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TO THE MEMORY
As if religion had engross'a the whole,
The sacred wreath around his brows to place, And heaven remain'd the object of his soul. And shedding on him the paternal rays.
Descend, my muse; here top thy pleasing flight, In vain, alas! we mausoleums raile, For mournful prospects, gloomy Shades of nighi. Starues erect, and pyramids of praise : Attend the last expiring scene of life,
A nobler inonument remains behind,
The lively image of his generous mind,
To late posterity Thall make him live.
This shall diffuse his celebrated name,
More than the hundred congues of busy fame :
Elude his fate, and triumph o'er the grave.
OF A FAIR YOUNG LADY, 1697.
pears, The happy husband of a matchless dame,
And the relenting marble flows with tears; Endear'd by virtues, and unblemish'd fame :
Think then what griefs a parent's bosoni wound, No guilty passion ever claim'd a part,
Whose fatal loss enrich'd this hallow'd ground. The confort of his bed engross'd his heart.
Strew lilies here, and niyrtle wreaths prepare, As two fair tapers burn with equal flame,
To crown the fading triumphs of the fair : Their heat proportion'd, and their light the same :
Here blooming youth and charming beauties lic, And though by slow degrees they both decline,
Till earth resigns them to their native sky; Both to the last with the same lustre fhine :
Like china laid for ages to refine, Such equal flames inspir'd the happy pair,
And make her body, like the soul, divine. Mutual their passions, and the same their care :
Unmingled may the fragrant dust remain, Though years expir’d, and youth consum'd away,
No common earth the sacred sweets profane; Their fond affections never felt decay.
But let her urn preserve its 'virgin itore,
Chaste and unsully'd as she liv'd before !
HERE, lovely Myra, you behold
The wonders beauty wrought of old, Methinks I see a pompous tomb arise,
In ery mournful page appears Beauteous the form, magnificent the size :
The nymph's disdain, and lover's tears. Enchas'd with ore, with well-wrought marble Whilst these feign'd tragic tales you view, made,
Fondly you weep, and think them true; Worthy the artist, and the glorious shade.
Lament the hero's slighted flame, Crowds of oflicious angels weep around,
Yet praise the fair ungrateful danie. With lamps extinguish'd, and their robes unbound !
For youths unknown no longer grieve, With heads reclin'd, and drooping wings they | But rather heal the wounds you give; Inourn,
The flaves your eyes have ruin'd, mourn, Form'd to sustain, and grace the ponderous urn.
And pity flames with which your lovers burk, In abject postures, and a flowing dress,
Oh, hadst thou liv'd in former days, Postures that love and tenderness express :
Thus fame had sung lov'd Myra's praise : The sacred Nine surround the spacious tomb,
The triumphs of thy haughty reign, And spread infectious sorrows o'er the dome;
Thy matchless form and cold disdain : Their lyres unstrung are thrown neglected by,
Thy beauties had remain’d as long And scatter'd wreaths in just disorder lie.
The theme of every poet's song: High in the midst is his effigies plac'd,
Then Myra's conquests had been wrote,
And Cleopatra died forgot.
ADVICE TO A LOVER
At Cynthia's fect I lay : .
WRITTEN IN HER CLEOPATRA,
A PINDARIC ODE.
775 Battering them often with my tears,
Quick of dispatch, preventing fear, I sigh'd, but durft not pray.
As cowards cautious, bolder than despair : No prostrate wretch, before the shrine
Silent, yet swife as light, his active soul Of fime lov'd saint above,
Reaches at once the barriers and the distant goal. E'er thought his goddess more divine,
What labour will the hero choose! Or paid more awful love.
What action worthy of a muse! Still the disdainful nymph look'd down
T'eniplay the hundredi busy tongues of fame, With coy insulting pride;
And make her hundred mouths too few to found Rectiv'd my passion with a frown,
his name. Or turn'd her head aside.
