ΤΟ

THE EARL OF PETERBOROUGH,

ON HIS HAPPY ACCOMPLISHMENT OF THE MARRIAGE BETWEEN HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS AND THE PRINCESS MARY D'ESTE, OF MODENA. WRITTEN SEVERAL YEARS AFTER, IN IMITATION OF THE STYLE OF MR. WALLER.

H

IS Juno barren in unfruitful joys,

Our British Jove his nuptial hours employs: So Fate ordains, that all our hopes may be, And all our prospect, gallant York, in thee.

By the same wish aspiring queens are led, Each languishing to mount his royal bed; His youth, his wisdom, and his early fame Create in every breast a rival flame: Remotest kings sit trembling on their thrones, As if no distance could secure their crowns; Fearing his valour, wisely they contend To bribe with beauty so renown'd a friend. Beauty the price, there need no other arts, Love is the surest bait for heroes hearts: Nor can the fair conceal as high concern, To see the prince, for whom, unseen, they burn. Brave York, attending to the general voice, At length resolves to make the wish'd-for choice, To noble Mordaunt, generous and just, Of his great heart, he gives the sacred trust: "Thy choice," said he, “shall well direct that heart, Where thou, my best belov'd, hast such a part, In council oft, and oft in battle try'd, Betwixt thy master, and the world decide." The chosen Mercury prepares t'obey This high command. Gently, ye winds, convey, And with auspicious gales his safety wait, On whom depend Great Britain's hopes and fate. So Jason, with his Argonauts, from Greece To Cholcos sail'd, to seek the Golden Fleece. As when the goddesses came down of old On Ida's hill, so many ages told,

With gifts their young Dardanian judge they try'd, And each bade high to win him to her side;

So tempt they him, and emulously vie
To bribe a voice, that empires would not buy;
With balls and banquets, his pleas'd sense they bait,
And queens and kings upon his pleasures wait.

Th' impartial judge surveys with vast delight
All that the Sun surrounds of fair and bright,
Then, strictly just, he, with adoring eyes,
To radiant Esté gives the royal prize.
Of antique stock her high descent she brings,
Born to renew the race of Britain's kings;
Who could deserve, like her, in whom we see
United, all that Paris found in three.

O equal pair! when both were set above
All other merit, but each other's love.
Welcome, bright princess, to Great Britain's shore,
As Berecynthia to high Heaven, who bore
That shining race of goddesses and gods
That fill'd the skies, and rul'd the blest abodes:
From thee, my Muse expects as noble themes,
Another Mars and Jove, another James;
Our future hopes, all from thy womb arise;
Our present joy and safety, from your eyes,
Those charming eyes, which shine to reconcile
To harmony and peace, our stubborn isle.
On brazen Memnon, Phoebus casts a ray,
And the tough metal so salutes the day.

The British dame, fam'd for resistless grace,
Contends not now, but for the second place,
Our love suspended, we neglect the fair
For whom we burn'd, to gaze adoring here.
So sang the Syrens with enchanting sound,
Enticing all to listen and be drown'd;
Till Orpheus ravish'd in a nobler strain,
They ceas'd to sing, or, singing, charm'd in vain
This blest alliance, Peterborough, may
Th' indebted nation bounteously repay;
Thy statues, for the genius of our land,
With palm adorn'd, on every threshold stand.

**** Utinam modò dicere possem Carmina digna Deâ : Certè est Dea carmine digna.

SPOKEN BY the author,

BEING THEN NOT TWELVE YEARS OF AGE,

ΤΟ

HER ROYAL HIGHNESS

THE DUTCHESS OF YORK,

AT TRINITY COLLEGE IN CAMBRIDGE.

