Selected quad for the lemma: lord_n
Text snippets containing the quad
|
ID |
Title |
Author |
Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication) |
STC |
Words |
Pages |
|
A44567
|
An epistle to the Right Honorable Charles, Earl of Dorset and Middlesex, Lord Chamberlain of His Majesties household
|
Halifax, Charles Montagu, Earl of, 1661-1715.
|
1690
(1690)
|
Wing H288; ESTC R177721
|
3,597
|
12
|
AN EPISTLE TO THE Right Honourable CHARLES EARL of DORSET and MIDDLESEX Lord Chamberlain OF HIS Majesties Houshold LICENSED Sept. 26. J. Fraser LONDON Printed for Francis Saunders at the Blue Anchor in the Lower Walk of the New Exchange 1690. AN EPISTLE TO MY Lord Chamberlain WHat shall the King the Nation 's Genius raise And make us Rival our great Edward's Days Yet not one Muse worthy a Conq'ror's Name Attend his Triumphs and Record his Fame Oh Dorset You alone this Fault can mend The Muses Darling Confident and Friend The Poets are your Charge and if unfit You should be fin'd to furnish abler Wit Oblig'd to quit your Ease and draw agen To paint the Greatest Heroe the Best Pen. A Heroe who thus early does out-shine The Ancient Honours of his Glorious Line And soaring more sublimely to Renown The Mem'ry of their pious Triumphs drown Whose Actions are deliver'd o'er to Fame As Types and Figures of His greater Name When Fate some mighty Genius has design'd For the Relief and Wonder of Mankind Nature takes Time to answer the Intent And climbs by slow Degrees the steep Ascent She toils and labours with the growing Weight And watches carefully the Steps of Fate Till all the Seeds of Providence unite To set the Heroe in a happy Light Then in a lucky and propitious Hour Exerts her Force and calls forth all her Pow'r In Nassaw's Race she made this long Essay Heroes and Patriots prepar'd the Way And promis'd in their Dawn this brighter Day A Publick Sp'rit distinguish'd all the Line Successive Vertues in each Branch did shine Till this last Glory rose and Crown'd the Great Design Blest be his Name and peaceful lie his Grave Who durst his Native Soil lost Holland save But William's Genius takes a wider Scope And gives the injur'd in All Kingdoms Hope Born to subdue insulting Tyrants Rage The Ornament and Terrour of the Age The Refuge where afflicted Nations find Relief from those Oppressors of Mankind Whom Laws restrain not and no Oaths can bind Him their Deliv'rer Europe does confess All Tongues extol and all Religions bless The Po the Danube Boetis and the Rhine United in his Praise their Wonder join While in the Publick Cause he takes the Field And shelter'd Nations fight behind his Shield His Foes themselves dare not Applause refuse And shall such Actions want a faithful Muse Poets have this to boast Without their Aid The freshest Lawrels nipp'd by Malice Fade And Vertue to Oblivion is betray'd The proudest Honours have a narrow Date Unless they vindicate their Names from Fate But who is equal to sustain the Part D n has Numbers but he wants a Heart Enjoyn'd a Penance which is too severe For playing once the Fool to Persevere Others who knew the Trade have laid it down And looking round I find you stand alone How Sir can you or any English Muse Our Countrey 's Fame our Monarch's Arms resuse 'T is not my Want of Gratitude but Skill Makes me decline what I can ne'er fulfill I cannot sing of Conquests as I ought And my Breath fails to swell a lofty Note I know my Compass and my Muse's Size She loves to Sport and Play but dares not Rise Idly affects in this Familiar Way In easie Numbers loosely to convey What Mutual Friendship wou'd at Distance say Poets assume another Tone and Voice When Victory 's their Theam and Arms their Choice To follow Heroes in the Chace of Fame Asks Force and Heat and Fancy wing'd with Flame What Words can paint the Royal Warrior's Face What Colours can the Figure boldly raise When cover'd o'er with comely Dust and Smoke He pierc'd the Foe and thickest Squadrons broke His bleeding Arm still painful with the Sore Which in his Peoples Cause the Pious Father bore Whom clearing through the Troops a Glorious Way Not the united Force of France and Hell cou'd stay Oh Dorset I am rais'd I 'm all on fire And if my Strength could answer my Desire In speaking Paint this Figure should be seen Like Jove his Grandeur and like Mars his Mien And Gods descending should adorn the Scene See See! Upon the Bank of Boyne he stands By his own View adjusting his Commands Calm and serene the Armed Coast surveys And in cool Thoughts the diff'rent Chances weighs Then fir'd with Fame and eager of Renown Resolves to end the War and fix the Throne From Wing to Wing the Squadrons bending stand And close their Ranks to meet their King's Command The Drums and Trumpets sleep the sprightly Noise Of neighing Steeds and Cannons louder Voice Suspended in Attention banish far All Hostile Sounds and hush the Dinn of War The silent Troops stretch forth an eager Look List'ning with Joy while thus their Gen'ral spoke * Come Fellow-Soldiers Follow me once more And fixt the Fate of Europe on that Shore Your Courage only waits from me the Word But England's