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THE LADY'S LOOKING-GLASS.. LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP. 139 Thou marchest down o'er Delos' hill confest, And, on the surface of the deep, With all thy arrows arm'd, in all thy glory drest. The winds lay only not asleep: Like thee, the hero does his arms employ,

The nymph did like the scene appear, The raging Python to destroy,

| Serenely pleasant, calmly fair: And give the injur'd nations peace and joy. Soft fell her words, as flew the air, From fairest Years, and Time's more happy stores, | That she would never miss one day

With secret joy I heard her say,
Gather all the smiling Hours;

A walk so fine, a sight so gay.
Such as with friendly care have guarded

But, oh the change the winds grow high ;
Patriots and kings in rightful wars;

Impending tempests charge the sky;
Such as with conquest have rewarded

The lightning tlies, the thunder roars,
Triumphant victors' happy cares;

And big waves lash the frighten'd shores.
Such as story has recorded

Struck with the horrour of the sight, Sacred to Nassau's long renown,

She turns her head, and wings her flight: For countries sav'd, and battles won,

And, trembling, vows she'll ne'er again March them again in fair array,

Approach the shore, or view the main. And bid them form the happy day,

“Once more, at least, look back," said I, The happy day, design'd to wait

“ Thyself in that large glass descry : On William's fame, and Europe's fate.

When thou art in good-humour drest;
Let the happy day be crown'd

Wlien gentle reason rules thy breast;
With great event, and fair success;

The Sun upon the calmest sea No brighter in the year be found,

Appears not half so bright as thee : But that which brings the victor home in peace,

'Tis then that with delight I rove

Upon the boundless depth of Love : Again thy godhead we implore,

I bless my chain; I hand my oar; Great in wisdom as in power ;

Nor think on all I left on shore. Again, for good Maria's sake, and ours,

“ But when vain doubt and groundless fear Choose out other smiling Hours;

Do that dear foolish bosom tear; Such as with joyous wings have fled,

When the big lip and watery eye When happy counsels were advising ;

Tell me, the rising stort is nigh; Such as bave lucky omens shed

"Tis then, thou art yon' angry main, O'er forming laws, and empires rising;

Deform'd by winds, and dash'd by rain; Such as inany courses ran,

And the poor sailor, that must try Hand in hand, a goodly train,

Its fury, labours less than I. To bless the great Eliza's reign;

“ Shipwreck'd, in vain to land I make, And in the typic glory show

While Love and Fate still drive me back: What fuller bliss Maria shall bestow.

Fore'd to doat on thee thy own way, As the solemn Hours advance,

I chide thee first, and then obey. Mingled send into the dance

Wretched when from thee, vex'd when nigh,
Many fraught with all the treasures,

I with thee, or without thee, dic.”
Which thy eastern travel views;
Many wing'd with all the pleasures,

Man can ask, or Heaven diffuse:
That great Maria all those joys may know,

LOVE AND FRIENDSTIP:
Which, from her cares, upon her subjects flow.
For thy own glory sing our sovereign's praise,

A PASTORAL.
God of verses and of days :

DY MAS. ELIZADETI SINGER, AFTERWARDS ROWE. Let all thy tuneful sons adorn Their lasting work with William's name;

AMARYLLIS. Let chosen Muses, yet unborn,

WHILE from the skies the ruddy Sun descends, Take great Maria for their future theme :

And rising night the evening shade extends ; Eternal structures let them raise

While pearly dews o'erspread the fruitful field, On William's and Maria's praise :

And closing Gowers reviving odours yield : Nor want new subject for the song,

| Let us, beneath these spreading trees, recite Nor fear they can exhaust the store,

What from our hearts our Muses may indite. Till Nature's music lies unstrung:

Nor need we, in this close retirement, fear,
Till thou, great god, shalt lose thy double power, Lest any swain our amorous secrets hear.
And touch thy lyre, and shoot thy beams no more.

