by what he heà rs below As in some Piece whilst Luke his Skill exprest A Cunning Angel came and drew the rest So whilst you play some Godhead does impart Harmonious aid Divinity helps Art Some Cherub finishes what you begun And to a Miracle improves a Tune To burning Rome when frantick Nero play'd Viewing your Face no more he had survey'd The reigning flames but struck with strange surprize Confess 'em less than those of Anna's Eyes But had he heard thy Lute he soon had found His Rage eluded and his Crime atton'd Thine like Amphion's Hand had rais'd the Stone And from Destruction call'd a Fairer Town Malice to Musick had been forc'd to yield Nor could he Burn so fast as thou couldst Build An EPITAPH ON THE Lady WHITMORE BY Mr. DRYDEN FAir Kind and True a Treasure each alone A Wife a Mistress and a Friend in one Rest in this Tomb rais'd at thy Husband 's cost Here sadly summing what he had and lost Come Virgins e're in equal Bands you join Come first and offer at her Sacred Shrine Pray but for half the Vertues of this Wife Compound for all the rest with longer Life And wish your Vows like hers may be return'd So Lov'd when Living and when Dead so Mourn'd AN EPITAPH ON Sir Palmes Fairborne's TOMB IN Westminster Abby By Mr. DRYDEN Sacred To the Immortal Memory of Sir Palmes Fairborne Knight Governor of Tangier in execution of which Command he was mortally wounded by a Shot from the Moors then Besieging the Town in the 46th year of his Age. October 24th 1680. YE Sacred Relicks which your Marble keep Here undisturb'd by Wars in quiet sleep Discharge the trust which when it was below Fairborne's undaunted Soul did undergo And be the Towns Palladium from the Foe Alive and dead these Walls he will defend Great Actions great Examples must attend The Candian Siege his early Valour knew Where Turkish Blood did his young hands imbrew From thence returning with deserv'd Applause Against the Moors his well-flesh'd Sword be draws The same the Courage and the same the Cause His Youth and Age his Life and Death combine As in some great and regular design All of a Piece throughout and all Divine Still nearer Heaven his Vertues shone more bright Like rising flames expanding in their height The Martyr's Glory Crown'd the Soldiers Fight More bravely Brittish General never fell Nor General 's Death was e're reveng'd so well Which his pleas'd Eyes beheld before their close Follow'd by thousand Victims of his Foes To his lamented loss for time to come His pious Widow Consecrates this Tomb. To the Reverend Dr. SHERLOCK Dean of St. Paul's ON His Practical Discourse Concerning DEATH BY Mr. PRIOR FOrgive the Muse who in unhallow'd Strains The Saint one Moment from his God detains For sure what e're you do where e're you are 'T is all but one good Work one constant Pray'r Forgive her and intreat that God to whom Thy favour'd Vows with kind acceptance come To raise her Numbers to that blest Degree That suits a Song of Piety and Thee Wondrous good Man whose Labours may repel The force of Sin may stop the Rage of Hell Who like the Baptist from thy God wert sent To be the Voice and bid the World repent Thee Youth shall study and no more engage His flatt'ring Wishes for uncertain Age No more with fruitless Care and cheated Strife Chace fleeting Pleasure through this Maze of Life Finding the wretched All He here can have But present Food and but a future Grave Each great as Philip's Son shall sit and view This sordid World and weeping ask a New Decrepit Age shall read Thee and consess Thy Labours can asswage where Medcine 's cease Shall bless thy Words their wounded Souls relief The drops that sweeten their last Dregs of Life Shall look to Heav'n and laugh at all beneath Own Riches gather'd Trouble Fame a breath And Life an Ill whose only Cure is Death Thy even thoughts with so much plainness flow Their Sense untutor'd Infancy may know Yet to that height is all that plainness wrought Wit may admire and letter'd Pride be taught Easie in words thy Style in Sense sublime On its blest Steps each Age and Sex may rise 'T is like the Ladder in the Patriarch's Dream Its foot on Earth its height beyond the Skies Diffus'd its Vertue boundless is its Pow'r 'T is publick Health and Universal Cure Of Heav'nly Manna 't is a second Feast A Nation 's Food and All to every taste To its last height mad Brittain's Guilt was rear'd And various Deaths for various Crimes she fear'd With your kind Works her drooping Hopes revive You bid her read repent adore and live You wrest the Bolt from Heav'ns avenging hand Stop ready Death and save a sinking Land O save us still still bless us with thy stay O want thy Heav'n till we have learnt the way Refuse to leave thy destin'd Charge too soon And for the Church's good defer thy own O live and let thy Works urge our belief Live to explain thy Doctrine by thy Life Till future Infancy baptiz'd by thee Grow ripe in Years and old in Piety Till Christians yet unborn be taught to die Then in full Age and hoary Holiness Retire great Teacher to thy promis'd Bliss Untoucht thy Tomb uninjur'd be thy Dust As thy own Fame amongst the future Just Till in last Sounds the dreaded Trumpet speaks Till Judgment calls and quickned Nature wakes Till through the utmost Earth and deepest Sea Our scatter'd Atoms find their hidden way In haste to cloath their Kindred Souls again Perfect our State and build Immortal Man Then fearless Thou who well sustain'dst the Fight To Paths of Joy and Worlds of endless Light Lead up all those who heard thee and believ'd ' Midst thy own Flock great Shepherd be receiv'd And glad all Heav'n with Millions thou hast sav'd ON EXODUS 3. 