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And sometimes mounts, but so as billows play, Whose rise not hinders, but makes short our way. Your brow, which does no fear of thunder know, Sees rowling tempests vainly beat below; And, like Olympus' top, th' impression wears Of love and friendship writ in former years. Yet, unimpair'd with lahours, or with time, Your age but seems to a new youth to climb. Thus heavenly bodies do our time beget, And measure change, but share no part of it. And still it shall without a weight increase, Like this new-year, whose motions never cease. For since the glorious course you have begun Is led by Charles, as that is by the sun, It must both weightless and immortal prove, Because the centre of it is above,
SATIRE on the DUTCH,
Written in the Year 1662.
S needy gallants, in the scrivener's hands,
Court the rich knaves that gripe their mortgag'd
The first fat buck of all the season's sent,
And keeper takes no fee in compliment;
The dotage of some Englishmen is such,
To fawn on those, who ruin them, the Dutch.
They shall have all, rather than make a war
With those, who of the saine religion are.
The Straits, the Guiney-trade, the herrings too ;
Nay, to keep friendship, they shall pickle you.
Some are resolv'd not to find out the cheat,
But, cuckold-like, love them that do the feat.
What injuries foe'er upon us fall,
Yet still the same religion answers all.
Religion wheedled us to civil war,
Drew English blood, and Dutchmen’s now would spare.
Be gulld no longer ; for you'll find it true,
They have no more religion, faith! than you.
Interest's the god they worship in their state,
And we, I take it, have not much of that.
Well monarchies may own religion's name,
But ftates are atheists in their frame.
They share a fin; and such proportions fall,
That, like a stink, 'tis nothing to them all.
Think on their rapine, fallhood, cruelty,
And that what once they were, they still would be.
To one well-born th' affront is worse and more,
When he's abus’d and baffled by a boor.
With an ill grace the Dutch their mischiefs do;
They 've both ill nature and ill manners too.
Well may they boast themselves an ancient nation;
For they were bred ere manners were in fashion :
And their new cominonwealth has set them free
Only from honour and civility.
Venetians do not more uncouthly ride,
Than did their lubber state mankind bestride.
Their fway became them with as ill a mien,
As their own paunches iwell above their chin.
Yet is their empire no true growth but humour,
And only two kings' touch can cure the tumour.
As Cato, fruits of Afric did display ;
Let us before our eyes their Indies lay :
All loyal English will like him conclude;
Let Cæsar live, and Carthage be subdued.
To her Royal Highness the DUTCHESS of YORK,
on the memorable Vi&ory gained by the Duke over the HOLLANDERS, June the 3d, 1665. and on her Journey afterwards into the North.
HEN, for our fakes, your
you resign'd To swelling seas, and every faithless wind; When
you releas’d his courage, and set free A valour fatal to the enemy; You lodg'd your country's cares within
breast (The mansion where soft love should only rest : And, ere our foes abroad were overcome, The noblest conquest you had gain’d at home. Ah, what concerns did both your souls divide ! Your honour gave us what your love denied : And 'twas for him much easier to subdue Those foes he fought with, than to part from you. That glorious day, which two such navies saw, As each unmatch'd might to the world give law. Neptune, yet doubtful whom he should obey, Held to them both the trident of the sea : The winds were hush'd, the waves in ranks were cast, As awfully as when God's people past :
Those, yet uncertain on whose fails to blow,
These, where the wealth of nations ought to flow.
Then with the duke your highness ruld the day :
While all the brave did his command obey,
The fair and pious under you
How powerful are chalte vows ! the wind and tide
You brib’d to combat on the English fide.
Thus to your much-lov'd lord you
An unknown succour, sent the nearest way.
New vigour to his wearied arms you brought,
(S0 Moses was upheld while Ifrael fought)
While, from afar, we heard the cannon play,
Like distant thunder on a shiny day.
For absent friends we were alham’d to fear,
When we consider'd what you ventur’d there.
Ships, men, and arms, our country might restore ;
But such a leader could supply no more.
With generous thoughts of conquest he did burn,
Yet fought not more to vanquish than return.
Fortune and viStory he did pursue,
To bring them as his slaves to wait on you.
Thus beauty ravish'd the rewards of fame,
And the fair triumph'd when the brave o'ercame.
Then, as you meant to spread another way
By land your conquests, far as his by fea,
Leaving our southern cliine, you march'd along
The stubborn North, ten thousand Cupids strong.
Like commons the nobility resort,
In crowding heaps, to fill your moving court:
To welcome your approach the vulgar run,
Like some new envoy from the distant fun,
beauties by their lovers go,
Blessing themselves, and wondering at the show.
So when the new-born Phænix first is seen,
Her feather'd subjects all adore their queen,
And while she makes her progress through the East,
From every grove her numerous train's increas'd :
Each Poet of the air her glory sings,
And round him the pleas'd audience clap their wings.