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Slow to condemn, por partial to commend, That dark enigma (yet unriddled) Law, The brave man's patron, and the wrong'd man's Instead of doing right and giving awe, friend.
Kept open lists, and at the noisy bar, Now justly seated on th' imperial throne,
Four times a year proclaim'd a civil war, In which high sphere no brighter star e'er shone : Where daily kinsmen, father, son, and brother, Virtue's great pattern, and Rebellion's dread, Might damn their souls to ruin one another. Long may he live to bruise that serpent's head, Hence cavils rose 'gainst Heaven's and Cæsar's cause, Till all his foes their just confusion meet,
From false religions and corrupted laws; And growl and pine beneath his mighty feet ! Till so at last rebellion's base was laid, The second, for debates in council fit,
And God or king no longer were obey'd. Of steady judgment and deep piercing wit:
But that good angel, whose surmounting power To all the noblest heights of learning bred, Waited great Charles in each emergent hour, Both men and books with curious search had read: Against whose care Hell vainly did decree, Fathom'd the ancient policies of Greece,
Nor faster could design than that foresee, And having form'd from all one curious piece, Guarding the crown upon his sacred brow Learnt thence what springs best move and guide a From all its blackest arts, was with him now, state,
Assurd him peace must be for him design'd, And could with ease direct the heavy weight. For he was born to give it all mankind; But our then angry fate great Glo'ster seiz'd, By patience, mercies large, and many toils, And never since seem'd perfectly appeas'd : In his own realms to calm intestine broils, For, oh! what pity, people bless'd as we
Thence every root of discord to remove, With plenty, peace, and noble liberty,
And plant us new with unity and love; (shores, Should so much of our old disease retajn,
Then stretch his healing hands to neighbouring To make us surfeit into slaves again!
Where Slaughter rages, and wild Rapine roars; Slaves to those tyrant lords whose yoke we bore, To cool their ferments with the charms of Peace, And serv'd so base a bondage to before;
Who, so their madness and their rage might cease, Yet 'twas our curse, that blessings flow'd too fast, Grow all embracing what such friendship brings) Or we had appetites too coarse to taste.
Like us the people, and like him their kings. Fond Israelites, our manna to refuse,
But now (alas !) in the sad grave he lies, [it rise. And Egypt's loathsome flesh-pots murmuring choose. Yet shall his praise for ever live, and laurels from Great Charles saw this, yet hush'd his rising breast, For this assurance pious thanks he paid ; Though much the lion in his bosom prest:
Then in his mind the beauteous model laid But he for sway seem'd so by Nature made, Of that majestic pile, where oft, his care That his own passions knew him, and obey'd: A-while forgot, he might for ease repair: Master of them, he soften'd his command, A seat for sweet retirement, health, and love, The sword of rule scarce threaten'd in his hand : Britain's Olympus, where, like awful Jove, Stern majesty upon his brow might sit,
He pleas'd could sit, and his regards bestow But smiles, still playing round it, made it sweet: On the vain, busy, swarming world below. So finely mix d, had Nature dar'd t' afford
E'en I, the meanest of those humble swains, One least perfection more, he 'ad been ador'd. Who sang his praises through the fertile plains, Merciful, just, good-natur’d, liberal, brave, Once in a happy hour was thither led, Witty, and Pleasure's friend, yet not her slave: , Curious to see what Fame so far had spread. The paths of life by noblest methods trod; There tell, my Muse, what wonders thou didst find Of mortal mold, but in his mind a god.
Worthy thy song and his celestial mind. Though now (alas !) in the sad grave he lies, [rise. 'Twas at that joyful hallow'd day's return, Yet shall his praise for ever live, and laurels from it On which that man of miracles was born,
In this great mind long he his cares revolv'd, At whose great birth appear'd a noon-day star, And long it was ere the great mind resolv'd:
Which prodigy foretold yet many more; Till weariness at last his thoughts compos’d; Did strange escapes from dreadful Fate declare, Peace was the choice, and their debates were clos'd. Nor shin’d, but for one greater king before. But, oh!
Though now (alas !) in the sad grave he lies, (rise. Through all this isle, where it seems most design'd, Yet shall his praise for ever live, and laurels from it Nothing so hard as wish'd-for peace to find.