14. I am that I am A Pindarique ODE BY Mr. PRIOR MAN foolish Man Scarce know'st thou how thy self began Scarce hast thou Thought enough to prove Thou art Yet steel'd with study'd boldness thou dar'st try To send thy doubting Reason's dazled Eye Through the mysterious Gulph of vast Immensity Much thou canst there discern and much impart Vain Wretch suppress thy knowing Pride Mortifie thy Learned Lust Vain are thy thoughts whilst thou thy self art Dust. Wisdom her Oars and Wit her Sails may lend The Helm let Politick Experience guide Yet cease to hope thy short-liv'd Bark shall ride Down spreading Fate 's unnavigable Tide What tho' still it farther tend Still 't is further from its end And in the bosom of that boundless Sea Loses it self and its increasing way 2. With daring Pride and insolent Delight You boast your Doubts resolv'd your Labours crown'd And 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 your God forsooth is found Incomprehensible and Infinite But is he therefore found Vain Searcher no Let your imperfect Definition show That nothing less than nothing
increas'd my Patience with my Pain Till my unfetter'd Soul at last took Wing The Grave its Conquest lost and Death its Sting No longer then these Pious Sorrows shed Nor vainly think thy happy Parent dead Whose deathless Mind from its weak Prison free Enjoys in Heav'n its Native Liberty I soon distinguish'd in that blissful Place Thy God-like Ancestors a numerous Race There plac'd among the Stars in them I see A Glorious Destiny reserv'd for thee Then weep no more ev'n here I still survive In thee and in thy Virtuous Fair I live I saw her happy Mother shine on high A brighter Spirit ne're adorn'd the Skie With Joy she met me at the Crystal Gate And much enquir'd her beauteous Daughter's State She Wish'd her there but Heav'n ordains it late And long defers her Joys that she may be A mighty Blessing to this World and Thee Long shall she live and Ages yet to come Shall bless the happy Burden of her Womb Still shall her Off-spring with her Years increase With both her Virtues and thy Happiness In all thy Race the wondring World shall find The Noble Image of each Parent 's Mind Thus bless'd in her and hers thou shalt receive The richest Bounties Heav'n and Earth can give Nor shall my Care be wanting to your aid My faithful Spirit shall hover o're thy head And round thy lovely Fair alargeProtectionspread Till crown'd with Years and Honours here below And ev'ry Gift kind Nature can bestow You both retire to Everlasting Rest And late increase the Joys and number of the Blest She spoke her Fellow-Angels all around With joyful Smiles the happy Omen own'd All bless'd the Noble Pair and took their flight To the bright Regions of unfading Light A HYMN TO THE MORNING IN Praise of Light AN ODE By Mr. YALDEN. 1. PArent of Day whose beauteous Beams of Light Spring from the darksom Womb of Night And midst their Native horrours show Like Gems adorning of the Negro's Brow Not Heaven's fair Bow can equal thee In all its gaudy Drapery Thou first Essay of Light and pledge of Day That usher'st in the Sun and still prepar'st his way 2. Rival of Shade Eternal Spring of Light Thou art the Genuine Source of it From thy bright unexhausted Womb The beauteous Race of Days and Seasons come Thy Beauty Ages cannot wrong But spight of Time thou' rt ever young Thou art alone Heavens modest Virgin light Whose Face a Veil of blushes hides from human sight 3. Like some fair Bride thou risest from thy Bed And dost around thy Lustre spread Around the Universe dispense New life to all and quick'ning influence With gloomy Smiles thy Rival Night Beholds thy glorious dawn of Light Not all the Wealth she views in Mines below Can match thy brighter Beams or equal Lustre show 4. At thy approach Nature erects her head The smiling Universe is glad The drowsie Earth and Seas awake And from thy Beams new life and vigour take When thy more chearful Rays appear Even Guilt and Women cease to fear Horrour Despair and all the Sons of Night Retire before thy Beams and take their hasty flight 5. To Thee the grateful East their Altars raise And sing with early Hymns thy praise Thou