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Write for immortal fame; nor ever choose Sing then his glory, celebrate his fame ;
Gold for the object of a generous Muse.

Your noblest theme is his immortal name.
I know a noble wit may, without crime,

Let mighty Spenser raise his reverend head, Receive a lawful tribute for his time:

Cowley and Denbam start up from the dead; Yet I abhor those writers, who despise

Waller his age renew, and offerings bring, Their honour; and alone their profits prize; Our monarch's praise let bright-ey'd virgins sing; Who their Apollo basely will degrade,

Let Dryden with new rules our stage refine, And of a noble science make a trade.

And his great models form by this design: Before kind Reason did her light display,

But where 's a second Virgil to rehearse And government taught mortals to obey,

Our hero's glories in his epic verse? Men, like wild beasts, did Nature's laws pursue, What Orpheus sing his triumphs o'er the main, They fed on herbs, and drink from rivers drew; And make the hills and forests move again; Their brutal force, on lust and rapine bent,

Show his bolil fleet on the Batavian shore, Committed murder without punishment :

And Holland trembling as his camons roar; Reason at last, by her all-conquering arts,

Paint Europe's balance in his steady hand, Reduc'd these sarages, and iurnd their hearts; Whilst the two worlds in expectation stand Mankind from bogs, and woods, and caverns calls, Of peace or war, that wait on his command ? And towns and cities fortifies with walls:

But as I speak new glories strike my eyes, Thus fear of Justice made proud Rapine cease, Glories, which Heaven itself does give and prize, And shelter'd Innocence by laws and peace. Blessings of peace; that with their milder rays These benefits from poets we receivid,

Adorn his reign, and bring Saturnian days : From whence are rais'd those fict ons since believ'd: Now let rebellion, discord, vice, and rage, That Orpheus, by his soft harmonious strains, That have in patriots' forms debauch'd our age, Tam'd the fierce tigers of the Thracian plains; Van 'sh with all the ministers of Hell: Amphion's notes, by their melodious powers, His rays their poisonous vapours shall dispel: Drew rocks and woods, and rais'd the Theban 'Tis he alone our safety did create, towers;

His own firm soul secur'd the nation's fate, These miracles from numbers did arise:

Oppos'd to all the Bout'feu's of the state. Since which, in verse Heaven taught his mysteries, Anthors, for him your great endeavours raise; And by a priest, possess'd with rage divine, The loftiest numbers will but reach his praise. Apollo spoke from his prophetic shrine.

For me, whose verse in satire has been bred, Soon after Homer the old heroes prais'd,

And never durst heroic measures tread; And noble minds by great examples rais'd; Yet you shall see me, in that famous field, Then Hesiod did his Grecian swains incline

With eyes and voice, my best assistance yield : To till the fields, and prune the bounteous vine. Offer your lessons, that my infant Muse Thus useful rules were by the poet's aid,

Learnt, when she Horace for her guide did choose: In easy numbers to rude men convey'd,

Second your zeal with wishes, heart, and eyes, And pleasingly their precepts did impart; And from afar hold up the glorious prize. First charm’d the car, and then engag'd the heart: But pardon too, if, zealous for the right, The Muses thus their reputation rais'd,

A strict observer of each noble flight, And with just gratitude in Greece were prais'd. From the fine gold I separate the allay, With pleasure mortals did their wonders see, And show how hasty writers sometimes stray : And sacrific'd to their divinity;

Apter to blame, than knowing how to mend : But Want, at last, base Flattery entertain'd, A sharp, but yet a necessary friend. And old Parnas us with this vice was stain'd: Desire of gain dazzling the poets' eyes, Their works were filld with fulsome fatteries. Thus needy wits a vile revenne made, And verse became a mercenary trade.

