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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.
You, 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;
Unriddled those dark oracles as well

As those that made them could themselves foretell.
For, 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,
Whom distant ages did so far remove.
For, as eternity has neither past
Nor 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,

I observe what times they liv'd in, or were dead?
For, since you have such arbitrary power,
It 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.

WHAT all men wish'd, though few could hope to
We are now blest with, and oblig'd by thee. [see,
Thou! from the ancient learned Latin store,
Giv'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;
Soft words, with nothing in them, make a song.
'Tis 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:
Thou art not curst to write thy verse with care,
But art above what other poets fear.
What may we not expect from such a hand,
That has, with books, himself at free command?
Thou 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.

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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 never 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 bali:
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.
Thus 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 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.

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;
Who now appear so numerous and bold,
The action worthy of our arms we hold.
A greater force than that which here we find
Ne'er 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 !)
To 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,
Vast 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 royal 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

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 [threw.
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,

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

6 Venus.

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.

Where he gives on, disposing of their fates,
Terrour, and death, on his loud cannon waits,
With which he pleads his brother's cause so well,
He shakes the throne to which he does appeal.
The sea with spoils his angry bullets strow,
Widows and orphans making as they go:
Before his ship, fragments of vessels torn,
Flags, arms, and Belgian carcasses, are borne,
And his despairing foes, to flight inclin'd,
Spread all their canvass to invite the wind.
So the rude Boreas, where he lists to blow,
Makes clouds above, and billows fly below,
Beating the shore; and with a boisterous rage,
Does Heaven at once, and Earth, and sea, engage.
The Dutch, elsewhere, did through the wat'ry field
Perform enough to have made others yield;
But English courage, growing as they fight,
In danger, noise, and slaughter takes delight:
Their bloody task, unweary'd still, they ply,
Only restrain'd by death or victory.

Iron and lead, from Earth's dark entrails torn,
Like showers of hail, from either side are borne:
So high the rage of wretched mortals goes,
Hurling their mother's bowels at their foes!
Ingenious to their ruin, every age
Improves the arts and instruments of rage:
Death-hastening ills Nature enough has sent,
And yet men still a thousand more invent!

But Bacchus now, which led the Belgians on
So fierce at first, to favour us begun:
Brandy and wine (their wonted friends) at length
Render them useless, and betray their strength.
So corn in fields, and in the garden flow'rs,
Revive, and raise themselves, with moderate showers;
But, overcharg'd with never-ceasing rain,
Become too moist, and bend their heads again.
Their reeling ships on one another fall,
Without a foe, enough to ruin all.
Of this disorder, and the favouring wind,
The watchful English such advantage find,
Ships fraught with fire among the heap they throw,
And up the so-intangled Belgians blow.
The flame invades the powder-rooms; and then
Their guns shoot bullets, and their vessels men.
The scorch'd Batavians on the billows float;
Sent from their own, to pass in Charon's, boat.
And now our royal admiral success
(With all the marks of victory) does bless:
The burning ships, the taken, and the slain,
Proclaim his triumph o'er the conquer'd main.
Nearer to Holland as their hasty flight
Carries the noise and tumult of the fight,
His cannons' roar, forerunner of his fame,
Makes their Hague tremble, and their Amsterdam:
The British thunder does their houses rock,
And the duke seems at every door to knock.
His dreadful streamer (like a comet's hair,
Threatening destruction) hastens their despair;
Makes them deplore their scatter'd fleet as lost,
And fear our present landing on their coast.

The trembling Dutch th' approaching prince be-
As sheep a lion, leaping tow'rds their fold: [hold,
Those piles, which serve them to repel the main,
They think too weak his fury to restrain.
"What wonders may not English valour work,
Led by th' example of victorious York?

Or what defence against him can they make,
Who, at such distance, does their country shake?
His fatal hand their bulwarks will o'erthrow;
And let in both the ocean and the foe."

Thus cry the people ;-and, their land to keep,
Allow our title to command the deep:

Blaming their States' ill conduct, to provoke
Those arms, which freed them from the Spanish yoke.
Painter excuse me, if I have awhile
Forgot thy art, and us'd another style:
For, though you draw arm'd heroes as they sit,
The task in battle does the Muses fit:
They, in the dark confusion of a fight,
Discover all, instruct us how to write,
And light and honour to brave actions yield,
Hid in the smoke and tumult of the field.
Ages to come shall know that leader's toil,
And his great name, on whom the Muses smile:
Their dictates here let thy fam'd pencil trace,
And this relation with thy colours grace.
Then draw the parliament, the nobles met;
And our great monarch 9 high above them set:
Like young Augustus let his image be,
Triumphing for that victory at sea,
Where Egypt's queen 10, and eastern kings, o'er-
Made the possession of the world his own. [thrown,
Last draw the commons at his royal feet,
Pouring out treasure to supply his fleet:
They vow with lives and fortune to maintain
Their king's eternal title to the main :
And, with a present to the duke, approve
His valour, conduct, and his country's love.

TO THE KING'.

GREAT Sir! disdain not in this piece to stand
Supreme commander both of sea and land:
Those which inhabit the celestial bower
Painters express with emblems of their power;
His club Alcides, Phoebus has his bow,
Jove has his thunder, and your navy you.

