He has improved, and gives with intereft back;
And in his conftellation does unite
Their fcatter'd rays of fainter light:
Above or Envy's lash, or Fortune's wheel
That fettled glory shall for ever dwell :
Above the rolling orbs, and common sky,
Where nothing comes that e'er fhall die.
Where roves the Mufe? Where, thoughtless to
Is her fhort-liv'd veffel borne,
By potent winds too fubject to be tost,
And in the sea of William's praises loft?
Nor let her tempt that deep, nor make the shore,
Where our abandon'd youth she fees,
Shipwreck'd in luxury, and lost in ease;
Whom nor Britannia's danger can alarm,
Nor William's exemplary virtue warm :
Tell them, howe'er, the king can yet forgive
Their guilty floth, their homage yet receive,
And let their wounded honour live:
But fure and sudden be their just remorse;
Swift be their virtue's rife, and strong its course;
For though for certain years and deftin'd times,
Merit has lain confus'd with crimes;
Though Jove feem'd negligent of human cares,
Nor fcourg'd our follies, nor return'd our prayers,
His juftice now demands the equal scales,
Sedition is fupprefs'd, and truth prevails :
Fate its great ends by flow degrees attains,
And Europe, is redeem'd, and William reigns.
AT A REPRESENTATION OF MR. DRYDEN'S CLEOMENES, AT CHRISTMAS, MDCXCV.
PISH, lord, I wish this prologue was but Greek,
Then young Cleonidas would boldly speak:
But can lord Buckhurst in poor English say,
Gentle spectators, pray excuse the play!
No, witness all ye gods of ancient Greece,
Rather than condefcend to terms like thefe,
I'd go to school fix hours on Christmas-day,
Or conftrue Perfius while my comrades play.
Such work by hireling actors fhould be done,
Who tremble when they fee a critic frown.
Poor rogues, that fmart like fencers for their bread,
And, if they are not wounded, are not fed.
But, firs, our labour has more noble ends,
We act our tragedy to fee our friends:
Our generous fcenes are for pure love repeated,
And if you are not pleas'd, at least you 're treated.
The candles and the cloaths ourselves we bought,
Our tops neglected, and our balls forgot.
To learn our parts, we left our midnight bed,
Moft of
you fnor'd whilft Cleomenes read;
Not that from this confeffion we would fue
Praife undeferv'd; we know ourselves and you:
Refolv'd to ftand or perish by our caufe,
We neither cenfure fear, nor beg applaufe,
For thefe are Westminster and Sparta's laws.
Yet, if we fee fome judgment well inclin❜d,
To young defert, and growing virtue kind,
That critic by ten thousand marks fhould know,
That greateft fouls to goodness only bow;
And that your little hero does inherit
Not Cleomes' more than Dorfet's fpirit.
WRITTEN AT THE HAGUE, MDCXCVI.
WHILE with labour affiduous due pleasure I mix,
And in one day atone for the business of fix,
In a little Dutch chaife on a Saturday night,
On my left-hand my Horace, a nymph on my right:
No memoirs to compofe, and no post-boy to move,
That on Sunday may hinder the softness of love;
For her, neither vifits, nor parties at tea,
Nor the long-winded cant of a dull refugee.
This night and the next shall be her's, and be mine,
To good or ill-fortune the third we resign :
Thus fcorning the world, and fuperior to fate,
I drive on my car in proceffional state.
So with Phia through Athens Pififtratus rode;
Men thought her Minerva, and him a new god.
But why should I ftories of Athens rehearse,
Where people knew love, and were partial to verfes
Since none can with justice my pleasures oppose,
In Holland half drowned in interest and profe?
By Greece and past ages what need I be tried,
When The Hague and the present are both on my
And is it enough for the joys of the day,
To think what Anacreon or Sappho would say? When good Vandergoes, and his provident Vrow, As they gaze on my triumph, do freely allow, That, search all the province, you'll find no man dar is,
So bleft as the Englishen Heer Secretar' is.
I SENT for Ratcliffe; was fo ill,
That other doctors gave me over : He felt my pulfe, prefcrib'd his pill, And I was likely to recover.
But, when the wit began to wheeze,
And wine had warm'd the politician,
Cur'd yesterday of my disease,
I dy'd last night of my phyfician.
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