Since their commencement to his arms they

owe,

If springs as high as fountains may ascend.
He made us freemen of the continent,*
Whom nature did like captives treat before;
To nobler preys the English lion sent,
And taught him first in Belgian walks to roar.

That old unquestion'd pirate of the land,
Proud Rome, with dread the fate of Dunkirk
heard;
[stand,
And trembling, wish'd behind more Alps to
Although an Alexander were her guard.†
By his command we boldly cross'd the line,
And bravely fought where southern stars arise;
We trac'd the far-fetch'd gold unto the mine,
And that which brib'd our fathers made our
prize.

Such was our prince; yet own'd a soul above
The highest acts it could produce to show :
Thus poor mechanic arts in public move,
Whilst the deep secrets beyond practice go.
Nor died he when his ebbing fame went less,
But when fresh laurels courted him to live:
He seem'd but to prevent some new success
As if above what triumphs earth could give.
His latest victories still thickest came,
As near the centre motion doth increase;
Till he, press'd down by his own weighty name,
Did, like the vestal, under spoils decease.
But first the ocean as a tribute sent
The giant prince of all her watery herd;
And the isle, when her protecting genius went,
Upon his obsequies loud sighs conferr'd.

No civil broils have since his death arose,
But faction now by habit does obey;
And wars have that respect for his repose,
As winds for halcyons, when they breed at sea.
His ashes in a peaceful urn shall rest,
His name a great example stands, to show
How strangely high endeavours may be blest,
Where piety and valour jointly go.

He made us freemen, &c.] We may be said to have been made freemen of the continent by the taking of Dunkirk, which was wrested from the Spaniards by the united forces of France and England, and delivered up to the latter in the beginning of 1658. Derrick.

Although an Alexander, &c.] At this time Alexander VII. sat in the papal chair. D.

Now with a general) Waller, as well as Dryden altered his sentiments, and changed his notes, on the Restoration; and when the king hinted to him. the inferiority of his second poem to the former, answered, Poets, sir, succeed better in fiction than in truth.' What notice Charles took of Dryden's Astræa we are ignorant. Dr. Joseph Warton.

ASTREA REDUX.

A POEM ON THE HAPPY RESTORATION AND RETURN OF HIS SACRED MAJESTY CHARLES II. 1660.

Jam redit et Virgo, redeunt Saturnia regna. Virg.
The last great age foretold by sacred rhymes
Renews its finish'd course; Saturnian times
Roll round again.

Now with a general peace the world was blest,
While ours, a world divided from the rest,
A dreadful quiet felt, and worser far
Than arms, a sullen interval of war: [skies,
Thus when black clouds draw down the lab'ring
Ere yet abroad the winged thunder flies,
A horrid stillness first invades the ear,
And in that silence we the tempest fear.
The ambitious Swede, like restless billows tost,
On this hand gaining what on that he lost,
Though in his life he blood and ruin breath'd,
To his now guideless kingdom peace bequeath'd.
And heaven, that seem'd regardless of our fate,
For France and Spain did miracles create;
Such mortal quarrels to compose in peace,
As nature bred, and interest did increase.
We sigh'd to hear the fair Iberian bride,
Must grow a lily to the lily's side,
While our cross stars denied us Charles his bed,
Whom our first flames and virgin love did wed.
For his long absence church and state did groan;
Madness the pulpit,§ faction seiz'd the throne:
Experienc'd age in deep despair was lost,
To see the rebel thrive, the loyal crost:
Youth, that with joys had unacquainted been,
Envied gray hairs that once good days had seen;
We thought our sires, not with their own con-
tent,

Had, ere we came to age, our portion spent,
Nor could our nobles hope their bold attempt,
Who ruin'd crowns, would coronets exempt.
For when by their designing leaders taught
To strike at power which for themselves they
sought,

The vulgar, gull'd into rebellion, arm'd;
Their blood to action by the prize was warm'd.
The sacred purple then, and scarlet gown,
Like sanguine dye, to elephants was shown.

Madness the pulpit From the numerous ser mons preached before the parliament, particularly from 1640 to 1650, a variety of curious examples might be adduced to prove the justness of Dryden's assertion. And who can wonder at this assertion, when he is told that notifications of the following kind were affixed on walls and door-posts: 'On such a day such a brewer's clerk exerciseth; such a tailor expoundeth; such a waterman teacheth! See the Preface to Featly's Dippers Dipt, 4to. 1647. For a minute account of the ravings and rantings of many of the preachers before the parliament the reader is referred to a collection of extracts from their discourses, entitled Evangelium Armatum, printed soon after the Restoration of King Charles II. T.

