POEM S.

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EARL OF PETERBOROUGH, On his bappy Accomplishment of the Marriage between bis Royal Highness and the Princess Mary d'Efte, of Modena. Written feveral years after, in imitation of the Style of Mr. Waller.

H'

IS Juno barren, in unfruitful joys,

Our British Jove his nuptial hours employs: So Fate ordains, that all our hopes may be, And all our profpect, gallant York, in thee.

By the fame with afpiring Queens are led,
Each languishing to mount his royal bed;
His youth, his wifdom, and his early fame
Create in every breast a rival flame :
Remoteft Kings fit trembling on their thrones,
As if no distance could fecure their crowns;
Fearing his valour, wifely they contend
To bribe with beauty fo renown'd a friend;
Beauty the price, there need no other arts,
Love is the fureft bait for heroes hearts:
Nor can the Fair conceal as high concern,
To fee the Prince, for whom, unfeen, they burn.
Brave York, attending to the general voice,
At length refolves to make the wish'd-for choice,
Te noble Mordaunt, generous and juft,
Of his great heart, he gives the facred truft :
"Thy choice, faid he, fhall well direct that heart,
"Where thou, my beft belov'd, haft fuch a part,
"In council oft, and oft in battle try'd,
"Betwixt thy mafter, and the world decide."

The chofen Mercury prepares t' obey
This high command. Gently ye winds convey
And with aufpicious gales his fafety wait,
On whom depend Great Britain's hopes and fate.
So Jafon with his Argonauts, from Greece
To Cholcos fail'd, to feek the Golden Fleece.
As when the Goddeffes came down of old

On Ida's hill, fo many ages told,

With gifts their young Dardanian Judge they try'd,
And each bade high to win him to her fide;
So tempt they him, and emulously vie

To bribe a voice that empires would not buy;
With balls and banquets, his pleas'd fenfe they bait,
And Queens and Kings upon his pleasures wait.

Th' impartial Judge furveys with vast delight
All that the fun furrounds of fair and bright,
Then, ftrictly just, he with adoring eyes,
To radiant Efte gives the royal prize.

VOL. V.

Of antique ftock her high defcent she brings,
Born to renew the race of Britain's Kings;
Who could deferve, like her, in whom we fee
United, all that Paris found in three.
O equal Pair! when both were fet above
All other merit, but each other's love.

Welcome, bright Princess, to Great Britain's fhore,
As Berecynthia to high Heaven, who bore
That shining race of Goddeffes and Gods
That fill'd the kies, and rul'd the bleft abodes:
From thee, my mufe expects as noble Themes,
Another Mars and Jove, another James;
Our future hopes, all from thy womb arife;
Our prefent joy and fafety, from your eyes,
Thofe charming eyes, which fhine to reconcile
To harmony and peace, our ftubborn Ifle.
On brazen Memnon, Phebus caste a ray,
And the tough metal, fo falutes the day.

The British Dame, fam'd for refiftless grace,
Contends not now, but for the fecond place,
Our love fufpended, we neglect the fair
For whom we burn'd, to gaze adoring here.
So fang the fyrens with enchanting found,
Enticing all to liften and be drown'd;
Till Orpheus ravish'd in a nobler ftrain,
They ceas'd to fing, or, finging, charm'd in vain.
This bleft alliance, Peterborough, may
Th' indebted Nation bounteously repay;
Thy ftatues, for the Genius of our land,
With palm adorn'd, on every threshold stand.
-Utinam modo dicere poffem

Carmina digna Dea: Certe eft Dea carmine digna.

Spoken by the Author, being then not twelve Years of Age, to her Royal Highness the Duchess of York, at Trinity College in Cambridge.