But your great providence no colours here
Can represent, nor pencil draw that care,
Which keeps you waking to secure our peace,
The nation's glory, and our trade's increase:
You, for these ends, whole days in council sit;
And the diversions of your youth forget.

Small were the worth of valour and of force, If your high wisdom govern'd not their course: You as the soul, as the first mover, you Vigour and life on every part bestow : How to build ships, and dreadful ordnance cast, Instruct the artists, and reward their haste. So Jove himself, when Typhon Heaven does brave, Descends to visit Vulcan's smoky cave, Teaching the brawny Cyclops how to frame His thunder, mix'd with terrour, wrath, and flame. Had the old Greeks discover'd your abode, Crete had not been the cradle of their god: On that small island they had look'd with scorn; And in Great Britain thought the thunderer born.

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Christians to him their present union owe,
And late success against the common foe:
While neighb'ring princes, loath to urge their
Court his assistance, and suspend their hate.
So angry bulls the combat do forbear,
When from the wood a lion does appear.

Wishing you may with as great pleasure view
fate,Thus we writ then: your brighter eyes inspire
This, as we take in gazing upon you.
A nobler flame, and raise our genius high'r.
While we your wit and early knowledge fear,
To our productions we become severe:
Your matchless beauty gives our fancy wing;
Your judgment makes us careful how we sing.
Polish'd like marble, shall like marble last,
Lines not compos'd, as heretofore, in haste,
As Tasso has the heroes of your line.
And make you through as many ages shine,

This happy day peace to our island sent,
As now he gives it to the continent.
A prince more fit for such a glorious task,
Than England's king, from Heaven we cannot ask:
He (great and good!) proportion'd to the work,
Their ill-drawn swords shall turn against the Turk.
Such kings, like stars with influence unconfin'd,
Shine with aspect propitious to mankind,
Favour the innocent, repress the bold,
And, while they flourish, make an Age of Gold.

Bred in the camp, fam'd for his valour young;
At sea successful, vigorous, and strong;
His fleet, his army, and his mighty mind,
Esteem and reverence through the world do find.
A prince, with such advantages as these,
Where he persuades not, may command a peace.
Britain declaring for the juster side,
The most ambitious will forget their pride:
They that complain will their endeavours cease,
Advis'd by him, inclin'd to present peace,
Join to the Turk's destruction, and then bring
All their pretences to so just a king.

If the successful troublers of mankind,
With laurel crown'd, so great applause do find;
Shall the vex'd world less honour yield to those
That stop their progress, and their rage oppose?
Next to that power which does the ocean awe,
Is, to set bounds, and give ambition law.

The British monarch shall the glory have,
That famous Greece remains no longer slave:
That source of art, and cultivated thought!
Which they to Rome, and Romans hither, brought.
The banish'd Muses shall no longer mourn;

But may with liberty to Greece return:

75

Though other names our wary writers use,
You are the subject of the British Muse:
Dilating mischief to yourself unknown,
Men write, and die of wounds they dare not

own.

So the bright sun burns all our grass away,
While it means nothing but to give us day.

THESE VERSES WERE WRIT IN THE TASSO OF
HER ROYAL HIGHNESS.

TASSO knew how the fairer sex to grace;
But in no one durst all perfection place:
In her alone that owns this book, is seen
Clorinda's spirit, and her lofty mien,
Sophronia's piety, Erminia's truth,
Armida's charms, her beauty, and her youth.

Our princess here, as in a glass, does dress
Her well-taught mind, and every grace express.
More to our wonder than Rinaldo fought,
The hero's race excels the poet's thought.

ON

MRS. HIGGONS.

Though slaves (like birds that sing not in a cage) INGENIOUS Higgons never sought

They lost their genius and poetic rage;
Homers again, and Pindars, may be found;
And his great actions with their numbers crown'd.
The Turk's vast empire does united stand:
Christians, divided under the command
Of jarring princes, would be soon undone,
Did not this hero make their interest one:
Peace to embrace, ruin the common foe,
Exalt the cross, and lay the crescent low.
Thus may the gospel to the rising Sun
Be spread, and flourish where it first begun :
And this great day (so justly honour'd here!)
Known to the East, and celebrated there!)

Hæc ego longævus cecini tibi, maxime regum!
Ausus et ipse manu juvenum tentare laborem.

TO THE DUTCHESS,

Virg.

WHEN HE PRESENTED THIS BOOK TO HER ROYAL
HIGHNESS.

MADAM! I here present you with the rage,
And with the beauties of a former age,

To hide the candour of her thought;
And now her clothes are lost, we find
The nymph as naked as her mind:
Like Eve while yet she was untaught
To hide herself or know a fault.
For a snatch'd ribbon she would frown,
But cares too little for her gown;
It makes her laugh, and all her grief
Is lest it should undo the thief.
Already she begins to stretch
Her wit, to save the guilty wretch,
And says, she was of goods bereft
By her own bounty, not by theft.
She thought not fit to keep her clothes
Till they were eaten up with moths,
But made a nobler use of store,
To cloth the naked and the poor.
Should all that do approve the fair
Her loss contribute to repair,
Of London she would have the fate,
And rise (undone) in greater state,
In points, and hoods, and Indian gown,
As glorious as the new-built town.

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