TO KING JAMES II. Upon his Acceffion to the Throne, 1684-5.

A

S victors lofe the trouble they fustain

In greater trophies which the triumphs gain;
And martyrs, when the joyful crown is given,
Forget the pain by which they purchas'd heaven:
So when the Phoenix of our empire dy'd,

And with a greater heir the empty throne supply'd ;
Your glory diffipates our mournful dew,
And turns our grief for Charles to joy for you.
Myfterious fate, whofe one decree could prove
The high extreme of cruelty and love!

May then no flight of a blafpheming Muse,
Those wife refolves of Providence accufe,
Which eas'd our Atlas of his glorious weight,
Since ftronger Hercules fupports the state.
England no more shall pentive thoughts employ
On him the 'as loft; but him the has, enjoy.
So Ariadne, when her lover fled,

And Bacchus honour'd the deferted bed,

Ceas'd with her tears to raise the fwelling flood,
Forgot her Thefeus, and embrac'd the god.

On the UNIVERSITY of CAMBRIDGE's burning the DUKE of MONMOUTH'S PICTURE, 1685, who was formerly their Chancellor In Answer to this Question,

66- Sed quid

Confufedly crowd on the fophs and the doctors,
The hangman, the townfmen, their wives, and the
proctors.

While the troops from each part of the countries in ale
Come to quaff his confufion in bumpers of stale;
But Rofalin, never unkind to a Duke,
Does by her abfence their folly rebuke,
The tender creature could not fee his fate,
With whom the 'ad danc'd a minuet so late.
The heads, who never could hope for fuch frames,
Out of envy condemn'd fixfcore pounds to the flames,
Then his air was too proud, and his features amifs,
As if being a traitor had alter'd his phiz :

So the rabble of Rome, whofe favour ne'er fettles,
Melt down their Sejanus to pots and brafs kettles,

INCE you oft invite me to renew N An Art I've either loft, or never knew, Pleas'd my paft follies kindly to commend, And fondly lofe the critick in the friend; Though my warm youth untimely be decay'd,

"Damnatus·

Y

ES, fickle Cambridge, Perkins found this true
Both from your rabble and your doctors too,
With what applaufe you once receiv'd his grace,
And begg'd a copy of his godlike face;

But when the fage Vice Chancellor was fure
The original in limbo lay fecure,

As greafy as himself he fends a lictor

To vent his loyal malice on the picture.
The beadle's wife endeavours all the can
To fave the image of the tall young man,
Which the fo oft when pregnant did embrace,
That with strong thoughts,the might improve her race;
But all in vain, fince the wife house confpire
To damn the canvas traitor to the fire,
Left it, like bones of Scanderbeg, incite
Scythe-men next harveft to renew the fight.

Then in comes mayor Eagle, and does gravely alledge,
He'll fubfcribe, if he can, for a bundle of Sedge;
But the man of Clare-hall that proffer refuses,
Snigs, he'll be beholden to none but the Mufes;
And orders ten porters to bring the dull reams
On the death of good Charles, and crowning of James;

And fwears he will borrow of the Provoft more stuff
On the marriage of Anne, if that be n't enough.
The heads, left he get all the profit t' himielf,
Too greedy of honour, too lavish of pelf,
This motion deny, and vote that Tite Tillet
Should gather from each noble Doctor a billet.
The kindness was common, and fo they 'd return it,
The gift was to all, all therefore would burn it :
Thus joining their stocks for a bonfire together,
As they club for a cheefe in the parish of Chedder;
YOL. II.

I'll contradict the humour of the times,
Inclin'd to business, and averfe to rhymes,
And, to obey the man I love, in fpite

Of the world's genius and my own, I'll write.
But think not that I vainly do afpire
To rival what I only would admire,
The heat and beauty of your manly thought,

And force like that with which your hero fought;
Like Samfon's riddle is that powerful fong,
Sweet as the honey, as the lion strong;
The colours there fo artfully are laid,
They fear no luftre, and they want no fhade;
But fhall of writing a juft model give,
While Boyne fhall flow, and William's glory live.

Yet fince his every act may well infufe
Some happy rapture in the humbleft Mufe,
Though mine despairs to reach the wondrous height,
The King's the theme, and I've a fubject's right.
She prunes
her pinions, eager of the flight;
When William's deeds, and rescued Europe's joy,
Do every tongue and every pen employ,
'Tis to think treason fure, to fhew no zeal,
And not to write, is almoft to rebel.

