care,

No thought can ease them but their sovereign's [sing: Whose praise the afflicted as their comfort E'en those, whom want might drive to just despair,

Think life a blessing under such a king.

Meantime he sadly suffers in their grief,
Out-weeps a hermit, and out-prays a saint:
All the night long he studies their relief,
How they may be supplied, and he may want.
O God, said he, thou Patron of my days,*
Guide of my youth in exile and distress!
Who me unfriended brought'st by wondrous

ways,

The kingdom of my fathers to possess:

Be thou my Judge, with what unwearied care,
I since have labour'd for my people's good;
To bind the bruises of a civil war,
And stop the issues of their wasting blood.

Thou, who hast taught me to forgive the ill, And recompense, as friends, the good misled ; • King's prayer. Orig. ed.

If mercy be a precept of thy will,
Return that mercy on thy servant's head.
Or if my heedless youth has stept astray,
Too soon forgetful of thy gracious hand;
On me alone thy just displeasure lay,
But take thy judgments from this mourning land.
We all have sinn'd, and thou hast laid us low,
As humble earth from whence at first we came ;
Like flying shades before the clouds we show,
And shrink like parchment in consuming flame.
O let it be enough what thou hast done;
When spotted deaths ran arm'd through every

street,

With poison'd darts which not the good could shun,

The speedy could out-fly, or valiant meet.
The living few, and frequent funerals then,
Proclaim'd thy wrath on this forsaken place:
And now those few, who are return'd again,
Thy searching judgments to their dwellings

trace.

pass not, Lord, an absolute decree, Or bind thy sentence unconditional; But in thy sentence our remorse foresee, And in that foresight this thy doom recall. Thy threat'nings, Lord, as thine, thou mayst But, if immutable and fix'd they stand, [revoke: Continue still thyself to give the stroke, And let not foreign foes oppress thy land.

Th' Eternal heard, and from the heavenly quire

Chose out the cherub with the flaming sword;
And bade him swiftly drive th' approaching fire
From where our naval magazines were stor❜d.
The blessed minister his wings display'd,
And like a shooting star he cleft the night:
He charg'd the flames, and those that disobey'd
He lash'd to duty with his sword of light.
The fugitive flames, chastis'd, went forth to
prey

On pious structures, by our fathers rear'd;
By which to heaven they did affect the way,

Ere faith in churchmen without works was

heard.

The wanting orphans saw with wat❜ry eyes
Their founders' charity in dust laid low;
And sent to God their ever-answer'd cries,
For he protects the poor, who made them so.
Nor could thy fabric, Paul's, defend thee long,
Though thou wert sacred to thy Maker's praise:
Though made immortal by a poet's song;
And poets' songs the Theban walls could raise.

The daring flames peep'd in, and saw from far
The awful beauties of the sacred quire :
But, since it was profan'd by civil war,
Heaven thought it fit to have it purg'd by fire.

Now down the narrow streets it swiftly came,
And widely opening did on both sides prey :
This benefit we sadly owe the flame,
If only ruin must enlarge our way.

And now four days the sun had seen our woes:
Four nights the moon beheld th' incessant fire :
It seem'd as if the stars more sickly rose,
And farther from the feverish north retire.
In th' empyrean heaven, the bless'd abode,
The Thrones and the Dominions prostrate lie,
Not daring to behold their angry God;
And a hush'd silence damps the tuneful sky.

At length th' Almighty cast a pitying eye,
And mercy softly touch'd his melting breast:
He saw the town's one half in rubbish lie,
And eager flames drive on to storm the rest.

A hollow crystal pyramid he takes,
In firmamental waters dipt above;
Of it a broad extinguisher he makes,

And hoods the flames that to their quarry drove.
The vanquish'd fires withdraw from every place,
Or full with feeding sink into a sleep:
Each household genius shows again his face,
And from the hearths the little lares creep.
Our king this more than natural change beholds;
With sober joy his heart and eyes abound:
To the All-good his lifted hands he folds,
And thanks him low on his redeemed ground.

