One, who to all the Heights of Learning bred,
Read Books, and Men, and practis'd what he read.
Round the wide Globe scarce did the busy Sun
With greater Hafte, and greater Luftre run.
True Gallantry and Grandeur he defcry'd,
From the French Fopperies, and German Pride.
And like th' induftrious Bee, where-e'er he flew,
Gather'd the Sweets which on fweet Bloffoms grew.
Babel's confufed Speeches on his Tongue,
With a sweet Harmony and Concord hung.
More Countries than for Homer did contest,
Do strive who most were by his Prefence bleft.
Nor did his Wisdom damp his martial Fire,
Minerva both her Portions did inspire,
Use of the warlike Bow, and peaceful Lyre.
So Cæfar doubly triumph'd when he wrote,
Showing like Wit, as Valour when he fought.
If God, as Plato taught, Example takes

From his own Works, and Souls by Patterns makes,
Much of himself in him he did unfold,

And caft them in his darling Sidney's Mold,
Of too refin'd a Subftance to be old.
Both did alike difdain an Hero's Rage,
Shou'd come like an Inheritance by Age.
Ambitiously did both conspire to twist.
Bays with the Ivy, with their Temples kift:
Scorning to wait the flow advance of Time,
Both fell like early Bloffoms in their Prime,
By blind Events, and Providence's Crime.
Yet both, like Codrus, o'er their yielding Foe
Obtain'd the Conqueft, in their Overthrow ;
And longer Life do purchase by their Death,
In Fame compleating what they want in Breath.
Oh! had kind Fate ftretch'd the contracted Span,
To the full Glories of a perfect Man;

And as he grew, cou'd ev'ry rolling Year
A new Addition to our Wonder bear,

}

}

}

H

H' had paid to his illuftrious Line that Stock

Of antient Honour, which from thence he took.
But oh!

So hafty Fruits, and too ambitious Flow'rs,
Scorning the midwifry of rip'ning Show'rs,
In spite of Frofts, fpring from th' unwilling Earth,
But find a Nip untimely as their Birth:
Abortive Iffues fo delude the Womb,

And scarce have being, ere they want a Tomb.
Forgive, my Lord, the Mufe, that does afpire
With a new Breath to fan your raging Fire;
Whofe each officious and unskilful Sound
Can with fresh Torture but enlarge the Wound.
Cou'd I, with David, curfe the guilty Plain,
Where once more lov'd than Jonathan was slain;
Or cou'd I Flights high as his Merits raise,
Clear as his Virtue, deathlefs as his Praise;
None who, tho' Laurel's crown'd their aged Head,
Admir'd him living, and ador'd him dead,
With more Devotion fhou'd enrol his Name
In the long-confecrated Lift of Fame.
But fince my artlefs and unhallow'd Strain
Will the high Worth, it fhou'd commend, profane ;
Since I de pair my humble Verfe fhou'd prove
Great as your Lofs, or tender as your Love;
My Heart with Sighings, and with Tears mine Eye,
Shall the Defect of written Grief fupply.

A POEM dedicated to the Bleffed Memory of ber late Gracious Majesty Queen MARY.

ONCE more, my Mufe,---we muft an Altar raise ;--

May it prove lafting, as Maria's Praife;

And, the Song ended, be the Swan's thy Doom;
Reft ever filent, as Maria's Tomb.

But

But whence fhall we begin? or whither steer?
Her Virtues like a perfect Round appear,
Where Judgment lies in Admiration loft,
Not knowing which it fhould diftinguifh moft.
Sole Angel from your own, describe her Frame,
For fure your godlike Beings are the fame:
All that was charming in the fairer kind,
With manly Senfe, and Resolution join'd;
A Mien compos'd of Mildness and of State,
Not by Conftraint, or Affectation, great;
But form'd by Nature for fupreme Command;
Like Eve juft moulded by the Maker's Hand;
Yet fuch her Meeknefs, as half-vail'd the Throne,
Left being in too great a Luftre fhown,
It might debar the Subject of Access,

And make her Mercies, and our Comforts lefs.
So Gods, of old, descending from their Sphere
To vifit Men, like Mortals did appear:
Left their too awful Prefence fhould affright
Those whom they meant to blefs, and to delight.
Thus to the Noon of her high Glory run,
From her bright Orb, diffufive like the Sun,
She did her healing Influence difplay,
And cherish'd all our nether World, that lay
Within the Circle of her radiant Day;
Reliev'd not only thofe who Bounty fought,
But gave unask'd, and as fhe gave, forgot;
Found modeft Want in her obfcure Retreat,
And courted tim'rous Virtue to be great.