THRENODIA AUGUSTALIS: Debase not with so mean a vice thy art:

A FUNERAL PINDARIC POEM, SACRED TO THE HAPPY If gold must be the idol of thy heart, Fly, fly th' unfruitful Heliconian strand, Those streams are not enrich'd with golden sand : Thus long my grief has kept me dumb: Great wits, as well as warriors, only gain

Sure there's a lethargy in mighty woe, Laurels and honours for their toil and pain :

Tears stand congeald, and cannot flow! “ But what? an author cannot live on fame, And the sad soul retires into her inmost room : Or pay a reckoning with a lofty name :

Tears, for a stroke foreseen, afford relief; A poet to whom Fortune is unkind,

But, unprovided for a sudden blow, Who when he goes to bed has hardly dind,

Like Niobé we marble grow; Takes little plea-ure in Parnassus' dreams,

And petrify with grief. Or relishes the Heliconian streams.

Our British Heaven was all serene, Horace had ease and plenty when he writ,

No threatening cloud was nigh, And, free from cares for money or for meat,

Not the least wrinkle to deform the sky; Did not expect his dinner from bis wit.”

We liv'd as unconcern'd and happily
'Tis true; but verse is cherish'd by the great, As the first age in Nature's golden scene;
And now none famish who deserve to eat:

Supine amidst our flowing store,
What can we fear, when virtue, arts, and sense, We slept securely and we dreamt of more:
Receive the stars' propitious influence;

When suddenly the thunder-clap was heard, When a sharp-sighted prince, by early grants, It took us unprepar'd and out of guard, Rewards your merits, and prevents your wants? Already lost before we fear'd.


Th’ amazing news of Charles at once were spread, Mercy above did hourly plead
At once the general voice declar'd,

For ber resemblance here below;
“ Our gracious prince was dead."

And mild Forgiveness intercede
No sickness known before, no slow disease, To stop the coming blow.
To soften grief by just degrees,

New miracles approach'd th' ethereal throne, But like an hurricane on Indian seas,

Such as his wondrous life had oft and lately known
The tempest rose ;

And urg'd that still they might be shown.
An unexpected burst of woes :

On Earth his pious brother pray'd and row'd, With scarce a breathing space betwixt,

Renouncing greatness at so dear a rate, This now becalm’d, and perishing the next.

Himself defending what he could, As if great Atlas from his height

From all the glories of his future fate. Should sink bencath his heavenly weight,

With him th' innumerable crowd,
And with a mighty flaw, the flaming wall

Of armed prayers
As once it shall,

Knock'd at the gates of Heaven, and knock'd aloud;
Should gape immense, and rushing down, o'erwhelm The first well-ineaning rude petitioners.
this nether ball;
All for his life assail'd the throne,

(oud. So swift and so surprising was our fear:

All would have brib'd the skies by offering ap their Our Atlas fell indeed; but Hercules was near. So great a throng not Heaven itself could bar;

Twas almost borne by force as in the giants' war. His pious brother, sure the best

The prayers at least for his reprieve were heard; Who ever bore that name,

His death, like Hezekiah's, was deferr'd: Was newly risen from his rest,

Against the Sun the shadow went; And, with a fervent fame,

Five days, those five degrees, were lent His usual morning vows had just addrest

To form our patience and prepare th' erent. For his dear sovereign's health;

The second causes took the swift command, And hop'd to have them heard,

The medicinal head, the ready band, In long increase of years,

All eager to perform their part; In honour, fame, and wealth :

All but eternal doom was conquer'd by their art: Guiltless of greatness thus he always pray'd': Once more the fleeting soul came back Nor knew nor wish'd those vows he made,

T'inspire the mortal frame; On his own head should be repay'd.

And in the body took a doubtful stand, Soon as th' ill-omen's rumour reach'd his ear, Doubtful and hovering like expiring flame,

Ill news is wing'd with fate, and flies apace, That mounts and falls by turns, and trembles o'er Who can describe th' amazement of his face!

the brand. Horrour in all his pomp was there, Mute and magnificent without a tear:

The joyful short-liv'd news soon spread around, And then the hero first was seen to fear.

