SPOKEN BY THE AUTHOR,

BEING THEN NOT TWELVE YEARS OF AGE,

ΤΟ

HER ROYAL HIGHNESS

THE DUTCHESS OF YORK,

AT TRINITY COLLEGE IN CAMBRIDGE.

WHEN join'd in one, the good, the fair, the great,
Descend to view the Muses' humble seat,
Though in mean lines, they their vast joys declare,
Yet for sincerity and truth, they dare

With your own TASSO's mighty self compare.
Then, bright and merciful as Heav'n, receive
From them such praises, as to Heav'n they give,
Their praises for that gentle influence,
Which those auspicious lights, your eyes, dispense;
Those radiant eyes, whose irresistless flame
Strikes Envy dumb, and keeps Sedition tame:
They can to gazing multitudes give law,
Convert the factious, and the rebel awe;
They conquer for the duke; where-e'er you tread,
Millions of proselytes, behind are led ;
Through crowds of new-made converts still you go,
Pleas'd and triumphant at the glorious show.
Happy that prince who has in you obtain'd
A greater conquest than his arms e'er gain'd.
With all War's rage, he may abroad o'ercome,
But Love 's a gentler victory at home;
Securely here, he on that face relies,
Lays by his arms, and conquers with your eyes.
And all the glorious actions of his life
Thinks well rewarded, blest with such a wife.

So Jove suspends his subject world to doom,
Which, would he please to thunder, he'd consume.
O! could the ghosts of mighty heroes dead,
Return on Earth, and quit th' Elysian shade!
Brutus to James would trust the people's cause;
Thy justice is a stronger guard than laws.
Marius and Sylla would resign to thee,
Nor Cæsar and great Pompey rivals be;
Or rivals only, who should best obey,
And Cato give his voice for regal sway.

ΤΟ

THE KING.

HEROES of old, by rapine, and by spoil,
In search of fame, did all the world embroil;
Thus to their gods each then ally'd his name,
This sprang from Jove, and that from Titan came:
With equal valour, and the same success,
Dread king, might'st thou the universe oppress;
But Christian laws constrain thy martial pride,
Peace is thy choice, and Piety thy guide;
By thy example kings are taught to sway,
Heroes to fight, and saints may learn to pray.

From gods descended, and of race divine,
Nestor in council, and Ulysses shine;
But in a day of battle, all would yield
To the fierce master of the seven-fold shield:
Their very deities were grac'd no more,
Mars had the courage, Jove the thunder bore.
But all perfections meet in James alone,
And Britain's king is all the Gods in one.

ΤΟ

THE KING

IN THE FIRST YEAR OF HIS MAJESTY'S REIGN.

MAY all thy years, like this, auspicious be, And bring thee crowns, and peace, and victory! Scarce hadst thou time t'unsheath thy conqu'ring It did but glitter, and the rebels fled : [blade, Thy sword, the safeguard of thy brother's throne, Is now as much the bulwark of thy own. Aw'd by thy fame, the trembling nations send Throughout the world, to court so firm a friend. The guilty senates, that refus'd thy sway, Repent their crime, and hasten to obey; Tribute they raise, and vows and off'rings bring, Confess their phrenzy, and confirm their king, Who with their venom overspread thy soil, Those scorpions of the state, present their oil. So the world's Saviour, like a mortal drest, Although by daily miracles confest, Accus'd of evil doctrine by the Jews, The giddy crowd their rightful prince refuse ; But when they saw such terrour in the skies, The temple rent, their king in glory rise; Seiz'd with amaze, they own'd their lawful Lord, And struck with guilt, bow'd, trembl'd, and ador'd.

ΤΟ

THE KING.

THO' train'd in arms, and learn'd in martial arts, Thou choosest, not to conquer men, but hearts; Expecting nations for thy triumphs wait,

But thou prefer'st the name of JUST to GREAT.

ΤΟ

THE AUTHOR,

ON HIS FOREGOING VERSES TO THE KING.
BY MR. EDMUND WALLER.

AN early plant, which such a blossom bears,
And shows a genius so beyond his years,
A judgment that could make so fair a choice,
So high a subject to employ his voice,
Still as it grows, how sweetly will he sing
The growing greatness of our matchless king.

ANSWER.

TO MR. WALLER.

TO THE IMMORTAL MEMORY OF

MR. EDMUND WALLER,

UPON HIS DEATH.

ALIKE partaking of celestial fire,
Poets and heroes to renown aspire,

Till, crown'd with honour, and immortal name,
By wit, or valour, led to equal fame,

They mingle with the gods who breath'd the noble flame.

To high exploits, the praises that belong
Live, but as nourish'd by the poet's song.