For this great day were equal joys prepar'd, The elements due order here maintain,
The voice of Triumph on the bills was heard ; And pay their tribute in of warmth and rain : Redoubled shoutings wak'd the Echoes round, Cool shades and streams, rich fertile lands abound, And cheerful bowls with loyal vows were crown'd. And Nature's bounty flows the seasons round. But, above all, within those lofty towers, But we, a wretched race of men, thus blest, Where glorious Charles then spent his happy hours, Of so much happiness (if known) possest,
Joy wore a solemn, though a smiling face; Mistaking every noblest use of life,
'Twas gay, but yet majestic, as the place; Left beauteous Quiet, that kind, tender wife, Tell then, my Muse, what wonders thou didst find For the unwholesome, brawling harlot, Strife. Worthy thy song and his celestial mind. The man in power, by wild ambition led,
Within a gate of strength, whose ancient frame Envy'd all honours on another's head;
Has outworn Time, and the records of Fame, And, to supplant some rival, by his pride
A reverend dome' there stands, where twice each Embroil'd that state his wisdom ought to guide. Assembling prophets their devotions pay, [day The priests, who humble temperance should profess, In prayers and hymns to Heaven's eternal King, Sought silken robes and fat voluptuous ease; The cornet, flute, and shawme, assisting as they sing So, with small labours in the vineyard shown, Forsook God's harvest to improve their own.
' St. George's Church.
Here Israel's mystic statutes they recount, Knows 'tis uncertain, frail, and will have end, From the first tables of the holy mount,
So to that prospect still his thoughts does bend; To the blest gospel of that glorious Lord,
Who, though his right a stronger power invade, Whose precious death salvation has restor'd. Though Fate oppress, and no man give him aid, Here speak, my Muse, what wonders thou didst find Cheer'd with th' assurance that he there shall find Worthy thy song and his celestial mind.
Rest from all toils, and no remorse of mind; Within this dome a shining chapel ? 's rais'd, Can Fortune's smiles despise, her frowns out-brave, Too noble to be well describ'd or prais’d.
For who 's a prince or beggar in the grave? Before the door, fix'd in an awe profound,
But if immortal any thing remain,
And ease of every bitter weight I bear,
The praise and honour of this glorious king;
And further tell what wonders thou didst find Ready to open all to all that pay.
Worthy thy song and his celestial mind.
And, like his loyalty, without decay.
So careful watch seems piously to keep,
The massy walls seem, as the womb of Earth, As if its use were more, nor merit less.
Shrunk when such mighty quarries thence had birth; But here I saw how it rewarded shin'd.
Or by the Theban founder they 'd been rais’d, Tell on, my Muse, what wonders thou didst find And in his powerful numbers should be prais'd : Worthy thy song and Charles's mighty mind. Such strength without does every where abound,
I turn'd around my eyes, and, lo, a cell, Within such glory and such splendour 's found, Where melancholy Ruin seem'd to dwell,
As man's united skill had there combin'd The door unhing'd, without or bolt or ward, T'express what one great genius had design d. Seem'd as what lodg‘d within found small regard. Thus, when the happy world Augustus sway'd, Like some old Jen, scarce visited by day,
Knowledge was cherish'd, and improvement made; Where dark Oblivion lurk'd and watch'd for prey. Learning and arts his empire did adorn, Here, in a heap of confus'd waste, I found
Nor did there one neglected virtue mourn; Neglected hatchments tumbled on the ground; But, at his call, from furthest nations came, The spoils of Time, and triumph of that Fate While the immortal Muses gave him fame. Which equally on all mankind does wait: Though when her far-stretch'd empire flourish'd most, The bero, levell'd in his humble grave,
Rome never yet a work like this could boast: With other men, was now nor great nor brave; No Cæsar e'er like Charles his pomp expressid, While here his trophies, like their master, lay, Nor ever were his nations half so blest : To darkness, worms, and rottenness, a prey. Though now (alas!) in the sad grave he lies, Urg'd by such thoughts as guide the truly great, Yet shall his praise for ever live, and laurels from Perhaps his fate he did in battle meet;
it rise. Fell in his prince's and his country's cause;
Here, as all Nature's wealth to court him prest, But what his recompense? A short applause, Seem'd to attend him Plenty, Peace, and Rest. Which he ne'er hears, his memory may grace, Through all the lofty roofs & describ'd we find Till, soon forgot, another takes his place.
The toils and triumphs of his god-like mind: And happy that man's chance who falls in time, A theme that might the noblest fancy warm, Ere yet his virtue be become his crime;
And only fit for his 8 who did perform. Ere his abus'd desert be call'd his pride,
The walls adorn'd with richest woven gold, Or fools and villains on his ruin ride.