As when sharp frosts had long constrain'd the earth,

A kindly thaw unlocks it with mild rain;
And first the tender blade peeps up to birth,
And straight the green fields laugh with promis'd
grain:

By such degrees the spreading gladness grew
In every heart which fear had froze before:
The standing streets with so much joy they
view,

That with less grief the perish'd they deplore.

The father of the people open'd wide
His stores, and all the poor with plenty fed:
Thus God's anointed God's own place supplied,
And fill'd the empty with his daily bread.

This royal bounty brought its own reward,
And in their minds so deep did print the sense;
That if their ruins sadly they regard, [thence.
'Tis but with fear the sight might drive him

But so may he live long, that town to sway, Which by his auspice they will nobler make, As he will hatch their ashes by his stay, And not their humble ruins now forsake.

They have not lost their loyalty by fire;
Nor is their courage or their wealth so low,
That from his wars they poorly would retire,
Or beg the pity of a vanquish'd foe.
Not with more constancy the Jews of old,
By Cyrus from rewarded exile sent,
Their royal city did in dust behold,
Or with more vigour to rebuild it went.

The utmost malice of their stars is past,
And two dire comets, which have scourg'd the
town,

In their own plague and fire have breath'd the last,

Or dimly in their sinking sockets frown.

Now frequent trines the happier lights among, And high-rais'd Jove, from his dark prison freed,

Those weights took off that on his planet hung,
Will gloriously the new-laid work succeed.
Methinks already, from this chymic flame,
see a city of more precious mould:

I

Rich as the town which gives the Indies name, With silver pav'd, and all divine with gold.

Already labouring with a mighty fate, She shakes the rubbish from her mounting brow,

And seems to have renew'd her charter's date,
Which heaven will to the death of time allow.

More great than human now, and more august,
Now deified she from her fires does rise:
Her widening streets on new foundations trust,
And, opening, into larger parts she flies.
Before, she like some shepherdess did show,
Who sat to bathe her by a river's side;
Not answering to her fame, but rude and ow,
Nor taught the beauteous arts of modern pride.
Now, like a maiden queen, she will behold,
From her high turrets, hourly suitors come:
The east with incense, and the west with gold,
Will stand, like suppliants, to receive her doom.
The silver Thames, her own domestic flood,
Shall bear her vessels like a sweeping train;
And often wind, as of his mistress proud,
With longing eyes to meet her face again.
The wealthy Tagus, and the wealthier Rhine,
The glory of their towns no more shall boast;

*

Yet sauntering Charles between his beastly

brace

Meets with dissembling still in either place,
Affected humour, or a painted face.
In loyal libels we have often told him,
How one has jilted him, the other sold him:
How that affects to laugh, how this to weep;
But who can rail so long as he can sleep?
Was ever prince by two at once misled,
False, foolish, old, ill-natur'd, and ill-bred?
Earnely and Aylesbury, with all that race
Of busy blockheads, shall have here no place;
At council set as foils on Danby's score,
To make that great false jewel shine the more;
Who all that while was thought exceeding wise,
Only for taking pains and telling lies.

But there's no meddling with such nauseous men;

Their very names have tired my lazy pen:
'T is time to quit their company, and choose
Some fitter subject for a sharper muse.

First, let's behold the merriest man alive
Against his careless genius vainly strive;
Quit his dear ease, some deep design to lay,
'Gainst a set time, and then forget the day:
Yet he will laugh at his best friends, and be
Just as good company as Nokes and Lee.*
But when he aims at reason or at rule,
He turns himself the best to ridicule.
Let him at business ne'er so earnest sit,
Show him but mirth, and bait that mirth with
wit;

That shadow of a jest shall be enjoy'd,
Though he left all mankind to be destroy'd.
So cat transform'd sat gravely and demure,
Till mouse appear'd, and thought himself se-

cure:

But soon the lady had him in her eye,
And from her friend did just as oddly fly.
Reaching above our nature does no good;
We must fall back to our old flesh and blood;
As by our little Machiavel we find
That nimblest creature of the busy kind,
His limbs are crippled, and his body shakes;
Yet his hard mind, which all this bustle makes,
No pity of its poor companion takes.
What gravity can hold from laughing out,
To see him drag his feeble legs about,
Like hounds ill-coupled? Jowler lugs him still
Through hedges, ditches, and through all that's
ill.