SYLVIA.
To every shepherd I would mine proclaims
Since fair Aminta is my softest theme:

A stranger to the loose delights of Love,
TIIE LADY'S LOOKING-GLASS.

My thoughts the noblerwarmth of Friendship prove;
IN IMITATION OF A CREEK IDYLLIUM. And, while its pure and sacred fire I sing,

Chaste goddess of the groves, thy succour bring. Celia and I, the other day, Walk'd o'er the sund-hills to the sea :

AMARYLLIS. The sitting Sun adorn'd the coast,

Propitious god of love, my breast inspire His beams entire, his fierceness lost;

| With all thy charins, with all thy pleasing fire,

Propitious god of love, thy succour bring,

May every god his friendly aid afford, Whilst I thy darling, thy Alexis sing;

Pan guard thy flock, and Ceres bless thy Board ! Alexis, as the opening blossoms fair,

But if, by chance, the series of thy joys
Lovely as light, and soft as yielding air.

Perinit one thought less cheerful to arise,
For him each virgin sighs; and, on the plains, Piteous transfer it to the mournful swain,
The happy youth above each rival reigns. | Who, loving much, who, not belov'd again,
Nor to the echoing groves, and whispering spring, Feels an ill-fated passion's last excess,
In sweeter strains, does artful Conon sing;

And dies in woe, that thou may'st live in peace.
When loud applauses fill the crowded groves,
And Phæbus the superior song approves.
SYLVIA.

TO A LADY:
Beauteous Aminta is as early light,
Breaking the melancholy shades of night.

SHE REFUSING TO CONTINUE A DISPUTE WITH ME, AND · When she is near, all anxious trouble flies,

LEAVING ME IN THE ARGUMENT,
And our reviving hearts confess her eyes.

AN ODE.
Young love, and blooming joy, and gay desires,
In every breast the beauteous nymph inspires; | SPARE, generous victor, spare the slave,
And on the plain when she no more appears,

Who did unequal war pursue;
The plain a dark and gloomy prospect wears.

That more than triumph he might have,
In vain the streams roll on: the eastern breeze In being overcome by you.
Dances in vain among the trembling trees:

In the dispute, whate'er I said,
In vain the birds begin their evening song,

My heart was by my tongue belied ;
And to the silent night their notes prolong: And in my looks you might have read
Nor groves, nor crystal streams, nor verdant field, How much I argued on your side.
Does wonted pleasure in her absence yield.

You, far from danger as from fear,
AMARYLLIS.

Might have sustain'd an open fight;
And, in his absence, all the pensive day,

For seldom your opinions err ; In some obscurc retreat, I lonely stray;

Your eyes are always in the right. All day to the repeating caves complain,

Why, fair one, would you not rely In mournful accents and a dying strain :

On Reason's force with Beauty's join'd! Dear lovely youth," I cry to all around; Could I their prevalence deny, “ Dear lovely youth," the flattering vales resound. I must at once be deaf and blind. SYLVIA.

Alas! not hoping to subdue,

I only to the fight aspird: On flowery banks, by every murmuring stream,

To keep the beauteous foe in view Aminta is my Muse's softest theme:

Was all the glory I desir'de 'Tis she that does my artful notes refine; (shine. With fair Aminta's name my noblest verse shall

| But she, howe'er of victory sure,

Contemns the wreath too long delay'd;
AMARYLLIS.

