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Thus I complain'd, and strait the Muse reply'd, Instead of my own likeness, only find
That she had given me fame,

The bright idea there of the great writer's mind?
Bounty immense! and that too must be try'd
When I myself am nothing but a name.

Who now, what reader does not strive
T invalidate the gift whilst we're alive?

For, when a poet now himself doth show,
As if he were a common foe:

All draw upon him, all around,

And every part of him they wound,

Hail, Learning's Pantheon ! Hail, the sacred ark
Happy the man that gives the deepest blow: Where all the world of science does embark !
And this is all, kind Mnse! to thee we owe.

Which ever shall withstand, and bast su long with Then in rage I took,

stood, And out at window threw,

Insatiate Time's devouring food. Ovid and Horace, all the chiming crew;

Hail, tree of knowledge! thy leaves fruit! which Homer himself went with them too ; •

well Hardly escap'd the sacred Mantuan book :

Dost in the midst of Paradise arise, I my own offspring, like Agave, tore,

Oxford ! the Muse's Paradise, And I resolv'd, nay, and I think I swore,

From which may never sword the bless'd expel!
That I no more the ground would till and sow, Hail, bank of all past ages! where they lie
Where only flowery weeds instead of corn did grow. T'enrich with interest posterity!
When (see the subtile ways which Fate does find

Hail, Wit's illustrious galaxy !
Rebellious man to bind !

Where thousand lights into one brightness spread; Just to the work for which he is assign'd)

Hail, living University of the dead !
The Muse came in more chearful than before, Unconfus'd Babel of all tongues ! which e'er
And bade me quarrel with her now no more :

The mighty linguist, Fame, or Time, the mighty “ Lo! thy reward ! !ook, here and see

What I have made” (said she)

That could speak, or this could hear.
“ My lover and belor'd, my Broghill, do for thee! | Majestic monument and pyramid !
Though thy own verse no lasting fame can give, where still the shades of parted souls abide
Thou shalt at least in his for ever live.

Embalm'd in verse; exalted souls which now
What critics, the great Hectors now in wit,

Enjoy those arts they woo'd so well below;
Who rant and challenge all men that have writ,

Which now all wonders plainly see,
Will dare toppose thee, when

That have been, are, or are to be,
Broghill in thy defence has drawn his conquering In the mysterious library,

The beatific Bodley of the Deity ;
I rose and brow'd my head,

Will you into your sacred throng admit
And pardon ask'd for all that I had said :

The meanest British wit ?
Well satisfy'd and proud,

You, general-council of the priests of Fame,
I strait resolv'd, and solemnly I vow'd,

Will you not murmur and disdain, That from her service now I ne'er would part;

That I a place among you claim, So strongly large rewards work on a grateful heart !

The humblest deacon of her train? Nothing so soon the drooping spirits can raise | Will you allow me th' honourable chain? As praises froin the men whom all men praise :

The chain of ornament, which here "Tis the best cordial, and which only those

Your noble prisoners proudly wear; Who have at home th' ingredients can compose ;

A chain which will more pleasant seem to me A cordial that restores our fainting breath,

Than all my own Pindaric liberty!
And keeps up life e'en after death!

Will ye to bind me with those mighty names submit, The only danger is, lest it should be

Like an Apocrypha with Holy Writ?
Too strong a remedy;

Whatever happy book is chained here,
Lest, in removing cold, it should beget

No other place or people need to fear;
Too violent a heat;

His chain's a passport to go every where,
And into madness turn the lethargy,

As when a seat in Heaven
Ah! gracious God! that I might see

Is to an unmalicious sinner given,
A time when it were dangerous for me

Who, casting round his wondering eye,
To be o'er-heat with praise!

Does none but patriarchs and apostles there espy; But I within me bear, alas! too great allays.'

Martyrs who did their lives bestow, 'Tis said, Apelles, when he Venus drew,

And saints, who martyrs liv'd below; Did naked women for his pattern view,

With trembling and amazement he begins And with his powerful fancy did refine

To recollect his frailties past and sins; Their human shapes into a form divine :

He doubts almost his station there;
None who had sat could ber own picture see, His soul says to itself, “ How came I bere ?"
Or say, one part was drawn for me:

It fares no otherwise with me,
So, though this nobler painter, when he writ, When I myself with conscious wonder see
Was pleas'd to think it fit

Amidst this purify'd elected company.
That my book should before him sit,

With hardship they, and pain,
Not as a cause, but an occasion, to his wit;

Did to this happiness attain: . Yet what have I to boast, or to apply

No labour I, nor merits, can pretend; To my advantage out of it; since I

I think pre destination only was my friend.

