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PRESENTED TO THE KING,

AT HIS ARRIVAL IN HOLLAND, AFTER THE DISCOVERY OF THE CONSPIRACY,1 MDCXCVI.

Serus in cœlum redeas; diuque
Lætus intersis populo Quirini:
Neve te nostris vitiis iniquum

Tollat

Ocyor aura

HOR. ad Augustum.

YE careful angels, whom eternal Fate

Ordains, on earth and human acts to wait;
Who turn with secret power this restless ball,
And bid predestin'd empires rise and fall:
Your sacred aid religious monarchs own,
When first they merit, then ascend the throne:
But tyrants dread ye, lest your just decree
Transfer the power, and set the people free.
See rescu'd Britain at your altars bow;
And hear her hymns your happy care avow:
That still her axes and her rods support
The judge's frown, and grace the awful court;
That Law with all her pompous terror stands,
To wrest the dagger from the traitor's hands ;
And rigid justice reads the fatal word,
Poises the balance first, then draws the sword.

1 This conspiracy is generally called the Assassination Plot. Sir John Fenwick was executed for being concerned in it.

Britain her safety to your guidance owns, That she can sep'rate parricides from sons;

That, impious rage disarm'd, she lives and reigns,
Her freedom kept by him, who broke her chains.
And thou, great minister, above the rest

Of guardian spirits, be thou for ever blest;
Thou, who of old wert sent to Israel's court,
With secret aid great David's strong support;
To mock the frantic rage of cruel Saul,
And strike the useless javelin to the wall.
Thy later care o'er William's temples held,
On Boyne's propitious banks, the heav'nly shield;
When power divine did sovereign right declare,
And cannons mark'd whom they were bid to spare.
Still, blessed angel, be thy care the same!
Be William's life untouch'd, as is his fame!
Let him own thine, as Britain owns his hand:
Save thou the king, as he has sav'd the land!

We angels' forms in pious monarchs view;
We reverence William; for he acts like you;
Like you, commission'd to chastise and bless,
He must avenge the world, and give it peace.

Indulgent Fate our potent prayer receives; And still Britannia smiles, and William lives. The hero dear to earth, by heav'n belov❜d, By troubles must be vex'd, by dangers prov'd: His foes must aid to make his fame complete, And fix his throne secure on their defeat.

So, though with sudden rage the tempest comes: Though the winds roar, and though the water foams,

Imperial Britain on the sea looks down,
And smiling sees her rebel subject frown:
Striking her cliff, the storm confirms her pow'r;
The waves but whiten her triumphant shore:
In vain they would advance, in vain retreat:
Broken they dash, and perish at her feet.

For William still new wonders shall be shown:
The powers that rescued, shall preserve the throne.
Safe on his darling Britain's joyful sea,
Behold, the monarch ploughs his liquid way:
His fleets in thunder through the world declare,
Whose empire they obey, whose arms they bear.
Bless'd by aspiring winds, he finds the strand
Blacken'd with clouds; he sees the nations stand
Blessing his safety, proud of his command.
In various tongues he hears the captains dwell
On their great leader's praise; by turns they tell,
And listen, each with emulous glory fir'd,
How William conquer'd, and how France retir'd;
How Belgia, freed, the hero's arm confess'd,
But trembled for the courage which she bless'd.
O Louis, from this great example know,
To be at once a hero and a foe:

By sounding trumpets, hear, and rattling drums, When William to the open vengeance comes: And see the soldier plead the monarch's right, Heading his troops, and foremost in the fight.

Hence then, close Ambush and perfidious War, Down to your native seats of Night repair. And thou, Bellona, weep thy cruel pride

Restrain❜d, behind the victor's chariot tied
In brazen knots, and everlasting chains,
(So Europe's peace, so William's fate ordains).
While on the ivory chair, in happy state,
He sits, secure in innocence, and great
In regal clemency; and views beneath
Averted darts of rage, and pointless arms of death

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TO CLOE WEEPING.

SEE, whilst thou weep'st, fair Cloe, see
The world in sympathy with thee.
The cheerful birds no longer sing;

Each droops his head, and hangs his wing.
The clouds have bent their bosom lower,
And shed their sorrows in a shower.
The brooks beyond their limits flow;
And louder murmurs speak their woe.
The nymphs and swains adopt thy cares;
They heave thy sighs, and weep thy tears.
Fantastic nymph! that grief should move
Thy heart obdurate against Love.

Strange tears! whose power can soften all,
But that dear breast on which they fall.

TO MR. HOWARD.1 AN ODE.

DEAR Howard, from the soft assaults of Love,
Poets and painters never are secure;

Can I untouch'd the fair one's passions move?

Or thou draw beauty, and not feel its power?

1"Hugh Howard, better known by these beautiful verses to him, than by his own works, was son of Ralph Howard, doctor of physic, and was born in Dublin, February 7, 1675. His father being driven from Ireland by the troubles that followed the Revolution, brought the lad to England, who discovering a disposition to the arts and Belles Lettres, was sent to travel in 1697; and, in his way to Italy, passed through Holland in the train of Thomas, Earl of Pembroke, one of the plenipotentiaries at the treaty of Ryswick. Mr. Howard proceeded as he had intended, and having visited France and Italy, returned home in October, 1700.

"Some years he passed in Dublin: the greatest and latter part of his life he spent entirely in England, practising painting, at least with applause; but having ingratiated himself by his fame and knowledge of lands with men of the first rank, particularly the Duke of Devonshire and Lord Pembroke, and by a parsimonious management of his good fortune, and of what he received with his wife, he was enabled to quit the practical part of his profession for the last twenty years of his life; the former peer having obtained for him the posts of Keeper of the State Papers, and Paymaster of his Majesty's Palaces. In this pleasing situation he amused himself with forming a large collection of prints,

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