WHEN join'd in one, the good, the fair, the great,
Descend to view the Muses' humble seat,
Though in mean lines, they their vast joys declare,
Yet for sincerity and truth, they dare

With your own TASSO's mighty self compare.
Then, bright and merciful as Heav'n, receive
From them such praises, as to Heav'n they give,
Their praises for that gentle influence,
Which those auspicious lights, your eyes, dispense;
Those radiant eyes, whose irresistless flame
Strikes Envy dumb, and keeps Sedition tame:
They can to gazing multitudes give law,
Convert the factious, and the rebel awe;
They conquer for the duke; where-e'er you tread,
Millions of proselytes, behind are led;
Through crowds of new-made converts still you go,
Pleas'd and triumphant at the glorious show.
Happy that prince who has in you obtain'd
A greater conquest than his arms e'er gain'd.
With all War's rage, he may abroad o'ercome,
But Love 's a gentler victory at home;
Securely here, he on that face relies,

Lays by his arms, and conquers with your eyes.
And all the glorious actions of his life
Thinks well rewarded, blest with such a wife.

So Jove suspends his subject world to doom,
Which, would he please to thunder, he'd consume.
O! could the ghosts of mighty heroes dead,
Return on Earth, and quit th' Elysian shade!
Brutus to James would trust the people's cause;
Thy justice is a stronger guard than laws.
Marius and Sylla would resign to thee,
Nor Cæsar and great Pompey rivals be;
Or rivals only, who should best obey,
And Cato give his voice for regal sway.

ΤΟ

THE KING.

HEROES of old, by rapine, and by spoil.
In search of fame, did all the world embroil;
Thus to their gods each then ally'd his name,
This sprang from Jove, and that from Titan came:
With equal valour, and the same snccess,
Dread king, might'st thou the universe oppress ;
But Christian laws constrain thy martia! pride,
Peace is thy choice, and Piety thy guide;
By thy example kings are taught to sway,
Heroes to fight, and saints may learn to pray.

From gods descod, and of race divine,
Nestor in council, and Ulysses shine;
But in a day of battle, all would yield
To the fierce master of the seven-fold shield:
Their very deities were grac'd no more,
Mars had the courage, Jove the thunder bore.
But all perfections meet in James alone,
And Britain's king is all the Gods in one.

ΤΟ

THE KING

IN THE FIRST YEAR OF HIS MAJESTY'S REIGN.

MAY all thy years, like this, auspicious be, And bring thee crowns, and peace, and victory! Scarce hadst thou time t'unsheath thy conqu'ring It did but glitter, and the rebels fled : [blade, Thy sword, the safeguard of thy brother's throne, Is now as much the bulwark of thy own. Aw'd by thy fame, the trembling nations send Throughout the world, to court so firm a friend. The guilty senates, that refus'd thy sway, Repent their crime, and hasten to obey; Tribute they raise, and vows and off'rings bring, Confess their phrenzy, and confirm their king, Who with their venom overspread thy soil, Those scorpions of the state, present their oil. So the world's Saviour, like a mortal drest, Although by daily miracles confest, Accus'd of evil doctrine by the Jews, The giddy crowd their rightful prince refuse; But when they saw such terrour in the skies, The temple rent, their king in glory rise; Seiz'd with amaze, they own'd their lawful Lord, And struck with guilt, bow'd, trembl'd, and ador'd.

ΤΟ

THE KING.

Tro' train'd in arms, and learn'd in martial arts, Thou choosest, not to conquer men, but hearts; Expecting nations for thy triumphs wait,

But thou prefer'st the name of JUST to GREAT.

ΤΟ

THE AUTHOR,

ON HIS FOREGOING VERSES TO THE KING,
BY MR. EDMUND WALLER.

AN early plant, which such a blossom bears,
And shows a genius so beyond his years,
A judgment that could make so fair a choice,
So high a subject to employ his voice,
Still as it grows, how sweetly will he sing
The growing greatness of our matchless king.

ANSWER.

TO MR. WALLER.

TO THE IMMORTAL MEMORY OF

MR. EDMUND WALLER,

UPON HIS DEATH.

ALIKE partaking of celestial fire,
Poets and heroes to renown aspire,

'Till, crown'd with honour, and immortal name,
By wit, or valour, led to equal fame,

They mingle with the gods who breath'd the noble flame.

