Ar my return, after near ten years abfence, I found feveral editions had been published of Verses and Foems, &c. under my name, but fo maimed and imperfect as would have put me out of countenance, had not the public received them with such distinguishing candour, even under all thofe disadvantages.
As it is plain, from their several subjects, that they were compofed for the moft part in the earliest time of my appearance in the world, I can attribute that indulgence to no other confideration but a generous connivance at youthful follies.
by not belonging to me, it would be unjust to affume the merit; and as many attributed to others, which, by belonging to me, would be as much unjust to leave them to the cenfure.
To rectify therefore all past mistakes, and to prevent all future impofitions, I have been prevailed upon to give way to this prefent publication; difowning whatever has been, or may hereafter be published in my name, but what has the fanction of being printed by Mr. Jacob Tonfon and Mr. Lawton Gilliver; excepting two comedies, intituled, Once a Lover, and always a Lover; and, The Few of Venice, altered from Shakspeare.
So favourable a reception, however, led me, in As thele poems feem to begin where Mr. this time of leifure and retirement, to examine Waller left off, though far unequal and short of upon what foundation I had been fo much obliged fo inimitable an original; they may, however, be to the public; and in that examination I have permitted to remain to pofterity as a faithful rediscovered fuch strange variations from the ori- gifter of the reigning beauties in the fucceeding age. ginal writing, as can no way be accounted for Upon that merit alone the Author prefumes to but from the negligence, ignorance, or conceited-recommend them to the patronage of the fair fex. nefs of different tranfcribers from furreptitious copies many things attributed to myself, of which,
TO THE EARL OF PETERBOROUGH, On bis happy Accomplishment of the Marriage between bis Royal Highness and the Princess Mary D'Efte, of Modena. Written feveral Years after, in Imitation of the Style of Mr. Waller.
His Juno barren in unfruitful joys,
Our British Jove his nuptial hours employs:
So fate ordains, that all our hopes may be,
And all our prospect, gallant York, in thee.
By the fame wifh afpiring queens are led,
Each languishing to mount his royal bed;
His youth, his wifdom, and his early fame
Create in every breast a rival flame:
Remoteft kings fit trembling on their thrones,
As if no distance could fecure their crowns;
Fearing his valour, wifely they contend
To bribe with beauty fo renown'd a friend.
Beauty the price, there need no other arts,
Love is the fureft bait for heroes hearts:
Nor can the fair conceal as high concern,
To fee the prince, for whom, unfeen, they burn.
Brave York, attending to the general voice,
At length refolves to make the with'd-for choice,
To noble Mordaunt, generous and juft,
Of his great heart, he gives the facred truft :
Thy choice, faid he, fhall well direct that heart,
"Where thou, my best belov'd, haft such a part,
"In counsel oft, and oft in battle try'd,
"Betwixt thy mafter, and the world decide."
The chofen Mercury prepares t' obey
This high command. Gently ye winds convey,
X x iiij
And with aufpicious gales his fafety wait,
On whom depend Great Britain's hopes and fate.
So Jafon with his Argonauts, from Greece
To Cholcos fail'd, to feek the Golden Fleece.
As when the goddeffes came down of old
On Ida's hill, so many ages told,
Then, bright and merciful as heav'n, receive
From them fuch praises, as to heav'n they give,
Their praises for that gentle influence,
Which thofe aufpicious lights, your eyes, difpcnfe;
Those radiant eyes, whofe irrefiftless flame
Strikes envy dumb, and keeps fedition tame:
With gifts their young Dardanian Judge they They can to gazing multitudes give law,
And each bade high to win him to her fide;
So tempt they him, and emulously vie
To bribe a voice that empires would not buy ;
With balls and banquets, his pleas'd fenfe they
bait,
And queens and kings upon his pleafures wait.
Th' impartial judge furveys with vast delight
All that the fun furrounds of fair and bright,
Then, ftrictly juft, he with adoring eyes,
To radiant Efté gives the royal prize.
