Against this armour ftruck, but at the stroke,
Like fwords of ice, in thousand pieces broke.
To angels and their brethren spirits above,
No how on earth can fure fo pleasant prove,
As when they great misfortunes fee
With courage borne, and decency.

So were they berne when Worcester's dismal day
Did all the terrors of black Fate difplay!
So were they borne when no difguifes' cloud
His inward royalty could shrowd;
And one of th' angels whom juft God did fend
To guard him in his noble flight
(A troop of angels did him then attend!)
Affur'd me in a vifion th' other night,
That he (and who could better judge than he?)
Did then more greatness in him fee,
More luftre and more majesty,

Than all his coronation-pomp can fhew to hu

man eye.

Him and his royal brothers when I faw

New marks of honour and of glory
From their affronts and fufferings draw,
And look like heavenly faints e'en in their pur-
gatory;

Methoughts I faw the three Judean Youths
(Three unhurt martyrs for the noblest truths!)
In the Chaldean furnace walk;
How cheerfully and unconcern'd they talk!
No hair is fing'd, no fmalleft beauty blafted!
Like painted lamps they fhine unwasted!
The greedy fire itfelf dares not be fed
With the bleft oil of an anointed head.
The honourable flame

(Which rather light we ought to name)
Does like a glory compass them around,

And their whole body 's crown'd.

What are those two bright creatures which we fee

Walk with the royal Three

In the fame ordeal fire,

And mutual joys inspire?

Sure they the beauteous fifters are,

Who, whilft they feck to bear their share,
Will fuffer no affliction to be there!

Lefs favour to thofe Three of old was shown,
To folace with their company

The fiery trials of adverfity!

Two Angels join with thefe, the others had but

one.

Come forth, come forth, ye men of God belov'd! And let the power now of that flame, Which against you fo impotent became,

On all your enemies be prov'd. Come, mighty Charles! defire of nations! come; Come, you triumphant exile; home. He's come, he 's fafe at fhore; I hear the noife" Of a whole land which does at once rejoice, I hear th' united people's facred voice.

The fea, which circles us around,
Ne'er fent to land fo loud a found;
The mighty fhout fends to the fea a gale,
And fwells up every fail:

The bells and guns are fcarcely heard at all;
The artificial joy's drown'd by the natural.
VOL. II.

All England but one bonfire feems to be, One Ætna fhooting flames into the fea: The ftarry worlds, which fhine to us afar, Take ours at this time for a ftar.

With wine all rooms, with wine the conduits, flov;

And we, the priests of a poetic rage,

Wonder that in this golden age

The rivers too fhould not do fo.
There is no Stoic, fure, who would not now
Ev'n fome excefs allow;

And grant that one wild fit of cheerful folly
Should end our twenty years of difmal melancholy.
Where's now the royal mother, where,
To take her mighty fhare
In this fo ravishing fight

And, with the part fhe takes, to add to the delight?
Ah! why art thou not here,

Thou always belt, and now the happiest Queen!
To fee our joy, and with new joy be seen?
God has a bright example made of thee,

To fhew that woman-kind may be
Above that fex which her fuperior feems,
In wifely maraging the wide extremes
Of great affliction, great felicity.
How well thofe different virtues thee become,
Daughter of triumphs, wife of martyrdom !
Thy princely mind with fo much courage bore
Affliction, that it dares return no more;
With fo much goodness us'd felicity
That it cannot refrain from coming back to thee;)
'Tis come, and seen to-day in all its bravery!

Who's that heroic perfon leads it on,

And gives it like a glorious bride
(Richly adorn'd with nuptial pride)
Into the hands now of thy fon?
'Tis the good General, the man of praife,
Whom God at laft, in gracious pity,
Did to th' enthralled nation raife,
Their great Zerubbabel to be;

To loofe the bonds of long captivity,
And to rebuild their temple and their city!
For ever bleft may he and his remain,
Who, with a vaft, though lefs-appearing, gain,
Preferr'd the folid Great above the Vain,
And to the world this princely truth has shown-
That more 'tis to refore, than to ufurp a crown!
Thou worthieft perfon of the British story!

(Though 'tis not small the British glory)
Did I not know my humble verse must be
But ill-proportion'd to the height of thee,
Thou and the world fhould fee
How much my Mufe, the foe of flattery,
Does make true praife her labour and defign;
An Iliad or an Encid fhould be thine.