Thus when the bold Typhoeus scal'd the sky, And forc'd great Jove from his own heaven to fly, (What king, what crown, from treason's reach

is free,

If Jove and Heaven can violated be?)

The lesser gods, that shar'd his prosperous state,
All suffer'd in the exil'd Thunderer's fate.
The rabble now such freedom did enjoy,
As winds at sea, that use it to destroy:
Blind as the Cyclop, and as wild as he,
They own'd a lawless savage liberty.
Like that our painted ancestors so priz'd,
Ere empire's arts their breasts had civiliz❜d.
How great were then our Charles his woes,
who
Was forc'd to suffer for himself and us! [thus
He, toss'd by fate, and hurried up and down,
Heir to his father's sorrows, with his crown,
Could taste no sweets of youth's desired age;
But found his life too true a pilgrimage.
Unconquer'd yet in that forlorn estate,
His manly courage overcame his fate.
His wounds he took, like Romans, on his breast,
Which by his virtue were with laurels drest.
As souls reach heaven while yet in bodies pent,
So did he live above his banishment.

That sun,
which we beheld with cozen'd eyes
Within the water, mov'd along the skies.
How easy 't is, when destiny proves kind,
With full-spread sails to run before the wind!
But those that 'gainst stiff' gales laveering go,
-Must be at once resolv'd and skilful too.
He would not, like soft Otho, hope prevent,
But stay'd and suffer'd fortune to repent.
These virtues Galba in a stranger sought,
And Piso to adopted empire brought.
How shall I then my doubtful thoughts express,
That must his sufferings both regret and bless?
For when his early valour Heaven had crost;
And all at Worcester but the honour lost;
Forc'd into exile from his rightful throne,
He made all countries where he came his own;
And viewing monarchs' secret arts of sway,
A royal factor for his kingdoms lay.

Thus banish'd David spent abroad his time, When to be God's anointed was his crime; And when restor'd, made his proud neighbours

Well might the ancient poets then confer
On Night the honour'd name of Counsellor,
Since struck with rays of prosperous fortune
blind,

We light alone in dark afflictions find.
In such adversities to sceptres train'd,
The name of Great his famous grandsire gain'd;
Who, yet a king alone in name and right,
With hunger, cold, and angry Jove did fight;
Shock'd by a Covenanting League's vast
As holy and as catholic as ours: [powers,
Till fortune's fruitless spite had made it known,
Her blows not shook but riveted his throne.
Some lazy ages, lost in sleep and ease,
No action leave to busy chronicles:
Such, whose supine felicity but makes
In story chasms, in epochas mistakes; [down,
O'er whom Time gently shakes his wings of
Till with his silent sickle they are mown.
Such is not Charles his too too active age,*
Which, govern'd by the wild distemper'd rage
Of some black star infecting all the skies,
Made him at his own cost like Adam wise.
Tremble, ye nations, who secure before,
Laugh'd at those arms that 'gainst ourselves we
bore;

Rous'd by the lash of his own stubborn tail,
Our lion now will foreign foes assail.
With alga who the sacred altar strews?
To all the sea-gods Charles an offering owes :
A bull to thee, Portumnus, shall be slain,
A lamb to you, ye tempests of the main :
For those loud storms that did against him roar
Have cast his shipwreck'd vessel on the shore.
Yet as wise artists mix their colours so,
That by degrees they from each other go :
Black steals unheeded from the neighb'ring
white.

Without offending the well-cozen'd sight:
So on us stole our blessed change; while we
The effect did feel, but scarce the manner see.
Frosts that constrain the ground, and birth deny
To flowers that in its womb expecting lie,

• Charles his too too active age] Original edition. Derrick prints, 'Such is not Charles's too too active age.'

See also before, ver. 49. Too too active age, was an ancient formulary. So in H. Parrot's Springes for Woodcocks, 12mo. Lond. 1613, Epigram 133. Lib. 1.