Of antique ftock her high defcent fhe brings,
Born to renew the race of Britain's kings;
Who could deferve, like her, in whom we fee
United, all that Paris found in three.
equal pair when both were fet above All other merit, but each other's love.
Welcome, bright princefs, to Great Britain's
fhore,
As Berecynthia to high heaven, who bore
That fining race of goddeffes and gods
That fill'd the fkies, and rul'd the bleft abodes:
From thee, my mufe expects as noble themes,
Another Mars and Jove, another James;
Our future hopes, all from thy womb arife;
Our prefent joy and fafety, from your eyes,
Thofe charming eyes, which fhine to reconcile
To harmony and peace, our ftubborn ifle.
On brazen Memnon, Phoebus cafts a ray,
And the tough metal, fo falutes the day.
The British dame, fam'd for refiftlefs grace,
Contends not now, but for the fecond place,
Our love fufpended, we neglect the fair
For whom we burn'd, to gaze adoring here.
So fang the fyrens with enchanting found,
Enticing all to liften and be drown'd;
Till Orpheus ravish'd in a nobler strain,
They ceas'd to fing, or, finging, charm'd in vain.
This bleft alliance, Peterborow, may
Th' indebted nation bounteously repay;
Thy ftatues, for the genius of our land,
With palm adorn'd, on every threfhold stand.
Utinam modò dicere poffem Carmina digna Deû: Gerie eft Dea carmina digna.
Spoken by the Author, being then not Twelve Years of Age, to Her Royal Highness the Duchess of York, at Trinity College in Cambridge.
WHEN join'd in one, the good, the fair, the great,
Defcend to view the mufes humble feat,
Though in mean lines, they their vast joys de-
clare,
Yet for fincerity and truth, they dare
With your own Taffo's mighty felf compare.
Convert the factious, and the rebel awe;
They conquer for the Duke, where'er you tread,
Millions of profelytes, behind are led;
Through crowds of new-made converts ftill you go,
Pleas'd and triumphant at the glorious fhow.
Happy that prince who has in you obtain'd
A greater conqueft than his arms e'er gain'd.
With all war's rage, he may abroad o'ercome,
But love's a gentler victory at home;
Securely here, he on that face relies,
Lays by his arms, and conquers with your eyes.
And all the glorious actions of his life
Thinks well rewarded, bleft with fuch a wife.
IN THE FIRST YEAR OF HIS MAJESTY'S REIGN.
MAY all thy years, like this, aufpicious be,
And bring thee crowns, and peace, and victory!
Scarce hadft thou time t'unfheath thy conqu'ring
blade,
It did but glitter, and the rebels fled ·
Thy fword, the fafeguard of thy brother's throne,
Is now as much the bulwark of thy own.
Aw'd by thy fame, the trembling nations fend
Throughout the world, to court fo firm a friend.
The guilty fenates, that refus'd thy fway,
Repent their crime, and haften to obey;
Tribute they raife, and vows and off'rings bring,
Confefs their phrenzy, and confirm their king.
Who with their venom overspread thy foil,
Thofe fcorpions of the state, present their oil.
So the world's Saviour, like a mortal dreit,
Although by daily miracles confest,
Accus'd of evil doctrine by the Jews,
The giddy crowd their rightful prince refuse;
But when they faw fuch terror in the fkies,
The temple rent, their King in glory rise ;
Seiz'd with amaze, they own'd their lawful Lord,
And ftruck with guilt, bow'd, trembl'd, and
ador'd.
THOUGH train'd in arms, and learn'd in martial
arts,
Thou chooseft, not to conquer men, but hearts;
Expecting nations for thy triumphs wait,
But thou prefer'ft the name of Just to Great.
So Jove fufpends his subject world to doom,
Which, would he pleafe to thunder, he'd confume.
O could the ghosts of mighty heroes dead,
Return on earth, and quit th' Elyfian fhade!
Brutus to James would truft the people's caufe
Thy justice is a stronger guard than laws.
Marius and Sylla would refign to thee, Nor Cæfar and great Pompey rivals be; Or rivals only, who should best obey, And Cato give his voice for regal sway.