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Ah, that my author had been ty'd like me

Than those have done or seen, To such a place and such a company!

Ev'n since they goddesses and this a star has been) Instead of several countries, several men,

As a reward for all her labour past, And business, which the Muses hate,

Is made the seat of rest at last. He might have then improv'd that small estate

Let the case now quite alter'd be, Which Nature sparingly did to him give;

| And, as thou wentest abroad the world to see, He might perhaps have thriven then.

Let the world now come to see thee! And settled upon me, his child, somewhat to live.

The world will do 't; for curiosity "T had happier been for him, as well as me;

Does, no less than devotion, pilgrims make; For when all, alas! is done,

And I myself, w.lo mot luve quiet tov. We Books, I mean, you Books, will prove to be As much almost as any Chair can do, The best and noblest conversation;

Would yet a journey take, For, though some errours will get in,

An old wheel of that chariot to see, Like tinctures of original sin;

Which Phaeton so rashly brake : Yet sure we from our fathers' wit

Yet what could that say more than these remains of Draw all the strength and spirit of it,

Drake? Leaving the grosser parts for conversation,

Great Relic! thou too, in this port of ease,
As the best blood of map's employ'd in generation. Hast still one way of making voyages;

The breath of Fame, like an auspicious gale
Top ODE,

(The great trade-wind which ne'er does fail)

Shall drive thee round the world, and thou shalt run, SITTING AND DRINKING IN THE CHAIR MADE OUT OP As long around it as the Sun. THE RELICS OF SIR FRANCIS DRAKE'S SHIP. The streights of Time too narrow are for thee;

| Launch forth into an undiscover'd sea, Cueer up, my mates, the wind does fairly blow, Clap on more sail, and never spare ;

And steer the endlest course of vast Eternity ! Farewell all lands, for now we are

Take for thy sail this verse, and for thy pilot me! In the wide sea of drink, and merrily we go. Bless me, 'tis hot! another bowl of wine, And we shall cut the burning line:

Hey, boys ! she scuds away, and by my head I know

We round the world are sailing now.
What dull men are those that tarry at home,

Tis folly all, that can be said,
When abroad they might wantonly roam,

By living mortals, of th' immortal dead, And gain such experience, and spy too And I'm afraid they laugh at the rain tears we shed. Such countries and wonders, as I do!

'Tis as if we, who stay behind But prythee, good pilot, take heed what you do,

In expectation of the wind, And fail not to touch at Peru !

Should pity those who pass'd this streight before, With gold there the vessel we'll store,

And touch the universal shore. And never, and never be poor,

Ah, happy man! who art to sail no more! No, never be poor any more.

And, if it seem ridiculous to grieve What do I mean? What thoughts do me misguide?

Because our friends are newly come from sea, As well upon a staff may witches ride

Though ne'er so fair and calm it be ; Their fancy'd journeys in the air,

What would all sober men believe, As I sail round the ocean in this Chair!

If they should hear us sighing say, 'Tis true; but yet this Chair which here you

“ Balcarres, who but th' other day see,

Did all our love and our respect command; For all its quiet now, and gravity,

At whose great parts we all amaz'd did stand;. Has wander'd and has travell'd more

Is from a storm, alas! cast suddenly on land ?” Than ever beast, or fish, or bird, or ever tree, be If you will say-" Few persons upon Earth fore:

Did, more than he, deserve to have In every air and every sea 't has been,

A life exempt from fortune and the grave; °T has compass'd all the Earth, and all the Heavens Whether you look upon his birth 't has seen.

And ancestors, whose fame's so widely spread Let not the pope's itself with this compare, i But ancestors, alas! who long ago are dead This is the only universal Chair.

Or whether you consider more The pious wanderer's feet, sav'd from the flame

The vast increase, as sure you ought, (Which still the relics did of Truy pursue,

Of honour by his labour bought, And took them for its due),

And added to the former store :" A squadron of immortal nymphs became :

All I can answer, is, “ That I allow Still with their arms they row about the seas,

The privilege you plead for; and avow And still make new and greater voyages :

That, as he well deserv'd, he doth enjoy it now." Nor has the first poetic ship of Greece

Though God, for great and righteous ends, (Though now a star she so triumphant show,

Which his unerring Providence intends
And guide her sailing successors below,

Erroneous mankind should not understand,
Bright as her ancient freight the shining fleece) Would not permit Balcarres' hand,
Yet to this day a quiet harbour found;

(That once with so much industry and art The tide of heaven still carries her around;

Had clos'd the gaping wounds of every part) Only Drake's sacred vessel (which before

To perfect his distracted nation's cure, Had done and had seen more

Or stop the fatal bondage 'twas t' endure ;


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Yet for his pains he soon did him remove,

His passage after her withstood.,
From all th'oppression and the woe

What should she do ? through all the moving wood
Of bis frail body's native soil below,

Of lives endow'd with sense she took her flight:
To bis soul's true and peaceful country above : Harvey pursues, and keeps her still in sight.
So godlike kings, for secret causes, known

But as the deer, long-bunted, takes a flood,
Sometimes, but to themselves alone,

She leap'd at last into the winding streams of
One of their ablest ministers elect,
And sent abroad to treaties, which they'intend | Of man's meander all the purple reaches made,
Shall never take effect;

Till at the heart she stay'd; But, though the treaty wants a happy end,

Where turning head, and at a bay, The happy agent wants not the reward,

Thus by well-purged cars was she o'erheard to For which he labour'd faithfully and hard ; .

say i His just and righteous master calls him home And gives him, near himself, some honourable room. | “Here gure shall I be safe” (said she)

“ None will be able sure to see Noble and great endeavours did he bring.

This my retreat, but only he To save his country, and restore his king;

Who made both it and me. And, whilst the manly half of him (which those

The heart of man what art can e'er reveal? Who know not love, to be the whole suppose)

A wall impervious between
Perform'd all parts of Virtue's vigorous life;

Divides the very parts within,
The beauteous half, his lovely wife,

And doth theheart of man er'n from itself conceal." Did all his labours and his cares divide;

She spoke: but, ere she was aware,
Nor was a lame nor paralytic side :

Harvey was with her there ;
In all the turns of human state,

And held this slippery Proteus in a chain,
And all th' unjust attacks of Fate,

Till all her mighty mysteries he descry'd; She bore her share and portion still,

Which from his wit th' attempt before to hide And would not suffer any to be ill.

Was the first thing that Nature did in vain.
Unfortunate for ever let me be,
If I believe that such was he

He the young practice of new life did see, Whom in the storms of bad success,

Whilst, to conceal its toilsome poverty, And all that errour calls unhappiness,

It for a living wrought, both hard and privately. His virtue and his virtuous wife did still accompany; 1

Before the liver understood

The noble scarlet dye of blood; With these companions 'twas not strange

Before one drop was by it made, That nothing could his temper change.

Or brought into it, to set up the trade;
His own and country's union had not weight

Before the untaught heart began to beat
Enough to crush his mighty mind:

The tuneful march to vital heat;
He saw around the hurricanes of state,

From all the souls that living buildings rear, Fixt as an island 'gainst the waves and wind.

Whether employ'd for earth, or sea, or air; Thus far the greedy sea may reach;

Whether it in womb or egg be wrought; All outward things are but the beach ;

A strict account to him is hourly brought A great man's soul it doth assault in vain !

How the great fabric does proceed, Their God himself the ocean doth restrain

What time, and what materials, it does need : With an imperceptible chain,

He so exactly does the work survey, And bid it to go back again.

As if he hir'd the workers by the day. His wisdom, justice, and his piety,

Thus Harvey sought for truth in Truth's own book, His courage both to suffer and to die,

The creatures which by God himself was writ: His virtues, and his lady too,

And wisely thought 'twas fit, Were things celestial. And we see,

| Not to read comments only upon it, In spite of quarrelling Philosophy,

But on th' original itself to look. How in this case 'tis certain found,

Methinks in Art's great circle others stand
That Heaven stands still, and only Earth goes round,

Lock'd-up together, hand in hand;
Every one leads as he is led;

The same bare path they tread,

And dance, like fairies, a fantastic round,

But neither change their motion nor their ground: UPON DR. HARVEY.

Had Harvey to this road confin'd his wit, Coy Nature (which remain'd, though aged grown,

His noble circle of the blood had been untrodden

yet. A beauteous virgin still, enjoy'd by none, : Nor seen unveil'd by any one)

Great Doctor! th' art of curing's cur'd by thee;

We now thy patient, Physic, see
Wben Harvey's violent passion she did see,

From all inveterate diseases free,
Began to tremble and to flee;
Took sanctuary, like Daphne, in a tree :

Purg'd of old errours by thy care,
There Daphne's lover stopp'd, and thought it much

New dieted, put forth to clearer air;
The very leaves of her to touch:

It now will strong and healthful prove;
But Harvey, our Apollo, stopp'd not so;

Itself before lethargic lay, and could not move! Into the bark and root he after her did go ? . These useful secrets to his pen weo.e! No smallest fibres of a plant.

And thousands more 'twas ready to bestow; For which the eye-beams' point doth sharpness Of which a barbarous war's unlearned rage want,

Has robb'd the ruin'd age:

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O cruel loss! as if the golden Aeece,

With so much cost and labour bought, And from afar by a great hero brought,

Had sunk ev'n in the ports of Greece. O cursed War! who can forgive thee this?

Houses and towns may rise again;

And ten times easier 'tis
To rebuild Paul's, than any work of his:
That mighty task none but himself can do,

Nay, scarce himself too, now;
For, though his wit the force of age withstand,
His body, alas! and time, it must command;
And Nature now, so long by him surpass'd,
Will sure have her revenge on him at last.

To reward her, if it be she To reward him, if it be heWith such a husband, such a wife; With Acme's and Septimius' life.





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Whilst on Septimius' panting breast
(Meaning nothing less than rest)
Acme lean'd her loving head,
Thus the pleas’d Septimius said:
“ My dearest Acme, if I be
Once alive, and love not thee
With a passion far above
All that e'er was called love;
In a Libyan desert may
I become some lion's prey;
Let him, Acme, let him tear
My breast, when Acme is not there.”
The god of love, who stood to hear him
(The god of lure was always near him)
Pleas'd and tickled with the sound,
Sneez'd aloud ; and all around
The little Loves, that waited by,
Bow'd, and blest the augury.
Acme, enflan'd with what he said,
Rear'd her gently-bending head;
And, her purple mouth with joy
Stretching to the delicious boy,
Twice (and twice could scarce suffice)
She kist bis drunken rolling eyes.
“ My little life, my all!" (said she)
So may we ever servants be
To this best god, and ne'er retain
Our hated liberty again!
So may thy passion last for me,
As I a passion have for thee,
Greater and fiercer much than can
Be conceiv'd by thee a man!
Into my marrow is it gone,
Fixt and settled in the bone;
It reigns not only in my heart,
But runs, like life, through every part. *
She spoke; the god of love aloud
Sneez'd again; and all the crowd
Of little Loves, that waited by,
Bow'd, and blest the augury.
This good omen thus from Heaven
Like a happy signal given,
Their loves and lives (all four) embrace,
And hand in hand run all the race,
To poor Septimius (who did nuw
Nothing else but Acme grow)
Acme's bosom was alone
The whole world's imperial throne;

-Quod optanti divům promittere nemo
Auderet, volvenda dies, en, attulit ultro. Virg.
Now blessings on you all, ye peaceful stars,
Which meet at last so kindly, and dispense
Your universal gentle influence
To calm the stormy world, and still the rage of wars!

Nor, whilst around the continent
Plenipotentiary beams ye sent,

Did your pacific lights disdain

In their large treaty to contain
The world apart, o'er which do reign
Your seven fair brethren of great Charles his wain;
No star amongst ye all did, I believe,

Such vigorous assistance give,
As that which, thirty years ago,
At Charles's birth 3, did, in despite

Of the proud Sun's meridian light,
His future glories and this year foreshow.

No less effects than these we may Be assurd of from that powerful ray, Which could out-face the Sun,and overcome the day,

, Auspicious star! again arise,
And take thy noon-tide station in the skies,

Again all heaven prodigiously adorn;
For lo! thy Charles again is born.
He then was born with and to pain;
With and to joy he's born again,
And, wisely for this second birth,

By which thou certain were to bless
The land with full and Aourishing happiness,

Thou mad'st of that fair month thy choice,

In which heaven, air, and sea, and earth, . And all that's in them, all, does smile and does re

joice. 'Twas a right season; and the very ground Ought with a face of Paradise to be found,

Then, when we were to entertain Felicity and Innocence again. Shall we again (good Heaven!) that blessed pair be

Which the abused people fondly sold
For the bright fruit of the forbidden tree, ,

By seeking all like gods to be?
Will Peace her halcyon nest venture to build

Upon a shore with shipwrecks fillid,
And trust that sea, where she can hardly say
She has known these twenty years one calmy day?

3 The star that appeared at noon, the day of the king's birth, just as the king his father was riding to St. Paul's to give thanks to God for that blessing.

Ah! mild and gall-less dove,

We fear'd, that the fanatic war, Which dost the pure and candid dwellings love, Which men against God's houses did declare, Canst thou in Albion still delight?