Happiness commands my Sword In Her Defence I ev'ry Part will bear The Soldier 's Danger and the Prince's Care And envy any Arm an equal Share Set all that 's dear to Men before your Sight For Laws Religion Liberty we fight To save your Wives from Rape your Towns from Flame Redeem your Country sold and vindicate her Name At whose Request and timely Call I rose To tempt my Fate and all my Hopes expose Struggled with adverse Storms and Winter-Seas That in my Labours you might find your Ease Let other Monarchs dictate from afar And write the empty Triumphs of their War In lazy Palaces supinely Rust My Sword shall justifie my Peoples Trust For which But I your Victory delay Come on I and my Genius lead the way He said New Life and Joy ran through the Host And sense of Danger in their Wonder lost Precipitate they plunge into the Flood In vain the Waves the Banks the Men withstood The KING leads on the KING does all inflame The KING and carries Millions in the Name As when the swelling Ocean bursts his Bounds And foaming overwhelms the neighb'ring Grounds The roaring Deluge rushing headlong on Sweeps Cities in its Course and bears whole Forests down So on the Foe the firm Battalions prest And he like the Tenth Wave drove on the rest Fierce Gallant Young he shot thrô ev'ry Place Urging their Flight and hurrying on the Chace He hung upon their Rear or lighten'd in their Face Stop stop brave Prince Allay that Gen'rous Flame Enough is giv'n to England and to Fame Remember Sir you in the Centre stand Europe 's divided Int'rests you command All their Designs uniting in your hand Down from your Throne descends the Golden Chain Which does the Fabrick of our World sustain That once dissolv'd by any Fatal Stroke The Scheme of all our Happiness is broke Stop stop brave Prince Fleets may repair again And routed Armies rally on the Plain But Ages are requir'd to raise so Great a Man Hear how the Waves of French Ambition roar Disdaining Bounds and breaking on the Shore Ordain'd by you to curb their wild-destructive Pow'r That Strength remov'd Again Again they flow Lay Europe waste nor Laws nor Limits know Stop stop brave Prince what does your Muse Sir faint Proceed Pursue his Conquests Faith I can't My Spirits shrink and will no longer bear Rapture and Fury carryd me thus far Transported and Amaz'd That Rage once spent I can no more sustain Your Flights your Energies and Tragic Strain But fall back to my Nat'ral Pace again In humble Verse provoking you to Rhime I wish there were more Dorsets at this Time Oh! if in France this Heroe had been born What Glittering Tinsel wou'd His Acts adorn There 't is Immortal Fame and High Renown To Steal a Country and to Buy a Town Their Triumphs are o'er Kings and Kingdoms sold And Captive Vertue led in Chains of Gold If Courage cou'd like Courts be kept in Pay What Summs wou'd Lovis give That France might say That Victory follow'd where He led the Way He all his Conquests wou'd for this refound And take th' Equivalent a Glorious Wound Then what Advice to spread his real Fame Wou'd pass between Versailles and No'tredame Their Plays their Songs wou'd dwell upon his Wound And Opera's repeat no other Sound Boyne wou'd for Ages be the Painter's Theam The Goblin's Labour and the Poet's Dream The wounded Arm wou'd furnish all their Rooms And bleed for ever Scarlet in the Looms Boileau wou'd plume with this his Artful Pen. And can your Muse be silent Think agen Spare your Advice And since you have begun Finish your own Design the Work is done Done Nothing 's Done Not the Dead Colours laid And the most Glorious Scenes stand undisplay'd A Thousand Gen'rous Actions close the Rear A Thousand Vertues still behind stand crowding to appear The QUEEN her self the charming QUEEN shou'd grace The Noble Piece and in an Artful Place Soften War's Horror with her lovely Face Who can omit the QUEEN's auspicious Smile The Pride of the Fair Sex the Goddess of our Isle Who can forget what all admir'd of late Her Fears for Him her Prudence for the State Dissembling Cares she smooth'd her Looks with Grace Doubts in her Heart and Pleasure in her Face As Danger did approach her Spirits rose And putting on the King dismay'd his Foes Now all in Joy she gilds the chearful Court In ev'ry Glance descending Angels sport As on the Hills of Cynthus or the Meads Of cool Eurotas when Diana leads The Chorus of her Nymphs who there advance A Thousand shining Maids and form the Dance The stately Goddess with a graceful Pride Sweet and Majestic does the Figure guide Treading in just and easie Measures round The silver Arrows on her Shoulder sound She walks above them All. Such is the Scene Of the Bright Circle and the Brighter QUEEN These Subjects do my Lord your Skill command These none may touch with an Unhallow'd Hand Tender the Stroaks must be and nicely writ Disguis'd Encomiums must be hid in Wit Which Modesty like theirs will e'er admit Who made no other Steps to such a Throne But to Deserve and to Receive the Crown THE Life of Alexander the Great written in Latin by Quintus Curtins translated into English by several Hands and now Dedicated to the QUEEN By N. Tate