dost their happy Soil bestow Inrich the Heav'ns above and Earth below Thou rifest in the fragrant East Like the fair Phaenix from her balmy Nest No Altar of the Gods can equal Thine The Air is richest Incense the whole Land thy Shrine 6. But yet thy fading Glories soon decay Thine's but a momentary stay Too soon thou' rt ravisht from our sight Bore down the stream of day and overwhelm'd with light Thy Beams to their own ruin haste They 're sram'd too exquisite to last Thine is a glorious but a short-liv'd State Pity so fair a Birth should yield so soon to Fate 7. Before the Almighty Artist fram'd the Skie Or gave the Earth its Harmony His first Command was for thy Light He view'd the lovely Birth and blessed it In purple Swadling-bands it struggling lay Not yet maturely bright for Day Old Chaos then a chearful Smile put on And from thy beauteous Form did first presage its own 8. Let there be Light the Great Creator said His Word the active Child obey'd Night did her teeming Womb disclose And then the blushing Morn its brightest Off spring rose A while the Almighty wond'ring view'd And then himself pronounc'd it good With Night said He divide the Imperial Sway Thou my first Labour art and thou shalt bless the Day A HYMN TO DARKNESS BY Mr. YALDEN. 1. DARKNESS thou first kind Parent of us all Thou art our great Original Since from thy Universal Womb Does all thou shad'st below thy numerous Off-spring come 2. Thy wondrous Birth is even to Time unknown Or like Eternity thou'dst none Whilst Light did its first Being owe Unto that awful Shade it dares to rival now 3. Say in what distant Region dost thou dwell To Reason inaccessible From Form and duller Matter free Thou soar'st above the reach of Man's Philosophy 4. Involv'd in thee we first receive our breath Thou art our Refuge too in Death Great Monarch of the Grave and Womb Where e're our Souls shall go to thee our Bodies come 5. The silent Globe is struck with awful fear When thy Majestick Shades appear Thou dost compose the Air and Sea And Earth a Sabbath keeps Sacred to Rest and Thee 6. In thy serener Shades our Ghosts delight And court the umbrage of the Night In Vaults and gloomy Caves they stray But fly the Mornings beams and sicken at the day 7 Tho' solid Bodies dare exclude the light Nor will the brightest Ray admit No Substance can thy Force repel Thou reign'st in depths below dost at the Center dwell 8. The sparkling Gems and Oar in Mines below To thee their beauteous lustre owe Tho' form'd within the Womb of Night Bright as their Sire they shine with Native Rays of Light 9. When thou dost raise thy venerable head And art in genuine Night array'd Thy Negro Beauties then delight Beauties like pollish'd Jeat with their own Darkness bright 10. Thou dost thy Smiles impartially bestow And know'st no difference here below All things appear the same by thee Tho' Light distinction makes thou giv'st Equality 11. Thou Darkness art the Lovers kind retreat And dost the Nuptial Joys compleat Thou dost inspire them with thy Shade Giv'st vigour to the Youth and warm'st the yielding Maid 12. Calm as the blest above the Ancorites dwell Within their peaceful gloomy Cell Their minds with Heav'nly Joys are fill'd The Pleasures Light deny thy Shades for ever yield 13. In Caves of Night the Oracles of old Did all their Mysteries unfold Darkness did first Religion grace Gave terrours to the God and reverence to the place 14. When the Almighty did on Horeb stand Thy Shades inclos'd the Hallow'd Land In Clouds of Night he was array'd And venerable Darkness his Pavillion made 15. When he appear'd arm'd
had slain And yet that Cruelty was us'd in vain Since all cou'd not restore his life again Now fresh and glowing even in death thou art And fair as he who fell by Phoebus Dart. Here weeping Hecuba her Passion stay'd And Universal moan again was made When Helen's Lamentation hers supply'd And thus aloud that fatal Beauty cry'd Helen 's Lamentation O Hector thou wert rooted in my Heart No Brother there had half so large a part Scarce my own Lord to whom such love I bore That I forsook my Home scarce he had more O would I ne're had seen that fatal day Would I had perish'd when I came away Now twenty Years are past since that sad hour When first I landed on this ruin'd Shoar For Ruin sure and I together came Yet all this time from thee I ne're had blame Not one ungentle word or look of Scorn Which I too often have from others born When you from their Reproach have set me free And kindly have reprov'd their Cruelty If by my Sisters or the Queen revil'd For the good King like you was ever mild Your kindness still has all my grief beguil'd Ever in tears let me your loss bemoan Who had no Friend alive but you alone All will reproach me now where e're I pass And fly with Horrour from my hated Face This said she wept and the vast throng was mov'd And with a gen'ral Sigh her Grief approv'd