Let Albion then forgive her meanest fon,
Who would continue what her best begun;
Who, leaving conquefts and the pomp of war,
Would fing the pious King's divided care;
How eagerly he flew, when Europe's fate
Did for the feed of future actions wait;
And how two nations did with transport boaft,
Which was belov'd, and lov'd the victor moft:
How joyful Belgia gratefully prepar'd
Trophies and vows for her returning lord;

How the fair ifle with rival paffion ftrove,
How by her forrow the exprefs'd her love,
When he withdrew from what his arm had freed,
And how the blefs'd his way, yet figh'd, and said:

Is it decreed my hero ne'er fhall reft,
Ne'er be of me, and I of him poffefs'd?
Scarce had I met his virtue with my throne,
By right, by merit, and by arms his own,
But Ireland's freedom, and the war's alarms,
Call'd him from me and his Maria's charms-
O generous prince, too prodigally kind!
Can the diffufive goodness of your mind
Be in no bounds, but of the world confin'd?
Should finking nations fummon you away,
Maria's love might juftify your stay.
Imperfectly the many vows are paid,
Which for your fafety to the Gods were made,
While on the Boyne they labour'd to out-do
Your zeal for Albion by their care for you;
When, too impatient of a glorious eafe,
You tempt new dangers on the winter seas.
The Belgic ftate has refted long fecure
Within the circle of thy guardian power;
Rear'd by thy care, that noble lion, grown
Mature in ftrength, can range the woods alone;
When to my arms they did the Prince refign,

I blefs'd the change, and thought him wholly mine;
Conceiv'd long hopes I jointly should obey
His ftronger, and Maria's gentle sway;
He fierce as thunder, fhe as lightning bright;
One my defence, and t'other my delight:
Yet go-where honour calls the hero, go:
Nor let your eyes behold how mine do flow;
Go meet your country's joy, your virtue's due;
Receive their triumphs, and prepare for new;
Enlarge my empire, and let France afford
The next large harveft to thy profperous sword:
Again in Crecy let my arms be rear'd,
And o'er the continent Britannia fear'd:
While under Mary's tutelary care,
Far from the danger, or the noise of war,
In honourable pleasure I poffefs

The fpoils of conqueft, and the charms of peace.
As the great lamp by which the globe is blefs'd,
Conftant in toil, and ignorant of reft,
Through different regions does his courfe purfue,
And leaves one world but to revive a new;
While, by a pleafing change, the Queen of Night
Relieves his luftre with a milder light:

So when your beams do distant nations chear,
The partner of your crown fhall mount the fphere,
Able alone my empire to fuftain,
And carry on the glories of thy reign-
But why has fate maliciously decreed,

That greatest bleflings must by turns fucceed?

Here the relented, and would urge his ftay
By all that fondness and that grief could fay;
But foon did her prefaging thoughts employ
On fcenes of triumphs and returning joy.
Thus, like the tide, while her unconftant breaft
Was fwell'd with rapture, by defpair deprefs'd,
Fate call'd; the hero muft his way pursue,
And her cries leffen'd as the fhore withdrew.

The winds were filent, and the gentle main
Bore an aufpicious omen of his reign;

When Neptune, owning whom thofe feas obey,
Nodded, and bade the chearful Tritons play.
Each chofe a different fubject for their lays,
But Orange was the burden of their praife:
Some in their ftrains up to the fountain ran,
From whence this ftream of virtue first began:
Others chofe heroes of a later date,
And fung the founder of the neighbouring state;
How daringly he tyranny withffood,

And feal'd his country's freedom with his blood;
Then to the two illuftrious † brethren came,
The glorious rivals of their father's fame;
And to the youth, whofe pregnant hopes out-ran
The fteps of time, and early fhew'd the man;
For whofe alliance monarchs did contend,
And gave a daughter to fecure a friend.
But as by Nature's law the Phenix dies,
That from its urn a nobler bird may rife,
So fate ordain'd the § parent foon should set,
To make the glories of his heir compleat.

At William's name each fill'd his vocal thell,
And on the happy found rejoic'd to dwell:
Some fung his birth, and how difcerning fate
Sav'd infant virtue against powerful hate;
Of poisonous snakes by young Alcides quell'd,
And palms that fpread the more, the more with-belt.
Some fung Seneffe, and early wonders done
By the bold youth, himself a war alone;
And how his firmer courage did oppofe
His country's foreign and inteftine foes;
The lion he, who held their arrows clofe.
Others fung Perfeus, and the injur'd maid,
Redeem'd by the wing'd warrior's timely aid;
Or in mysterious numbers did unfold
Sad modern truths wrapt up in tales of old;
How Saturn, flush'd with arbitrary power,
Defign'd his lawful iffue to devour;

But Jove, referv'd for better fate, withstood
The black contrivance of the doating god;
With arms he came, his guilty father fled,
'Twas Italy fecur'd his frighted head,
And by his flight refign'd his empty throne
And triple empire to his worthier fon.

