70

By worse hypocrites than men,

Till Monday comes to cheat again.
Ev'n among the nobleft-born

Moral virtue is a scorn;

Gratitude but rare at best,
And fidelity a jeft:

All our wit but party-mocks,
All our wisdom raising stocks;
Counted folly to defend
Sinking fide or falling friend.

30

35

Long an officer may serve;

Prais'd and wounded he may ftarve:

No receipt to make him rise

Like inventing loyal lies.

We, whofe ancestors have fhin'd

40

In arts of peace and fields of fame,

To ill and idlenefs inclin'd,

Now are grown a public fhame.

BANISHED TO BRUSSELS.

I FEEL a ftrange impulfe, a strong defire,

(For what vain thoughts will not a Muse inspire?}

To fing on lofty subjects, and to raise

My own low fame by writing James's praife.

Oft' have we heard the wonders of his youth, Obferv'd those feeds of fortitude and truth

5

Which fince have spread so wide, so wondrous high;
The good diftrefs'd beneath that shelter lie.

In arms more active than ev'n war requir'd,
And in the midst of mighty chiefs admir'd.
Of all Heav'n's gifts no temper is so rare
As fo much courage mix'd with so much care.
When martial fire makes all the spirits boil,
And forces youth to military toil,

10

15

No wonder it should fiercely then engage;
Women themselves will venture in a rage:
But in the midft of all that furious heat,
While fo intent on actions brave and great,
For other lives to feel fuch tender fears,
And, careless of his own, to care for theirs,
Is that compofure which a hero makes,
And which illuftrious York alone partakes
With that great man*, whofe fame has flown fo far,
Who taught him first the noble art of war.

20

Oh! wondrous Pair! whom equal virtues crown,

Oh! worthy of each other's vast renown!

26

None but Turenne with York could glory fhare, And none but York deserve fo great a master's care.

*The Marefchal de Turenne.

30

Scarce was he come to blefs his native ifle,
And reap the foft reward of glorious toil,
But, like Alcides, ftill new dangers call
His courage forth, and still he vanquifh'd all.
At fea, that bloody fcene of boundless rage,
Where floting caftles in fierce flames engage,
(Where Mars himself does frowningly command, 35
And by lieutenants only fights at land)

For his own fame howe'er he fought before,
For England's honour yet he ventur'd more.

In thofe black times when, faction raging high,
Valour and Innocence were forc'd to fly,
With York thy fled, but not deprefs'd his mind,
Still like a diamond in the duft it fhin'd.
When from afar his drooping friends beheld
How in diftrefs he ev'n himfelf excell'd;
How to his envious fate, his country's frown,
His brother's will, he facrific'd his own,
'They rais'd their hearts, and never doubted more
But that juft Heav'n would all our joys restore.

40

45

So when black clouds furround heav'n's glorious Tempeftuous darkness covering all the place, [face, If we difcern but the leaft glimmering ray 51

Of that bright orb of fire which rules the day,
The cheerful fight our fainting courage warms;
Fix'd upon that we fear no future harms.

54

WR

ON THE DEITY.

RETCHED Mankind! void of both strength and Dext'rous at nothing but at doing ill,

In merit humble, in pretenfions high,

Among them none, alas! more weak than I,

[skill,

And none more blind; tho' still I worthless thought The best Lever spoke or ever wrote.

But zealous heat exalts the humblest mind;
Within my foul-fuch ftrong impulfe I find
The heav'nly tribute of due praise to pay,
Perhaps 't is facred, and I must obey.

Yet fuch the subjects, various, and fo high,
Stupendous wonders of the Deity!
Miraculous effects of boundless pow'r!
And that as boundless goodness shining more!
All these fo numberless my thoughts attend;
Oh! where shall I begin, or ever end?

But on that theme which ev'n the wife abuse,
So facred, fo fublime, and fo abftrufe,

Abruptly to break off wants no excuse.

6

ΙΟ

}

While others vainly ftrive to know Thee more, 20 Let me in filent reverence adore,

Wishing that human pow'r were higher rais'd,
Only that thine might be more nobly prais'd!
Thrice happy angels in their high degree,
Created worthy of extolling Thee!

G

25

A DIALOGUE.

Sung on the Stage, between an elderly Shepherd and a very

young Nymph.

SHEPHERD.

BRIGHT and blooming as the fpring,

Univerfal love inspiring,

All our fwains thy praises fing,

Ever gazing and admiring.

NYMPH. Praifes in fo high a strain,

And by fuch a shepherd fung,
Are enough to make me vain,
Yet fo harmless and fo young.

SHEP. I fhould have defpair'd among
Rivals that appear fo gaily,

But your eyes have made me young

By their smiling on me daily.

NYMPH. Idle boys admire us blindly,

Are inconftant, wild, and bold,

And your using me fo kindly

Is a proof you are not old.

SHEP. With thy pleafing voice and fashion,

With thy humour and thy youth,

Cheer my foul, and crown my paffion;

Oh! reward my love and truth.

20

NYMPH. With thy careful arts to cover

That which fools will count a fault,

Trueft friend as well as lover,

Oh! deferve fo kind a thought.