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All are obnoxious! and this faulty Land,
Like fainting Esther, does before you stand,
Watching your sceptre: the revolted Sea
Trembles, to think she did your foes obey.
Great Britain, like blind Polypheme, of late,
In a wild rage, became the scorn and hate
Of her proud neighbours, who began to think,
She with the weight of her own force would sink.
But you are come, and all their hopes are vain;
This Giant Isle has got her eye again.
Now, she might spare the ocean, and oppose
Your conduct to the fiercest of her foes.
Naked, the Graces guarded you from all
Dangers abroad; and now, your thunders shall.
Princes that saw you different passions prove,
For now they dread the object of their love,
Nor without envy can behold his height,
Whose conversation was their late delight.
So Semele, contented with the rape
Of Jove, disguised in a mortal shape,
When she beheld his hands with lightning fill'd,
And his bright rays, was with amazement kill'd.
And though it be our sorrow and our crime,
To have accepted life so long a time
Without you here; yet does this absence gain
No small advantage to your present reign:
For, having view'd the persons and the things,
The councils, state, and strength, of Europe's kings,
You know your work; ambition to restrain,
And set them bounds, as Heaven does to the main.
We have you now with ruling wisdom fraught,
Not such as books, but such as practice, taught.
So the lost Sun, while least by us enjoy'd,
Is the whole night for our concerns employ'd:
He ripens spices, fruit, and precious gums,
Which from remotest regions hither comes.

This seat of yours (from th' other world remov'd)
Had Archimedes known, he might have prov'd
His engine's force, fix'd here; your power and skill
Make the world's motion wait upon your will.

Much suffering monarch! the first English-born,
That has the crown of these three nations worn!
How has your patience with the barbarous rage
Of your own soil contended half an age?
Till (your try'd virtue and your sacred word
At last preventing your unwilling sword)
Armies and fleets, which kept you out so long,
Own'd their great sovereign, and redress'd his wrong.
When strait the people, by no force compell'd,
Nor longer from their inclination held,
Break forth at once, like powder set on fire,
And, with a noble rage their king require.

So th' injur'd Sea, which from her wonted course,
To gain some acres, avarice did force,
If the new banks, neglected once, decay,
No longer will from her old channel stay;
Raging, the late-got land she overflows,
And all that's built upon't to ruin goes.
Offenders now, the chiefest, do begin
To strive for grace, and expiate their sin:
All winds blow fair, that did the world embroil;
Your vipers treacle yield, and scorpions oil.

If then such praise the Macedonian' got,
For having rudely cut the Gordian knot;
What glory's due to him, that could divide
Such ravell'd interests? has the knot unty'd,
And, without stroke, so smooth a passage made,
Where craft, and malice such impeachments laid?

Alexander.

But while we praise you, you ascribe it all
To his high hand, which threw the untouch'd wall
Of self-demolish'd Jericho so low:

His angel 'twas, that did before you go,
Tam'd savage hearts, and made affections yield,
Like ears of corn when wind salutes the field.
Thus, patience-crown'd, like Job's, your trouble
ends,

Having your foes to pardon, and your friends:
For, though your courage were so firm a rock,
What private virtue could endure the shock?
Like your great master, you the storm withstood,
And pity'd those who love with frailty show'd.
Rude Indians, torturing all the royal race,
Him with the throne and dear-bought sceptre grace
That suffers best: what region could be found,
Where your heroic head had not been crown'd?

The next experience of your mighty mind
Is, how you combat Fortune now she's kind :
And this way too you are victorious found;
She flatters with the same success she frown'd.
While, to yourself severe, to others kind,
With power unbounded, and a will confin'd,
Of this vast empire you possess the care,
The softer parts fall to the people's share.
Safety and equal government are things,
Which subjects make as happy, as their kings.

