MISCELLANY POEMS. By Tho. Heyrick, M. A. Formerly of Peterhouse College in Cambridge.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉,  — Timocles. 
CAMBRIDGE, Printed by john Hayes, for the Author, And are to be sold by Francis Hicks Bookseller in Cambridge, And by Thomas Basset in Fleetstreet, and Samuel Heyrick at Greys-Inn Gate in Holborn, London. MDCXCI.   

To the Right Honourable KATHERINE Countess of RUTLAND.  
May it Please Your Honour,  
WHEN I first intended to Dedicate these Poems to Your Name, beside the Thoughts of their Unworthiness, I Was chiefly deterred by the Consideration of these Two Things, the Greatness of Your Quality and the Perspicuity of your Judgement: But then I was a little Encouraged again, when I reflected, that the Meanest Creature was not debarred making Address to the Highest of Being's, but was rather commanded it; and that the Errors and Mistakes of well-meaning Men are likely to become rather the Pity, than the Scorn of Angels. Nor could I think it lesle, than a Natural Duty; that my humble Muse should offer the Best of Her Increase to that Family, to whose Bounty and Encouragement She owes all She is; since even the Grateful Indians never Eat or Drink, till they have first poured out a Part as an Offering to that Bright Luminary, from whole Influence they believe, All, they receive doth proceed.  
I am very sensible and cannot but acknowledge, that there are many Things liable to Exception in the Ensuing Poems; but they may well be Pardoned, for the Sake of the Beginning, which is Consecrate to Your Name, and thereby receives a Peculiar Grace and Advantage, which cannot but diffuse itself through the whole Work. I confess even there what belongs to Me is full of Weakness; but it could be no otherwise, since in Subjects so Sublime, as Yourself, the most Towering Flights must of necessity flag, Things too High above Us not admitting a Definition; and as in Beauteous Faces there is something, We cannot Name, that exceeds the Pencil's Art, so in Excellent Personages there are Virtues, of which Common Souls have no Notion; but they Soar above the Description of the Loftiest Fancy. And surely no One is to be blamed for going no farther; if He goes as far as the Subject will bear: For He is not tied to Impossibilities. And doubtless though Poetry is usually suspected of Flattery, yet any One, who considers the Charms of Your Beauty, the Sharpness of Your Wit, the Depth of Your Judgement, the Candour of Your Temper, and Nobility of your Birth, will acknowledge, that You are placed above the reach of it; that, which would be Flattery to another, not measuring the least Part of Your Perfections; so that, if the Boldest and most Happy Genius should take the utmost bounds of Poetic Liberty in order to Praise Your Merit, He would find the Folly of his Attempt, and soon be forced with Confusion to give over the Impossible Design. For I suppose, there is None, but will grant, that the Highest-Encomiums in Praise of the Sun are lost; every One having a Greater Idea of that Luminary than can be expressed, and He is still as far above their Praise, as their Reach. Wherefore if Princes are best able to describe the secrets of Empire, Experienced Commanders matters of War, and Gallant Minds Heroic Virtues, I am inexcusably to blame, who have undertaken a Province too Difficult for Me to perform, and which requires the Pen of something more than a Man; which Crime I yet humbly beg Your Honour to forgive; since though there may lie a Fault in my Ignorance and Rashness, yet, I am sure, there is none in the Design; since there is no One hath a Greater Zeal, for the Glory of Your Honourable Family, than He, who is  
(MADAM) Your most Humble and Obliged Servant, T. HEYRICK   

THE PREFACE To the READER  
I AM sufficiently sensible under what Disadvantages these Poems come out, in which there is nothing either Profane, Obscene, or Seditious to recommend them, the usual Embellishments of Things of this Nature; in reference to which commonly the worse they are, the better they are accepted. Yet this I Studiously avoided, such Decorations neither agreeing with my Temper, nor Profession, and least of all with the Virtuous Character of that Illustrious Person, to whom they are Dedicated. Neither indeed was I willing to gratify the profaneness of the Atheist, nor the ill-Nature of the Seditious, who love to feed their Eyes, as the Ancient Romans did on Bleeding Gladiators: Nor did I think it worth my while to feed Swine. There are certainly Subjects of Indifferency enough to employ a Man's leisure Hours, without meddling with Thunderbolts, or Gibbets, or Diseases; and it requires no Great Capacity to choose which is Best, either to live at Quiet and Peace, or have the Fate of an Ovid or a Cicero.  
And since this is an Age of Politics and every One pretends a Right, if not in Administering, yet at least in Censuring, the Government, I hope this may escape Censure-free, since it hath no Relation unto it; and if News is the thing, that is most acceptable, that which Men of all Estates gape after, and take upon Trust without examination, This Work of Mine, which consists of News too, and is (like much of that) pure Invention (for Poets are not tied to the Rules of Historians) may receive favourable Entertainment. If it hath but its Turn, I am satisfied, though afterwards it be confuted, for that is the Common Fate: And yet for aught I know, this may far better, than is expected; for 'tis a Poetical Time; the Common Discourse and News-Letters are arrant Romances and Large Legends of Wand'ring Knights and the Quixotes of the Age. Men are Poets, though they are not sensible of it, and Dote on the Rave of their Own or Others Brains, though they are wilder than the Centauris, Giants, and Monsters, and all the Chimaeras of Antiquity. Men now adays want no Invention (one main Ingredient of Poetry) and if they do Coherence, 'tis but imagining it Pindaric, and it goes off: As for Probability, 'tis not much stood on in a Science, wherein every Thing goes down.  
The True Design of these Poems was to draw Man's Minds, that are Idle, from more Dangerous, and as little profitable, Speculations: For Such, as have nothing to do, usually do what they should not, and are most Susceptible of Evil-Maxims against Church and State: And 'tis the custom of Academies to amuse Young Students Minds (which usually are hot and unbyass'd, have much of Sharpness and little of Solidity) with Philosophy, which though it be confessedly of great Use, yet one not the most Contemptible may be to bridle Young Wits from running too soon upon Divinity. Those therefore, that are least able to Judge, being the most apt to Censure as half-witted Men are always suspicious) my Design was to draw them to Poetry, which concerns them as much, as Politics do, and that is Nothing at all; and to make them of the Roman Cobler's mind, who in a general Tumult upon the Death of Caesar enquiring the News and being told, He was killed in the Senate-house, slunk into his Bulk again and cried, He was a Cobbler still. For why should those Men, who see not upon what Centre things turn round, think the Government is beholding to them for their Ridiculous. Care? If I miss of my Design, I shall not much trouble myself, many better Projects having come to Nothing; Things of Indifferency not being valued, but All esteemed Good or Bad, as it pleases or displeases a Faction.   