The Church, which William fav'd, was Mary's Care,
Taught by her Life, and guarded by her Pray'r;
What her Devotions were, you Cherubs, tell,
Who ever round the Seat of Mercy dwell;
For here she wou'd not have her Goodness known,
But you beheld how the addrefs'd the Throne,
And wonder'd at a Zeal fo like your own.

Since she was form'd, and lov'd, and pray'd like you,
She fhou'd, alas! have been immortal too.

}

A

A Mind fo good, in beauteous Strength array'd,
Affur'd our Hopes fhe might be long obey'd,
And we, with heightned Rev'rence, might have seen
The hoary Grandeur of an aged Queen,

Who might, with William, jointly govern here,
As that bright Pair which rules the heav'nly Sphere.
Grace and mild Mercy beft in her were shown,
In him the rougher Virtues of the Throne;
Of Juftice the at home the Balance held;
Abroad, Oppreffion by his Sword was quell'd;
The gen'rous Lion, and the peaceful Dove;
The God of Battle, and the Queen of Love,
Did in their happy Nuptials well agree;
Like Mars, he led our Armies out; and the
With Smiles prefided o'er her native Sea.

Such too their Meetings, when our Monarch came
With Laurels loaden, and immortal Fame;
As when the God on Hamus quits his Arms,
Softning his Toils in Cytherea's Charms:
Then with what Joy did the the Victor meet,
And lay the Reins of Empire at his Feet?
With the fame Temper as the * Latian Hind
Was made Dictator, conquer'd, and refign'd;
So Pallas from the dufty Field withdrew,
And when imperial Jove appear'd in view,
Refum'd her female Arts, the Spindle and the Clew;
Forgot the Scepter the fo well had sway'd,
And with that Mildness, she had rul'd, obey'd;
Pleas'd with the Change, and unconcern'd as Jove,
When in difguife he leaves his Pow'r above,
And drowns all other Attributes in Love.
Such, mighty Sir, if yet the facred Ear

Of Majesty in grief vouchfafe to hear,
Was the lov'd Confort of thy Crown and Bed,
Our Joy while living; our Despair now dead.

Yet tho' with Mary one Supporter fall,

Thy Virtue can alone fuftain the Ball.

Lucius Quintius.

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}

O

Of Sibyl's Books, that Volume which remain'd,
The perfect Value of the whole retain❜d.
When in the fiery Car Elijah fled,

His Spirit doubled on his Partner's Head:
So will thy People's Love, now Mary's gone,
Unite both Streams, and flow on thee alone.
The grateful Senate with one Voice combine
To breathe their Sorrows, and to comfort thine,
By bringing to thy view how Europe's Fate
Does on thy Counfels, and thy Courage wait:
But when the Vaftness of thy Grief they fee,
They own 'tis juft, and melt in Tears with thee.

Blush not, great Soul, thus to reveal thy Woe;
Sighs will have Vent, and Eyes too full o'erflow;
Shed by degrees, they pass unfelt away;
But raife a Storm and Deluge where they ftay.

The braveft Heroes have the fofteft Mind,
Their Natures like the Gods, to love inclin'd.
Homer, who human Paffions nicely knew,
When his illuftrious Grecian Chief he drew,
Left likewife in his Soul one mortal Part,
Whence Love and Anguish too might reach his Heart 3
For a loft Mistress, in Defpair he fat,

And let declining Troy ftill struggle with her Fate:
But when the Partner of his Cares lay dead,
Like a rous'd Lion from his Tent he fled,
Whole Hecatombs of trembling Trojans flew,
And mangled Hector at his Chariot drew.
Still greater is thy Lofs,

be fuch thy Rage, As conquer'd Gallia only may affwage.

She who on Earth fecur'd thee by her Pray'r, Return'd to Heaven, fhall prove thy guardian Angel there; And hov'ring round thee with her heav'nly Shield, Unfeen protect thee in the doubtful Field. Go then, by different Paths to Glory go, The Church's both Eftates with Mary show; And while above fhe triumphs, fight below.

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