Namur's the goal in honour's race, Then Cupid whisper'd in my car,
Tempting the prize, but fatal is the chase : . “ Use more prevailing charms ;
At once a lovely and amazing fight, You niodest whining fool, draw near,
Striking the eye with terror and delight. And clasp her in your arms.
Founded on rocks th' imperial fortress stands, kisses tempt the maid,
And all around the distant plain comoiands : From Cynthia's feet depart;
Beauty and strength their utmoti force inpart, The lips he briskly musi invade,
'Tis wrought by nature, and improv'd wich are; That would posses, the heart."
An awful pic! immoveable as fate, With that I shook off all the fave,
Fix'd like the solid rock that proudly bears its My better fortunes tried ;
weight. When Cynthia in a moment gave
A thousand brazen mouths the walls surround, What she for years denied.
That vomit flanies, with fatal fury wound:
Not the fami's Colchean Acece could boast
So dread a guard, so terrible an hoft:
The danger's more, and richer is the prize; Humbly inscribed to his most Sacred and Vi&torious
Alone his arms can such a power engage,
Deitroy with fierccr flasies, and thunder back
Why are the rapid Sambre's streams so flow! Strike, boldly strike th' unpractis'd string ;
The tardy Mase forgets to flow 'Tis William's acts my soaring thoughts inspire, Their lagging waves upon the turrets gaze, And animate my breast with nobler fire.
Proud to reflect their Namur's awful face; My daring hand the willing lyre obeys,
Whilst to th' astonisk'd shores they tell, Untaught it sounds the hero's praise :
Those wondrous walls are inacceslible. Each tuncful string repeats the victor's name,
The lofty lion towers for beauty fam'd, And echoes back the loud applause of fame.
And sacred walls, though rais'd by hands divine, No longer, mufe, the bleft Maria mour:),
Though mercenary gods her turrets fram'd, With trophies now her brighter shrine adorn : In trength and form inferior were to thine; Now sing her hero's fame in lofty strains,
Walls, tha: nor Grecian arms Dor arts could Worthy the captive Mafe, and Namur's vanquish'd
And the divine Achilles storm'd in vain. Nature ne'er brought a fierce destroyer forth,
Your greater arms, Naffau were then unknown, Of thac portentous size and growth :
Where'er your bellowing engines shake, But still, co poize the balance of the age,
Where'er your more destrudive bombs are She introduc'd a hero on the stage.
thrown, Injurious Lewis like a torrent grows,
Nature and art in vain reistaoce nake, A rapid torrent that the hank o'ersluws,
Nor durft the powers that built defend their And robs our western world of its repole;
shatter'd town, In vain th' imperial cagle itops his course,
Two rival armies now poffers the field, In vain confederate armıs oppose :
In all the horrid pomp of war : On you (great prince!) th’infested nations wait,
With shining arms and brighter heroes far, And from your (word attend a milder fare
Though both with different looks, and different 'The injur'd Belgians William's aid implore,
paßions fill'd. A numerous army wastes their fhore :
Betwixt both holts the stake of honour lies, Embark, my mule, upon che British fleer,
The object that'employs their arms and eyes, And on the ready hero wait.
How to deferid; or how to gain the prize. He flies, like Jove, to nieet the Theban dame,
The Britons are a warlike race, When arm'd with lightning's pointed flanie, In arms expert, and fam'd for arts in peace: And in his hand th' avenging chunder bore: Your matthless deeds, Nassau, they imitate, The terror of his ensigns still confess his porrer. Like youthey death pursue, andrush on certain fate.
3 c iiij
Not all the bellowing engines of the war, In bloody camps he early gain'd renown,
What toils, what labours has the hero bore ! That glare through clouds of smoke with hortid Not the fam'd Offory encounter'd more : light;
Of whoni the Belgic plains such wonders teft, Though bullets there descend in scalding showers, Who liv'd so lov’d, and so laniented fell. And those the capnon (pare, thc anbulh'd flame Triumphant prince! thou patron of the devours.