And ill fhould we deferve this happy day,
If no acknowledgments we pay
To you, great patriots of the two
Most truly Other Houses now;

Who have redeem'd from hatred and from shame
A Parliament's once venerable name;

And now the title of a House restore,

To that which was but Slaughter-house before..

H

If my advice, ye worthies! might be ta'en,
Within thofe reverend places,

Which now your living prefence graces,
Your marble-ftatues always fhould remain,
To keep alive your useful memory,
And to your fucceffors th' example be
Of truth, religion, reafon, loyalty:

For, though a firmly-fettled peace
May fhortly make your public labours cease,
The grateful nation will with joy confent

That in this fenfe you should be said,
(Though yet the name founds with fome
dread)

To be the Long, the Endlefs, Parliament.

ON THE QUEEN'S REPAIRING
SOMERSET-HOUSE.

God (the caufe to me and men un

WHENknown)

Forfook the royal houfes, and his own,
And both abandon'd to the common foe;
How near to ruin did my glories go!
Nothing remain'd t' adorn this princely place
Which covetous hands could take, or rude deface.
In all my rooms and galleries I found
The richest figures torn, and all around
Difmember'd ftatues of great heroes lay;
Such Nafeby's field feem'd on the fatal day!
And me, when nought for robbery was left,
They starv'd to death: the gafping walls were cleft,
The pillars funk, the roofs above me wept,
No fign of fpring, or joy, my garden kept;
Nothing was feen which could content the eye,
Till dead the impious tyrant here did lie.

See how my face is chang'd! and what I am
Since my true mirefs, and now foundrels, came!
It does not fill her bounty to restore
Me as I was (nor was I fmall before):
She imitates the kindnefs to her shown;
She does, like Heaven (which the dejected throne
At once reftores, fixes, and higher rears)
Strengthen, enlarge, exalt, what the repairs.
And now I dare (though proud I must not be,
Whilft my great miftrefs I fo humbly Ice
In all her various glories) now I dare
Ev'n with the proudest palaces compare.
My beauty and convenience will, I'm fure,
So just a boaft with modesty endure;
And all must to me yicld, when I fhall tell
How I am plac'd, and who does in me dwell.
Before my gate a street's broad channel goes,
Which still with waves of crowding people flows;
And every day there paffes by my fide,
Up to its western reach, the London tide,

For ever gazes on itself below,

In the beft mirror that the world can fhow.
And here behold, in a long bending row,
How two joint-cities make one glorious bow!
The midft, the noblet piace, poffefs'd by me,
Beft to be feen by all, and all o'erfee!
Which way foe'er I turn my joyful eye,
Here the great court, there the rich town, I fpy;
On either fide dwells fafety and delight;
Wealth on the left, and power upon the right.
Taffure yet my defence, on either hand,
Like mighty forts, in equal diftance fland
Two of the best and flatelieft piles which e'er
Man's liberal picty of old did rear;
Where the two princes of th' Apostles' band,
My neighbours and my guards, watch and com-
mand.

My warlike guard of fhips, which farther lie,
Might be my object too, were not the eye
Stopt by the houfes of that wondrous street
Which rides o'er the broad river like a fleet.
The stream's eternal fiege they fixt abide,
And the fwoln fream's auxiliary tide,
Though both their ruin with joint power confpire;
Both to out-brave, they nothing dread but fire.
And here my 'Thames, though it more gentle be
Than any flood fo ftrengthen'd by the fea,
Finding by art his natural forces broke,
And bearing, captive-like, the arched yeke,
Docs roar, and foam, aud rage, at the difgrace.
But re-compofes ftrait, and calms his face;
Is into reverence and fubmiffion frook,
As foon as from afar he does but look

Tow'rds the white palace, where that king does reign

Who lays his laws and bridges o'er the main.

Amidst thefe louder honours of my feat,
And two vaft cities, trouble fomely great,
In a large various plain the country too
Opens her gentler bluffings to my view:
In me the active and the quiet mind,
By different ways, equal centent may find.
If any prouder virtuofo's fenfe
At that part of my profpect take offence,
By which the meaner cabbins are defcry'd,
Of my imperial river's humbler fide-

If they call that a blemish-let them know,
God, and my godlike miftrefs think not fo;
For the diftrefs'd and the afflicted lie
Moft in their care, and always in their eye.