Equal to what in temples shind of old, But truly blest is he, whose soul can bear
Grac'd well the lustre of his royal ease, The wrongs of Fate, nor think them worth his care: Whose empire reach'd throughout the wealthy seas; Whose mind no disappointment here can shake, Ease which he wisely chose, when raging arms Who a true estimate of life does make,
Kept neighbouring nations waking with alarms :
2 St. George's Chapel.
4 An old aile in the church, where the banner of a dead knight is carried, when another succeeds bim.
5 The castle.
6 The duke of Norfolk, constable of Windsor Castle.
7 The house.
$ The paintings done by 8the Sieur Verrio, nis majesty's chief painter.
For when wars troubled her soft fountains there, The temple "2 by this hero built behold,
The bright ascension of the Son of God,
he trod. Who, when sh' offended, oft would hide his eyes, Thus when to Charles, as Solomon, was given Nor see, because it griev'd him to chastize. Wisdom, the greatest gift of bounteous Heaven; But if submission brought her to his feet,
A house like his he built, and temple rais'd, With what true joy the penitent he'd meet! Where his Creator might be fily prais'd; How would his love still with his justice strive! With riches too and honours was he crown'd, How parent-like, how fondly he'd forgive ! Nor, whilst he liv'd, was there one like him found. But now (alas !) in the sad grave he lies, [it rise. Therefore what once to Israel's lord was said, Yet shall his praise for ever live, and laurels from When Sheba’s queen his glorious court survey'd,
Since after all those toils through which he strove To Charles's fame for ever shall remain, By every art of most endearing love,
Who did as wondrous things, who did as greatly For his reward he had his Britain found,
reign: The awe and envy of the nations round.
“ Happy were they who could before bim stand, Muse, then speak more what wonders thou didst find And saw the wisdom of his dread command." Worthy thy song and his celestial mind.
For Heaven resolv'd, that much above the rest Tell now what emulation may inspire,
Of other nations Britain should be blest; And warm each British heart with warlike fire; Found bim when banish'd from his sacred right, Call all thy sisters of the sacred bill,
Try'd his great soul, and in it took delight; And by the painter's pencil guide my quill ; Then to his throne in triumph him did bring, Describe that lofty monumental hall ,
Where never ruld a wiser, juster king. Where England's trinmphs grace the shining wall, But now (alas !) in the sad grave he lies, When she led captive kings from conquer'd Gaul. Yet shall his praise for ever live, and laurels from Here when the sons of Fame their leader meet,
it rise. And at their feasts in pompous order sit,
Thus far the painter's hand did guide the Muse, When the glad sparkling bowl inspires the board, Now let her lead, nor will he sure refuse. And high-rais'd thoughts great tales of war afford, Two kindred arts they are, so near ally'd, Here as a lesson may their eyes behold
They oft have by each other been supply'd. What their victorious fathers did of old ;
Therefore, great man! when next thy thoughts When their proud neighbours of the Gallic shore
incline Trembled to hear the English lion roar.
The works of Fame, let this be the design: Here may they see how good old Edward to sat, As thou could best great Charles's glory show, And did his glorious son's " arrival wait,
Show how he fell, and whence the fatal blow. When from the fields of vanquish'd France he came, In a large scene, may give beholders awe, Follow'd by spoils, and usher'd in by Fame. The meeting of a numerous senate draw! In golden chains he their quell'd monarch led. Over their heads a black distemper'd sky, Oh, for such laurels on another head!
And through the air let grinning Furies fly. Unsoild with sloth, nor yet o'ercloy'd with peace, Charg'd with commissions of infernal date, We had not then learn'd the loose arts of ease. To raise fell Discord and intestine Hate; In our own climes our vigorous youth were nurs'd, From their foul heads let them by handfuls tear And with no foreign education curs'd.
The ugliest snakes, and best-lov'd favourites there, Their northern metal was preserv'd with care, Then whirl them (spouting venom as they fall) Nor sent for softening into hotter air.
'Mongst the assembled numbers of the hall; Nor did th', as now, from fruitless travels come There into murmuring bosoms let them go, With follies, vices, and diseases home;
Till their infection to confusion grow; But in full purity of health and mind
Till such bold tumults and disorders rise, Kept up the noble virtues of their kind.
As when the impious sons of Earth assail'd the Had not false senates to those ills dispos'd,
To send abroad his word, or with a frown
Let them grow blind, disperse, and reel away. Yet shall his praise for ever live, and laurels from Let the dark fiends the troubled air forsake, it rise.