To his Worthy Friend Mr. THOMAS HEYRICK on his Ingenious Poems.  
LONG hath the Sacred, Venerable, Name  
Of POET (once so highly raised by Fame)  
Been, nor unjustly, trampled under Feet;  
Their Laurels blasted and their Flowers unsweet.  
The Virgin Springs and Chaste Pierian Groves  
Have been profaned by Base Incestuous Loves;  
Castalian Streams, so Pure in former Times,  
Were since Polluted with unhallowed Rhymes:  
When Villains durst the Poet's Task invade,  
And Shameful Vice, dressed up in Masquerade,  
Did Heavenly Wit presume to Personate:  
While Phoebus and the Nine in Mourning sat.  
Then Blushing Virtue never durst appear;  
For Gaudy Flattery her Rich Robes did wear.  
Affrighted Truth fled the Enchanted Ground:  
And Chastity could there no more be found:  
False Fiends and Phantomes only danced around.  
What Shame and Grief did then our Souls oppress,  
To see the Laureate Tribe in such Distress▪  
Vile Maevius Honoured, Maro in Disgrace:  
Loose Sirens seated in the Muse's Place:  
Wise Fancy's Sacred Flame extinguished quite;  
While Ignis Fatuus showed a Cheating Light▪  
All were Ashamed, and All at This did Grieve!—  
But Heyrick only could Our Wrongs relieve.  
He broke the Charm: He ended all the Spell:  
And now th' Obscener Vision's fled to Hell.  
Now Genuine Sense, adorned with Manly Grace,  
Doth show to Heaven his Loved, Majestic, Face:  
Now Fancy's various Mantle freely flows;  
While Curious judgement doth her Locks compose,  
And braids in Artful Knots those Tresses fair,  
That will the Hearts of Phoebu's Sons ensnare.  
Now Charming Wit, which Few before did know,  
Walks at Noonday; doth all her Beauties show,  
How Sweet her Looks, how Ravishing her Tongue,  
What Heavenly Treasure's in her Artful Song:  
How, while She innocently seeks to Please,  
The Ravished Soul forgets her old Disease,  
And Painless Joys and Endless Pleasures sees,  
Thus to the Learned Aragonian King  
That Health, which Galen's Ar● could never bring,  
The Charming Carti●s kindly did impart,  
And Cured his Body, when He'd Gained his Heart.  
Here wisely-flowing Eloquence disdains  
To be confined, but in Poetic Chains:  
Sweet are the Bonds; that tie the Soul to Sense;  
And scope allow for All things, but Offence!  
Here Various Learning doth her Wealth disclose,  
And All, that's worth our Knowledge, freely shows:  
All Nature's Secrets offers to our View,  
Far more, than Watery Proteus ever knew:  
Tho' He Great Neptune's scaly Herds doth keep,  
Well-versed in All the Wonders of the Deep.  
For Heyrick's boundless and unwearied Mind  
To this our Upper World can't be confined;  
But ransacks Thetis s Bosom and explores  
Her Inmost Caverns and her Utmost Shores,  
And strangely doth the Vast Abyss contain  
Within the Vaster Ocean of his Brain.  
All, that was ever Writ, or Done, or Said,  
Well hath He understood and well surveyed;  
Pierian Tempe, where Apollo Reigns,  
And Spacious History's Delightful Plains,  
And Heaven and Earth's far-distant Regions lie  
Conspicuous to his Sharp, Sagacious, Eye.  
Nor yet mere Knowledge doth his Verse bestow;  
But, as We're Wiser, makes Us Better grow:  
With Moral Use it smooths Rough Nature's Face,  
And Human Art with Heavenly Sense doth grace:  
Virtue in every Lineament doth shine:  
Gross the Materials, but the Form Divine.  
Yet, when my Heyrick would advance a Strain  
Too High for All, that doth on Earth remain,  
No Female Vanity, nor Lordly Ape,  
Nor Wealth Ignorance, nor Witless Shape,  
Bespeak his Muse:— But up aloft She flies,  
And views Bright VIRTUE with undazled Eyes:  
On Virtue only She delights to Gaze;  
To Virtue only gives Deserved Praise:  
For only Virtue, and (which is the same,)  
Great RUTLAND, can his Panegyrics claim;  
chaste GAINSBOROW, and the Heavenly BRIDGET'S Name.  
Emmanuel Coll. Cambridge Novemb. 24. 1690. joshua Barnes.   