To high exploits, the praises that belong
Live, but as nourish'd by the poet's song.
A tree of life is sacred poetry,

Sweet is the fruit, and tempting to the eye;
Many there are, who nibble without leave,
But none, who are not born to taste, survive.
Waller shall never die, of life secure,
As long as Fame, or aged Time endure,
Waller, the Muses' darling, free to taste
Of all their stores, the master of the feast;
Not like old Adam, stinted in his choice,
But lord of all the spacious Paradise.

Those foes to virtue, fortune and mankind,
Fav'ring his fame, once, to do justice join'd;
No carping critic interrupts his praise;
No rival strives, but for a second place;
No want constrain'd (the writer's usual fate)
A poet with a plentiful estate;

The first of mortals who, before the tomb,
Struck that pernicious monster, Envy, dumb;
Malice and Pride, those savages, disarm'd;
Not Orpheus with such powerful magic charm'd.
Scarce in the grave can we allow him more,
Than living we agreed to give before.

His noble Muse employ'd her generous rage
In crowning virtue, scorning to engage
The vice and follies of an impious age.
No satyr lurks within this hallow'd ground,
But nymphs and heroines, kings and gods abound;
Glory, and arms, and love, is all the sound.
His Eden with no serpent is defil'd,
But all is gay, delicious all, and mild.

Mistaken men his Muse of flattery blame,
Adorning twice an impious tyrant's name;
We raise our own, by giving fame to foes,
The valour that he prais'd, he did oppose.

Nor were his thoughts to poetry confin'd,
The state and business shar'd his ample mind;
As all the fair were captives to his wit,
So senates to his wisdom would subinit;
His voice so soft, his eloquence so strong,

Like Cato's was his speech, like Ovid's was his song.
Our British kings are rais'd above the herse,
Immortal made, in his immortal verse;
No more are Mars and Jove poetic themes,
But the celestial Charles's, and just James:
Juno and Pallas, all the shining race

Of heavenly beauties, to the queen give place;
Clear, like her brow, and graceful, was his song,
Great, like her mind, and like her virtue strong.

Parent of gods, who dost to gods remove, Where art thou plac'd? And which thy seat above? Waller, the god of verse, we will proclaim, Not Phœbus now, but Waller be his name; Of joyful bards, the sweet seraphic choir Acknowledge thee their oracle and sire; The Spheres do hoinage, and the Muses sing Waller, the god of verse, who was the king.

ΤΟ

MYRA.

LOVING AT FIRST SIGHT.

No warning of th' approaching flame,
Swiftly, like sudden death, it came;
Like travellers, by light'ning kill'd,
I burnt the moment I beheld.

In whom so many charms are plac'd,
Is with a mind as nobly grac'd;
The case so shining to behold,

Is fill'd with richest gems, and gold.

To what my eyes admir'd before, I add a thousand graces more; And Fancy blows into a flame, The spark that from her beauty came.

The object thus improv'd by thought, By my own image I am caught; Pygmalion so, with fatal art,

Polish'd the form that stung his heart.

ΤΟ

MYRA.

WARN'D, and made wise by others flame,
I fled from whence such mischiefs came,
Shunning the sex, that kills at sight,
I sought my safety in my flight.

But, ah! in vain from Fate I fly,
For first, or last, as all must die;
So 'tis as much decreed above,
That first, or last, we all must love.

My heart, which stood so long the shock
Of winds and waves, like some firm rock,
By one bright spark from Myra thrown,
Is into flame, like powder, blown.

SONG. TO MYRA.

FOOLISH Love, begone, said I,

Vain are thy attempts on me; Thy soft allurements I defy, Women, those fair dissemblers, fly,

My heart was never made for thee. Love heard, and straight prepar'd a dart; Myra, revenge my cause, said he : Too sure 'twas shot, I feel the smart, It rends my brain, and tears my heart; O Love! my conqueror, pity me.

AN IMITATION

OF THE SECOND CHORUS IN

THE SECOND ACT OF SENECA'S THYESTES.