Took the same train, the same impetuous bound: Half unarray'd he ran to his relief,

The drooping town in smiles again was drest, So hasty and so artless was his grief:

Gladness in every face exprest, Approaching Greatness met him with her charms Their eyes before their tongues confest. Of power and future state;

Men met each other with erected look, But look'd so ghastly in a brother's fate, The steps were higher that they took, He shook her from his arms.

Friends to congratulate their friends made haste; Arriv'd within the mournful room, he saw

And long-inveterate foes saluted as they past: A wild distraction, void of awe,

Above the rest heroic James appear'd And arbitrary grief unbounded by a law.

Exalted more, because he more had fear'd: God's image, God's anointed, lay

His manly heart, whose noble pride Without motion, pulse, or breath,

Was still above A senseless lump of sacred clay,

Dissembled hate or varnish'd love, An image now of Death.

Its more than common transport could not hide; Amidst his sad attendants' groans and cries, But like an eagre rode in triumph o'er the tide. The lines of that ador’d, forgiving face,

Thus, in alternaie course, Distorted from their native grace;

The tyrant passions, hope and fear,
An iron slumber sat on his majestic eyes.

Did in extremes appear,
The pious duke-Forbear, audacious Muse! And flash'd upon the soul with equal force,
No terms thy feeble art can use

Thus, at half ebb, a rolling sea
Are able to adorn so vast a woe:

Returns and wins upon the shore ;
The grief of all the rest like subject-grief did show, The watery herd, affrighted at the roar,
His like a sovereigo did transcend;

Rest on their fins a while, and stay,
No wife, no brother, such a grief could know, Then backward take their wondering way:
Nor any name but friend.

The prophet wonders more than they,

At prodigies but rarely seen before, (sway. O wondrous changes of a fatal scene,

And cries, a king must fall, or kingdorns change their Still varying to the last !

Such were our counter-tides at land, and so
Heaven, though its hard decree was past, Presaging of the fatal blow,
Seem'd pointing to a gracious turn again :

In their prodigious ebb and flow.
And Death's uplifted arm arrested in its haste. The royal soul, that, like the labouring moon,
Heaven half repented of the doom,

By charms of art was hurried down,
And almost griev'd it had foreseen,

Forc'd with regret to leave her native sphere, What by foresight it will'd eternally to come. Came but a while on liking here,

Soon weary of the painful strife,

Kind, good, and gracious, to the last, And made but faint essays of life:

On all he lov'd before his dying beams he cast: And evening light

Oh truly good, and truly great, Soon shut in night:

For glorious as he rose benignly so he set ! A strong distemper, and a weak relief,

All that on Earth he held most dear, Short intervals of joy, and long returns of grief. He recommended to his care,

To whom both Heaven The sons of Art all medicines try'd,

The right had given, And every noble remedy app'y'd;

And his own love bequeath'd supreme command; With emulation each essay'd

He took and prest that ever-loyal hand, His utmost skill, nay more, they pray'd:

Which could in peace secure his reign, Never was losing game with hetter conduct play'd. Which could in wars his power maintain, Death never won a stake with greater toil,

That hand on which no plighted vows were ever Nor e'er was Pate so near a foil :

vain. But like a fortress on a rock,

Well, for so great a trust he chose Th' impregnable disease their vain attempts did A prince wbo never disobey'd : mock;

Not when the most severe commands were laid; They mind it near, they batter'd from afar Nor want, nor exile, with his duty weigh'd: With all the cannon of the medicinal war;

A prince on whom, if Heaven its eyes could close, No gentle means could be essay'd,

The welfare of the world it safely might repose. 'Twas beyond parley when the siege was laid: Th' extremest ways they first ordain,

That king who liv'd to God's own heart, Prescribing such intolerable pain,

Yet less serenely died than he: As none but Cæsar could sustain:

Charles left behind no harsh decree tindaunted Cæsar underwent

For schoolmen with laborious art The malice of their art, nor bent

To salve from cruelty: Beneath whate'er their pious rigour could invent : Those, for whom love could no excuses frame, In five such days he suffer'd more

He graciously forgot to name. Than any suffer'd in his reign before;

Thus far my Muse, though rudely, has design'd More, infinitely more, than he,

Some faint resemblance of his godlike nind: Against the worst of rebels, could decree,

But neither pen nor pencil can express A traitor or twice-pardon'd enemy.