When Priam who had heard the mourning Crowd Rose from his Seat and thus he spake aloud Cease your Lamentings Trojans for a while And fell down Trees to build a Fun'ral Pile Fear not an Ambush by the Grecians laid For with Achilles twelve days Truce I made He spake and all obey'd as with one mind Chariots were brought and Mules and Oxen joyn'd Forth from the City all the People went And nine days space was in that labour spent The tenth a most stupendious Pile they made And on the top the Manly Hector laid Then gave it fire while all with weeping eyes Beheld the rowling Flames and Smoak arise All night they wept and all the night it burn'd But when the Rosie Morn with day return'd About the Pile the thronging People came And with black Wine quencht the remaining Flame His Brothers then and Friends search'd ev'ry where And gath'ring up his Snowy Bones with care Wept o're 'em when an Urn of Gold was brought Wrapt in soft purple Palls and richly wrought In which the Sacred Ashes were inter'd Then o're his Grave a Monument they rear'd Mean time strong Guards were plac'd and careful Spies To watch the Grecians and prevent surprize The Work once ended all the vast resort Of mourning People went to Priam's Court There they refresh'd their weary Limbs with rest Ending the Fun'ral with a Solemn Feast PARAPHRASE UPON Horace Ode 19. Lib. I. By Mr. CONGREVE Mater soeva Cupidinum c. 1. THe Tyrant Queen of soft desires With the resistless aid of sprightly Wine And wanton Ease conspires To make my Heart its peace resign And re-admit Loves long rejected Fires For beauteous Glycera I burn The Flames so long repell'd with double force return Endless her Charms appear and shine more bright Than polish'd Marble when reflecting light With winning coyness she my Soul disarms And when her looks are coldest most she warms Her Face darts forth a thousand Rays Whose Lustre an unwary sight betrays My Eye-balls swim and I grow giddy while I gaze 2. She comes she comes she rushes in my Veins At once all Venus enters and at large she reigns Cyprus no more with her abode is blest I am her Palace and her Throne my Breast Of Savage Scythian Arms no more I write Or Parthian Archers who in flying fight And make rough War their sport Such idle Themes no more shall move Nor any thing but what 's of high import And what 's of high import but Love Vervain and Gums and the green Turf prepare With Wine of two years old your Cups be fill'd After our Sacrifice and Pray'r The Goddess may incline her Heart to yield HORACE Lib. II. Ode 14. Imitated by Mr. Congreve Eheu Fugaces Posthume Posthume Labuntur Anni c. I. AH No 't is all in vain believe me 't is ' This Pious Artifice Not all these Prayers and Alms can Buy One Moment tow'rd Eternity Eternity that boundless Race Which Time himself can never run Swift as he flies with an unweari'd pace Which when Ten Thousand Thousand Years are done Is still the same and still to be begun Fix'd are those Limits which prescribe A short Extent to the most lasting Breath And though thou couldst for Sacrifice lay down Millions of other Lives to save thine own 'T were fruitless all not all would bribe One Supernumerary Gasp from Death II. In vain 's thy Inexhausted Store Of Wealth in vain thy Pow'r Thy Honours Titles all must fail Where Piety it self does nought avail The Rich the Great the Innocent and Just Must all be huddl'd to the Grave With the most Vile and Ignominious Slave And undistinguish'd lie in Dust. In vain the Fearful flies Alarms In vain he is secure from wounds of Arms In vain avoids the Faithless Seas And is confin'd to Home and Ease Bounding his Knowledg to extend his Days In vain are all those Arts we try All our Evasions and Regret to Die From the Contagion of Mortality No Clime is pure no Air is free And no Retreat Is so Obscure as to be hid from Fate III. Thou must alas thou must my Friend The very Hour thou now dost spend In studying to avoid brings on thine end Thou must forego the dearest Joys of Life Leave the warm Bosome of thy tender Wife And all the much lov'd Offspring of her Womb To moulder in the Cold Embraces of a Tomb. All must be left and all be lost Thy House whose stately Structure so much cost Shall not afford Room for the stinking Carkass of its Lord. Of all thy pleasant Gardens Grots and Bowers Thy Costly Fruits thy far-fetch'd Plants and Flow'rs Nought shalt thou save Unless a sprig of Rosemary thou have To wither with thee in the Grave The rest shall live and flourish to upbraid Their Transitory Master Dead IV. Then shall thy long-expecting Heir A Joyful Mourning wear And Riot in the waste of that Estate Which thou hast taken so much pains to get All thy hid Stories he shall unfold And set at large thy Captiv'd Gold That precious Wine condemn'd by thee To Vaults and Prisons shall again be free Buried alive tho' now it lies Again't shall rise Again its sparkling Surface show And free as Element profusely flow With such choice Food he shall set forth his Feasts That Cardinals shall wish to be his Guests And pamper'd Prelates see Themselves out-done in Luxury An ODE In imitation of HORACE Ode IX Lib. 1. By Mr. CONGREVE Vides ut alta c. I. BLess me 't is cold how I hill the Air How