A tree of life is sacred poetry,

Sweet is the fruit, and tempting to the eye;
Many there are, who nibble without leave,
But none, who are not born to taste, survive.
Waller shall never die, of life secure,
As long as Fame, or aged Time endure,
Waller, the Muses' darling, free to taste
Of all their stores, the master of the feast;
Not like old Adam, stinted in his choice,
But lord of all the spacious Paradise.

Those foes to virtue, fortune and mankind,
Fav'ring his fame, once, to do justice join'd;
No carping critic interrupts his praise;
No rival strives, but for a second place;
No want constrain'd (the writer's usual fate)
A poet with a plentiful estate;

The first of mortals who, before the tomb,
Struck that pernicious monster, Envy, dumb;
Malice and Pride, those savages, disarm'd;
Not Orpheus with such powerful magic charm'd.
Scarce in the grave can we allow him more,
Than living we agreed to give before.

His noble Muse employ'd her generous rage
In crowning virtue, scorning to engage
The vice and follies of an impious age.
No satyr lurks within this hallow'd ground,
But nymphs and heroines, kings and gods abound;
Glory, and arms, and love, is all the sound.
His Eden with no serpent is defil'd,
But all is gay, delicious all, and mild.

Mistaken men his Muse of flattery blame,
Adorning twice an impious tyrant's name;
We raise our own, by giving fame to foes,
The valour that he prais'd, he did oppose.

Nor were his thoughts to poetry confin'd,
The state and business shar'd his ample mind;
As all the fair were captives to his wit,
So senates to his wisdom would submit ;
His voice so soft, his eloquence so strong,

Like Cato's was his speech, like Ovid's was his song.
Our British kings are rais'd above the herse,
Immortal made, in his immortal verse;
No more are Mars and Jove poetic themes,
But the celestial Charles's, and just James :
Juno and Pallas, all the shining race

Of heavenly beauties, to the queen give place;
Clear, like her brow, and graceful, was his song,
Great, like her mind, and like her virtue strong.

Parent of gods, who dost to gods remove,
Where art thou plac'd? And which thy seat above?
Waller, the god of verse, we will proclaim,
Not Phoebus now, but Waller be his name;
Of joyful bards, the sweet seraphic choir
Acknowledge thee their oracle and sire;
The Spheres do homage, and the Muses sing
Waller, the god of verse, who was the king.

ΤΟ

MYRA.

LOVING AT FIRST SIGHT.

No warning of th' approaching flame,
Swiftly, like sudden death, it came;
Like travellers, by light'ning kill'd,
I burnt the moment I beheld.

In whom so many charms are plac'd,
Is with a mind as nobly grac'd;
The case so shining to behold,
Is fill'd with richest gems, and gold.
To what my eyes admir'd before,
I add a thousand graces more;
And Fancy blows into a flame,
The spark that from her beauty came.

The object thus improv'd by thought, By my own image I am caught; Pygmalion so, with fatal art, Polish'd the form that stung his heart.

ΤΟ

MYRA.

WARN'D, and made wise by others flame,
I fled from whence such mischiefs came,
Shunning the sex, that kills at sight,
I sought my safety in my flight.

But, ah! in vain from Fate I fly,
For first, or last, as all must die;
So 'tis as much decreed above,
That first, or last, we all must love.

My heart, which stood so long the shock
Of winds and waves, like some firm rock,
By one bright spark from Myra thrown,
Is into flame, like powder, blown.

SONG. TO MYRA.

FOOLISH Love, begone, said I,

Vain are thy attempts on me; Thy soft allurements I defy, Women, those fair dissemblers, fly,

My heart was never made for thee. Love heard, and straight prepar'd a dart; Myra, revenge my cause, said he : Too sure 'twas shot, I feel the smart, It rends my brain, and tears my heart; O Love! my conqueror, pity me.

AN IMITATION

OF THE SECOND CHORUS IN

THE SECOND act of senecA'S THYESTES.

WHEN will the gods, propitious to our prayers,
Compose our factions, and conclude our wars?
Ye sons of Inachus, repent the guilt

Of crowns usurp'd, and blood of parents spilt;
For impious greatness, vengeance is in store;
Short is the date of all ill-gotten power.
Give ear, ambitious princes, and be wise;
Listen, and learn wherein true greatness lies:

Place not your pride in roofs that shine with gems,
In purple robes, nor sparkling diadems;
Nor in dominion, nor extent of land:
He's only great, who can himself command,
Whose guard is peaceful innocence, whose guide
Is faithful reason; who is void of pride,
Checking ambition; nor is idly vain
Of the false incense of a popular train;
Who, without strife, or envy, can behold
His neighbour's plenty, and his heaps of gold;
Nor covets other wealth, but what we find
In the possessions of a virtuous mind.