Unweary'd thee she sings, thy ads with wonder In fatal caverns now the teeming earth
Renown'd in war! thy Rhedecina's pride!
Thou dort o'er wit, and glorious camps prelide
For all thy victories in war, Whilst arms, and men, and rocks lie scatter'd in
You, valiant Cutts, th' oflicious muses crown, the air.
you triumphant wreachs prepare, Yet death in every form the Britons faco, And march with an undaunted pace :
Immortal as your fame, and fair as your renown."
Well did you execute your great command, Their faithless steps to various ruins lead,
And scatter deaths with a deftrudive hand: They walk in fepulchres, on graves they tread;
What wonders did your swird perform, Whilst rocks and mountains routed from the
When urging on the fatal ftori, ground,
Undaunted, undismay'd! Inter the hosts they slay, are tombs to those they
Up to the walls enclos'J with flames you led, With horrid groans distorted nature's rent,
And overlook'd the works on mighty heaps of
dead. Loud as the peals that shake the firmament : Whilst roạring ordnance confirm the found,
If you che hero and the poet meet, And mimic thunder bellows under ground.
Your sword is facal, hue your numbers sweet. Thus on Trinacria's mournful shores,
When in Maria's praise your lyre was strung, With ruin big the raging Æna roars :
You charm'd the heavenly nymph to whom you The rising smoke obicures the darken'd sky,
sung Whilst high as 'heaven its flaming entrails fy;
Oh honour! more than all thy bays, Mouniains and rocks its fury hurls around,
Than all the trophies fame and conquest raise, Spreading with ruins o'er the desolate ground.
To 've charni'd Maria's breast, and gain's Maria's
praise. Whence spring those flowing rays of light! Indulge one grateful labour more, my muse, That pierce through war's obscurer night?
A subject friendship bids chee chouse : Or does the suppliant flag display
Let Codrington's lov'd name inspire thy thought, Its cheerful beams of white?
With such a warmth and vigour as he fought : See like the phosphorus of peace,
la vain thou dost of arnis and criumphs sing, The shades retire before those sacred rays, Unless he crown thy verse, and tune thy founding Which introduce the bright victorious day.
string The trumpet's interceding voice I hear,
Victorious youth! your Charwell's greatest pride, Now soft and tun'd unto the ear :
Whom glorious arms, and learned arts divide : The drums in gentler parlees beat,
Whilst imitating great Nassau you fight, The drums and trumpets both entreat; His person guard, and conquer in his light: Whilst war’s alarms are charmd with music's Too swift for fame your early triumphs grow, voice,
And groves of laurel shade your youthful brow. And all the bloody scene of death withdraws.
In you the muses and the graces join, fam'd Boumers' self confents to fear,
The glorious palm, and dea:hless laurels thine : Even Boufflers dreads the British thunderer :
Like Phæbus self your charmiog muse hath He sues for mercy whilft he feels his
[ftrung. And with a trembling hand subscribes him con Like his your warlike bow and tuneful lyre is queror.
But who, fam'd William's valour dares express, And here your worthies shall your triumphs No muse can coas so high, nor fancy paint, grace,
Each image will appear too faint : In was you guard, your ornaments in peace : Too weak 's the pencil's
' art, and all the pow'r Heroes are William's and the muse's care,
of verse. Partake their labours, and their laurels share.
How calm he look'd, and how serene! Let willing fame her trumpet found,
Amidst the bloody labours of the field : Great Ormond's name shall all her breath em Unmov'd he views the bullets round him fly, plóy,
And dangers move with horror by; And fill the echoing shores with joy : Whilst judgment (way'd his pobler rage within, Whilst cach officious wind conveys the sound, And his presaging brow with hopes of conquest And wasts it all th' attentive world around.
FOL M S. His cheerful looks a gayer dress put on,
When Phæbus' felf return'd the Python's tarHis eyes with deceot fury shone:
queror. Dangers but servid to heighten every grace, When every grove, with a triumphant song, And add an awful terror to the hero's face.