Tide comes rowling in Let a fierce unruly Joy The settled quiet of thy Mind destroy However Fortune change the Scene Be calm my Delius and serene II. Be thy Lot good or be it ill Life ebbs out at the same rate still Whether with busie Cares opprest You wear the sullen time away Or whether to sweet Ease and Rest You sometimes give a day Carelessly laid Underneath a friendly Shade By Pines and Poplars mixt embraces made Near a River's sliding Stream Fetter'd in Sleep bless'd with a Golden Dream III. Here here in this much envied state Let every Blessing on thee wait Bid the Syrian Nard be brought Bid the Hidden Wine be sought And let the Roses short-liv'd Flower The smiling Daughter of an Hour Flourish on thy Brow Enjoy the very very now While the good Hand of Life is in While yet the Fatal Sisters spin IV. A little hence my Friend and Thou Must into other hands resign Thy Gardens and thy Parks and all that now Bears the pleasing name of Thine Thy Meadows by whose planted Tides Silver Tyber gently glides Thy pleasant Houses all must go The Gold that 's hoarded in 'em too A jolly Heir shall set it free And give th' Imprison'd Monarchs Liberty V. Nor matters it what Figure here Thou dost among thy Fellow Mortals bear How thou wert born or how begot Impartial Death matters it not With what Titles Thou dost shine Or who was First of all thy Line Life's vain amusements amidst which we dwell Not weigh'd nor understood by the grim God of Hell VI. In the Same Road alas All Travel on By All alike the Same sad Journy must be gon Our blended Lots together lie Mingled in One common Urn Sooner or Later out they fly The fatal Boat then wafts us to the Shore Whence we never shall return Never never more The GROVE SEe how Damon's Age appears This Grove declares his fading years For this he planted once and eat The Maiden Fruits of what he set Young It was then like him but now Sapless and old is every Bow Thus my Lesbia will it be In time to come with Thee and Me. Come then in Love and youthful play Let 's pass the smiling Hours away Before this tender Amorous Mark Grow wide upon it's fading Bark And show like Damon's Grove that We Are Old and Gray as well as He. Love but one 1. SEE these two little Brooks that slowly creep In Snaky Writhings through the Plains I knew them once one River swift and deep Blessing and blest by Poets strains 2. Then toucht with awe we thought some God did pour Those Floods out of his Sacred Jar Transforming every Weed into a Flow'r And every Flower into a Star 3. But since it broke it self and double glides The Naked Banks no dress have worn And yon dry barren Mountain now derides These Vallies which lost Glories mourn 4. Such Chloris is thy Love which while it ran Confin'd within a single Stream Fir'd every tuneful Son of mighty Pan And thou wert mine and all Mens Theam 5. But when imparted to one Lover more It in two Streams did faintly creep The Shepherds common Muse grew low and poor And Mine as lean as these my Sheep 6. Alas that Honour Chloris thou hast lost Which we to thy full Flood did pay While now that Swain that swears he loves thee most Slakes but his thirst and goes away To the AUTHOR of SARD AN AP ALUS UPON That and His other Writings THo' Teaching thy peculiar business be Learn this one Lesson Schoolmaster of me Where good Sense fails the best Description's vile And a rough Verse the noblest Thoughts will spoil Think it not Genius to know how to scan Nor great to show a Monster for a Man Wound not the Ear with ill-turn'd Prose in Rhime Nor mistake furious Fustian for Sublime Believe this truth and thy vain tumbling quit What is not Reason never can be Wit From the Boy 's hand take Horace into thine And thy rude Satires by his Rules refine See thy gross faults in Boy leau 's faithful Glass And get the sense to know thy self an Ass. OF My Lady HYDE Occasion'd by The sight of Her PICTURE BY Mr. George Granville THe Painter with Immortal Skill may trace A Beauteous Form or shew a Heav'nly Face The Poet's Art less straitned and confin'd Can draw the Virtues and describe the Mind Unlock the Shrine and to the sight unfold The Secret Gems and all the inside Gold This dazling Beauty is a lovely Case Of shining Virtues spotless as her Face With Graces that attract but not ensnare Divinely Good as she 's Divinely Fair. Two only Patterns do the Muses name Of perfect Beauty but of guilty Fame A Venus and a Helen have been seen Both perjur'd Wives the Goddess and the Queen In this the third are reconcil'd at last Those jarring Attributes of Fair and Chast This matchless Charmer is a beam of Light Without a Cloud or spot for ever bright With Beauty nor affected vain nor proud With greatness eafie affable and good The Soul and Source of all that we admire Of every Joy but hope to our desire Like the chast Moon she shines to all Mankind But to Endymion is her Love confin'd What cruel Destiny on Beauty waits When on one Face depend so many Fates Oblig'd by Honour to relieve but One By thousands we despair and are undone An Imitation Of the second Chorus in the second Act of Seneca's Thyestes By Mr. George Granville AT length the Gods propitious to our Pray'rs Compose our Tumults and conclude our Wars The Sons of Inachus repent the Guilt Of Crowns usurpt and blood of Parents spilt For Impious Greatness Vengeance is in store Short is the date of all ill-gotten Pow'r 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 Most truly Noble who contemning Fate In midst of Spears and Javelins keeps his State Compos'd and firm he stands nor shrinks to feel The piercing Arrow or the pointed Steel Disdaining Chance regardless he looks down Ever the same whether she smile or frown Serenely as he liv'd resigns his breath Meets Destiny half way nor grieves at Death Ye Soveraign Lords who sit like Gods in State Awing the World and bustling to be Great Boast not of Pow'r nor of Imperial Sway Vassals your selves who every Lust obey The
won Triumphaut are in this alone In this have all the Bards of old outdone II. Then may'st thou rule our Stage in triumph long May'st Thou it's injur'd Fame revive And matchless proofs of Wit and Humour give Reforming with thy Scenes and Charming with thy Song And tho' a Curse ill-fated Wit persues And waits the Fatal Dowry of a Muse Yet may thy rising Fortunes be Secure from all the blasts of Poetry As thy own Laurels flourishing appear Fear Unsully'd still with Cares nor clog'd with Hope and As from its want's be from its Vices free From nauseous servil Flattery Nor to a Patron prostitute thy Mind Tho'like Augustus Great as Fam'd Moecenas kind III. Tho' great in Fame believe me generous Youth Believe this oft experienc'd Truth From him that knows thy Virtues and admires their worth Tho' Thou' rt above what vulgar Poets fear Trust not the ungrateful World too far Trust not the Smiles of the inconstant Town Trust not the Plaudits of a Theater Which D fy shall with Thee and Dryden share Nor to a Stages int'rest Sacrifice thy own Thy Genius that 's for Nobler things design'd May at loose Hours oblige Mankind Then great as is thy Fame thy Fortunes raise Joyn thriving int'rest to thy barren Bays And teach the World to envy as thou do'st to praise The World that does like common Whores embrace Injurious still to those it does caress Injurious as the tainted Breath of Fame That blasts a Poet's Fortunes while it sounds his Name IV. When first a Muse inflames some Youthful Breast Like an unpractis'd Virgin still she 's kind Adorn'd with Graces then and Beauties blest She charms the Ear with Fame with Raptures fills the Mind Then from all Cares the happy Youth is free But those of Love and Poetry Cares still allay'd with pleasing Charms That Crown the Head with Bays with Beauty fill the Arms. But all a Woman's Frailties soon she shows Too soon a stale domestick Creature grows Then wedded to a Muse that 's nauseous grown We loath what we enjoy druge when the Pleasure 's gon For tempted with imaginary Bays Fed with immortal Hopes and empty Praise He Fame pursues that fair but treacherous bait Grows wise when he 's undone repents when'tis too V. Small are the Trophies of his boasted Bays The Great Man's promise for his flattering Toyl Fame in reversion and the publick smile All vainer than his Hopes uncertain as his Praise 'T was thus in Mournful Numbers heretofore Neglected Spencer did his Fate deplore Long did his injur'd Muse complain Admir'd in midst of Wants and Charming still in vain Long did the Generous Cowley Mourn And long oblig'd the Age without return Deny'd what every Wretch obtains of Fate An humble Roof and an obscure retreat Condemn'd to needy Fame and to be miserably great Thus did the World thy great Fore-Fathers use Thus all the inspir'd Bards before Did their hereditary Ills deplore From tuneful Chaucer's down to thy own Dryden's Muse. VI. Yet pleas'd with gaudy ruin Youth will on As proud by publick Fame to be undone Pleas'd tho'he does the worst of Labours chuse To serve a Barb'rous Age and an ungrateful Muse. Since Dryden's self to Wit 's great Empire born Whose Genius and exalted Name Triumph with all the Spoils of Wit and Fame Must midst the loud Applause his barren Laurels mourn Even that Fam'd Man whom all the World admires Whom every Grace adorns and Muse inspires Like the great injur'd Tasso shows Triumphant in the midst of Woes In all his Wants Majestick still appears Charming the Age to which he ows his Cares And cherishing that Muse whose fatal Curse he bears From