And all new peaceful order seem to take. And now survey what 's open to our view,
But, oh, imagine Fate t' have waited long Bow down all heads, and pay devotion due, An hour like this, and mingled in the throng,
Rous'd with those furies from her seat below, 9 Where St. George's feast is kept. T' have watch'd her only time to give the blow: 10 Edward the Third. 1 The Black Prince.
12 The chapel at the end of the hall.
When cruel cares, by faithless subjects bred, Describe her prostrate to the throne above,
Because they know her lord's srcat doon is seal’d, And sent him to the sorrows of the grave!
And cannot (though she asks it) be repeal'd. Now, painter, (if thy griefs can let thee) draw By this time think the work of Fate is done, The saddest scenes that weeping eyes e'er saw; So any further sad description shun. How on his royal bed that woful day
Show him not pale and breathless on his bed, The much-lamented mighty nonarch lay;
"Twould make all gazers on the art fall dead; Great in his fate, and ev'n o'er that a king,
Ind thou thyself to such a scene of woe No terrour conld the Lord of Terrours bring. Add a new piece, and thy own statue grow. Through many steady and well-manag'd years Hipe therefore all thy pencils, and prepare He'ad arm'd his mind 'ga'nst all those little fears, To draw a prospect now of clearer air. Which common mortals want the power to hide, Paint in an eastem sky new daaning day, When their mean souls and valued clay divide. And there the embryos of Time display; He 'ad study'd well the worth of life, and knew The forms of many smiling years to come, Its troubles many, and its blessings few:
Just ripe for birth, anıl labouring from their womb; Therefore unmov'd did Death's approaches see, Each struggling which shall eldership obtain, And grew familiar with his Destiny ;
To be tirst grac'd with mighty James's reign. Like an acquaintance entertain'd his Fate,
Let the dread monarch on his throne appear, Who, as it knew him, seemd content to wait, Place too the charming partner of it there. Not av his gavler, but his friendly guide,
O'er his their wings let Fame and Triumph spread, While he for his great journey did provide. And soft-ey'd Cupids hover o'er her head;
Oh, couldst thou express the yearnings of his mind In his, paint smiling, yet majestic grace,
But all the wealth of beauty in her face.
Henage to pay, or humble peace to gain,
And own auspicious omens from his reign. Therefore he chose for that peculiar care,
Set at long distance his contracted foes His crown's, his virtue's, and his mercy's heir, Shrinking from what they dare not now oppose : Great James, who to his throne does now succeed, Draw shame or mean despair in all their eyes, And charg'd him tenderly his flocks to feed; And terrour lest th' avenging hand should rise. To guide them too, too apt to run astray,
But where his smiles extend, draw beauteous Peace, And keep the foxes and the wolves away.
The poor man's cheerful toils, the rich man's ease; Here, painter, if thou canst, thy art improve, Here, shepherds piping to their feeding sheep, And show the wonders of fraternal love;
Or stretch'd at length in their warm huts asleep; How mourning James by fading Charles did stand, There jolly hinds spread through the sultry fields, The dying grasping the surviving hand;
Reaping such harvests as their village yields; How round each other's necks their arms they cast, Or shelter'd from the scorchings of the Sun, Moan'd with endearing murmurings, and embrac'd; Their labours ended, and repast begun; (raise, And of their parting pangs such marks did give, Rang'd on green banks, which they themselves did Twas hard to guess which yet could longest live. Singing their own content, and ruler's praise. Both their sad tongues quite lost the power to speak, | Draw beauteous meadows, gardens, groves, and And their kind hearts seem'd both prepard to break. bowers,
Here let thy curious pencil next display, Where Contemplation best may pass her hours: How round his bed a beauteous offspring lay, Fill'd with chaste lovers plighting constant hearts, With their great father's blessing to be crown'd, Rejoicing Muses, and encourag'd Arts. Like young fierce lions stretch'd upon the ground, Draw every thing like this that thought can frame, And in majestic silent sorrow drown'd.
Best suiting with thy theme, great Jar.es's fame. This done, suppose the ghastly minute nigh, known for the man who from his youthful years, And paint the griefs of the sad standers-by; By mighty deeds has earn'd the crown he wears; Th' unweary'd reverend father's pious care, Whose conquering arm far-enryd wonders wronght, Offering (as oft as tears could stop) a prayer. When an ungrateful people's cause he fought; Of kindred nobles draw a sorrowing train,
When for their rights he his brave sword employ'd, Whose looks may speak how much they shar'd his Who in return would have bis rights destroy'd: pain;
But Heaven such injur'd merit did regard; How from each groan of his, deriving smart, (As Heaven in time true virtue will reward) Each fetch'd another from a tortur'd heart. So to a throne by Providence he rose, Mingled with these, his faithful servants place, And all whoe'er were his, were Providence's foes. With different lines of woe in every face; [eyes, With downcast heads, swoln breasts, and streaming And sighs that mount in vain the unrelenting skies.
