Among the reft, with Wonder be it told, That Brutus is ador'd for Cafar's Death; By which he ftill furvives in Fame's Immortal Breath: In whom we fhou'd that Deed the most dereft, As Snow descending from fome lofty Hill, In vain 'tis urg'd by an Illuftrious Wit, * (To whom I otherwise submit) That Cæfar's Life no Pity cou'd deferve From one who kill'd himself, rather than serve. Had Brutus chose rather himself to flay, Than any Mafter to obey, Happy for Rome had been that noble Pride; [dy'd: The World had then remain'd in Peace, and only Brutus For he, whofe Virtue wou'd disdain to own Subjection to a Tyrant's Frown, And his own Life had rather end, [his Friend. Wou'd fure, much rather kill himself, than only hurt To his own Sword in the Philippian Field, Brutus indeed at last did yield; But in thofe Times fuch Actions were not rare, In hopes another Cafar would forgive; That fo he might for Publick Good, once more, Conspire against a Life which had spar'd his before. * Mr. Cowley. IV. Our Countrey claims, indeed, our chiefest Care; Above what e'er he does besides enjoy; But may he for their Sakes his Sire, or Sons deftroy Of all that's ours we cannot give too much, V. Can we stand by unmov'd, and fee Our Mother robb'd, and ravish'd? Can we be [touch. Pleas'd with the Strength and Beauty of the Ravisher? That, jealous of a foft Surprize, A Valiant Son wou'd be provok'd 'the more; AForce we therefore muft confefs,but acted long before. Mr. Cowley, A Marriage fince did intervene, With all the folemn, and the facred Scene; The violated Dame walk'd smilingly along, Who afterwards appear'd fo moderate and cool, VI. But, oh! that this were all the Muse can urge Against a Roman of so great a Soul! And that fair Truth permitted us to purge His Fact of what appears fo foul! Friendship, that sacred and sublimest Thing! The nobleft Quality, and chiefeft Good! (In this base Age scarce underftocd) Infpires us with unufual Warmth its injur'd Rites to fing Affift, ye Angels, whofe Immortal Bliss, Tho' more refin'd, chiefly confifts in this! How plainly your bright Thoughts to one another fhine! Oh! how ye all agree in Harmony Divine! The Course of mutual Love with equal Zeal ye run, A Courfe as far from any End, as when at first begun. You faw, and fmil'd on this moft worthy Pair, Who did betwixt them both fo many Virtues fhare; Some which belong to Peace, and fome to Strife, Thofe of a calm, and of an active Life, That all the Excellence of Human Kind, Concurr'd to make of both but one united Mind; Which Friendship did so fast and closely bind, Not the leaft Cement cou'd appear, by which theirSouls [were join'd. That Tie which holds our Mortal Frame, Which poor unknowing We a Soul and Body name, * Rome. Seems not a Compofition more Divine, Or more abftruse than all that does in Friendship shine. From mighty Cafar's boundless Grace, There is no room for Gratitude; fince he [can be. Who fo obliges, is more pleas'd, than his fav'd Friend Juft in the midst of all this noble Heat, While their great Hearts did both so kindly beat, That it amaz'd the Lookers on, And forc'd them to fufpect a Father and a Son; (Yet here ev'n Nature's felf did feem to be outdone) From fuch a Friendship unprovok’d to fall, Is Crime enough; but oh, that fuch a Crime were all Which does, with too much Cause, ungrateful Brutus VIII. He calmly laid a long Defign Against his best and dearest Friend; Did all his Care and Credit bend To Spirit others up, to work his barb❜rous end; To give fuch ample Marks of his Esteem, [call! To fee with how much eafe Love can theWife beguile, For he, whom Brutus doom'd to bleed, Did, fetting his own Race afide, No lefs a thing for him provide, Than to the World's great Empire to fucceed: Is All-fufficient Proof to fhew That Brutus did not ftrike for his own fake; And if, alas, he fail'd, 'twas only by mistake. * Cæfar was fufpected to have begotten Brutus. An EPITAPH on the Lady WHITMORE, By Mr. DRYDEN. AIR, Kind, and True, a Treafure each alone; FAIR, and True, a each Reft in this Tomb, rais'd at thy Husband's coft, An EPITAPH on Sir PALMES FAIRBONE's Tomb in Weftminfter-Abby. Sacred to the Immortal Memory of Sir Palmes Fairbone Knight, Governor of Tangier; in Execution of which Command, he was mortally wounded by a Shot from the Moors, then Befieging the Town in the Forty Sixth Year of his Age. October 24, 1680. By the fame Hand. Y } E Sacred Relicks which your Marble keep, Here undisturb'd by Wars in quiet fleep: Discharge the Truft which when it was below Fairbone's undaunted Soul did undergo, And be the Town's Palladium from the Foe. Alive and dead thefe Walls he will defend, Great Actions great Examples must attend. The Candian Siege his early Valour knew, Where Turkish Blood did his young Hands imbrew. From thence returning with deferv'd Applause, Against the Moors his well-flesh'd Sword he draws; The fame the Courage, and the fame the Caufe. |