'T were crime in any man but him alone,
To use a body so, though 'tis one's own :

• As Nokes and Lee] These were two celebrated comedians in Charles the Second's reign. D.

Yet this false comfort never gives him o'er, That whilst he creeps his vigorous thoughts can

soar:

Alas! that soaring to those few that know,
Is but a busy grovelling here below.
So men in rapture think they mount the sky,
Whilst on the ground th' entranced wretches lie:
So modern fops have fancied they could fly.
As the new earl with parts deserving praise,
And wit enough to laugh at his own ways;
Yet loses all soft days and sensual nights,
Kind nature checks, and kinder fortune slights;
Striving against his quiet all he can,
For the fine notion of a busy man.
And what is that at best, but one, whose mind
Is made to tire himself and all mankind?
For Ireland he would go; faith, let him reign;
For if some odd fantastic lord would fain
Carry in trunks, and all my drudgery do,
I'll not only pay him, but admire him too.
But is there any other beast that lives,
Who his own harm so wittingly contrives?

*

Yet this fond man, to get a statesman's name, Forfeits his friends, his freedom, and his fame.

Though satire nicely writ with humour stings
But those who merit praise in other things;
Yet we must needs this one exception make,
And break our rules for silly Tropos' sake;
Who was too much despis'd to be accus'd,
And therefore scarce deserves to be abus'd;
Rais'd only by his mercenary tongue,
For railing smoothly, and for reasoning wrong.
As boys on holydays let loose to play,
Lay waggish traps for girls that pass that
way;

Then shout to see in dirt and deep distress
Some silly cit in her flower'd foolish dress:
So have I mighty satisfaction found,
To see his tinsel reason on the ground:
To see the florid fool despis'd, and know it,
By some who scarce have words enough to

show it:

For sense sits silent, and condemns for weaker
The sinner, nay sometimes the wittiest speaker:
But 't is prodigious so much eloquence
Should be acquired by such little sense:
For words and wit did anciently agree,
And Tully was no fool, though this man be:
At bar abusive, on the bench unable,
Knave on the woolsack, fob at council table.
These are the grievances of such fools as would
Be rather wise than honest, great than good.

Some other kind of wits must be made known, Whose harmless errors hurt themselves alone,

Excess of luxury they think can please,
And laziness call loving of their ease:
To live dissolv'd in pleasures still they feign,
Though their whole life's but intermitting pain:
So much of surfeits, headaches, claps are seen,
We scarce perceive the little time between :
Well-meaning men who make this gross mis-
take,

And pleasure lose only for pleasure's sake;
Each pleasure has its price, and when we pay
Too much of pain, we squander life away.

Thus Dorset, purring like a thoughtful cat,* Married, but wiser puss ne'er thought of that: And first he worried her with railing rhyme, Like Pembroke's mastiffs at his kindest time: Then for one night sold all his slavish life, A teeming widow, but a barren wife;

* Thus Dorset, purring like, &c.] Charles, Earl of Dorset, about this time forty years of age, was one of the best-bred men of his time. He was a lord of the bed-chamber, and sent several times with compliments, or on short embassies, to France, for the king could not bear to be long without him: he was a most munificent patron; learning and genius were sure of his protection; and when our author was deprived of the bays, he allowed him the laureat's annual stipend out of his own private purse. Arthur Manwaring, Mr. Prior, and many other men of abilities, owed to him their being advanced and provided for. Nor was he less brave than polite and learned; for he attended the Duke of York as a volunteer in the first Dutch war, and by his coolness, courage, and conduct, showed himself a worthy representative of his many illustrious ancestors. The night before the famous battle, in which the Dutch Admiral Opdam was blown up, he made a celebrated song, with the greatest composure, beginning,

To you fair ladies now at land,

We men at sea indite, &c.