Fearless he sees, who is with virtue crown'd,
The tempest rage, and hears the thunder sound;
Ever the same, let Fortune smile or frown,
On the red scaffold, or the blazing throne;
Serenely, as he liv'd, resigns his breath,
Meets Destiny half way, nor shrinks at Death.

Ye sovereign lords, who sit like gods in state, Awing the world, and bustling to be great; Lords but in title, vassals in effect,

Whoin lust controuls, and wild desires direct:
The reins of empire but such hands disgrace,
Where Passion, a blind driver, guides the race.
What is this Fame, thus crowded round with
slaves?

The breath of fools, the bait of flattering knaves:
An honest heart, a conscience free from blaine,
Not of great acts, but good, give me the name:
In vain we plant, we build, our stores increase,
If conscience roots up all our inward peace.
What need of arms, or instruments of war,
Or battering engines that destroy from far?
The greatest king, and conqueror is he,
Who lord of his own appetites can be ;
Blest with a pow'r that nothing can destroy,
And all have equal freedom to enjoy.

Whom worldly luxury, and pomps allure,
They tread on ice, and find no footing sure;
Place me, ye powers! in some obscure retreat,
O! keep me innocent, make others great :
In quiet shades, content with rural sports,
Give me a life remote from guilty courts,
Where, free from hopes or fears, in humble ease,
Unheard of, I may live and die in peace.

Happy the man, who, thus retir'd from sight, Studies himself, and seeks no other light: But most unhappy he, who sits on high, Exposed to every tongue and every eye; Whose follies blaz'd about, to all are known, But are a secret to himself alone:

Worse is an evil fame, much worse than none.

A LOYAL EXHORTATION. WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1688.

Or kings dethron'd, and blood of brethren spilt,
In vain, O Britain! you'd avert the guilt;
If crimes, which your forefathers blush'd to own,
Repeated, call for heavier vengeance down.

Tremble, ye people, who your kings distress,
Tremble, ye kings, for people you oppress;
Th' Eternal sees, arm'd with his forky rods,
The rise and fall of empire 's from the gods.

OCCASIONED BY THE FOREGOING VERSES.

WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1690.

CEASE, tempting Siren, cease thy flattering strain,
Sweet is thy charming song, but sung in vain :
When the winds blow, and loud the tempests roar,
What fool would trust the waves, and quit the shore?
Early, and vain, into the world I came,
Big with false hopes, and eager after fame;
Till looking round me, ere the race began,
Madmen, and giddy fools, were all that ran;
Reclaim❜d betimes, I from the lists retire,
And thank the gods, who my retreat inspire.
In happier times our ancestors were bred,
When virtue was the only path to tread :
Give me, ye gods! but the same road to fame,
Whate'er my fathers dar'd, I dare the same.
Chang'd is the scene, some baneful planet rules
An impious world, contriv'd for knaves and fools.
Look now around, and with impartial eyes
Consider, and examine all who rise;
Weigh well their actions, and their treacherous ends,
How Greatness grows, and by what steps ascends;
What murders, treasons, perjuries, deceit;
How many crush'd, to make one monster great.
Would you command? Have fortune in your power?
Hug when you stab, and smile when you devour?

Be bloody, false, flatter, forswear, and lie, Turn pander, pathic, parasite, or spy;

From cares, from business, and mankind remove, All but the Muses, and inspiring Love:

A minister at least, perhaps a king.

Fortune, we most unjustly partial call,
A mistress free, who bids alike to all;
But on such terms as only suit the base,
Honour denies and shuns the foul embrace.
The honest man, who starves and is undone,
Not Fortune, but his virtue keeps him down.
Had Cato bent beneath the conquering cause,
He might have liv'd to give new senates laws;
But on vile terms disdaining to be great,
He perish'd by his choice, and not his fate.
Honours and life, th' usurper bids, and all
That vain mistaken men good-fortune call,
Virtue forbids, and sets before his eyes
An honest death, which he accepts, and dies:
O glorious resolution! Noble pride!