HEROES of old, by rapine, and by spoil,
In fearch of fame, did all the world embroil;
Thus to their gods each then ally'd his name,
This fprang from Jove, and that from Titan came:
With equal valour, and the fame fuccefs,
Dread king, might'st thou the univerfe opprefs;
But Christian laws constrain thy martial pride,
Peace is thy choice, and piety thy guide;
By thy example kings are taught to sway,
Heroes to fight, and faints may learn to pray.
From gods defcended, and of race divine,
Neftor in counfel, and Ulyffes shine;
But in a day of battle, all would yield
To the fierce master of the feven-fold fhield:
Their very deities were grac'd no more,
Mars had the courage, Jove the thunder bore,
But all perfections meet in James alone,
And Britain's king is all the gods in one.
TO MR. EDMUND WALLER. ON HIS VERSES TO THE AUTHOR.
WHEN into Libya the young Grecian came,
To talk with Hammon, and confult for fame
When from the facred tripod where he stood,
The prieft infpir'd, faluted him a God;
Scarce fuch a joy that haughty victor knew,
Thus own'd by heaven, as I, thus prais'd by you.
Whoe'er their names can in thy numbers show,
Have more than empire, and immortal grow;
Ages to come fhall fcorn the pow'rs of old,
When in thy verfe, of greater gods they're told;
Our beauteous queen, and royal James's name,
For Jove and Juno fhall be plac'd by fame;
Thy Charles for Neptune fhall the feas command,
And Sacariffa fhall for Venus ftand:
Greece fhall no longer boast, nor haughty Rome,
But think from Britain all the gods did come.
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Many there are, who nibble without leave,
But none who are not born to tate, furvive.
Waller fhall never die, of life secure,
As long as fame, or aged time endure,
Waller, the mufe's darling, free t› tafte
Of all their ftores, the mafter of the feaft
;
Not like old Adam, ftinted in his choice,
But lord of all the fpacious paradise.
Those foes to virtue, fortune, and mankind,
Fav'ring his fame, once, to do justice join'd;
No carping critic interrupts his praife;
No rival strives, but for a fecond place;
No want constrain'd; (the writer's usual fate).
A poet with a plentiful eftate;
The first of mortals who before the tomb,
Struck that pernicious monfter, envy, damb;
Malice and pride, those savages, difarm'd;
Not Orpheus with fuch powerful magic charm'd,
Scarce in the grave can we allow him more,
Than living we agreed to give before.
His noble muse employ'd her generous rage
In crowning virtue, fcorning to engage
The vice and follies of an impious age.
No fatyr lurks within this hallow'd ground,
But nymphs aud heroines, kings and gods
abound;
Glory, and arms, and love, is all the found.
His Eden with no ferpent is defil'd,
But all is gay, delicious all, and mild.
Mistaken men, his mufe of flattery blame,
Adorning twice an impious tyrant's name,
We raise our own, by giving fame to foes;
The valour that he prais'd, he did oppose.
Nor were his thoughts to poetry confin'd,
The state, and business shar'd his ample mind;
As all the fair were captives to his wit,
So fenates to his wifdom would fubmit;
His voice fo foft, his eloquence fo ftrong,
Like Cato's was his fpeech, like Ovid's was his
fong.
Our British kings are rais'd above the, herfe,
Immortal made, in his immortal verfe;
No more are Mars and Jove poetic themes,
But the celestial Charles's, and juft James:
Juno and Pallas, all the fhining race
Of heavenly beauties, to the queen give place;
Clear, like her brow, and graceful was his fong,
Great, like her mind, and like her virtue ftrong.
Parent of gods, who doft to gods remove, Where art thou plac'd? and which thy feat above? Waller, the god of verse, we will proclaim, Not Phœbus now, but Waller be his name; Of joyful bards, the fweet feraphic choir Acknowledge thee their oracle and fire; The spheres do homage, and the mufes fing Waller, the god of verse, who was the king,
LOVING AT FIRST SIGHT.