THE EXCHANTMENT. But yet there still remains a task behind,
I did but look and love a-while, In which thy readiest art may labour find.
'Twas but for one half-hour; At distance let the mourning queen appear,
Then to resist I had no will, (But where sad news too soon may reach her ear)
And now I have no power.
To sigh, and wish, is all my ease;
To a high hill where never yet stood tree,
Where only heath, coarse fern, and furzes grow,
Where (nipt by piercing air)
The flocks in tatter'd fleeces hardly gaze,
Led by uncouth thoughts and care,
Which did too much his pensive mind amaze, And quickly steal the rest.
A wandering bard, whose Muse was crazy grown, Cloy'd with the nauseous follies of the buzzing town,
Came, look'd about him, sigh'd, and laid him down; 'Twas far from any path, but where the Earth Was bare, and naked all as at her birth,
When by the word it first was inade, POET'S COMPLAINT OF HIS MUSE:
Ere God had said,
Let grass, and herbs, and every green thing grow, OR,
With fruitful trees after their kind, and it was so. A SATIRE AGAINST LIBELS.
The wbistling winds blew tiercely round his head,
Cold was his lodging, hard his bed ; Si quid habent veri vatum præsagia, vivam. Aloft his eyes on the wide Heavens he cast,
Where we are told Peace only 's found at last:
And as he did its hopeless distance see, To the right honourable Thomas earl of Ossory, Sigh'd deep, and cry'd, "How far is Peace from me!" baron of Moor Park, knight of the most poble
Nor ended there his moan: order of the garter, &c.
The distance of his future joy
Had been enough to give him pain alone; MY LORD,
But who can undergo Though never any man bad more need of excuse Despair of ease to come, with weight of present woe?
Down his afflicted face for a presumption of this nature than I have now, The trickling tears had stream'd so fast a pace, yet, when I have laid out every way to find one, As left a path worn by their briny race. your lordship’s goodness must be my refuge: and Swoln was his breast with sighs, his welltherefore I humbly cast this at your feet for pro- Whilst the poor trunk (unable to sustain
Proportion'd limbs as useless fell, tection, and myself for pardon.
Itself) lay rackt, and shaking with its pain. My lord, I have great need of protection; for I heard his gruans as I was walking by, to the best of my heart I have here published in And (urg'd by pity) went aside, to see
What the sad cause could be [high. some measure the truth, and I would have it Had press’d his state so low, and rais'd his plaints so thought honestly too: (a practice never more out On me he fixt his eyes. I crav'd, of countenance than now) yet truth and honour Why so forlorn; he vainly rav'd.
Peace to his mind I did commend : are things which your lordship must needs be
But, oh! my words were hardly at an end, kind to, because they are relations to your na- When I perceiv'd it was my friend, ture, and never left you.
My much-lov'd friend; so down I sat, Twould be a second presumption in me to
And begg'd that I might share his fate: pretend in this a panegyric on your lordship; for of sighs he eas’d his breast, and thus began his tale:
I laid my cheek to his, when with a gale it would require more art to do your virtue justice, than to flatter any other man.
“I am a wretch of honest race: If I have ventured at a hint of the present
My parents not obscure, nor high in titles were,
They left me heir to no disgrace. snfferings of that great prince mentioned in the
My father was (a thing now rare) latter end of this paper, with favour from your Loyal and brave, my mother chaste and fair : lordship I hope to add a second part, and do all The pledge of marriage-vows was only I;
Alone I liv'd their much-lov'd fondled boy: those great and good men justice, that have in
They gave me generous education, high his calamities stuck fast to so gallant a friend and
They strove to raise my mind, and with it grew so good a master. To write and finish which
their joy. great subject faithfully, and to be honoured with
The sages that instructed me in arts,
And knowledge, oft would praise my parts, your lordship's patronage in what I may do, and
And cheer my parents' longing hearts. your approbation, or at least pardon, in what I
When I was callid to a dispute, have done, will be the greatest pride of,
My fellow pupils oft stood inute;
Yet never Envy did disjoin my lord,
Their hearts from me, nor Pride distemper mine. your most humble admirer and servant,
Thus my first years in happiness I past,
Nor any bitter cup did taste: