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IV.

Our Countrey claims, indeed, our chiefeft Cares
And in our Thoughts deferves the tend'reft fhare
Her to a thousand Friends we shou'd prefer,
But not betray 'em, tho' it be for her.
Hard is his Heart whom no Defert can move,

A Wife, a Mistress, or a Friend to Love,
Above what e'er he does befides enjoy;

But may he for their Sakes his Sire, or Sons destroy
Sacred be all the Tyes of publick Good;
We to our Country owe our dearest Blood;
To fuffer in her Service, were a Blifs,
And ev'n to fall, the nobleft Fate that is;
So brave a Death, tho' in Youth's early Bloom,
Is above all the longeft. Life to come;
But 'tis not, furely, of fo great Renown,
To take another's, as to lofe our own:

Of all that's ours we cannot give too much,

But what belongs to Friendship, Oh! 'tis Sacrilege to

V.

Can we stand by unmov'd, and fee

Our Mother robb'd, and ravish'd? Can we be
Excus'd, if in her Cause we never stir,

[touch

Pleas'd with the Strength and Beauty of the Ravisher?
Thus Sings our Bard with almoft Heat Divine;
'Tis pity that his Thought was not as ftrong, as fine;
Wou'd it more justly did the Cafe express,
Or that its Beauty, and its Grace were lefs.
(Thus a loose Nymph fometimes we see,
Who fo charming feems to be,
That, jealous of a foft Surprize,
We scarce dare truft our eager Eyes.).
So dangerous an Ambush to escape,

We fhall not plead a willing Rape;

A Valiant Son wou'd be provok'd the more; AForce we therefore must confefs,but acted long before.

* Mr. Cowley.

A Marriage fince did intervene,

With all the folemn, and the facred Scene;
Loud was the Hymenean Song,

The violated Dame walk'd smilingly along,
And in the midst of the most facred Dance,
As if enamour'd of his Sight,
Often fhe caft a kind admiring Glance
On the bold Struggler for Delight

Who afterwards appear'd fo moderate and cool,
As if for Publick good alone he so afpir'd to Rule,

VI.

But, oh! that this were all the Mufe 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 facred and fublimest Thing! The nobleft Quality, and chiefeft Good! (In this bafe Age scarce underftocd) Infpires us with unusual Warmth its injur'd Rites to fing. Affift, ye Angels, whose 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 Course as far from any End, as when at first begun You faw, and fmil'd on this most 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 least Cement cou'd appear, by which their Souls [were join'd. That Tie which holds our Mortal Frame, Which poor unknowing We a Soul and Body name,

* Rome,

Seems not a Composition more Divine,

Or more abftrufe than all that does in Friendship shine.

VII.

From mighty Cafar's boundless Grace,
Brutus indeed his Life receiv'd;
But Obligations, tho' fo great believ❜d,
We count but flight in fuch a Case,
Where Friendship fo poffeffes all the Place,

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 fo 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 beft and dearest Friend;
Did all his Care and Credit bend

To Spirit others up, to work his barb'rous end;
Himself the Center where they all did join.
Cafar, mean time, fearlefs, and fond of him,
Was as induftrious all the while

To give fuch ample Marks of his Esteem,
As made the Graveft Romans fmile

[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 less a thing for him provide,

Than to the World's great Empire to fucceed:
Which we are bound in Juftice to allow,

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 EPITAPII on the Lady WHitmore,

By Mr. DRYDEN.

FAIR, Kind, and True, a Treasure each alone;

Wife, à Miftress, and a Friend in one;

Reft in this Tomb, rais'd at thy Husband's coft,
Here fadly fumming, what he had, and loft.
Come Virgins, ere in equal Bands you join,
Come first and offer at her facred Shrine;
Pray but for half the Virtues of this Wife,
Compound for all the reft, with longer Life.
And wish your Vows like hers may be return'd,
So Lov'd when Living, and when Dead To Mourn'd.

An EPITAPH on Sir PALMES FAIRBONE's Tomb in Westminfter-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.

E Sacred Relicks which your Marble keep,

Yecundifturb'd by Wars in quiet fleep:

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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 Applaufe,
Against the Moors his well-flefh'd Sword he draws;
The fame the Courage, and the fame the Cause.

His Youth and Age, his Life and Death combine, As in fome great and regular Design,

All of a Piece throughout, and all Divine.

ine.

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Still nearer Heaven his Virtues fhone more bright,
Like rifing Flames expanding in their height,
The Martyr's Glory Crown'd the Soldier's Fight.
More bravely British General never fell,
Nor General's Death was e'er reveng'd fo well,
Which his pleas'd Eyes beheld before their close,
Follow'd by thousand Victims of his Foes.
To his lamented lofs for time to come,
His pious Widow Confecrates this Tomb.

Good Counsel to a young Maid.
By T. CAREW, Efq;

Hen

W you the Sun-burnt Pilgrim fee,

Fainting with Thirft, hafte to the Springs;

Mark how at firft with bended Knee

He courts the cryftal Nymphs, and flings His Body to the Earth; where he Proftrate adores the flowing Deity.

But when his sweaty Face is drencht

In her cool Waves, when from her fweet
Bofom his burning Thirst is quench'd;
Then mark how with difdainful Feet
He kicks her Banks, and from the place
That thus refresh'd him, moves with fullen pace.

So fhalt thou be defpis'd, fair Maid,
When by the fated Lover tafted;
What firft he did with Tears invade,

Shall afterwards with Scorn be wasted;
When all the Virgin-fprings grow dry,

When no Streams fhall be left, but in thine Eye.

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