No man had more ease or good humour; his con. versation was refined and sprightly: he had studied books and men deeply, and to good purpose; he was an excellent critic, and good poet, with a strong turn to satire, for which he is thus highly compli imented in the State Poems, vol. i. p. 200.

'Dorset writes satire too, and writes so well, O great Apollo! let him still rebel. Pardon a muse which does, like his, excel, Pardon a muse which does, with art, support Some drowsy wit in our unthinking court.' He wrote with severity, but that severity was always justly pointed, and Lord Rochester calls him

"The best good man, with the worst-natur'd muse.'

His first wife, the Countess Dowager of Falmouth, had proved a barren wife. Of her having been a teeming widow I am ignorant. His second wife, whom he married in 1685, was daughter to the Earl of Northampton, and mother to the present Duke of Dorset. He was principally concerned in bringing about the revolution; was lord-chamberlain to King William and Queen Mary; chosen a knight of the garter in 1691, and several times appointed one of the regents, when the affairs of Europe demanded the absence of the king. He died at Bath in 1705, aged 69, lamented by every class of people, and the most opposite parties. Mr. Pope gives him these lines:

'Dorset, the grace of courts, the muse's pride, Patron of arts, and judge of nature, died.' D. VOL. 1.-3

Swell'd by contact of such a fulsome toad,
He lugg'd about the matrimonial load:
Till fortune, blindly kind as well as he,
Has ill restor'd him to his liberty;
Which he would use in his old sneaking way,
Drinking all night and dozing all the day;
Dull as Ned Howard, whom his brisker times
Had fam'd for dulness in malicious rhymes.†

Mulgrave had much ado to scape the snare,
Though learn'd in all those arts that cheat the
For after all his vulgar marriage mocks, [fair:
With beauty dazzled, Numps was in the stocks;
Deluded parents dried their weeping eyes,
To see him catch his tartar for his prize:
Th' impatient town waited the wish'd-for
change,

And cuckolds smil'd in hopes of sweet revenge;
Till Petworth plot made us with sorrow see,
As his estate, his person too was free:
Him no soft thoughts, no gratitude could move;
To gold he fled from beauty and from love;
Yet failing there he keeps his freedom still
Forc'd to live happily against his will:
'T is not his fault, if too much wealth and power
Break not his boasted quiet every hour.

And little Sid, fer simile renown'd,
Pleasure has always sought, but never found:Į
Though all his thoughts on wine and women
His are so bad, sure he ne'er thinks at all. [fall,

+ Dull as Ned Howard, whom his brisker times Had fam'd for dulness in malicious rhymes] Edward Howard, Esq. a gentleman of the Berkshire family, consequently related to Sir Robert Howard. He wrote four plays, called, 1st. The Man of Newmarket, a comedy. 2d. Six Days' Adventure; or, The New Utopia, a comedy. 3d. The Usurper, a tragedy. 4th. Women's Conquest, a tragi-comedy; but none of them succeeded on the stage, nor procured him any reputation. He also published an epic poem, called the British Princes, for which he was severely ridiculed by all the wits of his age: Lord Rochester, Lord Dorset, Mr. Waler, the Duke of Buckingham, Dr. Spratt, Lord Vaughan, published lampoons upon it, most of them printed in the six volumes of Miscellanies published by Dryden. D.

1 And little Sid, for simile renown'd,

Pleasure has always sought, but never found] This Sidney, brother of Algernon Sidney and the Earl of Leicester, was rather a man of pleasure than of business; his talents were great, but his indolence was greater; his appearance was graceful: he was a favourite with the ladies, had a turn for intrigue, and was of a disposition exactly fitted to Charles's court, easy, affable, and insinuating; free from any guile, and a friend to mankind. In 1679 he went envoy to the Hague, where he contracted an intimacy with the Prince of Orange, whose friends he heartily assisted in raising him to the throne, being himself a messenger from England to Holland upon that very business in 1688. He was raised to the dignity of Lord Sidney, and Earl of Rumney, in 1688; declared secretary of state, master of the ordnance, and lord lieutenant of Ireland in 1689; and was removed from the latter post in 1693, it be ing thought that he held the reins of power with too slack a hand. D.