And, arny'd with more immediate power,
I'll twine fresh garlands for Alexis' brows,

Calls cruel Silence to her aid And consecrate to him eternal vows:

Deeper to wound, she shuns the fight; The charming youth shall my Apollo prove;

She drops her arms, to gain the field;
He shall adorn my songs, and tune my voice to love. Secures her conquest by her flight;

And triumphs, when she seems to yield.
So, when the Parthian turn'd his steed,

And from the hostile camp withdrew,
TO THE

With cruel skill the backward reed
AUTHOR OF THE FOREGOING PASTORAL. I He sent; and, as he fled, be slew.
By Sylvia, if thy charming self be meant;
If friendship be thy virgin vows extent :
Oh! let me in Aminta's praises join :

SEEING
Her's my esteem shall be, my passion thine.
When for thy head the garland I prepare,

THE DUKE OF ORMOND'S PICTURZ A second wreath shall bind Aminta's hair;

AT SIR GODFREY KNELLER'S.
And, when my choicest songs thy worth proclaim,
Alternate verse shall bless Aminta's name;

Out from the injur'd canvass, Kneller, strike My heart shall own the justice of her cause, These lines too faint: the picture is not like. And Love himself submit to Friendship's laws. Exalt thy thought, and try thy toil again:

But if, beneath thy numbers' soft disguise, Dreadful in arms, on Landen's glorious plain Some favour'd swain, some true Alexis lies; Place Ormond's duke: impendent in the air If Amaryllis breathes thy secret pains,

Let his keen sabre, comet-like, appear, Aud thy fond heart beats measure to thy strains ; Where'er it points, denouncing death: below, May'st thou, howe'er I grieve, for ever find

Draw routed squadrons, and the numerous foe, The flame propitious, and the lover kind!

Falling beneath, or flying from his blow : May Venus long exert her happy power,

Till, weak with wounds, and cover'd o'er with blood, And make thy beauty, like thy verse, endure! | Which from the patriot's breast in torrents flow'd,

He faints; his steed no longer feels the rein; Mov'd by my charms, with them your love may But stumbles o'er the heap, his hand had slain. And, as the fuel sinks, the fame decrease : (cease, And now exhausted, bleeding, pale he lies;

Or angry Heaven may quicker darts prepare, . Lovely, sad object! in his half-clos'd eyes

And Sickness strike what Time a while would spare. Stern vengeance yet, and hostile terrour, stand: Then will my swain his glowing vows renew; His front yet threatens, and his frowns command. | Then will his throbbing heart to mine beat true ; The Gallic chiefs their troops around him call; When my own face deters me from my glass, Fear to approach him, though they see him fall. And Kneller only shows what Celia was?

O kneller! could thy shades and lights express Fantastic Fame may sound her wild alarms; The perfect hero in that glorious dress;

Your country, as you think, may want your arms. Ages to come might Ormond's picture know, You may neglect, or quench, or hate the flame, And palms for thee beneath his laurels grow : Whose smoke too long obscur'd your rising name; In spite of Time, thy work might ever shine ; And quickly cold indifference will ensue, Nor Homer's colours last so long as thine.

When you Love's joys through Honour's optic view.

Then Celia's loudest prayer will prove too weak,
To this abandon'd breast to bring you back;

When my lost lover the tall ship ascends,
CELIA TO DAMON.

With music gay, and wet with jovial friends,
Atque in amore mala hæc proprio, summéque se-

The tender accent of a woman's cry

Will pass unheard, will unregarded die; cundo Inveniuntur.

Lucret. lib. iv.

When the rough seamen's louder shouts prevail,

When fair occasion shows the springing gale, What can I say, what arguments can prove And Interest guides the helm, and Honour swells the My truth, what colours can describe my love,

sail. If its excess and fury be not known,

Some wretched lines, from this neglected hand, I what my Celia has already done?

May find my hero on the foreign strand, Thy infant flames, while yet they were conceal's Warm with new fires, and pleas'd with new comIn timorous doubts, with pity I beheld;

mand : With easy smiles dispell’d the silent fear,

While she who wrote them, of all joy bereft, That durst not tell me what I dy'd to hear.

To the rude censure of the world is left; In vain I strove to check my growing flame, Her mangled fame in barbarous pastine lost, Or shelter passion under Friendship's name, The coxcomb's novel, and the drunkard's toast. You saw my heart, how it my tongue bely'd ;

But nearer care (0 pardon it!) supplies, And when you press'd, how faintly I deny'd. Sighs to my breast, and sorrow to my eyes.

