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A Song

A Second Western Wonder

65 News from Colchester; or, a proper new Ballad 67

70 On Mr. John Fletcher's Works

71 To Sir Richard Fanshaw, upon his Translation of Pastor Fido

72 A Dialogue between Sir John Pooley and Mr. Thomas Killigrew

74 An occasional Imitation of a modern Author upon the Game of Chess

77 The Passion of Dido for Æneas

78 Of Prudence

87 Of Justice The Progress of Learning Cato Major of Old Age. A Poem





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And yet



HAT mighty gale hath rais'd a flight so strong?

So high above all vulgar eyes ? so long?
One single rapture scarce itself confines
Within the limits of four thousand lines:
I hope to see this noble heat

5 Continue, till it makes the piece compleat, That to the latter age it

may descend,
And to the end of time its beams extend.
When poesy joins profit with delight,
Her images should be most exquisite,
Since man to that perfection cannot rise,
Of always virtuous, fortunate, and wise;
Therefore the patterns man should imitatc
Above the life our masters should create.
Herein, if we consult with Greece and Rome,
Greece (as in war) by Rome was overcome ;
Though mighty raptures we in Homer find,
Yet, like himself, his characters were blind.
Virgil's sublimed eyes not only gaz’d,
But his sublimed thoughts to Heaven were rais'd.
Who reads the honours which he paid the gods,
Would think he had beheld their blest abodes;
* K &




And, that his hero might accomplish'd be,
From divine blood he draws his pedigree.
From that great judge your judgment takes its law, 25
And by the best original does draw
Bonduca's honour, with those heroes Time
Had in oblivion wrapt, his saucy crime;
To them and to your nation you are just,
In raising up their glories from the dust;

35 And to Old England you that right have done, To shew, no story nobler than her own.

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EADER; preserve thy peace; those bufy eyes

Will weep at their own fad discoveries;
When every line they add improves thy loss,
Till, having view'd the whole, they sum a cross;
Such as derides thy passions' best relief,
And scorns, the succours of thy easy grief,
Yet, left thy ignorance betray thy name
Of man and pious, read and mourn: the shame
Of an, exemption, from just fense, doth shew
Irrational, beyond excess of woe.

Since reason, then, can privilege a tear,
Mankood, uncenfur'd, pay that tribute here,

Upon 15

ON THE DEATH OF LORD HASTINGS. 145 Upon this poble urn. Here, here remains Duft far more precious than in India's veins : Within these cold embraces, ravilh'd, lies That which compleats the age's tyrannies : Who weak to fuch another ill appears For what destroys our hope, fecures our fear. What fin unexpiated, in this land Of groans, hath guided fo fevere a hand.? The late great vidim * that your altars knew, Ye angry gods, might have excus'd this new Oblation, and have spar?d one lofty light Of virtue, to inform our steps aright; By whofe example good, condemned we 25. Might have run on to kinder destiny. But, as the leader of the herd fell first A sacrifice, to quench the raging thirst Of inflam'd vengeance for past crimes; fo none But this white-farted youngling could atone, 30 By his untimely fate, that impious smoke, That sullied earth, and did Heaven's pity choak. Let it suffice for us, that we have lost In him, more than the widow'd world can boalt In any lump of her remaining clay.

35 Fair as the grey-ey'd morn he was; the day, Youthful, and climbing upwards still, imparts No haste like that of his increasing parts ; Like the meridian beam, his virtue's light Was seen, as full of comfort, and as bright. 48

* King Charles the Firft.


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Not only those I nam’d I there shall greet,
But my own gallant, virtuous Cato meet.
Nor did I weep, when I to ashes turn'd
His belov'd body, who should mine have burn'd.
I in my thoughts beheld his soul ascend,
Where his fixt hopes our interview attend :
Then cease to wonder that I feel no grief
From age, which is of my delights the chief.
My hopes, if this assurance hath deceiv'd,
(That I man's foul immortal have believ'd)
And if I err, no power shall dispossess
My thoughts of that expected happiness.
Though some minute philosophers pretend,
That with our days our pains and pleasures end.
If it be fo, I hold the safer side,
For none of them my error shall deride.
And if hereafter no rewards appear,
Yet virtue hath itself rewarded here,
If thofe, who this opinion have despis'd,
And their whole life to pleasure facrific'd,
Should feel their error, they, when undeceiv'd,
Too late will wish, that me they had believ'd.
If fouls no immortality obtain,
'Tis fit our bodies should be out of pain.
The same uneasiness which every thing
Gives our nature, life must also bring.
Good acts, if long, seem tedious ; so is age,
Acting too long upon this earth her stage.
Thus much for age, to which when you arrive,
That joy to you, which it gives me, 'twill give.


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