More honour'd, than the tyrant liv'd, he dy'd;
More lov'd, more prais'd, more envy'd in his doom,
Than Cæsar trampling on the rights of Rome.
The virtuous nothing fear, but life with shame,
And death 's a pleasant road that leads to fame.
On bones, and scraps of dogs, let me be fed,
My limbs uncover'd, and expos'd my head
To bleakest colds, a kennel be my bed.
This, and all other martyrdom for thee,
Seems glorious, all, thrice beauteous Honesty!
Judge me, ye powers! let Fortune tempt or frown,
I stand prepar'd, my honour is my own.
Ye great disturbers, who in endless noise,
In blood and rapine seek unnatural joys;
For what is all this bustle, but to shun

Those thoughts with which you dare not be alone?
As men in misery, opprest with care,
Seek in the rage of wine to drown despair.
Let others fight, and eat their bread in blood,
Regardless if the cause be bad or good;
Or cringe in courts, depending on the nods
Of strutting pigmies who would pass for gods.
For me, unpractis'd in the courtiers school,
Who loathe a knave, and tremble at a fool;
Who honour generous Wycherley opprest,
Possest of little, worthy of the best,
Rich in himself, in virtue, that outshines
All but the fame of his immortal lines,

More than the wealthiest lord, who helps to drain
The famish'd land, and rolls in impious gain:
What can I hope in courts? Or how succeed?
Tigers and wolves shall in the ocean breed,
The whale and dolphin fatten on the mead,
And every element exchange its kind,
Ere thriving Honesty in courts we find.

Happy the man, of mortals happiest he,
Whose quiet mind from vain desires is free;
Whom neither hopes deceive, nor fears torment,
But lives at peace, within himself content,
In thought, or act, accountable to none,
But to himself, and to the gods alone:
O sweetness of content! seraphic joy!
Which nothing wants, and nothing can destroy.
Where dwells this Peace, this freedom of the mind?
Where, but in shades remote from human kind;
In flowery vales, where nymphs and shepherds meet,
But never comes within the palace gate.
Farewel then cities, courts, and camps, farewel,
Welcome, ye groves, here let me ever dwell,

How calm the evening! And the day how bright!
From hence, as from a hill, I view below
The crowded world, a mighty wood in show,
Where several wanderers travel day and night,
By different paths, and none are in the right.

SONG.

LOVE is by Fancy led about

From hope to fear, from joy to doubt;
Whom we now an angel call,
Divinely grac'd in every feature,
Straight 's a deform'd, a perjur'd creature;
Love and hate are Fancy all.
'Tis but as Fancy shall present
Objects of grief, or of content,

That the lover 's blest, or dies:
Visions of mighty pain, or pleasure,
Imagin'd want, imagin'd treasure,
All in powerful Fancy lies.

BEAUTY AND LAW.

A POETICAL PLEADING.

King Charles II. having made a grant of the reversion of an office in the court of King's-Bench, to his son the duke of Grafton; the lord chief justice laying claim to it, as a perquisite legally belonging to his office, the cause came to be heard before the house of lords, between the dutchess, relict of the said duke, and the chief justice.

THE princes sat: Beauty and Law contend;
The queen of Love will her own cause defend:
Secure she looks, as certain none can see
Such Beauty plead, and not her captive be.
What need of words with such commanding eyes?
"Must I then speak? O Heav'ns!" the charmer cries;
"O barbarous clime! where Beauty borrows aid
From Eloquence, to charm, or to persuade !
Will discord never leave with envious care
To raise debate? But discord governs here.
To Juno, Pallas, wisdom, fame, and power,
Long since preferr'd, what trial needs there more?
Confess'd to sight, three goddesses descend
On Ida's hill, and for a prize contend;
Nobly they bid, and lavishly pursue
A gift, that only could be Beauty's due:
Honours and wealth the generous judge denies,
And gives the triumph to the brightest eyes.
Such precedents are numberless, we draw
Our right from custom; custom is a law
As high as Heaven, as wide as seas or land;
As ancient as the world is our command.
Mars and Alcides would this plea allow :
Beauty was ever absolute till now.
It is enough that I pronounce it mine,
And, right or wrong, he should his claim resign:
Not bears nor tigers sure so savage are,
As these ill-manner'd monsters of the bar.

"Loud Rumour1 has proclaim'd a nymph divine, Whose matchless form, to counterbalance mine, By dint of beauty shall extort your grace: Let her appear, this rival, face to face; Let eyes to eyes oppos'd this strife decide; Now, when I lighten, let her beams be try'd. Was 't a vain promise, and a gownman's lie? Or stands she here, unmark'd, when I am by? So Heav'n was mock'd, and once all Elys round Another Jupiter was said to sound; On brazen floors the royal actor tries To ape the thunder rattling in the skies; A brandish'd torch, with emulating blaze, Affects the forky lightning's pointed rays: Thus borne aloft, triumphantly he rode Through crowds of worshippers, and acts the god. The sire omnipotent prepares the brand, By Vulcan wrought, and arms his potent hand; Then flaming hurls it hissing from above, And in the vast abyss confounds the mimic Jove. Presumptuous wretch! with mortal art to dare Immortal power, and brave the thunderer!