'tis knowne her iesting's too too evill.' And even in prose, as in Penri's Exhortation vnto the Gouernours, &c. of Wales, 1588, p. 51. 'The case is too too manifest.' Too too for exceeding is also used in the Lancashire dialect. I venture to add part of P. Fletcher's well-drawn character of Lasciviousness personified, Purp. Isl. edit. 1633, p. 90. 'Broad were his jests, wilde his uncivil sport; His fashion too too fond, and loosely light: A long love-lock on his left shoulder plight, Like to a woman's hair, well show'd a woman's sprite.' T'.

Do seldom their usurping power withdraw,
But raging floods pursue their hasty thaw.
Our thaw was mild, the cold not chas'd away,
But lost in kindly heat of lengthen'd day.
Heaven would no bargain for its blessings drive,
But what we could not pay for, freely give.
The Prince of peace would like himself confer
A gift unhop'd, without the price of war:
Yet, as he knew his blessing's worth, took care
That we should know it by repeated prayer;
Which storm'd the skies, and ravish'd Charles
from thence,

As heaven itself is took by violence.
Booth's forward valour only served to show*
He durst that duty pay we all did owe:
The attempt was fair; but heaven's prefixed
hour,

Not come so like the watchful traveller
That by the moon's mistaken light did rise,
Lay down again, and clos'd his weary eyes.
'T was Monk, whom Providence designed to
loose

Those real bonds false freedom did impose. The blessed saints that watch'd this turning

scene,

Did from their stars with joyful wonder lean,
To see small clews draw vastest weights along,
Not in their bulk but in their order strong.
Thus pencils can by one slight touch restore
Smiles to that changed face that wept before.
With ease such fond chimeras we pursue,
As fancy frames for fancy to subdue :
But when ourselves to action we betake,
It shuns the inint like gold that chymists make.
How hard was then his task! at once to be
What in the body natural we see!
Man's architect distinctly did ordain
The charge of muscles, nerves, and of the brain,
Through viewless conduits spirits to dispense;
The springs of motion from the seat of sense.
'T was not the hasty product of a day,
But the well-ripen'd fruit of wise delay.
He, like a patient angler, ere he strook,
Would let him play a while upon the hook.
Our healthful food the stomach labours thus,
At first embracing what it straight doth crush.
Wise leeches will not vain receipts obtrude,
While growing pains pronounce the humours
crude :

Booth's forward valour, &c.] In 1659, Sir George Booth assembled a considerable body of men for the king's service in Cheshire, and possessed himself of Chester, Chick-castle, and several other places, being joined by the Earl of Derby, Lord Kilmurray, Sir Thomas Middleton, Major-general Egerton, with other loyal gentlemen, who encountering with Lambert, general of the parliament's forces, were entirely routed at Winnington-bridge, near Northwich, in Cheshire, and most of the principal people made prisoners. D.

the ill,

Deaf to complaints they wait upon
Till some safe crisis authorize their skill.
Nor could his acts too close a vizard wear,
To 'scape their eyes whom' guilt had taught to
fear,

And guard with caution that polluted nest,
Whence Legion twice before was dispossest:
Once sacred house; which when they enter'd in
They thought the place could sanctify a sin;
Like those that vainly hop'd kind heaven would
wink,

While to excess on martyrs' tombs they drink.
And as devouter Turks first warn their souls
To part, before they taste forbidden bowls:
So these, when their black crimes they went
about,
[out,
First timely charm'd their useless conscience
Religion's name against itself was made;
The shadow serv'd the substance to invade :
Like zealous missions, they did care pretend
Of souls in show, but made the gold their end.
Th' incensed powers beheld with scorn from high
A heaven so far distant from the sky, [ground,
Which durst, with horses' hoofs that beat the
And martial brass, bely the thunder's sound.
"T was hence at length just vengeance thought
it fit

To speed their ruin by their impious wit.
Thus Sforza, curs'd with a too fertile brain,
Lost by his wiles the power his wit did gain.
Henceforth their fougue must spend at lesser

rate

Than in its flames to wrap a nation's fate.
Suffer'd to live, they are like Helots set,
A virtuous shame within us to beget.
For by example most we sinn'd before,
And glass-like clearness mix'd with frailty bore.
But since reform'd by what we did amiss,
We by our suff'rings learn to prize our bliss:
Like early lovers, whose unpractis'd hearts
Were long the may-game of malicious arts,
When once they find their jealousies were vain,
With double heat renew their fires again.
'Twas this produc'd the joy that hurried o'er
Such swarms of English to the neighb'ring shore,
To fetch that prize, by which Batavia made
So rich amends for our impoverish'd trade.
Oh, had you seen from Schevelin's barren shore,
(Crowded with troops, and barren now no more,)
Afflicted Holland to his farewell bring
True sorrow, Holland to regret a king!
While waiting him his royal fleet did ride,
And willing winds to their lower'd sails denied.
The wav'ring streamers, flags, and standard out,
The merry seamen's rude but cheerful shout;
And last the cannons' voice that shook the skies,
And as it fares in sudden ecstasies,
At once bereft us both of ears and eyes.