Faith, Law, and Piety (that banish'd train!)
Justice and Truth, with you return again :
The city's trade, and country's easy life,
Once more shall flourish, without fraud or strife.
Your reign no less assures the ploughman's peace,
Than the warm sun advances his increase;
And does the shepherds as securely keep,
From all their fears, as they preserve their sheep.
But above all, the muse-inspired train
Triumph, and raise their drooping heads again:
Kind Heaven at once has, in your person, sent
Their sacred judge, their guard, and argument.

Nec magis expressi vultus per ahenea signa, Quam per vatis opus mores animique virorum Claroruin apparent................ Horat.

ON ST. JAMES'S PĀRK,

AS LATELY IMPROVED BY HIS MAJESTY 2,

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Of the first Paradise there's nothing found,
Plants set by Heaven are vanish'd, and the ground;
Yet the description lasts: who knows the fate
Of lines that shall this Paradise relate?
Instead of rivers rolling by the side
Of Eden's garden, here flows in the tide:
The sea, which always serv'd his empire, now
Pays tribute to our prince's pleasure too.
Of famous cities we the founders know;
But rivers, old as seas to which they go,
Are Nature's bounty: 'tis of more renown
To make a river, than to build a town.

For future shade, young trees upon the banks
Of the new stream appear in even ranks :
The voice of Orpheus, or Amphion's hand,
In better order could not make them stand.
May they increase as fast, and spread their boughs,
As the high fame of their great owner grows!
May he live long enough to see them all
Dark shadows cast, and as his palace tall!

2 First printed in folio, 1661.

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OF THE INVASION AND
Methinks I see the love that shall be made,
The lovers walking in that amorous shade :
The gallants dancing by the river side;
They bathe in summer, and in winter slide.
Methinks I hear the music in the boats,
And the loud Echo which returns the notes:
While, overhead, a flock of newsprung fowl
Hanes in the air, and does the Sun controul;
Dart'ning the sky, they hover o'er 3, and shrowd
The wanton sailors with a feather'd cloud.
Beneath, a shoal of silver fishes glides,
to plays about the gilded barges' sides:
The ladies angling in the crystal lake,
Feast on the waters with the prey they take:
It mace victorious with their lines and eyes,
They make the fishes and the men their prize.
A thousand Cupids on the billows ride,

And sea-nymphs enter with the swelling tide:
Fra Thetis sent as spies, to make report,
And tell the wonders of her sov'reign's court.
All that can, living, feed the greedy eye,
fr dead, the palate, here you may descry;
The choicest things that furnish'd Noah's ark,
Or Peter's sheet, inhabiting this Park:

i with a border of rich fruit-trees crown'd,
These loaded branches hide the lofty mound.
Set various ways the spacious alleys lead,

[snow,

I doubtful Muse knows not what path to tread. Tader, the harvest of cold months laid up, Srs a fresh coolness to the royal cup: There ice, like crystal, firm, and never lost, Tampers bot July with December's frost; Titer's dark prison, whence he cannot fly, ugh the warm Spring, his enemy, draws nigh. re! that extremes should thus preserve the on the Alps, and in deep caves below. Here a well-polish'd Mall gives us the joy, see our prince his matchless force employ; anly posture, and his graceful mien, Ter and youth in all his motions seen; Es shape so lovely, and his limbs so strong, Cam our hopes we shall obey him long. No sooner has he touch'd the flying ball, Battis already more than half the Mall: And such a fury from his arm has got, As from a smoking culverin 'twere shot. Xay that ill fate his enemies befall, 26 stand before his anger or his ball!