And thou, fair river! who ftill pay'st to me
Juft homage, in thy paffage to the fea,
Take here this one inftruction as thou go'f—
When thy mixt waves fhall vifit every coaft,
When round the world their voyage they fhail

make,

And back to thee fome fecret channels take;

down

On all the pride and bufinefs of the town;
My other front (for, as in kings we fee

The livelieft image of the Deity,

We in their houfes fhould heaven's likeness find,
Where nothing can be faid to be Behind)
My other fair and more majestic face
(Who can the fair to more advantage place?)

Except thy mighty mafter's fovereign fleet,
Which now triumphant o'er the main does ride,
The terror of all lands, the ocean's pride.

From hence his kingdoms, happy now at lail,
(Happy, if wife by their misfortunes paft!)
From hence may omens take of that fuccefs
Which both their future wars and peace fhall

blefs.

The peaceful mother on mild Thames does build; With her fon's fabrics the rough fea is fill'd,

THE COMPLAINT.

a deep vifion's intellectual feene, Beneath a bower for forrow made,

Th' uncomfortable fhade

Of the black yew's unlucky green,
Mixt with the mourning willow's careful grey,
Where reverend Cham cuts out his famous way,
The melancholy Cowley lay:

And lo! a Mufe appear'd to 's clofed fight,
(The Mufes oft in lands of vifion play)
Body'd, array'd, and feen, by an internal light.
A golden harp with filver ftrings fhe bore;
A wondrous hieroglyphic robe fhe wore,
In which all colours and all figures were,
That nature or that fancy can create,

That art can never imitate;

And with loofe pride it wanton'd in the air.
In fuch a drefs, in fuch a well-cloath'd dream,
She us'd, of oid, near fair Ifmenus' stream,
Pindar, her Theban favourite, to meet;

A crown was on her head, and wings were on her feet.

She touch'd him with her harp, and rais'd him from the ground;

The fhaken ftrings melodioufly refound.

"Art thou return'd at laft," faid fhe, "To this forfaken place and me? "Thou prodigal! who didit fo loosely wafte "Of all thy youthful years the good estate; "Ant thou return'd here, to repent too late, "And gather hufks of learning up at laft, "Now the rich harvest time of life is patt, And winter marches on fo faft?

46

But, when I meant t' adopt thee for my fon, “And did as learn'd a portion aflign,

As ever any of the mighty Nine

"Had to their dearest children done;

"When I refolv'd t' exalt thy' anointed name,

"Thou thought', if once the public ftorm

"were paft,

"All thy remaining life fhould fun-fhine be:
"Behold! the public ftorm is spent at last,
"The fovereign 's toft at fea no more,
"And thou, with all the noble company,
"Art got at latt to fhore,

"But, whilt thy fellow-voyagers I fee
"All march'd up to poffefs the promis'd land,
"Thou ftill alone, alas! does gaping ftand
"Upon the naked beach, upon the barren fand!

"As a fair morning of the bleffed spring, "After a tedious ftormy night,

"Such was the glorious entry of our king; "Enriching moisture drop'd on every thing; "Plenty he fow'd below, and cast about him light! "But then, alas! to thee alone,

"One of old Gideon's miracles was fhown; "For every tree and every herb around "With pearly dew was crown'd, "And upon all the quicken'd ground "The fruitful feed of heaven did brooding lie, "And nothing but the Mufe's fleece was dry. "It did all other threats furpass,

"When God to his own people faid

"(The men whom through long wanderings he

"Thou didst with faith and labour ferve, "And didft (if faith and labour can) deferve, "Though the contracted was to thee, "Given to another who had flore "Of fairer and of richer wives before, "And not a Leah left, thy recompence to be! "Go on; twice feven years more thy fortune try; "Twice feven years more God in his bounty may "Give thee, to fling away

"Into the court's deceitful lottery:

But think how likely 'tis that thou, "With the dull work of thy unwieldy plough, "Should'ft in a hard and barren season thrive, "Should even able be to live;

"Thou, to whofe fhare fo little bread did fall, "In the miraculous year when manna rain'd on all.".

Thus fpake the Mufe, and spake it with a smile, That feemed at once to pity and revile. And to her thus, raifing his thoughtful head, The melancholy Cowley faid"Ah, wanton foe! doft thou upbraid "The ills which thou thyself haft made? "When in the cradle innocent I lay,

Thou, wicked fpirit! ftoleft me away,

"And my abufed foul didft bear

"Into thy new-found worlds, I know not where,

Thy golden Indies in the air;

And ever fince I ftrive in vain

66

My ravifh'd freedom to regain;

That it the mother of the Gods might pofe,
When the best woman for her guide the chofe.
But if Apollo fhould defign

A woman Laureat to make,
Without difpute he would Orinda take,
Though Sappho and the famous Nine
Stood by, and did repine.