The Naseby, now no longer England's shame,
But better to be lost in Charles his name,
(Like some unequal bride in nobler sheets)
Receives her lord: the joyful London meets
The princely York, himself alone a freight;
The Swiftsure groans beneath great Gloster's
weight:

Secure as when the halcyon breeds, with these
He that was born to drown might cross the seas.
Heaven could not own a Providence, and take
The wealth three nations ventur'd at a stake.
The same indulgence Charles his voyage bless'd,
Which in his right had miracles confess'd.
The winds, that never moderation knew,
Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew :
Or out of breath with joy, could not enlarge
Their straighten'd lungs, or conscious of their
charge.

The British Amphitrite, smooth and clear,
In richer azure never did appear;
Proud her returning Prince to entertain
With the submitted fasces of the main.

AND welcome now, great monarch, to your own;
Behold the approaching cliffs of Albion:
It is no longer motion cheats your view,
As you meet it, the land approacheth you.
The land returns, and, in the white it wears,
The marks of penitence and sorrow bears.
But you, whose goodness your descent doth
shew,

Your heavenly parentage and earthly too:
By that same mildness, which your father's

crown

Before did ravish, shall secure your own.
Not tied to rules of policy, you find
Revenge less sweet than a forgiving mind.
Thus, when the Almighty would to Moses give
A sight of all he could behold and live;
A voice before his entry did proclaim
Long-suffering, goodness, mercy, in his name.
Your power to justice doth submit your cause,
Your goodness only is above the laws;
Whose rigid letter, while pronounc'd by you,
Is softer made. So winds that tempests brew,
When through Arabian groves they take their
flight,

Made wanton with rich odours, lose their spite.
And as those lees that trouble it refine
The agitated soul of generous wine:
So tears of joy, for your returning, spilt,
Work out, and expiate our former guilt.
Methinks I see those crowds on Dover's strand,
Who, in their haste to welcome you to land,
Chok'd up the beach with their still growing
And made a wilder torrent on the shore: [store,
While, spurr'd with eager thoughts of past de-
light,

Those, who had seen you, court a second sight,
Preventing still your steps, and making haste
To meet you often, wheresoe'er you past.
How shall I speak of that triumphant day,
When you renew'd th' expiring pomp of May!
(A month that owns an interest in your name:
You and the flowers are its peculiar claim.)
That star that at your birth shone out so bright,
It stain'd the duller sun's meridian light,
Did once again its potent fires renew,
Guiding our eyes to find and worship you.

And now time's whiter series is begun,
Which in soft centuries shall smoothly run:
Those clouds that overcast your morn, shall fly
Dispell'd to farthest corners of the sky.
Our nation with united interest blest,
Not now content to poise, shall sway the rest.
Abroad your empire shall no limits know,
But, like the sea,in boundless circles flow.
Your much-lov'd fleet shall, with a wide com-
Besiege the petty monarchs of the land: [mand,
And as old Time his offspring swallow'd down,
Our ocean in its depths all seas shall drown.
Their wealthy trade from pirates' rapine free,
Our merchants shall no more adventurers be:
Nor in the farthest east those dangers fear,
Which humble Holland must dissemble here.
Spain to your gift alone her Indies owes ;
For what the powerful takes not he bestows:
And France, that did an exile's presence fear,
May justly apprehend you still too near.

At home the hateful names of parties cease, And factious souls are wearied into peace. The discontented now are only they, [betray: Whose crimes before did your just cause Of those your edicts some reclaim from sins, But most your life and blest example wins. Oh happy prince, whom heaven hath taught the

way

By paying vows to have more vows to pay!
Oh happy age! Oh times like those alone,
By fate reserv'd for great Augustus' throne!
When the joint growth of arms and art fore-

shew

The world a monarch and that monarch you.

TO HIS SACRED MAJESTY.

A PANEGYRIC ON HIS CORONATION.