WHEN join'd in one, the Good, the Fair, the

Defcend to view the Mufes humble feat,

Though in mean lixes, they their vaft joys declare,
Yet for Sincerity and Truth, they dare

With your own TASSO's mighty felf compare.
Then, bright and merciful as Heav'n, receive
From them fuch praifes, as to Heav'n they give,
Their praifes for that gentle influence,

Which thofe aufpicious lights, your eyes, dispense;

B

Thofe

Thofe radiant eyes, whose irresistless flame
Strikes Envy dumb, and keeps Sedition tame
They can to gazing multitudes give law,
Convert the factious, and the rebel awe ;
They conquer for the Duke, where-e'er you tread,
Millions of profelytes, behind are led ;

Through crowds of new-made converts still you go,
Pleas'd and triumphant at the glorious show.
Happy that Prince who has in you obtain'd
A greater conqueft than his arms e'er gain'd.
With all War's rage, he may abroad o'ercome,
But Love's a gentler victory at home;
Securely here, he on that face relies,

Lays by his arms, and conquers with your eyes.
And all the glorious actions of his life
Thinks well rewarded, bleft with such a wife.

M

"AY all thy years, like this, aufpicious be, And bring thee crowns, and peace, and victory! Scarce hadft thou time t'unfheath thy conqu'ring blade, It did but glitter, and the rebels fled :

Thy fword, the fafeguard of thy brother's throne,
Is now as much the bulwark of thy own.
Aw'd by thy fame, the trembling nations fend
Throughout the world, to court fo firm a friend.
The guilty Senates, that refus'd thy fway,
Repent their crime, and haften to obey ;
Tribute they raife, and vows and off'rings bring,
Confefs their phrenzy, and confirm their King,
Who with their venom overspread thy foil,
Thofe fcorpions of the ftate, prefent their oil.

So the world's Saviour, like a mortal dreft,
Although by daily miracles confeft,
Accufed of evil doctrine by the jews,
The giddy crowd their rightful Prince refufe;
But when they faw fuch terror in the skies,
The temple rent, their King in glory rife;
Seiz'd with amaze, they own'd their lawful Lord,
And ftruck with guilt, bow'd, trembl'd, and ador'd.

TH

TO THE KING.

HO' train'd in arms, and learn'd in martial arts, Thou choofeft, not to conquer men, but hearts; Expecting nations for thy triumphs wait,

But thou prefer'ft the name of JUST to GREAT.
So Jove fufpends his fubject world to doom,
Which, would he pleafe to thunder, he'd confume.
O could the gholts of mighty heroes dead,
Return on earth, and quit th' Elyfian fhade!
Brutus to James would truft the people's caufe;
Thy justice is a stronger guard than laws.
Marius and Sylla would refign to thee,
Nor Cæfar and great Pompey rivals be;
Or rivals only, who fhould beft obey,
And Cato give his voice for regal fway.

H

TO THE KING.
EROES of old, by rapine, and by spoil,

In fearch of fame, did all the world embroil;
Thus to their Gods each then ally'd his name,
This fprang from Jove, and that from Titan came :
With equal valour, and the fame fuccefs,
Dread King, might'st thou the universe opprefs;
But Chriftian laws constrain thy martial pride,
Peace is thy choice, and Piety thy guide;
By thy example Kings are taught to sway,
Heroes to fight, and faints may learn to pray.

From Gods defcended, and of race divine,
Neftor in council, and Ulyffes fhine;
But in a day of battle, all would yield
To the fierce master of the seven-fold fhield:
Their very deities were grac'd no more,
Mars had the courage, Jove the thunder bore.
But all perfections meet in James alone,
And Britain's King is all the Gods in one.

W

HEN into Libya the young Grecian came,
To talk with Hammon, and confult for fame;
When from the facred tripod where he stood,
The priest infpir'd, filuted him a God;
Scarce fuch a joy that haughty victor knew,
Thus own'd by heaven, as I, thus prais'd by you.
Whoe'er their names can in thy numbers show,
Have more than empire, and immortal grow;
Ages to come fhail fcorn the pow'rs of old,
When in thy verfe, of greater Gods they're told;
Our beauteous Queen, and royal James's name,
For Jove and Juno fhall be plac'd by fame;
Thy Charles for Neptune fhall the feas command,
And Sachariffa fhall for Venus stand:

Greece fhall no longer boaft, nor haughty Rome,
But think from Britain all the Gods did come.