Then in one note their artful force they join,
Eager to reach the victor and the Boyne;
How on the wondering bank the hero ftood,
Lavishly bold and defperately good :

Till fate, defigning to convince the brave
That they can dare no more than Heaven can lave,
Let death approach, and yet withheld the fting,
Wounded the man, distinguishing the King.

They had enlarg'd, but found the strain too Arong,
And in foft notes allay'd the bolder fong :
Flow, gentle Boyne, they cry'd, and round thy bed
For ever may victorious wreaths be spread;
No more may travellers defire to know
Where Simois and Granicus did flow;
Nor Rubicon, a poor forgotten ftream,
Be or the foldier's rant, or poet's theme:
All waters shall unite their fame in thee,
Loft in thy waves, as thofe are in the fea.

They breath'd afresh, unwilling to give o'er,
nd begg'd thick mifts long to conceal the shore:
nooth was the liquid plain; the fleeping wind,
ore to the sea, than to it's mafter kind,
stain'è a treasure, which we value more
han all the deep e'er hid, or waters bore.
it he, with a superior genius born,

reats chance with infolence, and death with fcorn:
arkness and ice in vain obftruct his way,
alland is near, and nature must obey;
arg'd with our hopes the boat fecurely rode,
r Cæfar and his fortune were the load.
With eager transport Belgia met her fon,
et trembling for the danger he had run;
ill, certain of her joy, the bow'd her head,
onfeft her Lord, blefs'd his return, and said:
If paffion by long abfence does improve,
nd makes that rapture, which before was love;
hink on my old, my intermitted bliss,
nd by my former pleasure measure this :
or by these feeble pillars which I raise,
nequal to sustain the hero's praise ;

oo faint the colours, and too mean the art,
o reprefent your glories, or my heart:
'hefe humble emblems are defign'd to show,
let how we would reward, but what we owe.
lere from your childhood take a short review,
low Holland's happiness advanc'd with you;
low her fout vessel did in triumph ride,

And mock'd her storms, while Orange was her guide.
What fince has been our fate-I need not say,
Il fuiting with the bleffings of the day,
Our better fortune with our Prince was gone,
Conqueft was only there where he led on.
Like the Palladium, wherefoe'er you go,
You turn all death and danger on the foe.
n you we but too fadly understood

How angels have their spheres of doing good;
Elfe the fame foul which did our troops poffefs,
And crown'd their daring courage with success,
Had taught our fleet to triumph o'er the main,
And Fleurus had been still a guiltless plain.
What pity 'tis, ye Gods! an arm and mind
Like yours fhould be to time and place confin'd!
But thy return fhall fix our kinder fate,
For thee our councils, thee our armies wait;
Difcording Princes fhall with thee combine,
Aud center all their interefts in thine;
Proud of thy friendship, fhall forego their fway,
As Rome her great Dictator did obey;
And all united make a Gordian knot,
Which neither craft fhall loofe, nor force fhall cut.

Of majefty profan'd-so acted too

The generous Cæfar, when the Roman knew
A coward King had treacherously flain,
**Whom scarce he foil'd on the Pharfalian plain
The doom of his fam'd rival he bemoan'd,
And the bafe author of the crime dethron'd.
Such were the virtuous maxims of the great,
Free from the fervile arts of barbarous hate:
They knew no foe but in the open field,
And to their caufe and to the gods appeal'd,
So William acts--and if his rivals dare
Difpute his reign by arms, he 'll meet them there,
Where Jove, as once on Ida, holds the scale,
And lets the good, the just, and brave, prevail.

TO THE EARL OF CARLISLE. Upon the Death of his Son before Luxemburgh. E's gone! and was it then by your decree, Ye envious powers, that we should only fee This copy of your own divinity?

