them, no such sight had seen.
Charm'd with the graces of a troop so fair,
Those deathless powers for us themselves declare,
Resolv'd the aid of Neptune's court to bring,
And help the nation where such beauties spring:
The soldier here his wasted store supplies,
And takes new valour from the ladies' eyes.
Meanwhile, like bees when stormy winter's gone,
The Dutch (as if the sea were all their own)
Desert their ports, and, falling in their way,

Our Hamburgh merchants are become their prey.
Thas flourish they, before th' approaching fight,
As dying tapers give a blazing light.

Three worthy persons 7 from his side it tore,
And dy'd his garment with their scatter'd gore.
Happy! to whom this glorious death arrives,
More to be valued than a thousand lives!
On such a theatre as this to die,
For such a cause, and such a witness by!
Who would not thus a sacrifice be made,
To have his blood on such an altar laid?
The rest about him strook with horrour stood,
To see their leader cover'd o'er with blood.
So trembled Jacob, when he thought the stains
Of his son's coat had issued from his veins.
He feels no wound, but in his troubled thought
Before for honour, now revenge, he fought:
His friends in pieces torn (the bitter news
Not brought by Fame) with his own eyes he views.
His mind at once reflecting on their youth,
Their worth, their love, their valour, and their truth,

To check their pride, our fleet half victual'd goes, The joys of court, their mothers, and their wives,
Enough to serve us till we reach our foes;

Tho now appear so numerous and bold,

The action worthy of our arms we hold.

A greater force than that which here we find
Yer press'd the ocean, nor employ'd the wind.
Restrain'd awhile by the unwelcome night,
Th' impatient English scarce attend the light.
But now the morning (heaven severely clear !)
In the fierce work indulgent does appear;
And Phoebus lifts above the waves his light,
That he might see, and thus record, the fight.
As when loud winds from different quarters rush,
Tast clouds encount'ring one another crush:
With swelling sails, so, from their sev'ral coasts,
Join the Batavian and the British hosts.
For a less prize, with less concern and rage,
The Roman fleets at Actium did engage:
They, for the empire of the world they knew,
These, for the old contend, and for the new.
At the first shock, with blood and powder stain'd,
Nor heaven nor sea their former face retain'd:
Fury and art produce effects so strange,
They trouble Nature, and her visage change.
Where burning ships the banish'd Sun supply,
And no light shines, but that by which men die,
There York appears; so prodigal is he
Of moral blood, as ancient as the sea!
Which down to him, so many ages told,

Has through the veins of mighty monarchs roll'd!
The great Achilles march'd not to the field,
Till Vulcan that impenetrable shield

[threw.

And arms had wrought: yet there no bullets flew;
But shafts, and darts, which the weak Phrygians
Our bolder hero on the deck does stand
Expos'd, the bulwark of his native land;
Defensive arms laid by as useless here,
Where massy balls the neighbouring rocks do tear.
Some pow'r unseen those princes does protect,
Who for their country thus themselves neglect.
Against him first Opdam his squadron leads,
Proud of his late success against the Swedes,
Made by that action, and his high command,
Worthy to perish by a prince's hand.
The tall Batavian in a vast ship rides,
Bearing an army in her hollow sides;
Yet, not inclin'd the English ship to board,
More on his guns relies, than on his sword;
From whence a fatal volley we receiv'd,

i miss'd the duke, but his great heart it griev'd:

6 Venus.

To follow him, abandon'd—and their lives!
He storms, and shoots: but flying bullets now,
To execute his rage, appear too slow:
They miss, or sweep but common souls away;
For such a loss, Opdam his life must pay.
Encouraging his men, he gives the word,
With fierce intent that hated ship to board,
And make the guilty Dutch, with his own arm,
Wait on his friends, while yet their blood is warm.
His winged vessel like an eagle shows,
When through the clouds to truss a swan she goes:
The Belgian ship unmov'd, like some huge rock
Inhabiting the sea, expects the shock.

From both the fleets men's eyes are bent this way,
Neglecting all the bus'ness of the day:
Bullets their flight, and guns their noise suspend;
The silent ocean does th' event attend,
Which leader shall the doubtful vict'ry bless,
And give an earnest of the war's success,
When Heaven itself, for England to declare,
Turns ship, and men, and tackle into air.

Their new commander from his charge is tost,
Which that young prince had so unjustly lost,
Whose great progenitors, with better fate,
And better conduct, sway'd their infant state.
His flight tow'rds Heaven th' aspiring Belgian took;
But fell, like Phaeton, with thunder strook :
From vaster hopes than his, he seem'd to fall,
That durst attempt the British admiral:
From her broadsides a ruder flame is thrown,
Than from the fiery chariot of the Sun:
That bears the radiant ensign of the day,
And she, the flag that governs in the sea.

The duke (ill-pleas'd that fire should thus prevent
The work, which for his brighter sword he meant)
Anger still burning in his valiant breast,
Goes to complete revenge upon the rest.
So, on the guardless herd, their keeper slain,
Rushes a tiger in the Lybian plain.

The Dutch, accustom'd to the raging sea,
And in black storms the frowns of Heaven to see,
Never met tempest which more urg'd their fears,
Than that which in the prince's look appears.
Fierce, goodly, young! Mars he resembles, when
Jove sends him down to scourge perfidious men;
Such as with foul ingratitude have paid,

Both those that led, and those that gave them aid.

7 Earl of Falmouth, lord Muskerry, and Mr. Boyle.

& Prince of Orange.

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