To high exploits, the praises that belong, Live, but as nourish'd by the Poet's fong.

A tree of life is facred Poetry,

Sweet is the fruit, and tempting to the eye; Many there are, who nibble without leave, But none who are not born to tafte, survive.

WALLER fhall never die, of life fecure,
As long as Fame, or aged Time endure,
WALLER, the Mufe's darling, free to taste
Of all their ftores, the mafter of the feaft;
Not like old Adam, ftinted in his choice,
But Lord of all the fpacious paradife.

Those foes to Virtue, Fortune, and Mankind,
Fav'ring his fame, once, to do justice join'd;
No carping critic interrupts his praife;
No rival ftrives, but for a fecond place;
No want conftrin'd; (the writer's ufual fate)
A Poet with a plentiful estate;

The first of mortals who before the tomb,
Struck that pernicious monfter, Envy, dumb;
Malice and Pride, thofe favages, difarm'd;
Not Orpheus with fuch powerful magic charm'd.
Scarce in the grave can we allow him more,
Than living we agreed to give before.

His noble mufe employ'd her generous rage
In crowning virtue, fcerning to engage
The vice and follies of an impious age.
No fatyr lurks within this hallow'd ground,

But nymphs and heroines, kings and gods abound;
Glory, and arms, and love, is all the found.
His Eden with no Serpent is defil'd,
But all is gay, delicious all, and mild.

Miftaken men, his Mufe of flattery blame,
Adorning twice an impious tyrant's name,
We raise our own, by giving fame to foes;
The valour that he prais'd, he did oppofe.

Nor were his thoughts to poetry confin'd,
The state, and bufinefs fhar'd his ample mind;
As all the Fair were captives to his wit,
So Senates to his wifdom would fubmit;

His voice fo foft, his eloquence so strong,

}

Like Cato's was his fpeech, like Ovid's was his fong.

Our British kings are rais'd above the herfe,
Immortal made, in his immortal verfe ;
No more are Mars and Jove poetic themes,
But the celeftial Charles's, and just James :
Juno and Pallas, all the fhining race

Of heavenly beauties, to the Queen give place;
Clear, like her brow, and graceful was his fong,
Great, like her mind, and like her virtue ftrong.

Parent of Gods, who doft to Gods remove,
Where art thou plac'd? And which thy feat above?
WALLER, the God of Verfe, we will proclaim,
Not Phœbus now, but WALLER be his name;
Of joyful Bards, the sweet seraphic choir
Acknowledge thee their oracle and fire;
The Spheres do homage, and the Mufes fing
WALLER, the God of Verfe, who was the King,

N

то MYRA.

LOVING AT FIRST SIGHT.
O warning of th' approaching flame,
Swiftly, like fudden death, it came ;
Like travellers, by light'ning kill'd,
I burnt the moment I beheld.

In whom so many charms are plac'd,
Is with a mind as nobly grac'd;
The cafe fo fhining to behold,
Is fill'd with richeft gems, and gold.
To what my eyes admir'd before,
I add a thousand graces more;
And Fancy blows into a flame,
The fpark that from her beauty came.
The object thus improv'd by thought,
By my own image I am caught;
Pygmalion fo, with fatal art
Polifh'd the form that ftung his heart.

W

ARN'D, and made wife by others flame,
I fled from whence fuch mifchiefs came,
Shunning the Sex, that kills at fight,
I fought my fafety in my flight.

But, ah! in vain from fate we fly,
For first, or iaft, as all muft die;
So 'tis as much decreed above,
That firft, or laft, we all must love.

My heart which stood fo long the fhock
Of winds and waves, like fome firm rock,
By one bright fpark from Myra thrown,
Is into flame, like powder, blown.