Ere guardian Thought could bring its scatter'd aid, Love, Love himself (the only friend i have) .
Ere Reason could support the doubting maid, May scorn his triumph, having bound his slave
My soul, surpris'd, and from herself disjoin'd, That tyrant-god, that restless conqueror,
Left all reserve, and all the sex, behind:

May quit his pleasure, may assert his power;
From your command her inotions she receiv'd; Forsake the provinces that bless his sway,
And not for me, but you, she breath'd and liv'd. To vanquish those which will not yet obey.
But ever blest be Cytherea's shrine,

Another nynıph with fatal power may rise, And fires eternal on her altars shine!

To damp the sinking beams of Celia's eyes; Since thy dear breast has felt an equal wound; With haughty pride may hear her charms confest, Since in thy kindness my desires are crown'd. And scorn the ardent vows that I have blest. By thy each look, and thought, and care, 'tis shown, You every night may sigh for her in vain, Thy joys are center'd all in me alone;

And rise each morning to some fresh disdain: And sure I am, thou wouldst not change this hour While Celia's softest look may cease to charm, For all the white ones Fate has in its power. | And her embraces want the power to warm : Yet thus belov'd, thus loving to excess,

While these fond arms, thus circling you, may Yet thus receiving and returning bliss,

prove In this great moment, in this golden now,

More heavy chains than those of hopeless love. When every trace of what, or when, or how,

Just gods! all other things their like produce; Should from my soul by raging love be torn, The Vine arises from her mother's juice: And far on swelling seas of rapture borne;

When feeble plants or tender flowers decay, A melancholy tear afHicts my eye,

They to their seed their images convey : And my heart labours with a sudden sigh:

Where the old Myrtle her good influence sheds, Invading fears repel my coward joy,

Sprigs of like leaf erect their filial heads : And ills, foreseen, the present bliss destroy.

And when the parent Rose decays and dies, Poor as it is, this beauty was the cause,

With a resembling face the daughter buds arise. That with first sighs your panting bosomn rose : That product only which our passions bear But with no owner Beauty long will stay,

Fludes the planter's miserable care. Upon the wings of Time boine swift a xay;

While blooming Love assures us golden fruit, Pass but some flecting years and these poor eyes | Some inhorn poison taints the secret root: (Where now, without a boast, some lustre lies) Soon fall the flowers of Joy, soon seeds of Hatred No longer shall their little honours keep;

shoot. Shall only be of use to read or weep:

Say, shepherd, say, are these reflections true?
And on this forehead, where your verse has said, 1 Or was it but the woman's fear that drew
" The Loves delighted, and the Graces play'd,” This cruel soene, unjust to love and you?
Insulting Age will trace his cruel way;

Will you be only and for trer mine?
And leave sad marks of his destructive sway. | Sball neither time nor age our souls disjoin ?

SCHOOL,

From this dear bosom shall I ne'er be torn? Fair Albion shall, with faithful trust,
Or you grow cold, respectful, and forsworn?

Her holy queen's sad relics guard,
And can you not for her you love do more

Till Heaven awakes the precious dust,
Than any youth for any nyinph before?

And gives the saint her full reward.
But let the king disiniss his woes,

Reflecting on his fair renown;

And take the cypress from his brows,
PROLOGUE,

To put his wonted laurels on.
SPOKEN BY LORD BUCKHURST, IN WESTMINSTER-

If prest by grief our monarch stoops,

In vain the British lions roar:

If he, whose hand sustain'd then, droopo,
AT A REPRESENTATION OF MR. DRYDEN'S CLEOMENES, | The Belgic darts will wound no more.
AT CHRISTMAS 1695.

| Embattled princes wait the chief, Pisn, Lord, I wish this prologue was but Greek, Whose voice should rule, whose arm should lead; Then young Cleonidas would boldly speak;

And, in kind murmurs, chiile that grief, But can lord Buckhurst in poor English say,

Which hinders Europe being freed. Gentle spectators, pray excuse the play?