In that wild deluge where the world was drown'd
When life and sin one common tomb had found,
The first small prospect of a rising hill
With various notes of joy the ark did fill:
Yet when that flood in its own depths was
drown'd,

It left behind it false and slippery ground;

And the more solemn pomp was still deferr'd,
Till new-born nature in fresh looks appear'd.
Thus, royal sir, to see you landed here,
Was cause enough of triumph for a year:
Nor would your care those glorious joys repeat,
Till they at once might be secure and great:
Till
your
kind beams, by their continued stay,
Had warm'd the ground, and call'd the damps

away.

Such vapours,

while your powerful influence

dries, Then soonest vanish when they highest rise. Had greater haste these sacred rites prepar'd, Some guilty months had in your triumphs shar'd: But this untainted year is all your own; Your glories may without our crimes be shown. We had not yet exhausted all our store, When you refresh'd our joys by adding more: As heaven, of old, dispens'd celestial dew, You gave us manna, and still give us new.

Now our sad ruins are remov'd from sight, The season too comes fraught with new delight: Time seems not now beneath his years to stoop, Nor do his wings with sickly feathers droop : Soft western winds waft o'er the gaudy spring, And open'd scenes of flowers and blossoms bring,

Το grace this happy day, while you appear,
Not king of us alone, but of the year.
All eyes you draw, and with the eyes the heart:
Of your own pomp yourself the greatest part:
Loud shouts the nation's happiness proclaim,
And heaven this day is feasted with your name.
Your cavalcade the fair spectators view
From their high standings, yet look up to
From your brave train each singles out a prey,
And longs to date a conquest from your day.
Now charg'd with blessings while you seek

repose,

you.

Officious slumbers haste your eyes to close :
And glorious dreams stand ready to restore
The pleasing shapes of all you saw before.
Next to the sacred temple you are led,
Where waits a crown for your more sacred
head:

How justly from the church that crown is due,
Preserv'd from ruin, and restor❜d by you!
The grateful choir their harmony employ,
Not to make greater, but more solemn joy.
Wrapt soft and warm your name is sent on high,
As flames do on the wings of incense fly :
Music herself is lost, in vain she brings
Her choicest notes to praise the best of kings:
Her melting strains in you a tomb have found,
And lie like bees in their own sweetness
drown'd.

He that brought peace, all discord could atone,
His name is music of itself alone.

Now while the sacred oil anoints your head, And fragrant scents, begun from you, are spread Through the large dome; the people's joyful sound,

[possess,

Sent back, is still preserv'd in hallow'd ground;
Which in one blessing mix'd descends on you;
As heighten'd spirits fall in richer dew.
Not that our wishes do increase your store,
Full of your self you can admit no more;
We add not to your glory, but employ
Our time, like angels, in expressing joy.
Nor is it duty, or our hopes alone,
Create that joy, but full fruition:
We know those blessings, which we must
And judge of future by past happiness.
No promise can oblige a prince so much
Still to be good, as long to have been such.
A noble emulation heats your breast,
And your own fame now robs you of your rest.
Good actions still must be maintain'd with good,
As bodies nourish'd with resembling food.
You have already quench'd sedition's brand;
And zeal, which burnt it, only warms the land.
The jealous sects, that dare not trust their

cause,

So far from their own will as to the laws,
You for their umpire and their synod take,
And their appeal alone to Cæsar make.
Kind heaven so rare a temper did provide,
That guilt repenting might in it confide.
Among our crimes oblivion may be set;
But 'tis our king's perfection to forget.
Virtues unknown to these rough northern climes
From milder heavens you bring without their
crimes,

Your calmness does no after-storms provide,
Nor seeming patience mortal anger hide.
When empire first from families did spring,
Then every father govern'd as a king:
But you, that are a sovereign prince, allay
Imperial power with your paternal sway.
From those great cares when ease your soul
unbends,

Your pleasures are design'd to noble ends :
Born to command the mistress of the seas,
Your thoughts themselves in that blue empire
Hither in summer evenings you repair [please.
To taste the fraicheur of the purer air:
Undaunted here you ride, when winter raves,
With Cæsar's heart that rose above the waves.
More I could sing, but fear my numbers stays;
No loyal subject dares that courage praise.
In stately frigates most delight you find, [mind.
Where well-drawn battles fire your martial
What to your cares we owe, is learnt from
hence,

When even your pleasures serve for our defence.