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The structure by a prelate 4 rais'd, Whitehall,
Built with the fortune of Rome's capitol:
Both, disproportion'd to the present state
Of their proud founders, were approv'd by Fate.
From hence he does that antique pile behold,
Where royal heads receive the sacred gold:
It gives them crowns, and does their ashes keep;
There made like gods, like mortals there they sleep:
Making the circle of their reign complete,
Those suns of empire! where they rise, they set.
When others fell, this, standing, did presage
The crown should triumph over pop'lar rage:
Hard by that house, where all our ills were shap'd,
Th' auspicious temple stood, and yet escap'd.
So, snow on Etna does unmelted lie,
Whence rolling flames and scatter'd cinders fly;
The distant country in the ruin shares,
What falls from Heaven the burning mountain spares.
Next, that capacious hall 7 he sees, the room
Where the whole nation does for justice come;
Under whose large roof flourishes the gown,
And judges grave on high tribunals frown.
Here, like the people's pastor, he does go,
His flock subjected to his view below:
On which reflecting in his mighty mind,
No private passion does indulgence find:
The pleasures of his youth suspended are,
And made a sacrifice to public care.
Here, free from court compliances, be walks,
And with himself, his best adviser, talks:
How peaceful olive may his temples shade,
For mending laws, and for restoring trade:
Or, how his brows may be with laurel charg'd,
For nations conquer'd, and our bounds enlarg'd.
Of ancient prudence here he ruminates,
Of rising kingdoms, and of falling states:
What ruling arts gave great Augustus fame,
And how Alcides purchas'd such a name.
His eyes, upon his native palace bent,
Close by, suggest a greater argument:
His thoughts rise higher, when he does reflect
On what the world may from that star expect,
Which at his birth appear'd; to let us see,
Day, for his sake, could with the night agree:
A prince, on whom such different lights did smile,
Born the divided world to reconcile !

Whatever Heaven, or high-extracted blood,
Could promise, or foretell, he will make good:

Year this my Muse, what most delights her, sees Reform these nations, and improve them more,

Alving gallery of aged trees;

Baad sons of Earth, that thrust their arms so high,

Asif once more they would invade the sky.

Ich green palaces the first kings reign'd,

in their shades, and angels entertain'd; With meh old counsellors they did advise,

by frequenting sacred groves, grew wise. Tree from th' impediments of light and noise, Man, thus retir'd, his nobler thoughts employs.

ere Charles contrives the ordering of his states,
Bere he resolves his neighbouring princes' fates:
Fat nation shall have peace, where war be made,
Dearin'd is in this oraculous shade;
The urld, from India to the frozen North,
Sencer'd in what this solitude brings forth.
Es tancy objects from his view receives;
prospect thought and contemplation gives.
That seat of empire here salutes his eye,
To which three kingdoms do themselves apply;

In fol. edit. the air they hover,' &c.
TOL VIIL

Than this fair Park, from what it was before.

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66

His grand visier, presuming to invest
The chief imperial city of the West 9,

With the first charge compell'd in haste to rise,
His treasure, tents, and cannon, left a prize:
The standard lost, and janizaries slain,
Render the hopes he gave his master vain.
The flying Turks, that bring the tidings home,
Renew the memory of his father's doom;
And his guard murmurs, that so often brings
Down from the throne their unsuccessful kings.
The trembling sultan's forc'd to expiate
His own ill conduct by another's fate:
The grand visier, a tyrant, though a slave,
A fair example to his master gave;

He bassas' heads, to save his own, made fly,
And the sultan, to preserve, must die.

now,

The fatal bowstring was not in his thought,
When, breaking truce, he so unjustly fought;
Made the world tremble with a numerous host,
And of undoubted victory did boast.
Strangled he lies! yet seems to cry aloud,
To warn the mighty, and instruct the proud,
That of the great, neglecting to be just,
Heaven in a moment makes an heap of dust.

TO THE QUEEN,

UPON HER MAJESTY'S BIRTH-DAY, AFTER HER HAPPY
RECOVERY FROM A DANGEROUS SICKNESS.

FAREWELL the year, which threaten'd so
The fairest light the world can show.
Welcome the new! whose every day,
Restoring what was snatch'd away
By pining sickness from the fair,
That matchless beauty does repair
So fast, that the approaching Spring
(Which does to flow'ry meadows bring
What the rude Winter from them tore)
Shall give her all she had before.

But we recover not so fast
The sense of such a danger past;
We, that esteem'd you sent from Heaven,
A pattern to this island given,

To shew us what the bless'd do there,
And what alive they practis'd here,
When that which we immortal thought,
We saw so near destruction brought,
Felt all which you did then endure,
And tremble yet, as not secure.