Is

To be a princess, or a queen,

great; but 'tis a greatnefs always feen:
The world did never but two women know,
Who, one by fraud, the other by wit, did rife
To the two tops of fpiritual dignities;

One female pope of old, one female poet now.

Of female poets, who had names of old,
Nothing is shown, but only told,
And all we hear of them perhaps may be
Male-flattery only, and male-poetry.

Few minutes did their beauty's lightning waste,
The thunder of their voice did longer lait,
But that too foon was paft.

The certain proofs of our Orinda's wit
In her own lafting characters are writ,
And they will long my praise of them survive,
Though long perhaps, too, that may live.
The trade of glory, manag'd by the pen,
Though great it be, and every where is found,
Docs bring in but fmall profit to us men;

"Tis, by the number of the fharers, drown'd. Orinda, on the female coafts of Fame, Ingroffes all the goods of a poetic name;

She does no partner with her fee;

Does all the business there alone, which we
Are forc'd to carry on by a whole company.

Bat wit's like a luxuriant vine;

Unless to virtue's prop it join,

Firm and erect towards heaven bound; Though it with beauteous leaves and pleasant fruit be crown'd,

It lies, deform'd and rotting, on the ground.
Now fhame and blushes on us all,

Who our own fex fuperior call!
Orinda does our boafting fex out-do,
Not in wit only, but in virtue too:
She does above our beft examples rife,
In hate of vice and fcorn of vanities.
Never did spirit of the manly make,
And dip'd all o'er in Learning's facred lake,
A temper more invulnerable take.

No violent paffion could an entrance find
Into the tender goodness of her mind:
Through walls of stone thofe furious bullets may

Force their impetuous way;

When her foft breaft they hit, powerlefs and dead they lay!

The fame of Friendship, which so long had told
Of three or four illuftrious names of old,
Till hoarfe and weary with the tale fhe grew,
Rejoices now t' have got a new,
A new and more furprizing story,
Of fair Lucafia's and Orinda's glory.
As when a prudent man does once perceive
That in fome foreign country he must live,
The language and the manners he does trive

To understand and practice here,

That he may come no stranger there; So well Orinda did herfelf prepare,

In this much different clime, for her remove To the glad world of Poetry and Love.

FIR

HYMN TO LIGHT.

IRST-born of Chaos, who fo fair didst come From the old negro's darkfome womb! Which, when it faw the lovely child, The melancholy mafs put on kind looks and fmil'd; Thou tide of glory, which no reft doft know, But ever ebb and ever flow!

Thou golden fhower of a true Jove!

Who does in thee defcend, and heaven to earth make love!

Hail, active Nature's watchful life and health!
Her joy, her ornament, and wealth!
Hail to thy husband Heat, and thee!
Thou the world's beauteous bride, the lufty bride-
groom he!

Say from what golden quivers of the sky
Do all thy winged arrows fly?
Swiftnefs and power by birth are thine :
From thy great fire they came, thy fire the Word
Divine.

'Tis, I believe, this archery to fhow,

That fo much coft in colour thou, And skill in painting, doft bestow, Upon thy ancient arms, the gaudy heavenly bow. Swift as light thoughts their empty career run, Thy race is finish'd when begun; Let a poft-angel start with thee, And thou the goal of earth fhalt reach as foon as he Thou in the moon's bright chariot, proud and gay, Doft thy bright wood of stars furvey; And all the year doft with thee bring Of thoufand flowery lights thine own nocturnal fpring.

Thou, Scythian-like, doft round thy lands above Thy fun's gilt tents for ever move,

And still, as thou in pomp doft go,
The fhining pageants of the world attend thy fhow.
Nor amidst all thefe triumphs dost thou scorn
The humble glow-worms to adorn,
And with thofe living fpangles gild
(O greatnefs without pride!) the bushes of the field
Night, and her ugly fubjects, thou doft fright,
And Sleep, the lazy owl of night;
Afham'd, and fearful to appear,
They fkreen their horrid fhapes with the black
hemifphere.

With them there haftes, and wildly takes th' alarm,
Of painted dreams a bufy fwarm:
At the first opening of thine eye
The various clusters break, the antic atoms fly,
The guilty ferpents, and obfcener beasts,

Creep, confcious, to their fecret refts: