How some go downward to the root,
Some, more ambitious, upwards fly,

And form the leaves, the branches, and the fruit. You strove to cultivate a barren court in vain, Your garden's better worth your noble pain; Here mankind fell, and hence must rise again.

Shall I believe a spirit so divine

Was cast in the same mould with mine?
Why then does Nature so unjustly share
Among her elder sons the whole estate,
And all her jewels and her plate?

Poor we, cadets of Heaven, not worth her care, Take up at best with lumber, and the leavings of a fate.

Some she binds 'prentice to the spade,
Some to the drudgery of a trade;

Some she does to Egyptain bondage draw,
Bids us make bricks, yet sends us to look out for
straw;

Some she condemns for life to try

To dig the leaden mines of deep philosophy:
Me she has to the Muse's galley tied;

In vain I strive to cross this spacious main,
In vain I tug and pull the oar,

And when I almost reach the shore,

Straight the Muse turns the helm, and I launch

out again:

And yet, to feed

my pride,

Whene'er I mourn, stops my complaining breath With promise of a mad reversion after death.

Then, sir, accept this worthless verse,
The tribute of an humble Muse,

"Tis all the portion of my niggard stars. Nature the hidden spark did at my birth infuse, And kindled first with indolence and ease, And since, too oft debauch'd by praise, 'Tis now grown an incurable disease. In vain to quench this foolish fire I try In wisdom and philosophy;

In vain all wholesome herbs I sow, Where nought but weeds will grow. Whate'er I plant (like corn on barren earth) By an equivocal birth

Seeds, and runs up to poetry.

ODE TO KING WILLIAM,

ON HIS

SUCCESSES IN IRELAND.

To purchase kingdoms, and to buy renown,
Are arts peculiar to dissembling France;
You, mighty monarch, nobler actions crown,
And solid virtue does your name advance.

Your matchless courage with your prudence joins, The glorious structure of your fame to raise ; With its own light your dazzling glory shines, And into adoration turns our praise.

Had you by dull succession gain'd your crown (Cowards are monarchs by that title made), Part of your merit Chance would call her own, And half your virtues had been lost in shade.

But now your worth its just reward shall have: What trophies, and what triumphs are your due; Who could so well a dying nation save,

At once deserve a crown, and gain it too!

You saw how near we were to ruin brought,
You saw the' impetuous torrent rolling on;
And timely on the coming danger thought,

Which we could neither obviate, nor shun.

Britannia stripp'd from her sole guard the laws, Ready to fall Rome's bloody sacrifice;

You straight stepp'd in, and from the monster's jaws Did bravely snatch the lovely, helpless prize.

Nor is this all; as glorious is the care

To preserve conquests, as at first to gain: In this your virtue claims a double share, Which what it bravely won, does well maintain.

Your arm has now your rightful title show'd,

An arm on which all Europe's hopes depend, To which they look as to some guardian god, That must their doubtful liberty defend.

Amaz'd, thy actions at the Boyne we see!

When Schomberg started at the vast design: The boundless glory all redounds to thee, [thine. The' impulse, the fight, the' event, were wholly

The brave attempt does all our foes disarm;

You need but now give orders and command, Your name shall the remaining work perform, And spare the labour of your conquering hand.

France does in vain her feeble arts apply,
To interrupt the fortune of your course:
Your influence does the vain attacks defy
Of secret malice, or of open force.

Boldly we hence the brave commencement date Of glorious deeds, that must all tongues employ? William's the pledge and earnest given by fate Of England's glory, and her lasting joy.

TO THE

ATHENIAN SOCIETY.

GENTLEMEN,

Moor Park, Feb. 14, 1691.

SINCE every body pretends to trouble you with their follies, I thought I might claim the privilege of an Englishman, and put in my share among the rest. Being last year in Ireland, (from whence I returned about half a year ago) I heard only a loose talk of your Society, and believed the design to be only some new folly just suitable to the age, which, God knows, I little expected ever to produce any thing extraordinary. Since my

being in England, having still continued in the country, and much out of company, I had but little advantage of knowing any more, till about two months ago passing through Oxford, a very learned gentleman there first showed me two or three of your volumes, and gave me his account and opinion of you. Awhile after I came to this place upon a visit to where I have been

ever since, and have seen all the four volumes, with their Supplements, which answering my expectation, the perusal has produced what you find enclosed.

As I have been somewhat inclined to this folly, so I have seldom wanted somebody to flatter me