The Turks so low, why should the Christians lose So, though the Sun victorious be,

Such an advantage of their barb'rous foes?
Neglect their present ruin to complete,
Before another Solyman they get?

Too late they would with shame, repenting, dread
That numerous herd, by such a lion led.

He Rhodes and Buda from the Christians tore,
Which timely union might again restore.

But, sparing Turks, as if with rage possest,
The Christians perish, by themselves opprest:
Cities and provinces so dearly won,
That the victorious people are undone !

What angel shall descend, to reconcile
The Christian states, and end their guilty toil?
A prince more fit from Heaven we cannot ask,
Than Britain's king, for such a glorious task:
His dreadful navy, and his lovely mind,
Gives him the fear and favour of mankind.
His warrant does the Christian faith defend;
On that relying, all their quarrels end.
The peace is sign'd, and Britain does obtain
What Rome had sought from her fierce sons in vain.
In battles won, Fortune a part doth claim,
And soldiers have their portion in the fame:
In this successful union we find

Only the triumph of a worthy mind.
'Tis all accomplish'd by his royal word,
Without unsheathing the destructive sword;
Without a tax upon his subjects laid,

Their peace disturb'd, their plenty, or their trade.
And what can they to such a prince deny,
With whose desires the greatest kings comply?

The arts of peace are not to him unknown,
This happy way he march'd into the throne;
And we owe more to Heaven, than to the sword;
The wish'd return of so benign a lord.

Charles, by old Greece with a new freedom grac'd,
Above her antique heroes shall be plac'd.
What Theseus did, or Theban Hercules,
Holds no compare with this victorious peace,
Which on the Turks shall greater honour gain,
Than all their giants and their monsters slain.
Those are bold tales, in fabulous ages told;
This glorious act the living do behold.

9 Vienna.

And from a dark eclipse set free,
The influence, which we fondly fear,
Afflicts our thoughts the following year.

But that which may relieve our care
Is, that you have a help so near
For all the evil you can prove;
The kindness of your royal love.
He, that was never known to mourn
So many kingdoms from him torn,
His tears reserv'd for you, more dear,
More priz'd, than all those kingdoms were!
For, when no healing art prevail'd,
When cordials and elixirs fail'd,

On your pale cheek he dropt the shower,
Reviv'd you like a dying flower.

SUNG BY MRS. KNIGHT TO HER MAJESTY,
HER BIRTH-DAY.

THIS happy day two lights are seen,
A glorious saint, a matchless queen;
Both nam'd alike, both crown'd appear,
The saint above, th' infanta here.
May all those years, which Catharine
The martyr did for Heaven resign,

Be added to the line

Of your blest life among us here!
For all the pains that she did feel,
And all the torments of her wheel,
May you as many pleasures share!
May Heaven itself content
With Catharine the saint!
Without appearing old,
An hundred times may you,
With eyes as bright as now,
This welcome day behold!

OF HER MAJESTY,
ON NEW-YEAR'S DAY 1683.

WHAT revolutions in the world have been!
How are we chang'd, since we first saw the que
She, like the Sun, does still the same appear,
Bright as she was at her arrival here!

ON

OF TEA...PROLOGUE FOR THE LADY-ACTORS.

Time has commission mortals to impair,
But things celestial is oblig'd to spare.

May every new year find her still the same
In health and beauty, as she hither came!
When lords and commons, with united voice,
The infanta nam'd, approv'd the royal choice:
Fest of our queens, whom not the king alone,
But the whole nation, lifted to the throne.

With like consent, and like desert, was crown'd
The glorious prince', that does the Turk confound.
Victorious both! His conduct wins the day,
And her example chases vice away.
Though louder fame attend the martial rage,
Ta greater glory to reform the age.

OF TEA,

COMMENDED BY HER MAJESTY.

