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Long may he round about him see

His roses and his lilies blown; Long may his only dear and he Joy in ideas of their own,

And kingdom's hopes so timely sown.

Long may they both contend to prove,
That best of crowns is such a love.



That thou art loved of God, this work is done,
Great king, thy having of a second son;
And by thy blessing may thy people see
How much they are beloved of God in thee.
Would they would understand it!



Great aids to empire, as they are great care
To pious parents, who would have their blood
Should take first seisin of the public good,
As hath thy James; cleansed from original

This day, by baptism, and a Saviour's cross:
Grow up, sweet babe, as blessed in thy name,
As in renewing thy good grandsire's fame;
Methought, Great Britain in her sea, before
Sate safe enough, but now securèd more.
At land she triumphs in the triple shade,
Her rose and lily intertwined have made.
Oceano secura meo, securior umbris.

122 Afterwards James II. Born October 15, 1633.-B.



What gentle ghost, besprent with April dew,
Hails me so solemnly to yonder yew, 124
And beckoning wooes me from the fatal tree
To pluck a garland for herself or me?
I do obey you, beauty! for in death,
You seem a fair one!
O that you had breath
To give your shade a name! Stay, stay, I feel
A horror in me; all my blood is steel;

Stiff, stark, my joints 'gainst one another knock!
Whose daughter? Ha! great Savage of the
Rock. 125

He's good as great. I am almost a stone,
And ere I can ask more of her she's gone!

123 The Lady Jane Pawlet was the first wife of the fifth Marquis of Winchester, who obtained so much celebrity in the civil wars by his memorable defence of Basing-House, his residence in Hampshire, which he garrisoned at his own cost, and held against the forces of the Parliament for two years. At last it fell before Cromwell, who levelled it to the ground. The plunder of Basing-House was estimated at the value of two hundred thousand pounds. The Marquis survived to participate in the triumph of the Restoration, and, dying in 1674, was buried at Englefield in Berkshire, where an inscription by Dryden appears upon his monument. — B.

124 "What gentle ghost along the moonlight shade, Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade."

POPE, On an Unfortunate Lady. -- B.

125 Rock Savage was the name of the seat in Cheshire of the Marchioness of Winchester's family. She was the daughter of Sir Thomas Savage, who was created Viscount Savage,

Alas, I am all marble! write the rest

Thou wouldst have written, Fame, upon my


It is a large fair table, and a true,

And the disposure will be something new,
When I, who would the poet have become,
At least may bear the inscription to her tomb.
She was the Lady Jane, and Marchioness
Of Winchester; the heralds can tell this.
Earl Rivers' grandchild-'serve not forms, good

Sound thou her virtues, give her soul a name.
Had I a thousand mouths, as many tongues,
And voice to raise them from my brazen lungs,
I durst not aim at that; the dotes were such
Thereof, no notion can express how much
Their carat was! I or my trump must break,
But rather I, should I of that part speak;
It is too near of kin to heaven, the soul,
To be described! Fame's fingers are too foul
To touch these mysteries: we may admire
The blaze and splendor, but not handle fire.
What she did here, by great example, well,
T' inlive posterity, her fame may tell;
And, calling truth to witness, make that good
From the inherent graces in her blood!

of Rock Savage, in November, 1626. Her mother was the eldest daughter of Thomas, Lord Darcy, of Chiche, afterwards in succession created Viscount Colchester, and Earl Rivers. Hence Jonson speaks of her as "Earl Rivers' grandchild." - B.

Else, who doth praise a person by a new,
But a feigned way, doth rob it of the true.
Her sweetness, softness, her fair courtesy,
Her wary guards, her wise simplicity,

Were like a ring of virtues 'bout her set,
And piety the centre, where all met.
A reverend state she had, an awful eye,
A dazzling, yet inviting majesty:
What nature, fortune, institution, fact,
Could sum to a perfection, was her act!
How did she leave the world, with what con-


Just as she in it lived, and so exempt


From all affection! when they urged the cure
Of her disease, how did her soul assure
Her sufferings, as the body had been away!
And to the torturers, her doctors, say,
Stick on your cupping-glasses; fear not, put
Your hottest caustics, to burn, lance, or cut:
'Tis but a body which you can torment,
And I into the world all soul was sent!
Then comforted her lord, and blessed her son,'
Cheered her fair sisters in her race to run,
With gladness tempered her sad parents' tears,


126 Howell in a letter to the marchioness alludes to her accomplishments, her knowledge of Spanish, which he assisted in teaching her, and her skill in poetry, and says that Nature and the Graces had exhausted all their resources in "framing this exact model of female perfection."— B.

127 Charles, who on his father's death succeeded to the title, and, in 1689, was created Duke of Bolton. - B.

Made her friends' joys to get above their fears, And in her last act taught the standers-by With admiration and applause to die! 128

Let angels sing her glories, who did call
Her spirit home to her original;

Who saw the way was made it, and were sent
To carry and conduct the compliment
"Twixt death and life, where her mortality
Became her birthday to eternity!

And now through circumfusèd light she looks
On Nature's secrets there, as her own books:
Speaks heaven's language, and discovereth free
To every order, every hierarchy!

128 It appears from Milton's affecting epitaph on this lady, that she died in childbirth, at the early age of three-andtwenty; and the following passage intimates that the child was still-born :

"Once had the early matrons run

To greet her of a lovely son;

And now with second hope she goes,

And calls Lucina to her throes.

But, whether by mischance or blame,

Atropos for Lucina came;
And with remorseless cruelty

Spoiled at once both fruit and tree.

The hapless babe before his birth,

Had burial, yet not laid in earth;
And the languished mother's womb
Was not long a living tomb."

"It is remarkable," says Warton, "that both husband and wife should have severally received the honor of an epitaph from two such poets as Milton and Dryden." This statement might have been rendered still more "remarkable," if Warton had not forgotten to include the elegy by Jonson.-B.

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