But found his life too true a pilgrimage.
Unconquer'd yet in that forlorn estate,
His manly courage overcame his fate.
His wounds he took, like Romans, on his
breast,

Which by his virtue were with laurels dress'd.

As souls reach heav'n while yet in bodies pent,

60

So did he live above his banishment.
That sun, which we beheld with cozen'd eyes
Within the water, mov'd along the skies.
How easy 't is, when Destiny proves kind,
With full-spread sails to run before the
wind!

But those that 'gainst stiff gales laveering go,

Must be at once resolv'd and skilful too.
He would not, like soft Otho, hope prevent,
But stay'd and suffer'd Fortune to repent.
These virtues Galba in a stranger sought,
And Piso to adopted empire brought.
How shall I then my doubtful thoughts

express,

70

Inur'd to suffer ere he came to reign,
No rash procedure will his actions stain.
To bus'ness ripen'd by digestive thought,
His future rule is into method brought; 90
As they who first proportion understand,
With easy practice reach a master's hand.
Well might the ancient poets then confer
On Night the honor'd name of Counselor,
Since struck with rays of prosp❜rous fortune
blind,

We light alone in dark afflictions find.
In such adversities to scepters train'd,
The name of Great his famous grandsire
gain'd;

Who yet a king alone in name and right, With hunger, cold, and angry Jove did fight;

100

Shock'd by a Covenanting League's vast pow'rs,

As holy and as catholic as ours:
Till Fortune's fruitless spite had made it

known,

Our lion now will foreign foes assail.
With alga who the sacred altar strows?
To all the sea-gods Charles an off'ring

drive,

But what we could not pay for, freely give. The Prince of Peace would, like himself, confer

A gift unhop'd without the price of war: 140 Yet, as he knew his blessing's worth, took care,

That we should know it by repeated pray'r;
Which storm'd the skies, and ravish'd
Charles from thence,

As heav'n itself is took by violence.
Booth's forward valor only serv'd to show
He durst that duty pay we all did owe:
Th' attempt was fair; but Heav'n's prefixed
hour

Not come: so, like the watchful travelour That by the moon's mistaken light did rise, Lay down again, and clos'd his weary eyes. "T was MONK whom Providence design'd to loose

151

Those real bonds false freedom did impose. The blessed saints that watch'd this turning

The springs of motion from the seat of sense.
"T was not the hasty product of a day,
But the well-ripen'd fruit of wise delay. 170
He, like a patient angler, ere he strook,
Would let them play a while upon the hook.
Our healthful food the stomach labors thus,
At first embracing what it straight doth
crush.

Wise leeches will not vain receipts obtrude, While growing pains pronounce the humors crude;

Deaf to complaints, they wait upon the ill, Till some safe crisis authorize their skill. Nor could his acts too close a vizard wear, To scape their eyes whom guilt had taught

to fear,

180

complimentary poem is inserted in a entitled, Poems, viz. 1. A Panegyrick King. 2. Songs and Sonnets. 3. The Lady, a Comedy. 4. The Fourth Book rgil. 5. Statius his Achilleis, with Anons. 6. A Panegyrick to Generall Monck. he Honorable Sr Robert Howard. London, ted for Henry Herringman, 1660. It is ed John Driden. It forms the first proof of Dryden's intimacy with the family of Thomas, Earl of Berkshire, father of Sir Robert Howard and of the Lady Elizabeth Howard, the poet's future wife.]

As there is music uninform'd by art

In those wild notes, which, with a merry heart,

The birds in unfrequented shades express, Who, better taught at home, yet please us less:

So in your verse a native sweetness dwells, Which shames composure, and its art excels. Singing no more can your soft numbers grace

Your easier odes, which for delight were penn❜d,

Yet our instruction make their second end: We're both enrich'd and pleas'd, like them that woo

At once a beauty and a fortune too.
Of moral knowledge Poesy was queen,
And still she might, had wanton wits not
been;

Who, like ill guardians, liv'd themselves at large,

And, not content with that, debauch'd their charge.

Like some brave captain, your successful pen Restores the exil'd to her crown again; 50 And gives us hope, that having seen the

days

When nothing flourish'd but fanatic bays, All will at length in this opinion rest: "A sober prince's government is best.” This is not all; your art the way has found

To make improvement of the richest ground,

That soil which those immortal laurels bore,

That once the sacred Maro's temples wore.
Elisa's griefs are so express'd by you,
They are too eloquent to have been true. 60
Had she so spoke, Æneas had obey'd
What Dido, rather then what Jove, had
said.

If funeral rites can give a ghost repose,
Your muse so justly has discharged those,
Elisa's shade may now its wand'ring cease,
And claim a title to the fields of peace.
But if Æneas be oblig'd, no less

Your kindness great Achilles doth confess;