WHEN Will the gods, propitious to our prayers,
Compose our factions, and conclude our wars?
Ye sons of Inachus, repent the guilt

Of crowns usurp'd, and blood of parents spilt;
For impious greatness, vengeance is in store;
Short is the date of all ill-gotten power.
Give ear, ambitious princes, and be wise;
Listen, and learn wherein true greatness lies:

Place not your pride in roofs that shine with gems,
In purple robes, nor sparkling diadems;
Nor in dominion, nor extent of land :

He's only great, who can himself command,
Whose guard is peaceful innocence, whose guide
Is faithful reason; who is void of pride,
Checking ambition; nor is idly vain
Of the false incense of a popular train;
Who, without strife, or envy, can behold
His neighbour's plenty, and his heaps of gold;
Nor covets other wealth, but what we find
In the possessions of a virtuous mind.

Fearless he sees, who is with virtue crown'd,
The tempest rage, and hears the thunder sound,
Ever the same, let Fortune smile or frown,
On the red scaffold, or the blazing throne;
Serenely, as he liv'd, resigns his breath,
Meets Destiny half way, nor shrinks at Death.
Ye sovereign lords, who sit like gods in state,
Awing the world, and bustling to be great;
Lords but in title, vassals in effect,

Whom lust controuls, and wild desires direct:
The reins of empire but such hands disgrace,
Where Passion, a blind driver, guides the race.
What is this Fame, thus crowded round with
slaves?

The breath of fools, the bait of flattering knaves:
An honest heart, a conscience free from blaine,
Not of great acts, but good, give me the name:
In vain we plant, we build, our stores increase,
If conscience roots up all our inward peace.
What need of arms, or instruments of war,
Or battering engines that destroy from far?
The greatest king, and conqueror is he,
Who lord of his own appetites can be;
Blest with a pow'r that nothing can destroy,
And all have equal freedom to enjoy.

Whom worldly luxury, and pomps allure,
They tread on ice, and find no footing sure;
Place me, ye powers! in some obscure retreat,
O! keep me innocent, make others great :
In quiet shades, content with rural sports,
Give me a life remote from guilty courts,
Where, free from hopes or fears, in humble ease,
Unheard of, I may live and die in peace.

Happy the man, who, thus retir'd from sight,
Studies himself, and seeks no other light:
But most unhappy he, who sits on high,
Exposed to every tongue and every eye;
Whose follies blaz'd about, to all are known,
But are a secret to himself alone:

Worse is an evil fame, much worse than none.

A LOYAL EXHORTATION. WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1688.

Of kings dethron'd, and blood of brethren spilt,
In vain, O Britain! you'd avert the guilt;
If crimes, which your forefathers blush'd to own,
Repeated, call for heavier vengeance down.

Tremble, ye people, who your kings distress,
Tremble, ye kings, for people you oppress;
Th' Eternal sees, arm'd with his forky rods,
The rise and fall of empire 's from the gods.

OCCASIONED BY THE FOREGOING VERSES.

WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1690.

CEASE, tempting Siren, cease thy flattering strain,
Sweet is thy charming song, but sung in vain :
When the winds blow, and loud the tempests roar,
What fool would trust the waves, and quit the shore?
Early, and vain, into the world I came,
Big with false hopes, and eager after fame;
Till looking round me, ere the race began,
Madinen, and giddy fools, were all that ran;
Reclaim'd betimes, I from the lists retire,
And thank the gods, who my retreat inspire.
In happier times our ancestors were bred,
When virtue was the only path to tread :
Give me, ye gods! but the same road to fame,
Whate'er my fathers dar'd, I dare the same.
Chang'd is the scene, some baneful planet rules
An impious world, contriv'd for knaves and fools.
Look now around, and with impartial eyes
Consider, and examine all who rise;
Weigh well their actions, and their treacherous ends,
How Greatness grows, and by what steps ascends;
What murders, treasons, perjuries, deceit;
How many crush'd, to make one monster great.
Would you command? Have fortune in your power?
Hug when you stab, and smile when you devour?