Mag. Col. Oxon. ON His Mistress drown'd BY Mr. S SWeet Stream that dost with equal pace Both thy self fly and thy self chace Forbear a while to flow And listen to my Woe Then go and tell the Sea that all its brine Is fresh compar'd to mine Inform it that the gentler Dame Who was the life of all my Flame In the Glory of her Bud Has pass'd the fatal Flood Death by this only stroak triumphs above The greatest power of Love Alas alas I must give o're My sighs will let me add no more Go on sweet Stream and henceforth rest No more than does my troubl'd Breast And if my sad Complaints have made thee stay These tears these tears shall mend thy way To the Pious Memory Of the Accomplisht Young LADY Mrs. ANNE KILLIGREW EXCELLENT In the two Sister-Arts of Poësie and Painting An ODE BY Mr. DRYDEN 1. THou youngest Virgin-Daughter of the Skies Made in the last Promotion of the Blest Whose Palms new pluckt from Paradise In spreading Branches more sublimely rise Rich with Immortal Green above the rest Whether adopted to some Neighbouring Star Thou rol'st above us in thy wand'ring Race Or in Procession fixt and regular Mov'd with the Heavens Majestick Pace Or call'd to more Superiour Bliss Thou tread'st with Seraphims the vast Abyss What ever happy Region is thy place Cease thy Celestial Song a little space Thou wilt have time enough for Hymns Divine Since Heav'ns Eternal Year is thine Hear then a Mortal Muse thy Praise rehearse In no ignoble Verse But such as thy own voice did practise here When thy first Fruits of Poesie were giv'n To make thy self a welcome Inmate there While yet a young Probationer And Candidate of Heav'n 2. If by Traduction came thy Mind Our Wonder is the less to find A Soul so charming from a Stock so good Thy Father was transfus'd into thy Blood So wert thou born into the tuneful strain An early rich and inexhausted Vein But if thy Praeexisting Soul Was form'd at first with Myriads more It did through all the Mighty Poets roul Who Greek or Latine Laurels wore And was that Sappho last which once it was before If so then cease thy flight O Heav'n-born Mind Thou hast no Dross to purge from thy Rich Ore Nor can thy Soul a fairer Mansion find Than was the Beauteous Frame she left behind Return to fill or mend the Quire of thy Celestial kind 3. May we presume to say that at thy Birth New joy was sprung in Heav'n as well as here on Earth For sure the Milder Planets did combine On thy Auspicious Horoscope to shine And ev'n the most Malicious were in Trine Thy Brother-Angels at thy Birth Strung each his Lyre and tun'd it high That all the People of the Skie Might know a Poetess was born on Earth And then if ever Mortal Ears Had heard the Musick of the Spheres And if no clust'ring Swarm of Bees On thy sweet Mouth distill'd their golden Dew 'T was that such vulgar Miracles Heav'n had not Leasure to renew For all the Blest Fraternity of Love Solemniz'd there thy Birth and kept thy Holyday above 4. O Gracious God! How far have we Prophan'd thy Heav'nly Gift of Poesy Made prostitute and profligate the Muse Debas'd to each obscene and impious use Whose Harmony was first
ordain'd Above For Tongues of Angels and for Hymns of Love O wretched We why were we hurry'd down This lubrique and adult'rate age Nay added fat Pollutions of our own T' increase the steaming Ordures of the Stage What can we say t' excuse our Second Fall Let this thy Vestal Heav'n attone for all Her Arethusian Stream remains unsoil'd Unmixt with Forreign Filth and undefil'd Her Wit was more than Man her Innocence a Child 5. Art she had none yet wanted none For Nature did that Want supply So rich in Treasures of her Own She might our boasted Stores defy Such Noble Vigour did her Verse adorn That it seem'd borrow'd where'twasonly born Her Morals too were in her Bosom bred By great Examples daily fed What in the best of Books her Father's Life she read And to be read her self she need not fear Each Test and ev'ry Light her Muse will bear Though Epictetus with his Lamp were there Ev'n Lóve for Love sometimes her Muse exprest Was but a Lambent-flame which play'd about her Breast Light as the Vapours of a Morning Dream So cold her self whilst she such Warmth exprest 'T was Cupid bathing in Diana's Stream 6. Born to the Spacious Empire of the Nine One wou'd have thought she shou'd have been content To manage well that Mighty Government But what can young ambitious Souls confine To the next Realm she stretcht her Sway For Painture near adjoyning lay A plenteous Province and alluring Prey A Chamber of Dependences was fram'd As Conquerors will never want Pretence When arm'd to justifie th' Offence And the whole Fief in right of Poetry she claim'd The Country open lay without Defence For Poets frequent In-rodes there had made And perfectly cou'd represent The Shape the Face with ev'ry Lineament And all the large Demains which the Dumb-sister sway'd All bow'd beneath