No warning of th' approaching flame
Swiftly, like fudden death, it came ;
Like travellers, by light'ning kill'd,
I burn'd the moment I beheld.
WARN'D, and made wife by others flame,
I fled from whence fuch mifchiefs came,
Shunning the fex, that kills at fight,
I fought my fafety in my flight.
But, ah! in vain from fate I fly,
For firft, or laft, as all muft die;
So 'tis as much decreed above,
That firft, or lait, we all must love.
My heart which stood fo long the fhock
Of winds and waves, like fome firm rock,
By one bright fpark from Myra thrown,
Is into flame, like powder, blown.
FOOLISH love, begone, faid I,
Vain are thy attempts on me;
Thy foft allurements I defy, 'Women, those fair diffemblers, fly,
My heart was never made for thee. Love heard; and ftraight prepar'd a dart; Myra, revenge my caufe, faid he : Too fure 'twas fhot, I feel the fmart, It rends my brain, and tears my heart; O Love! my conqu'ror, pity me.
IMITATION OF THE SECOND CHORUS
SECOND ACT OF SENECA'S THYE TUS
WHEN will the gods, propitious to our prayers,
Compofe our factions, and conclude our wars?
Ye fons of Inachus, repent the guilt
Of crowns ufurp'd, and blood of parents fpilt;
For impious greatnefs, vengeance is in ftore;
Short is the date of all ill-gotten power.
Give ear, ambitious princes, and be wife;
Listen, and learn wherein true greatnefs lies:
Place not your pride in roofs that fhine with gems,
In purple robes, nor sparkling diadems;
Nor in dominion, nor extent of land:
He's only great, who can himself command,
Whofe guard is peaceful innocence, whofe guide
Is faithful reafon; who is void of pride.
Checking ambition; nor is idly vain
Of the falfe incenfe of a popular train;
Who without ftrife, or envy, can behold
His neighbour's plenty, and his heaps of gold;
Nor covets other wealth, but what we find
In the poffeffions of a virtuous mind.
Fearless he fees, who is with virtue crown'd,
The tempest rage, and hears the thunder found;
Ever the fame, let fortune fmile or frown,
On the red scaffold, or the blazing throne;
Serenely, as he liv'd, refigns his breath,
Meets destiny half way, nor fhrinks at death.
Ye fovereign lords, who fit like gods in ftate,
Awing the world, and bustling to be great;
Lords but in title, vaffals in effect,
Whom luft controuls, and wild defires direct:
The reins of empire but fuch hands disgrace,
Where paffion, a blind driver, guides the race.
What is this fame, thus crowded round with
flaves?
The breath of fools, the bait of flattering knaves:
An honeft heart, a confcience free from blame,
Not of great acts, but good, give me the name:
In vain we plant, we build, our ftores increase,
If conscience roots up all our inward peace.
What need of arms, or inftruments of war,
Or battering engines that destroy from far?
The greatest king, and conqueror is he,
Who lord of his own appetites can be;
Bleft with a pow'r that nothing can deftroy,
And all have equal freedom to enjoy.
Whom worldly luxury, and pomps allure,
They tread on ice, and find no footing fure;
Place me, ye powers! in fome obscure retreat,
O keep me innocent, make others great:
In quiet fhades, content with rural sports,
Give me a life remote from guilty courts,
Where free from hopes or fears, in humble ease,
Unheard of, I may live and die in peace.
Happy the man who thus retir'd from fight,
Studies himself, and feeks no other light:
But most unhappy he, who fits on high,
Expos'd to every tongue and every eye;
Whofe follies blaz'd about, to all are known,
But are a fecret to himself alone:
Worfe is an evil fame, much worse than none.
A LOYAL EXHORTATION.
WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1688.
Or kings dethron'd, and blood of brethren spilt,
In vain, O Britain you'd avert the guilt;
If crimes which your forefathers blufh'd to own,
Repeated, call for heavier vengeance down.
Tremble, ye people who your kings distress,
Tremble, ye kings, for people you opprefs;
Th' Eternal fees, arm'd with his forky rods,
The rife and fall of empire's from the gods.
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