Tas her myrtle, Phoebus has his bays;
Tea both excels, which she vouchsafes to praise.
The best of queens, and best of herbs, we owe
To that bold nation, which the way did show
To the fair region, where the Sun does rise,
Fase rich productions we so justly prize.
The Muse's friend, tea, does our fancy aid,
Laress those vapours which the head invade,
keeps that palace of the soul serene,
her birth-day, to salute the queen.

PROLOGUE FOR THE LADY-ACTORS:
SPOKEN BEFORE KING CHARLES II.

ARAZE us not with that majestic frown,
But lay aside the greatness of your crown!
And for that look, which does your people awe,
Then in your throne and robes you give them law,
Lay it by here, and give a gentler smile,
Such as we see great Jove's in picture, while
He listens to Apollo's charming lyre,
Or judges of the songs he does inspire.
Comedians on the stage show all their skill,
And after do as Love and Fortune will:
We are less careful, hid in this disguise;
la our own clothes more serious, and more wise.
Modest at home, upon the stage more bold,
We seem warm lovers, though our breasts be cold:
A fault committed here deserves no scorn,
live act well the parts to which we're born.

OF HER ROYAL HIGHNESS,

MOTHER TO THE PRINCE OF ORANGE:

AND OF HER PORTRAIT, WRITTEN BY THE LATE DUTCHESS OF

YORK WHILE SHE LIVED WITH HER.

Hanc nymph! in tempests the support,

peace the glory, of the British court! lts whose arms, the church, the state, and all That precious is, or sacred here, did fall. Aps to come, that shall your bounty hear,

think you mistress of the Indies were: Tegh straiter bounds your fortune did confine, your large heart was found a wealthy mine: Like the blest oil, the widow's lasting feast, Your treasure, as you pour'd it out, increas'd.

1John Sobieski, king of Poland.

67

While some your beauty, some your bounty sing,
Your native isle does with your praises ring:
But above all, a nymph of your own train
Gives us your character in such a strain
As none but she, who in that court did dwell,
Could know such worth, or worth describe so well.
So, while we mortals here at Heaven do guess,
And more our weakness than the place express,
Some angel, a domestic there, comes down,
And tells the wonders he hath seen and known,

TO THE DUCHESS OF ORLEANS,

WHEN SHE WAS TAKING LEAVE OF THE COURT AT DOVER,

[way:

THAT Sun of beauty did among us rise,
England first saw the light of your fair eyes.
In English too your early wit was shown:
Favour that language, which was then your own,
When, though a child, through guards you made your
What fleet, or army, could an angel stay?
Thrice happy Britain! if she could retain,
Whom she first bred, within her ambient main.
Our late-burnt London, in apparel new,
Shook off her ashes to have treated you:
But we must see our glory snatch'd away,
And with warm tears increase the guilty sea:
No wind can favour us; howe'er it blows,
We must be wreck'd, and our dear treasure lose!
Sighs will not let us half our sorrows tell-
Fair, lovely, great, and best of nymphs, farewell!

UPON

HER MAJESTY'S NEW BUILDINGS

AT SOMERSET-HOUSE.

GREAT queen! that does our island bless
With princes and with palaces:
Treated so ill, chas'd from your throne,
Returning, you adorn the town,
And, with a brave revenge, do shew
Their glory went and came with you.

While Peace from hence, and you, were gone,
Your houses in that storm o'erthrown,
Those wounds which civil rage did give,
At once you pardon and relieve.

Constant to England in your love,
As birds are to their wonted grove;
Though by rude hands their nests are spoil'd,
There, the next spring, again they build.

Accusing some malignant star,
Not Britain, for that fatal war,
Your kindness banishes your fear,
Resolv'd to fix for ever here.

Can such a pile from ruin rise?
But what new mine this work supplies?
This like the first creation shows,
As if at your command it rose.

Frugality and bounty too,
(Those diff'ring virtues) meet in you;
From a confin'd, well-manag'd, store,
You both employ and feed the poor.

Let foreign princes vainly boast
The rude effects of pride and cost;
Of vaster fabrics, to which they
Contribute nothing, but the pay:

Lady Anne Hyde.
dowager of king Charles I.