H

}

Or thought ye it furpaffing human state,
To have a bieffing lafting as 'twas great?
Your cruel kill you better ne'er had shown,
Since you fo foon defign'd him all your own.
Such foftering favours to the damn'd are given,
When, to increase their hell, you fhow them heaven.
Was it too godlike, he fhould long inherit
At once his father's and his uncle's spirit?
Yet as much beauty, and as calm a breast,
As the mild dame whofe teeming womb he bleft.
H' had all the favours Providence could give,
Except its own prerogative to live;
Referv'd in pleafures, and in dangers bold,
Youthful in action, and in prudence old:
His humble greatness, and submissive state,
Made his life full of wonder, as his fate;
One, who, to all the heights of learning bred,
Read books and men, and practis'd what he read.
Round the wide globe scarce did the bufy fun
With greater hafte and greater luftre run.
True gallantry and grandeur he defcry'd,
From the French fopperies, and German pride.
And like the induftrious bee, where'er he flew,
Gather'd the fweets which on fweet blossoms grew.
Babel's confufed fpeeches on his tongue,
With a fweet harmony and concord hung.
More countries than for Homer did conteft
Do ftrive who moft were by his prefence bleft.
Nor did his wildom damp his martial fire,
Minerva both her portions did inspire,
Ufe of the warlike bow and peaceful lyre.
So Cæfar doubly triumph'd when he wrote,
Showing like wit, as valour when he fought.

If God, as Plato taught, example takes
From his own works, and fouls by patterns makes,
Much of himself in him he did unfold,
And caft them in his darling Sydney's mold,
Of too refin'd a fubftance to be old.
Both did alike difdain an hero's rage
Should come like an inheritance by age.

Ambitiously did both confpire to twist

Bays with the ivy, with their temples kist:
Scoring to wait the flow advance of time,
Both fell like early bloffoms in their prime,
By blind events, and Providence's crime.
Yet both, like Codrus, o'er their yielding foe,
Obtain'd the conqueft, in their overthrow;
And longer life do purchase by their death,
In fame compleating what they want in breath.
Oh had kind fire ftretch'd the contracted span,
To the full glories of a perfect man;
Ani, as he grew, could every rolling year
A new addition to our wonder bear,

H' had paid to his illuftrious line that stock
Of ancient honor, which from thence he took.
But oh!

So hafty fruits, and too ambitious flowers,
Scorning the midwifery of ripening showers,
In spite of frofts, fpring from th' unwilling earth,
But find a nip untimely as their birth:
Abortive iffues fo delude the womb,

And fcarce have being, ere they want a tomb.

Forgive, my Lord, the Mufe that does afpire With a new breath to fan your raging fire; Who each officious and unfkilful found Can with fresh torture but enlarge the wound. Could I, with David, curfe the guilty plain, Where one more lov'd than Jonathan was flain; Or could I flights high as his merits raife, Clear as his virtue, deathlefs as his praise; None who, though laurels crown'd their aged head, Admir'd him living, and ador'd him dead, With more devotion fhould enroll his name In the long-confecrated lift of fame. But, fince my artlefs and unhallow'd strain Will the high worth, it should commend, profane; Since I defpair my humble verse should prove Great as your lofs, or tender as your love; My heart with fighings, and with tears mine eye, Shall the defect of written grief fupply.

A

POEM,

It might debar the fubject of accefs,
And make her mercies and our comforts lefs.
So Gods, of old, defcending from their sphere
To vifit men, like mortals did appear:
Left their too awful prefence should affright
Those whom they meant to blefs, and to delight.

Thus to the noon of her high glory run,
From her bright orb, diffufive like the fun,
She did her healing influence display,
And cherish'd all our nether world, that lay
Within the circle of her radiant day;
Reliev'd not only those who bounty fought,
But gave unafk'd, and as he gave forgot;
Found modeft Want in her obfcure retreat,
And courted timorous virtue to be great.
The Church, which William fav'd, was Mary's cart,
Taught by her life, and guarded by her pray'r;
What her devotions were, ye cherubs, tell,
Who ever round the feat of mercy dwell;

For here she would not have her goodness known, ?
But you beheld how the addrefs'd the throne,
And wonder'd at a zeal fo like your own.
Since the was form'd, and lov'd, and pray'd like you,
She fhould, alas! have been immortal too.

A mind fo good, in beauteous ftrength array'd,
Affur'd our hopes the might be long obey'd,
And we, with heighten'd reverence, might have feen
The hoary grandeur of an aged Queen,

Who might, with William, jointly govern here,
As that bright pair which rules the heavenly fphere.
Grace and mild mercy beft in her were shown,
In him the rougher virtues of the throne;
Of Justice the at home the balance held;
Abroad, Oppreffion by his fword was quell'd;
The generous lion, and the peaceful dove,
The God of battle, and the Queen of love,
Did in their happy nuptials well agree;
Like Mars, he led our armies out; and she
With fmiles prefided o'er her native fea.

}

Ο

Majefty Queen Mary.