The parting brothers' tenderness : Now Art was tir'd without success,

Though that 's a term too mean and low;
No racks could make the stubborn malady confess. The blest above a kinder word may know:
The vain insurancers of life,

But what they did, and what they said,
And he who most perform'd and promis'd less, The monarch who triumphant went,
Ev'n Short himself forsook th' unequal strife. The militant who staid,
Death and despair were in their looks,

Like painters, when their heightening arts are spent,
No longer they consult their memories or books; I cast into a shade.
Like helpless friends, who view from shore

That all-forgiving king, The labouring ship, and bear the tempest roar ; The type of him above, So stood they with their arms across;

That unexhausted spring Not to assist, but to deplore

Of clemency and love; 'Th' inevitable loss.

Himself to his next self accus'd,

And ask'd that pardon which he ne'er refus'd: Death was denounc'd; that frightful sound For faults not his, for guilt and crimes Which ev'n the be t can hardly bear,

Of godless men, and of rebellious times : He took the summons void of fear;

For an hard exile, kindly meant, And unconcern'dly cast his eyes around;

When his ungrateful country sent As if to find and dare the grisly challenger.

Their best Camillus into banishment: What Death could do he lately try'd,

And forc'd their sovereign's act, they could not his When in four days he more than dy'd.

The same assurance all his words did grace: Oh how much rather had that injur'd chief
The same majestic mildness held its place; Repeated all his sufferings past !
Nor lost the monarch in his dying face.

Than hear a pardon begg'd at last,
Intrepid, pious, merciful, and brave,

Which given could give the dying no relief: He look'd as when he conquer'd and forgave. He bent, he sunk beneath his grief:

His dauntless heart would fain have held As if some angel had been sent

From weeping, but his eyes rebell’d. To lengthen out bis government,

Perhaps the godlike hero in his breast And to foretel as many years again,

Disclain'd, or was asham'd to show As he had number'd in his happy reign,

So weak, so womanish a woe,

(confest. So cheerfully he took the doom

Which yet the brother and the friend so plenteously Of his departing breath; Nor shrunk nor stept aside for Death:

Amidst that silent shower, the royal mind But with unalter'd pace kept on;

An easy passage found, Providing for events to come,

And left its sacred earth behind: When he resign'd the throne.

Nor murmuring groan exprest, nor labouring sound, Still he maintain'd his kingly state;

Nor any least tumultuous breath; And grew familiar with his fate.

Calm was his life, and quiet was his death. VOL. VIII.

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Soft as those gentle whispers were,

Our isle, indeed, too fruitful was before; In which th’ Almighty did appear;

But all uncultivated lay By the still voice the prophet knew him there. Out of the solar walk and Heaven's high way: That peace which made thy prosperous reign to With rank Geneva weeds run o'er, shine,

And cockle, at the best, amidst the corn it bore: That peace thou leav'st to thy imperial line, The royal husbandman appeard, That peace, oh happy shade, be ever thine! And plough'd, and sow'd, and tilld,

The thorns he rooted out, the rubbish clear'd, For all those joys thy restoration brought,

And bless'd th' obedient field. For all the miracles it wrought,

When straight a double harvest rose ; For all the healing balm thy mercy pour'd Such as the swarthy Indian mows; Into the nation's bleeding wound,

Or happier climates near the line, And care that after kept it sound,

Or Paradise, manur'd and drest by hands divine. For numerous blessings yearly shower’d, And property with plenty crown'd;

As when the new-born phenix takes his way, For freedom, still maintain’d alive,

His rich paternal regions to survey, Freedom which in no other land will thrive, Of airy choristers a numerous train Freedom, an English subject's sole prerogative, Attend his wondrous progress o'er the plain; Without whose charms even peace would be So, rising from his father's urn, But a dull quiet slavery:

So glorious did our Charles return; For these and more, accept our pious praise;

Th' officious Muses came along, 'Tis all the subsidy

A gay harmonious quire like angels ever yonng: The present age can raise,

The Muse that mourns him now his happy triumpha The rest is charg'd on late posterity.

sung. Posterity is charg'd the more,

Ev'n they could thrive in his auspicious reign; Because the large abounding store

And such a plenteous crop they bore To them, and to their heirs, is still entail'd by thee. Of purest and well-winnow'd grain, Succession of a long descent

As Britain never knew before. Which chastely in the channels ran,

Though little was their bire, and light their gain, And from our demi-gods began,

Yet somewhat to their share he threw; Equal almost to time in its extent,

Fed from his band, they sung and flew, Through hazards numberless and great,

Like birds of Paradise, that liv'd on moming der. Thou hast deriv'd this mighty blessing down, Oh never let their lays his name forget! And fixt the fairest gem that decks th’imperial crown: The pension of a prince's praise is great. Not faction, when it shook thy regal seat,

Live then, thou great encourager of arts, Not senates, insolently loud,

Live ever in our thankful hearts; Those echoes of a thoughtless crowd,

Live blest above, almost invok'd below;
Not foreign or domestic treachery,

Live and receive this pious vow,
Could warp thy soul to their unjust decree. Our patron once, our guardian angel now.
So much thy foes thy manly mind mistook, Thou Fabius of a sinking state,
Who judg'd it by the mildness of thy look: Who didst by wise delays divert our fate,
Like a well-temper'd sword it bent at will; When faction like a tempest rose,
But kept the native toughness of the steel. In Death's most hideous form,

Then art to rage thou didst oppose,
Be true, O Clio, to thy hero's name!

To weather out the storm : But draw him strictly s),

Not quitting thy supreme command, That all who view the piece may know;

Thou held'st the rudder with thy steady hand, He needs no trappings of fictitious fame:

Till safely on the shore the bark did land: The load 's too weighty: thou may'st choose The bark that all our blessings brought, Some parts of praise, and some refuse:

Charg'd with thyself and James, a doubly royal Write, that his annals may be thought more lavish fraught.

than the Muse. In scanty truth thou hast confin'd

Oh frail estate of human things,
The virtues of a royal mind,

And slippery hopes below!
Forgiving, bounteous, humble, just, and kind : Now to our cost your emptiness we know !
His conversation, wit, and parts,

For 'tis a lesson dearly bought,
His knowledge in the noblest useful arts,

Assurance here is never to be sought. Were such, dead authors could not give;

The best, and best-belov'd of kings,
But habitudes of those who live;

And best deserving to be so,
Who, lighting him, did greater lights receive: When scarce he bad escap'd the fatal blog
He drain'd from all, avd all they knew;

Of faction and conspiracy,
His apprehension quick, his judgment true: Death did his promis'd bopes destroy:
That the most learn'd, with shame, confess He toild, he gain'd, but liv'd not to enjoy.
His knowledge more, his reading ouly less. Wbat mists of Providence are these

Through which we cannot see!
Amidst the peaceful triumphs of his reign, So saints, by supernatural power set free,
What wonder if the kindly beams he shed,

Are left at last in martyrdom to die;
Reviv'd the drooping Arts again,

Such is the end of oft-repeated miracles. If Science rais'd her head,

Forgive me, Heaven, that impious thought, And soft Humanity, that from Rebellion Aed ? 'Twas grief for Charles, to madness wrought,

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That question'd thy supreme decree !

Long may they fear this awful prince, Thou didst his gracious reign prolong,

And not provoke his lingering sword; Ev'n in thy saints and angels wrong,

Peace is their only sure defence, His fellow-citizens of immortality :

Their best security his word: For twelve long years of exile borne,

In all the changes of his doubtful state, Twice twelve we number'd since his blest return: His truth, like Heaven's, was kept inviolate, So strictly wert thou just to pay,

For him to promise is to make it fate. Er'n to the driblet of a day.