The great example they demand
No, witness all ye gous of ancient Greece,

Who still to conquest led the way ;
Rather than condescend to terms like these, Wishing him present to command,
I'd go to school six hours on Christmas-day,

As they stand ready to obey.
Or construe Persius while my comrades play.
Such work by hireling actors should be done,

They seek that joy, which us’d to glow,
Who tremble when they see a critic frown;

Expanded on the hero's face; Poor rogues, that smart like fencers for their bread,

When the thick squadrons prest the foe, And, if they are not wounded, are not fed.

And William led the glorious chase. But, sirs, our labour has more noble ends,

To give the mourning nations joy, We act our tragedy to sec our friends:

Restore them thy auspicious light, Our generous scenes are for pure love repeated, Great Sun : with radiant bcams destroy And if you are not pleas'd, at least you're treated. Those clouds, which keep thce from our sight. The candles and the clothes ourselves we bought,

Let thy sublime meridian course Our tops neglected, and our balls forgot.

For Mary's setting rays atone : To le: in our parts, we left our midnight bed,

Our lustre, with redoubled force,
Most of you snor'd whilst Cleomenes read:

Must now proceed from thee alone.
Not that from this confusion we would sue
Praise undeserved; we know ourselves and you :

Sce, pious king, with different strife
Reso'v'd to stand or perish by our cause,

Thy struggling Albion's bosom torn : We neither censure fear, nor beg applause,

So much she fears for William's life,
For these are Westminster and Sparta's laws.

That Mary's fate she dares not mourn
Yet, if we see some judgment well inclin'd, Her beauty, in thy softer half
To young desert, and growing virtue kind,

Bury'd and lost, she ought to grieve;
That critic by ten thousand marks should know, But let her strength in thee be safe;
That greatest souls to goodness only bow;

And let her weep; but let her live. And that your little hero does inherit

Thou, guardian angel, save the land
Not Cleomenes' more than Dorset's spirit.

From thy own grief, her fiercest foc;
Lest Britain, rescued by thy hand,

Should bend and sink beneath thy woe.
AN ODE, PRESENTED TO THE KING, Her former triumpbs all are rain,

Unless new trophies still be sought,
ON HIS MAJESTY'S ARRIVAL IN NOLLAND AFTER THE And hoary majesty sustain
QUEEN'S DEATH, 1695.

The battles which thy youth has fought
Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus

Where now is all that fearful love, Tam cari capitis ? pracipe lugubres

Which made her hate the war’s alarms? Cantus, Melpomene.

That soft excess, with which she strove

To keep her hero in her arms ? Ar Mary's tomb (sad sacred place !)

While still she chid the coming Spring, The Virtues shall their vigils keep:

Which call'd him o'er his subject scas : And every Muse, and every Grace,

While, for the safety of the king, In solemn state shall ever weep.

She wish'd the victor's glory less. The future pious, mournful fair,

'Tis chang'd; 'tis gone : sad Britain non Oft as the rolling years return,

Hastens her lord to foreign wars: With fragrant wreaths and flowing hair,

Happy, if toils may break his woe, Shall visit her distinguish'd urn.

Or danger may divert his cares. For her the wise and great shall mourn,

In martial din she drowns her sighs, When late records her deeds repeat:

Lest he the rising grief should hear : Agos to come, and men unborn,

She pulls her helinet o'er her eyes, Shall bless her name, and sigh her fate.

Lest be should see the falling tear,

Go, mighty prince ; let France be taught, | Yet ought his sorrow to be checkt;
How constant minds by grief are try'd;

Yet ought his passion to abate ;
How great the land, that wept and fought,

If the great mourner would reflect, When William led, and Mary dy'd.