NCE more, my Mufe, we must an altar raise ;-
May it
prove lafting, as Maria's praise;
And, the fong ended, be the fwan's thy doom,
Reft ever filent, as Maria's tomb.

But whence shall we begin? or whither steer?
Her virtues like a perfect round appear,
Where judgment lies in admiration loft,
Not knowing which it should diftinguish most.

Some angel, from your own, describe her frame,
For fure your godlike beings are the fame:
All that was charming in the fairer kind,
With manly fenfe and refolution join'd;
A mien compos'd of mildness and of state,
Not by constraint or affectation great;
But form'd by nature for fupreme command,
Like Eve just moulded by the Maker's hand;
Yet fuch her meeknefs, as half-veil'd the throne,
Left, being in too great a luftre shown,

With the fame temper as the Latin hind
Was made Dictator, conquer'd, and refign'd;
So Pallas from the dufty field withdrew,
And, when imperial Jove appear'd in view,
Refum'd her female arts, the fpindle and the clew;
Forgot the fceptre the fo well had fway'd,
And, with that mildness she had rul'd, obey'd;
Pleas'd with the change, and unconcern'd as Jove,
When in difguife he leaves his power above,
And drowns all other attributes in love.

Such, mighty Sir, if yet the facred ear
Of Majefty in grief vouchfafe to hear,
Was the lov'd confort of thy crown and bed,
Our joy while living, our defpair now dead.

Yet though with Mary one fupporter fall,
Thy virtue can alone fuftain the ball.
Of Sibyl's books, that volume which remain'd,
The perfect value of the whole retain`d.

* Lucius Quintius.

When in the fiery car Elijah fled,
His fpirit doubled on his partner's head;
So will thy people's love, now Mary's gone,
Unite both streams, and flow on thee alone.
The grateful fenate with one voice combine
To breathe their forrows, and to comfort thine,
By bringing to thy view how Europe's fate
Does on thy counfels and thy courage wait:
But, when the vastnefs of thy grief they fee,
They own 'tis juft, and melt in tears with thee.

Blush not, great foul, thus to reveal thy woe;
Sighs will have vent, and eyes too full o'erflow
Shed by degrees, they pafs unfelt away;
But raife a ftorm and deluge where they stay.

The braveft heroes have the fofteft mind,
Their nature 's, like the Gods, to love inclin'd.
Homer, who human paffions nicely knew,
When his illuftrious Grecian chief he drew,
Left likewife in his foul one mortal part,
Whence love and anguish too might reach his heart;
For a loft miftrefs, in defpair he fate,

And let declining Troy ftill struggle with her fate:
But when the partner of his cares lay dead,
Like a rous'd lion from his tent he fled,
Whole hecatombs of trembling Trojans flew,
And mangled Hector at his chariot drew.

Still greater is thy lofs,

-be fuch thy rage, As conquer'd Gallia only may affwage.

She who on earth fecur'd thee by her prayer,

Return'd to heaven, fhall prove thy guardian angel there,

The mifer fpies a thief, or a new hoard,
The cit's a knight, the fycophant a lord.
Thus fancy 's in the wild diftraction loft,
With what we moft abhor, or covet moft.
But of all paffions that our dreams control,
Love prints the deepeft image in the foul;
For vigorous fancy and warm blood dispense
Pleasures fo lively that they rival fenfe.
Such are the tranfports of a willing maid,
Not yet by time and place to act betray'd,
Whom fpies or fome faint virtue forc'd to fly
That scene of joy, which yet the dies to try.
Till fancy bawds, and, by myfterious charms,
Brings the dear object to her longing arms;
Unguarded then the melts, acts fierce delight,
And curfes the returns of envious light.
In fuch bleft dreams Byblis enjoys a flame,
Which waking fhe detefts, and dares not name.
Ixion gives a loofe to his wild love,
And in his airy vifions cuckolds Jove.
Honors and state before this phantom fall;
For fleep, like death its image, equals all.

HEN money and my blood ran high,

Unfeen protect thee in the doubtful field.

Go then, by different paths to glory go,
The church's both eftates with Mary fhow;

And while above the triumphs, fight below.

'Tis done our Monarch to the camp returns,-
The Gallic armies fly-their navy burns,
And earth and feas all bow at his command,
And Europe owns her from his victorious hand

peace

The fports and fmiles did round her fly, Enamour'd with her fmart concetti.

II.

Now (who'd have thought it once?) with pain She ftrings her harp, whilft freezing age

But feebly runs through every vein,

And chills my brisk poetic rage,