her Government Receiv'd in Triumph wheresoe're she went Her Pencil drew what e're her Soul design'd And oft the happy Draught surpass'd the Image in her Mind The Sylvan Scenes of Herds and Flocks And fruitful Plains and barren Rocks Of shallow Brooks that flow'd so clear The bottom did the top appear Of deeper too and ampler Floods Which as in Mirrors shew'd the Woods Of lofty Trees with Sacred Shades And Perspectives of pleasant Glades Where Nymphs of brightest Form appear And shaggy Satyrs standing near Which them at once admire and fear The Ruines too of some Majestick Piece Boasting the Pow'r of ancient Rome or Greece Whose Statues Freezes Columns broken lie And tho' defac'd the Wonder of the Eye What Nature Art bold Fiction e're durst frame Her forming Hand gave Feature to the Name So strange a Concourse ne're was seen before But when the peopl'd Ark the whole Creation bore 7. The Scene then chang'd with bold Erected Look Our Martial King the sight with Reverence strook For not content t' express his Outward Part Her hand call'd out the Image of his Heart His Warlike Mind his Soul devoid of Fear His High-designing Thoughts were figur'd there As when by Magick Ghosts are made appear Our Phenix Queen was portrai'd too so bright Beauty alone cou'd Beauty take so right Her Dress her Shape her matchless Grace Were all observ'd as well as heav'nly Face With such a Peerless Majesty she stands As in that Day she took the Crown from Sacred hands Before a Train of Heroins was seen In Beauty foremost as in Rank the Queen Thus nothing to her Genius was deny'd But like a Ball of Fire the further thrown Still with a greater Blaze she shone And her bright Soul broke out on ev'ry side What next she had design'd Heaven only knows To such Immod'rate Growth her Conquest rose That Fate alone its Progress cou'd oppose 8. Now all those Charms that blooming Grace The well-proportion'd Shape and beauteous Face Shall never more be seen by Mortal Eyes In Earth the much lamented Virgin lies Not Wit nor Piety cou'd Fate prevent Nor was the cruel Destiny content To finish all the Murder at a blow To sweep at once her Life and Beauty too But like a hardn'd Fellon took a pride To work more Mischievously slow And plunder'd first and then destroy'd O double Sacriledge on things Divine To rob the Relique and deface the Shrine But thus Orinda dy'd Heav'n by the same Disease did both translate As equal were their Souls so equal was their Fate 9. Mean time her Warlike Brother on the Seas His waving Streamers to the Winds displays And vows for his Return with vain Devotion pays Ah Generous Youth that Wish forbear The Winds too soon will waft thee here Slack all thy Sails and fear to come Alas thou know'st not thou art wreck'd at home No more shalt thou behold thy Sister's Face Thou hast already had her last Embrace But look aloft and if thou ken'st from far Among the Pleiad's a New-kindl'd Star If any sparkles than the rest more bright 'T is she that shines in that propitious Light 10. When in mid-Air the Golden Trump shall sound To raise the Nations under ground When in the Valley of Jehosaphat The Judging God shall close the book of Fate And there the last Assizes keep For those who Wake and those who Sleep When ratling Bones together fly From the four Corners of the Skie When Sinews o're the Skeletons are spread Those cloath'd with Flesh and Life inspires the Dead The Sacred Poets first shall hear the Sound And formost from the Tomb shall bound For they are cover'd with the lightest Ground And streight with in born Vigour on the Wing Like mounting Larks to the New Morning sing There Thou sweet Saint before the Quire shalt go As Harbinger of Heav'n the Way to show The Way which thou so well hast learn'd below TO THE Earl of CARLISLE UPON THE DEATH of His SON BEFORE LUXEMBURG HE 's gone and was it then by your Decree Ye envious Powers that we shou'd only see This Copy of your own Divinity Or thought ye it surpassing Human State To have a Blessing lasting as 't was Great Your cruel Skill you better ne're had shown Since you so soon design'd him all your own Such torturing Favours to the Damn'd are given When to encrease their Hell you show 'em Heav'n Was it too Godlike he shou'd long inherit At once his Father's and his Uncle's Spirit Yet as much Beauty and as calm a Breast As the mild Dame whose teeming Womb he blest H' had all the Favours Providence cou'd give Except its own Prerogative to live Reserv'd in Pleasures and in Dangers bold Youthful in Action and in Prudence old His humble Greatness and submissive State Made his Life full of Wonder as his Fate One who to all the heights of Learning bred Read Books and Men and practis'd what he read Round the wide Globe searce did the busie Sun With greater haste and greater Lustre run True Gallantry and Grandure he descry'd From the French Fopperies and German Pride And like th' industrious Bee