His valour can triumph o'er land and main;
Yet still we murinur and complain,

With broken oaths his fame he will not stain;
The quails and manna should no longer rain; With conquest basely bought, and with inglorious
Those miracles 'twas needless to renew ;

gain. The chosen flock has now the promis'd land in view.

For once, O Heaven, unfold thy adamantine book;' A warlike prince ascends the regal state,

And let his wondering senate see,
A prince long exercis'd by fate:

If not thy firm immutable decree,
Long may he keep, though he obtains it late! At least the second page of strong contingency;
Heroes in Heaven's peculiar mold are cast,

Such as consist with wills originally free:
They and their poets are not form'd in haste;

Let them with glad amazement look Man was the first in God's design, and man was

On what their happiness may be: made the last.

Let them not still be obstinately blind, False heroes, made by flattery so,

Still to divert the good thou bast design’d, Heaven can strike out, like sparkles, at a blow;

Or with malignant penury, But ere a prince is to perfection brought,

To starve the royal virtues of his mind. He costs Omnipotence a second thought.

Faith is a Christian's and a subject's test, With toil and sweat,

Oh give them to believe, and they are surely blest. With bardening cold, and forming heat,

They do; and with a distant view I see The Cyclops did their strokes repeat,

Th' amended vows of English loyalty. Before th' impenetrable shield was wrought.

And all beyond that object, there appears It looks as if the Maker would not own

'The long retinue of a prosperous reign, The noble work for his,

A series of successful years, Before 'twas try'd and found a masterpiece.

In orderly array, a martial, manly train.

Behold ev'n the remoter shores,
View then a monarch ripen'd for a throne. A conquering navy proudly spread;
Alcides thus bis race began,

The British cannon formidably roars,
O'er infancy he swiftly ran;

While, starting from his oozy bed, The future god at first was more than man:

Th' asserted Ocean rears his reverend head; Dangers and toils, and Juno's hate

To view and recognize his ancient lord again: Ev'n o'er his cradle lay in wait;

And, with a willing hand, restores
And there he grappled first with Fate:

The fasces of the main.
In his young hands the hissing snakes he prest,
So early was the deity confest;
Thus by degrees he rose to Jove's imperial seat;
Thus difficulties prove a soul legitimately great.

Like his, our hero's infancy was try'd;
Betimes the Furies did their snakes provide ;
And to his infant arms oppose

Creator Spirit, by whose aid
His father's rebels, and his brother's foes;

The world's foundations first were laid, The more opprest, the higher still he rose :

Come visit every pious mind; Those were the preludes of his fate,

Come pour thy joys on human kind; That form'd bis manhood, to subdue

From sin and sorrow set us free, The hydra of the many-headed hissing crew.

And make thy temples worthy thee.

O source of uncreated light, As, after Numa's peaceful reign,

The Father's promised Paraclete ! The martial Ancus did the sceptre wield,

Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire, Purbish'd the rusty sword again,

Our hearts with heavenly love inspire ; Resum'd the long-forgotten shield,

Come, and thy sacred unction bring And led the Latins to the dusty field;

To sanctify us, while we sing. So James the drowsy genius wakes

Plenteous of grace, descend from high, Of Britain long entranc'd in charms,

Rich in thy sevenfold energy! Restiff and slumbering on its arms:

Thou strength of his Almighty hand, Tis rous'd, and with a new-strung nerve, the spear whose power does Heaven and Earth command: already shakes.

Proceeding Spirit, our defence, No neighing of the warrior steeds,

Who dost the gifts of tongues dispense, No drum, or louder trumpet, needs

And crown'st thy gift with eloquence! T' inspire the coward, warm the cold,

Refine and purge our earthly parts; His voice, his sole appearance makes them bold.

But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts ! Gaul and Batavia dread th' impending blow;

Our frailties help, our vice control, Too well the vigour of that arm they know:

Submit the senses to the soul; They lick the dust, and crouch beneath their fatal And when rebellious they are grown, foe.

Then lay thy hand, and hold them down.

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