You season still with sports your serious hours: Thus princes ease their cares; but happier he Who seeks not pleasure through necessity, Than such as once on slippery thrones were plac'd; And chasing,sigh to think themselves are chas'd. So liv'd our sires, ere doctors learn'd to kill, In vain the leech would interpose delay; And no more mercy to mankind will use, Trust Maurus with thy life, and Milbourn with • Gibbons but guesses, nor is sure to save: But Maurus sweeps whole parishes, &c.] Dr. Gibbons was a physician at this time justly in high esteem. By Maurus is meant Sir Richard Blackmore, physician to King William, and author of many epic poems. Milbourn was a nonjuring minister D. Garth,generous as his muse,prescribes and gives, The shopman sells; and by destruction lives: Ungrateful tribe! who, like the viper's brood, From medicine issuing, suck their mother's blood! Let these obey; and let the learn'd prescribe; That men may die, without a double bribe: Let them but under their superiors kill; When doctors first have sign'd the bloody bill; He scapes the best, who, nature to repair, [air. Draws physic from the fields, in draughts of vita You hoard not health, for your own private But on the public spend the rich produce. [use When, often urg'd, unwilling to be great, Your country calls you from your lov'd retreat, And sends to senates, charg'd with commor care, [bear: Which none more shuns: and none can better Where could they find another form'd so fit, To poise, with solid sense, a sprightly wit? Were these both wanting, as they both abound, Where could so firm integrity be found? Well born, and wealthy, wanting no support, You steer betwixt the country and the court: Nor gratify whate'er the great desire, Nor grudging give what public needs require. Part must be left, a fund when foes invade; And part employ'd to roll the wat'ry trade: E'en Canaan's happy land, when worn with toil, Requir'd a sabbath year to mend the ineager soil. Good senators (and such as you) so give, That kings may be supplied, the people thrive. And he, when want requires, is truly wise, Who slights not foreign aids, nor overbuys; But on our native strength, in time of need, relies. Munster was bought, we boast not the success; Who fights for gain, for greater makes his peace. Our foes, compell'd by need, have peace em brac'a: The peace both parties want is like to last: Observe the war, in every annual course: What has been done was done with British force: Namur subdu'd is England's palm alone;† The rest besieg'd; but we constrain'd the town: ↑ Namur subdu'd is England's pahn, &c.] In the year 1695, William III. carried Namur, after a siege of one month. The garrison retired to the citadel, which capitulated upon honourable terms in ano ther month. The courage of our men in this siege was much admired, as was the conduct of the king. D We saw the event that follow'd our success; A patriot both the king and country serves: When both are full, they feed our bless'd abode; Some overpoise of sway, by turns, they share; EPISTLE THE FOURTEENTH. TO SIR GODFREY KNELLER, PRINCIPAL PAINTER TO HIS MAJESTY, ONCE I beheld the fairest of her kind, At least thy pictures look a voice; and we Shadows are but privations of the light; But vulgar hands may vulgar likeness raise; This is the least attendant on thy praise: From hence the rudiments of art began; A coal, or chalk, first imitated man: Perhaps the shadow, taken on a wall, Gave outlines to the rude original: Ere canvass yet was strain'd, before the grace Of blended colours found their use and place, Or cypress tablets first receiv'd a face. By slow degrees the godlike art advanc'd; As man grew polish'd, picture was enhanc'd: Greece added posture, shade, and perspective And then the mimic piece began to live. Yet perspective was lame, no distance true, But all came forward in one common view: No point of light was known, no bounds of art When light was there, it knew not to depart, But glaring on remoter objects play'd: Not languish'd, and insensibly decay'd. Rome rais'd not art, but barely kept alive, And with old Greece unequally did strive: Till Goths and Vandals, a rude northern race Did all the matchless monuments deface Then all the Muses in one ruin lie, And rhyme began to enervate poetry. Thus in a stupid military state, The pen and pencil find an equal fate. Flat faces, such as would cisgrace a skreen, And Raphael did with Leo's gold abound; [bears, But poets are confin'd in narrower space, To speak the language of their native place The painter widely stretches his command; Thy pencil speaks the tongue of every land, From hence, my friend, all climates are your Nor can you forfeit, for you hold of none. [own, All nations all immunities will give To make you theirs, where'er you please to live; And not seven cities, but the world would strive. Sure some propitious planet then did smile, When first you were conducted to this isle : Our genius brought you here, to enlarge our fame; For your good stars are every where the same Thy matchless hand, of every region free, Adopts our climate, not our climate thee. Great Rome and Venice early did impart To thee the examples of their wondrous art. Those masters then, but seen, not understood, With generous emulation fir'd thy blood: For what in nature's dawn the child admir'd, The youth endeavour'd, and the man acquir'd. If yet thou hast not reach'd their high degree 'T is only wanting to this age, not thee. Thy genius bounded by the times like mine Drudges on petty draughts, nor dare design A more exalted work, and more divine. For what a song, or senseless opera, Is to the living labour of a play; Or what a play to Virgil's work would be, Such is a single