Of routed armies, when the field is won,

189 To reach the ears of her escaped son. He, though a league removed from the foe, Hastes to her aid; the pious Trojan 1 so, Neglecting for Creusa's life his own, Repeats the danger of the burning town. The men, amazed, blush to see the seed Of monsters human piety exceed. Well proves this kindness, what the Grecian sung, That love's bright mother from the ocean sprung. Their courage droops, and hopeless now, they wish For composition with th' unconquered fish;

200 So she their weapons would restore again, Through rocks they'd hew her passage to the main. But how instructed in each other's mind? Or what commerce can men with monsters find? Not daring to approach their wounded foe, Whom her courageous son protected so, They charge their muskets, and, with hot desire Of fell revenge, renew the fight with fire; Standing aloof, with lead they bruise the scales, And tear the flesh of the incensèd whales.

210 But no success their fierce endeavours found, Nor this way could they give one fatal wound. Now to their fort they are about to send For the loud engines which their isle defend; But what those pieces framed to batter walls, Would have effected on those mighty whales, Great Neptune will not have us know, who sends A tide so high that it relieves his friends. And thus they parted with exchange of harms; Much blood the monsters lost, and they their arms. 220

1. Trojan': Æneas.


The lark, that shuns on lofty boughs to build
Her humble nest, lies silent in the field;
But if (the promise of a cloudless day)
Aurora smiling bids her rise and play,
Then straight she shows 'twas not for want of voice,
Or power to climb, she made so low a choice;
Singing she mounts; her airy wings are stretch'd
T'wards heaven, as if from heaven her note she

So we, retiring from the busy throng,
Use to restrain the ambition of our song;

10 But since the light which now informs our age Breaks from the Court, indulgent to her rage, Thither my Muse, like bold Prometheus, flies, To light her torch at Gloriana's eyes; Those sov'reign beams which heal the wounded soul, And all our cares, but once beheld, control! There the poor lover that has long endured Some proud nymph's scorn, of his fond passion cured, Fares like the man who first upon the ground A glow-worm spied, supposing he had found A moring diamond, a breathing stone; For life it had, and like those jewels shone; He held it dear, till by the springing day Inform’d, he threw the worthless worm away.

She saves the lover as we gangrenes stay, By cutting hope, like a lopp'd limb, away; This makes her bleeding patients to accuse High Heaven, and these expostulations use:

Could Nature then no private woman grace, Whom we might dare to love, with such a face,


Such a complexion, and so radiant eyes,

Such lovely motion, and such sharp replies?
Beyond our reach, and yet within our sight,
What envious power has placed this glorious light?'

Thus, in a starry night, fond children cry
For the rich spangles that adorn the sky,
Which, though they shine for ever fixed there,
With light and influence relieve us here.
All her affections are to one inclined;
Her bounty and compassion to mankind;

To whom, while she so far extends her grace,
She makes but good the promise of her face;
For Mercy has, could Mercy's self be seen,
No sweeter look than this propitious queen.
Such guard, and comfort, the distressed find
From her large power, and from her larger mind,
That whom ill Fate would ruin, it prefers,
For all the miserable are made hers.
So the fair tree whereon the eagle builds,
Poor sheep from tempests, and their shepherds, shields;
The royal bird possesses all the boughs,
But shade and shelter to the flock allows.

Joy of our age, and safety of the next!
For which so oft thy fertile womb is vex'd;
Nobly contented, for the public good,
To waste thy spirits and diffuse thy blood,
What vast hopes may these islands entertain,
Where monarchs, thus descended, are to reign?
Led by commanders of so fair a line,
Our seas no longer shall our power confine.

A brave romance who would exactly frame,
First brings bis knight from some immortal dame,
And then a weapon, and a flaming shield,
Bright as his mother's eyes, he makes him wield.

None might the mother of Achilles be,
But the fair pearl and glory of the sea; 1
The man to whom great Maro gives such fame, 2
From the high bed of heavenly Venus came;
And our next Charles, whom all the stars design
Like wonders to accomplish, springs from thine.

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My charge it is those breaches to repair
Which Nature takes from sorrow, toil, and care;
Rest to the limbs, and quiet I confer
On troubled minds; but nought can add to her
Whom Heaven, and her transcendent thoughts have

Above those ills which wretched mortals taste.

Bright as the deathless gods, and happy, she
From all that may infringe delight is free;
Love at her royal feet his quiver lays,
And not his mother with more baste obeys.
Such real pleasures, such true joys' suspense,
What dream can I present to recompense?

Should I with lightning fill her awful hand,
And make the clouds seem all at her command;
Or place her in Olympus' top, a guest
Among the immortals, who with nectar feast;
That power would seem, that entertainment, short
Of the true splendour of her present Court,

1. Sea': Thetis. -* • Maro': Æneas,


Where all the joys, and all the glories, are 19
Of three great kingdoms, sever'd from the care.
I, that of fumes and humid vapours made,
Ascending, do the seat of sense invade,
No cloud in so serene a mansion find,
To overcast her ever-shining mind,
Which holds resemblance with those spotless skies,
Where flowing Nilus want of rain supplies;
That crystal heaven, where Phæbus never shrouds
His golden beams, nor wraps his face in clouds.
But what so hard which numbers cannot force?
So stoops the moon, and rivers change their course. 30
The bold Mæonian 1 made me dare to steep
Jove's dreadful temples in the dew of sleep;
And since the Muses do invoke my power,
I shall no more decline that sacred bower
Where Gloriana their great mistress lies;
But, gently taming those victorious eyes,
Charm all her senses, till the joyful sun
Without a rival half his course has run;
Who, while my hand that fairer light confines,
May boast himself the brightest thing that shines. 40


1 You gods that have the power

To trouble and compose
All that's beneath your bower,

Calm silence on the seas, on earth impose. 1. Mæonian': Homer._? • Puerperium': Fenton conjectures that this poem was written in 1640, when the Queen was delivered of her fourth son, the Duke of Gloucester.

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