Would from the Almighty enemy bring down Still canst thou think it white ?

A sure destruction on our own. Will ever fair Religion appear

We read th' instructive histories which tell In these deform'd ruins? will she clear

Of all those endless mischiefs that befel Th’ Augean stables of her churches here?

The sacred town which God had lov'rl so well, Will Justice hazard to be seen

After that fatal curse had once been said, Where a high court of justice e'er has been? “ His blood be upon ours and on our children's Will not the tragic scene,

head." And Bradshaw's bloody ghost, affright her there, We know, though there a greater blood was spilt, Her, who shall never fear?

'Twas scarcely done with grezter guilt. Then may Whitehall for Charles's seat be fit, We know those miseries did befal If Justice shall endure at Westminster to sit. Whilst they rebell'd against that prince, whom all Of all, methinks, we least should see

The rest of mankind did the love and joy of manThe chearful looks again of Liberty.

kind call. That name of Cromwell, which does freshly still Already was the shaken nation The curses of so many sufferers fill,

Into a wild and deform'd chans bronght, Is still enough to make her stay,

And it was hasting ou (we thought) And jealous for a while remain,

Even to the last of ills-annihilation: Lest, as a tempest carried him away,

When, in the midst of this confused night, Some hurricaue should bring him back again. Lo! the blest Spirit mov'd, "and there was light;"> Or, she might justlier be afraid

For, in the glorious general's previous ray, Lest that great serpent, which was all a tail,

We saw a new created day: (And in his poisonous folds whole nations pri- We by it saw, though yet in mists it shone, soners made)

The beauteous work of Order moving on. Should a third time perhaps prevail

Where are the men who bragg'd that God did bless, To join again, and with worse sting arise,

And with the marks of good success As it had done when cut in pieces twice.

Sign his allowance of their wickedness ? Return, return, ye sacred Four !

Vain men! who thought the Divine Power to find And dread your perish'd enemies no more. In the fierce thunder and the violent wind : Your fears are causeless all, and vajn,

God came not till the storm was past; • Whilst you return in Charles's train;

In the still voice of Peace he came at last!
For God does him, that he might you, restore, | The cruel business of destruction
Nor shall the world him only call

May by the claws of the great fiend be done; Defender of the Faith, but of you all.

Here, here we see th’ Almighty's hand indeed, Along with you plenty and riches go,

Both by the beauty of the work we see't, and by With a full tide to every port they fow,

the speed. With a warm fruitful wind o'er all the country He who had seen the noble British heir, blow.

Even in that ill disadvantageous light Honour does, as ye march, her trumpet sound, With which misfortune strives t'abuse our sight The Arts encompass you around,

He who had seen him in his cloud so brightAnd, against all alarms of Fear,

He who had seen the double pair Safety itself brings up the rear.

Of brothers, heavenly good! and sisters, hea. And, in the head of this angelic band,

venly fair! Lo! how the goodly prince at last does stand

Might have perceiv'd, methinks, with ease, (O righteous God!) on his own happy land:

(But wicked men see only what they please) 'Tis happy now, which could with so much ease

That God had no intent t'extinguish quite Recover from so desperate a disease;

The pious king's eclipsed right. A various complicated ill,

He who had seen how by the Power Divine Whose every symptom was enough to kill;

All the young branches of this royal line In which one part of three frenzy possest, Did in their fire, without consuming, shine And lethargy the rest :

How thrungh a rough Red-sea they had been led, 'Tis happy, which no bleeding does endure,

By wonders guarded, and by wonders fedA surfeit of such blood to cure :

How many years of trouble and distress "Tis happy, which beholds the flame

They 'ad wander'd in their fatal wilderness, In which by hostile hands it ought to burn,

And yet did never murmur or repine; Or that which, if from Heaven it came,

Might, methinks, plainly understand, It did but well deserve, all into bonfire turn.

That, after all these conquer'd trials past, We fear'd (and almost touch'd the black degree Th’Almighty mercy would at last Of instant expectation)

Conduct them, with a stong unerring hand, That the three dreadful angels we,

To their own promis'd land: Of famine, sword, and plague, should here esta For all the glories of the Earth blish'd see,

Qught to b entail'd by right of birtlı; (God's great triumvirate of desolation !)

And all Heaven's blessings to come dowa: Toʻscourge and to destroy the sinful nation. Upon his race, to whom alone was given Justly might Heaven Protectors such as those, The double royalty of Earth and Ileaven; And such committees, for their pafety, impose Who crown'd the kingly with the martyr's l'pon a land which scarcely better chose,


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