Confess'd the victor as he pass'd along:
Whilst with the trophies every hill was crown'da Where'er in arms the great Nassau appears, And every echoing vale dispers'd his fame around Th' extreme of action's there :
As loud the British shores their voices raise, Himself the thickest danger shares, And thus united sing the godlike William's praise Himself th' informing soul that animates the war. What the fam'd Merlin's sacred verse of old, Heroes of old in wondrous armour fought, And Nostradam's prophetic lines foretold; By some inmortal artist wrought:
To thee, oh happy Albion, 's shown, and Ajar' seven-fold shield,
And, in Nassau, the promise is out-done. Were proof against the dangers of the field.
Behold a prínce indulgent heaven has sent, But greater William dares his breast expose
Thy boandless wihes to content :
A prophec great indeed, whose powerful hand A thousand deaths and ruins round him Aed,
Shall vanquish hofts of plagues, and heal the But durft not violate his sacred head;
groaning land. For angel guard the prince's life and throne, Who for his empire's safety thus neglects his own.
The great Nassau now leads thy armies forth, Had he in ages past the fceptre sway'd,
And shows the world the British worth , When facred riies were unto heroes paid;
Beneath his conduct they securely fight, His ftatue had on every altar stood,
Their cloud by day, their guardian flame by nights His court a temple been, his greater self a god.
His bounty too shall every bard inspire,
Reward their labours, and protect their lyre; Now tunc thy lyre, my muse, now raise thy For poets are to warlike princes dear, voice,
And they are valiant William's care:
His victories in trud them how to write,
William's the glorious theme and patron of theio
ÆSOP AT GOURT; OR, SELECT FABLES, 1702, .
ÆSOP TO THE KING,
Vicrorious prince! furm'd for supreme com
That fountain, from whose watery bed
And thus che rabble waves began:
" See how, by nature's bounty (trong,
" But thou, poor fountain, Gilly soul!**
" Well, angry firs, the fountain cry'd,
Or backward turn ny watery store,
THE MORAL. That hour you'd cease, and be no more.
Tyrants can only be restrain'd by might, Go ask that blustering fop the wind,
Power's their conscience, and the sword their right: That puts this whimsy in your mind,
Allies they court, to compass private ends, And makes your factious surges rise,
But at the dividend disclaim their friends. If he'll recruit you with supplies.
Yet boast not, France, of thy successful fraud, 6 And when to native mud you turn,
Maintain'd by blood, a torment whilst enjoy'd :
Imperial Cæsar drives the storm along, Such as a common-fewer would scorn,
And Nassau's arms avenge the public wrong. Too late you'll curse this frantic whini, When carriers' steeds shall piss a nobler stream.
TIIE BLIND WOMAN AND HER DOCTORS.
Unhappy Britain: I deplore thy fate,
THE LION'S TREATY OF PARTITION,
A MIGHTY lion heretofore,
Was bent upon a chase :
During the hunting-space.
The articles were there :
And so depart in peace.
Was started for the game :
Each enter'd with his claim.
A WEALTHY matron, now grown old,
Was weak in every part :
Yet pretty sound at heart.
Depriv'd of needful light:
To rectify their fight.
And spar'd for no advice
That practise on sore eyes.
And this, and that was done ;
To bind and keep them on.
And every room did shine
All rich, and wondrous fine.
Their hands found work enough!
Till all was carry'd off.
And now pray how's your light:
I knew 't would let you right.
And up and down she run :
She fuund herself undone.
For what are eyes to me:
I've nothing left to sec.''
One lov'd a haunch, and one a fide,
Each for his share alone :
beard then began to roar, The whiskers twirl'd bully'd, and swore,
The hart was all his own.
" And thas ! prove my title good;
Half's mine as we're ally'd :
And who dares now divide ?"
For once be just and true.
And so, messieurs, adieu !''
Thou patient with diftemper'd eyes :
And thrive by treacherous advice.
When righteen millions run on score ::
And physic thee of eighteen more.