"Cassiope, preferring with disdain,

Her daughter to the Nereids, they complain;
The daughter, for the mother's guilty scorn,
Is doom'd to be devour'd; the mother 's borne
Above the clouds, where, by immortal light,
Revers'd she shines, expos'd to human sight,
And to a shameful posture is confin'd,
As an eternal terrour to mankind.
Did thus the gods such private nymphs respect?
What vengeance might the queen of Love expect?
"But grant such arbitrary pleas are vain,
Wav'd let them be; mere justice shall obtain.
Who to a husband justlier can succeed,
Than the soft partner of his nuptial bed;
Or to a father's right lay stronger claim,
Than the dear youth in whom survives his name?
Behold that youth, consider whence he springs,
And in his royal veins respect your kings:
Immortal Jove, upon a mortal she,
Begat his sire: Second from Jove is he.

Well did the father blindly fight your cause,
Following the cry-of Liberty and Laws,
If by those laws, for which he lost his life 2,
You spoil, ungratefully, the son and wife.

"What need I more? 'Tis treason to dispute: The grant was royal; that decides the suit. Shall vulgar laws imperial power constrain? Kings, and the gods, can never act in vain." She finish'd here, the queen of every grace, Disdain vermilioning her heavenly face: Our hearts take fire, and all in tumult rise, And one wish sparkles in a thousand eyes. O! might some champion finish these debates! My sword shall end, what now my pen relates. Up rose the judge, on each side bending low, A crafty smile accompanies his bow; Ulysses like, a gentle pause he makes, Then, raising by degrees his voice, he speaks.

1 A report spread of a beautiful young lady, niece to the lord chief justice, who would appear at the bar of the house of lords, and eclipse the charms of the clutchess of Grafton: no such lady was seen there, nor perhaps ever in any part of the world.

2 The duke of Grafton, slain at the siege of Cork in Ireland, about the beginning of the Revolution.

"In you, my lords, who judge; and all who hear, Methinks I read your wishes for the fair; Nor can I wonder, even I contend With inward pain, unwilling to offend; Unhappy! thus oblig'd to a defence, That may displease such heavenly excellence. Might we the laws on any terms abuse, So bright an influence were the best excuse; Let Niobe's 3 just fate, the vile disgrace Of the Propœtides' 4 polluted race; Let death, or shame, or lunacy surprize, Who dare to match the lustre of those eyes! Aloud the fairest of the sex complain Of captives lost, and loves invok'd in vain; At her appearance all their glory ends, And not a star, but sets, when she ascends.

"Where Love presides, still may she bear the But rigid Law has neither ears nor eyes: [prize; Charms, to which Mars and Hercules would bow, Minos and Rhadamanthus 5 disavow. Justice, by nothing bias'd, or inclin'd, Deaf to persuasion, to temptation blind, Determines without favour, and the laws O'erlook the parties, to decide the cause. What then avails it, that a beardless boy Took a rash fancy for a female toy? . Th' insulted Argives, with a numerous host, Pursue revenge, and seek the Dardan coast; Though the gods built, and though the gods defend Those lofty towers, the hostile Greeks ascend; Nor leave they, till the town in ashes lies, And all the race of royal Priam dies: The queen of Paphos, 6 mixing in the fray, Rallies the troops, and urges on the day; In person, in the foremost ranks she stands, Provokes the charge, directs, assists, commands; Stern Diomed, advancing high in air, His lofty javelin strikes the heavenly fair; The vaulted skies with her loud shrieks resound, And high Olympus trembles at the wound. In causes just, would all the gods oppose, "Twere honest to dispute; so Cato chose. Dismiss that plea, and what shall blood avail? If beauty is deny'd, shall birth prevail? Blood, and high deeds, in distant ages done, Are our forefather's merit, not our own. Might none a just possession be allow'd, But who could bring desert, or boast of blood, What numbers, even here, might be condemn'd, Strip'd, and despoil'd of all, revil'd, contemn'd? Take a just view, how many may remark, Who now's a peer, his grandsire was a clerk: Some few remain, ennobled by the sword In Gothic times: but now, to be my lord, Study the law, nor do these robes despise; Honour the gown, from whence your honours rise.

3 Niobe turned into a stone for presuming to compare herself with Diana.

Propœtides, certain virgins, who, for affronting Venus, were condemned to open prostitution, and afterwards turned into stone.

5 Minos and Rhadamanthus, famous legislators, who for their strict administration of justice, were after their deaths made chief judges in the infernal regions.

6 Venus.