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I. TH 'HE merchant, to secure his treasure,

Conveys it in a borrow'd name : Euphelia serves to grace my measure ;

But Cloe is my real flame.

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My softest verfe, my darling lyre,

Upon Euphelia's toilet lay';
When Cloe noted her desire,

That I should fing, that I should play.


My lyre I tune, my voice I raise,

But with my numbers mix my fighs ;
And, whilft I sing Euphelia's praise,

I fix my soul on Cloe's eyes.

Fair Cloe bluí'd : Euphelia frown's :

I sung, and gaz’d: I play'd, and trembled :
And Venus to the Loves around

Remark'd, how ill we all diffembled.

. Presented

Presented to the King, at his Arrival in HOLLAND;

after the Discovery of the CONSPIRACY, 1696.

“ Serus in coelum redeas, diúque
" Lælus intersis populo Quirini:
6. Néve te nostris vitiis iniquum

“ Ocyor aura
6 Tollat -

Hor. ad Auguftum.



your just decree

E 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 :

Transfer the power, and set the people free.
See rescued 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.

Britain her safety to your guidance owns,
That she can separate parricides from sons;
That, impious rage disarm’d, the lives and reigns,
iler tieedom kept by him, who broke her chains.


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And thou, great minister, above the rest
Of guardian spirits, be thou for ever bleft;
Thou who of old walt sent to Israel's court,
With fecrèt 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 heavenly shield;
When power divine did sovereign right declare ;
And cannons mark'd whom they were bid to spare.

Still, bleffed 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 heaven belov'd,
By troubles must be vex'd, by dangers provid :
His foes must aid, to make his fame compleat,
And fix his throne fecure on their defeat.

So, though with sudden rage the tempest comes ;
Though the winds roar; and though the water foams;
Imperial Britain on the fea looks down,
And smiling sees her rebel-subjects frown.
Striking her cliff, the storm confirms her power ;
The waves but whiten her triumphant fhore;

In vain they would advance, in vain retreat ;
Broken they dash, and perish at her feet.

For William still new wonders shall be fhown:
The powers, that rescued, shall preserve the throne.
Safe on his darling Britain's joyful sea,
Behold, the monarch plows 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
Blackend with crouds; he fees the nation 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 confefs’d,
But trembled for the courage which she blest.

O Louis, from this grcat example know,
To be at once a liero and a foc :
By founding 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, veep thy cruel pride
Restrain'd, behind the victor's cha jot tied
In brazen knots and everlasting chains
(So Europe's peace, so Williain's fate ordains),



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While on the ivory chair, in happy state,
He fits, fecure in innocence, and great
In regal clemency; and views beneath
Averted darts of rage, and pointless arms of death.



On my

Written at The Hague, 1696. WHILE with labour affiduous due pleasure I mix,

And in one day atone for the business of fix, In a little Dutch chaise on a Saturday night,

left-hand my Horace, a Nymph on my right: No memoirs to compose, and no post-boy to more, That on Sunday may hinder the softness of love ; For her, neither visits, nor parties at tea, Nor the long winded cant of a dull refugee. This night and the next shall be her’s, shall be mine, To good or ill-fortune the third we resign: Thus scorning the world, and superior to fate, I drive on my car in processional state. So with Phia through Athens Pififtratus rode ; Men thought her Minerva, and him a new god. But why should I stories of Athens rehearse, Where people knew lore, and were partial.to verse; Since none can with justice my pleasures oppose, In Holland half drowned in interest and prose ? By Greece and past ages what need I be tried, When The Hague and the present are both on my side ?


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