piece to history. But we, who life bestow, ourselves must live, Kings cannot reign unless their subjects give; And they who pay the taxes bear the rule: Thus thou, sometimes, art forc'd to draw a fool: But so his follies in thy posture sink, The senseless idiot seems at last to think. [vain, Good heaven! that sots and knaves should be so To wish their vile resemblance may remain! And stand recorded, at their own request, To future days, a libel or a jest Else should we see your noble pencil trace Our unities of action, time, and place: A whole compos'd of parts, and those the best, With every various character exprest: Heroes at large, and at a nearer view; Less, and at distance an ignobler crew. While all the figures in one action join, As tending to complete the main design. More cannot be by mortal art exprest; But venerable age shall add the rest. For Time shall with his ready pencil stand; Retouch your figures with his ripening hand; Mellow your colours, and imbrown the teint; Add every grace, which time alone can grant To future ages shall your fame convey, And give more beauties than he takes away. ELIGIES AND EPITAPHS. TO THE MEMORY OF MR. OLDHAM. FAREWELL, too little, and too lately known, Still show'd a quickness; and maturing time around. THOU youngest virgin-daughter of the skies, • Farewell, too little] This short elegy is finished with the most exqusite art and skill. Not an epithet or expression can be changed for a better. It is also the most harmonious in its numbers of all that this great master of harmony has produced. Oldham's Satire on the Jesuits is written with vigour and energy. It is remarkable that Dryden calls Oldham his brother in satire, hinting that this was the characteristical turn of both their geniuses. To the same goal did both our studies drive. Dr. J. W. VOL. 1-9 Rich with immortal green above the rest: But such as thy own voice did practise here, II. If by traduction came thy mind, Was form❜d, at first, with myriads more, Who Greek or Latin laurels wore, [before, And was that Sappho last* which once it was If so, then cease thy flight, O heaven-born mind' Thou hast no dross to purge from thy rich ore : Nor can thy soul a fairer mansion find, Than was the beauteous frame she left behind: Return to fill or mend the choir of thy celestial kind. III. May we presume to say, that, at thy birth New joy was sprung in heaven as well as here on earth. For sure the milder planets did combine On thy auspiscious horoscope to shine, And e'en the most malicious were in trine. Thy brother-angels at thy birth Strung each his lyre, and tun'd it high, That all the people of the sky Might know a poetess was born on earth. And then if ever, mortal ears Had heard the music of the spheres. ⚫ And was that Sappho last, &c.] Our author here compliments Mrs. Killigrew, with admitting the doctrine of metempsychosis, and supposing the soul that informs her body to be the same with that of Sappho's, who lived six hundred years before the birth of Christ, and was equally renowned for poetry and love. She was called the tenth Muse Phaon, whom she loved, treating her with indif ference, she jumped into the sea and was drowned D. And if no clustering swarm of bees On thy sweet mouth distill'd their golden dew, "T was that such vulgar miracles Heaven had not leisure to renew: For all thy blest fraternity of love [above. Solemniz'd there thy birth, and kept thy holiday IV. O gracious God! how far have we Profan'd thy heavenly gift of poesy? Made prostitute and profligate the Muse, Debas'd to each obscene and impious use, Whose harmony was first ordain'd above For tongues of angels, and for hymns of love? O wretched we! why were we hurried down This lubrique and adulterate age, (Nay added fat pollutions of our own) To increase the streaming ordures of the stage? What can we say to excuse our second fall? Let this thy vestal, heaven, atone for all: Her Arethusian stream remains unsoil'd, Unmix'd with foreign filth and undefil'd; [child. Her wit was more than man, her innocence a Y. Art she had none, yet wanted none; She might our boasted stores defy: Light as the vapours of a morning dream, VI. Born to the spacious empire of the Nine, content To manage well that mighty government; A Chamber of Dependencies was fram'd, For poets frequent inroads there had made, The shape, the face, with every lineament And all the large domains which the Dumb Sister sway'd. All bow'd beneath her government, Receiv'd in triumph wheresoe'er she went. Her pencil drew whate'er her soul design'd, And oft the happy draught surpass'd the image in her mind. The sylvan scenes of herds and flocks, bore. VII. The scene then chang'd, with bold erected look Our martial king the sight with reverence strook: For not content to express his outward part, Her hand call'd out the image of his heart: His warlike mind, his soul devoid of fear, His high designing thoughts were figur'd there, As when, by magic, ghosts are made appear. Our phoenix queen was portray'd too so bright, Her dress, her shape, her matchless grace, Beauty alone could beauty take so right: Were all observ'd, as well as heavenly face. With such a peerless majesty she stands, As in that day she took the crown from sacred Before a train of heroines was seen, [hands: In beauty foremost, as in raak, the queen. Thus nothing to her genius was denied, But like a ball of fire the further thrown, Still with a greater blaze she shone, And her bright soul broke out on every side. What next she had design'd, heaven only knows To such immoderate growth her conquest rose, That fate alone its progress could oppose. VIII. Now all those charms, that blooming grace The well proportion'd shape,and beauteous face |