3 Henrietta Maria, queen

68

This, by the queen herself design'd,
Gives us a pattern of her mind:
The state and order does proclaim
The genius of that royal dame.
Each part with just proportion grac'd,
And all to such advantage plac'd,
That the fair view her window yields,
The town, the river, and the fields,
Entering, beneath us we descry,
And wonder how we came so high.

She needs no weary steps ascend;
All seems before her feet to bend :
And here, as she was born, she lies;
High, without taking pains to rise.

OF A TREE CUT IN PAPER.
FAIR hand! that can on virgin-paper write,
Yet from the stain of ink preserve it white;
Whose travel o'er that silver field does show,
Like track of leverets in morning snow.
Love's image thus in purest minds is wrought,
Without a spot, or blemish, to the thought.
Strange, that your fingers should the pencil foil,
Without the help of colours, or of oil!

For, though a painter boughs and leaves can make,
'Tis you alone can make them bend and shake;
Whose breath salutes your new-created grove,
Like southern winds, and makes it gently move.
Orpheus could make the forest dance; but you
Can make the motion, and the forest too.

TO A LADY,

FROM WHOM HE RECEIVED THE FOREGOING COPY, WHICH
FOR MANY YEARS HAD BEEN LOST.

NOTHING lies hid from radiant eyes;
All they subdue become their spies:
Secrets, as choicest jewels, are
Presented to oblige the fair:

No wonder then, that a lost thought

Should there be found, where souls are caught.

The picture of fair Venus (that

For which men say the Goddess sat)
Was lost, till Lely from your look
Again that glorious image took.

If Virtue's self were lost, we might
From your fair mind new copies write:
All things, but one, you can restore;
The heart you get returns no more.

OF THE LADY MARY,

PRINCESS OF ORANGE.

As once the lion honey gave,

Out of the strong such sweetness came;
A royal hero, no less brave,

Produc'd this sweet, this lovely dame.
To her, the prince that did oppose
Such mighty armies in the field,
And Holland from prevailing foes

Could so well free, himself does yield.

Not Belgia's fleet, (his high command)

Which triumphs where the Sun does rise;
Nor all the force he leads by land,

Could guard him from her conquering eyes.

Orange, with youth, experience has;

In action young, in council old:
Orange is what Augustus was,

Brave, wary, provident, and bold.

On that fair tree, which bears his name,
Blossoms and fruit at once are found:

In him we all admire the same,

His flow'ry youth with wisdom crown'd!

Empire and freedom reconcil'd

In Holland are, by great Nassau :
Like those he sprung from, just and mild,
To willing people he gives law.
Thrice-happy pair! so near ally'd,

In royal blood, and virtue too!
Now Love has you together ty'd,

May none this triple knot undo!
The church shall be the happy place
Where streams which from the same source run
Though divers lands awhile they grace,
Unite again, and are made one.

A thousand thanks the nation owes
To him that does protect us all,
For, while he thus his niece bestows,
About our isle he builds a wall;

A wall! like that which Athens had,
By th' oracle's advice, of wood:
Had theirs been such as Charles has made,
That mighty state till now had stood.

TO THE PRINCE OF ORANGE,
1677.

WELCOME, great prince, unto this land,
Skill'd in the arts of war and peace;
Your birth does call you to command,
Your nature does incline to peace.

When Holland, by her foes opprest,

No longer could sustain their weight;
To a native prince they thought it best
To recommend their dying state.
Your very name did France expel;

Those conquer'd towns which lately cost
So little blood, unto you fell

With the same ease they once were lost.
'Twas not your force did them defeat ;
They neither felt your sword nor fire;
But seemed willing to retreat,

And to your greatness did conspire.
Nor have you since ingrateful been,
When at Seneff you did expose,
And at Mount Cassal, your own men,
Whereby you might secure your foes.
Let Maestricht's siege enlarge your name,
And your retreat at Charleroy ;
Warriors by flying may gain fame,
And, Parthian-like, their foes destroy.

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