Her glory in her death complete. Fierce in the battle make it known,

She was instructed to command, Where Death with all his darts is seen,

Great king, by long obeying thce; That he can touch thy heart with none,

Her sceptre, guided by thy hand, But that which struck the beauteous queen.

Preserv'd the isles, and rul'd the sea. Belgia indulg'd her open grief,

But oh! 'twas little, that her life

O'er earth and water bears thy fame: While yet her master was not near:

In death, 'twas worthy Williain's wife,
With sullen pride refus'd relief,

Amidst the stars to fix his name.
And sat obdurate in despair.
As waters from their sluices, flow'd

Beyond where matter moves, or place

Receives its forms, thy virtues roll;
Unbounded sorrow from her eyes :
To carth her bended front she bow'd,

From Mary's glory, angels trace

The beauty of her partner's soul. And sent her waitings to the skies.

Wise Fate, which does its Heaven decree But when her anxious lord return'd,

To heroes, when they yield their breathe Rais'd is her head, her eyes are dry'd;

Hastens thy triumph. Half of thee She smiles, as William ne'er had mourn's,

Is deify'd before thy death. She looks, as Mary ne'er had dy'd.

Alone to thy renown 'tis given, That freedom, which all sorrows claim,

Unbounded through all worlds to go: She does for thy content resign:

While she, great saint, rejoices Heaven; Her piety itself would blame,

And thou sustain'st thc orb below.
If her regrets should weaken thine.
To cure thy woe, she shows thy fame:

Lest the great mourner should forget
That all the race, whence Orange came,

IN IMITATION OF ANACREON. Made Virtue triumph over Fate.

Let them censure : what care 1? William his country's cause could fight,

The herd of critics I defy. And with his blood her freedom seal :

Let the wretches know, I write, Maurice and Henry guard that right,

Regardless of their grace or spite. For which their pious parents fell.

No, no: the fair, the gay, the young, How heroes rise, how patriots set,

Govern the numbers of my song; Thy father's bloom and Death may tell :

All that they approve is sweet; Excelling others, these were great :

And all is sense that they repeat Thou, greater still, must these excel.

Bid the warbling Nine retire; The last fair instance thou must give,

Venus, string thy servant's lyre: Whence Nassau's virtue can be try'd ;

Love shall be my endless theme; And show the world that thou canst live

Pleasure shall triumph over Fame : Intrepid, as thy consort dy'd ;

And, when these maxims I decline, Thy virtue, whose resistless force

Apollo, may thy fate be mine! No dire event could ever stay,

May I grasp at empty praise ;

And lose the nymph, to gain the bays ! Must carry on its destin'd course,

Though Death and Envy stop the way. For Britain's sake, for Belgia's, live: Piered by their grief, forget thy own:

ODE New toils endure, new conquest give,

SUR LA PRISE DE VAMUR, And bring them case, though thou hast none. Vanquish again; though she be gone,

PAR LES ARMES DU ROY, L'ANNEE 1692. Whose garland crown'd the victor's bair:

PAR MONSIEUR BOILEAU DESPREAUX And reign, though she has left the throne, Who inade thy glory worth thy care.

Qurile docte & saint yvrosse

Aujourd'hui me fait la loi ? Fair Britain never yet before

Chastes Nymphes du Perincese, Breath'd to her king an useless prayer :

N'est-ce pas vous que je voi ? Fond Belgia never did implore,

Accourez, troupe sçavante: While William turu'd averse his ear.

Des sons que ma lyre enfante But, should the weeping hero now

Ces arbres sont reiouis : Relentless to their wishes prove;

Marquez en bien la cadence: Should he recall, with pleasing wue,

Et vous, vents, faites silence : The object of his grief and love;

Je vais parler de Louis. Her face with thousand beauties blest,

Dans ses chansons immortelles, Her mind with thousand virtnes stor'd,

Comme un aigle audacieux, Her power with boundless joy confest,

Pindare étendant ses aisles, Her person only not ador'd :

fuit loin des vulgaires yeux

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