To my Ingenious Friend Mr. Heyrick, Author of the Submarine Voyage.  

I.  
LONG I in Darkness, by false Meteors led,  
Have blindly followed Truth, that from me fled:  
Long have pursued the harsh and rugged Road,  
Where Shakespeare and Great Ben before me trod:  
Yet now, Dear Friend, in vain I find,  
I did th' Infatuating Fire pursue;  
It only did amuse my Mind,  
And Me through Mists and Labyrinths drew:  
Dully through thick and thin I wandered on,  
O'er Denham's, Suckling's, Waller's Poems ran;  
And vainly thought myself well Blest,  
When I a while in Cleaveland's Shade could rest;  
And at his Fountain quench my Thirst:  
Or stretched myself along that Current's side,  
Which with a Natural Force  
Directs its Course,  
And all o'er Cowley's Odes Divine doth glide.  
Cowley, who first some faint Discovery made  
Of Pindar's unknown Shore:  
Who first did with Anacreon trade,  
And came home laden with Wit's sparkling Ore.  
But You a more adventurous Course have ta'en,  
Which You alone were able to maintain  
He dabbled in the Straits of Wit, You launched into the Main.   

II.  
Tell me, what Muse Your Fancy doth in inspire  
That I may now invoke the same?  
Or lend to Me Your Tuneful Lyre,  
That I due Honours may proclaim;  
And while Your Praises I make known,  
May Propagate my Own;  
And grow Immortal in the Mouth of Fame,  
Lend me, O lend Your Quill,  
Or Pardon, if against Your Will  
I boldly do intrude  
Among the numerous Multitude,  
That to the Press with You do crowd.  
In Pompous Dress You walk before in State,  
And take Your Place in high Apollo's Court;  
While We, th' Inspired of the lower Sort,  
Pay our Attendance at the Gate.   

III.  
On Your Officious Dolphin's Back  
Through the vast Floods of Time I'll safely break:  
Safely shall o'er Oblivion ride  
And stem th' Impetuous Current of her Tide.  
The famed Arion so had once been lost  
And perished in the watery Brine,  
Had not some Dolphin, kind like thine,  
Conveyed him to the Coast.  
Oh! that my Numbers were like His; that I,  
Supported on Your Friendly Fin,  
An unfrequented Voyage so might try,  
Through Pearly, Crystal, Paths might creep,  
And sound the hidden Secrets of the Deep.  
To Neptune's Palace might resort,  
View all his Riches, all his Store,  
Of Precious Gems and Golden Ore,  
And wanton with his Beauteous Nymphs at Court.   

IV.  
What mighty Labour, mighty Pains  
Some Poets take to wrack their Brains?  
Small is their Wit, and much more small their Gains.  
One treads the Lofty Stage  
To please the Humours of a vicious Age:  
In satire there Another doth delight  
That Malice, more than Praise, doth move.  
Another softer Lays doth write,  
And sweats and travels in the Roads of Love.  
But Your more Useful Muse  
Wisely another Way doth chose;  
In mighty Numbers sings  
Of mighty Secrets, mighty Things:  
Things, that are worthy of Your Generous Mind,  
And advantageous unto all Mankind.   

V.  
You hidden Knowledge from the Deep do take,  
As Albemarle redeemed the Golden Wreck.  
With so much Fancy all Your Truths are joined,  
So Gentle and so Sweet they go,  
So smoothly Ebb, so smoothly Flow,  
At once they charm the Hearing, and instruct the Mind.  
In every Line Your Genius is expressed,  
In every Word is found a lively Taste  
Both of the Poet and the Priest.  
You in Your swift Poetic Flight  
Sometimes do soar to a stupendious Height:  
Sometimes do not disdain  
To Dive into the Main.  
Your Odes may properly be styled Divine;  
That both Celestial are and Submarine.   

VI  
judgement, and Love, what would ye do?  
Whither my willing Fancy drive?  
In vain You whip, in vain You strive,  
In vain our Poet's Praise pursue:  
So Big it looks, it's placed so High,  
No human Art Access can find;  
We scarce can reach it with our Mind:  
No Quill can to its Distance fly,  
And Language laggs behind.  
No wonder then, if sunk beneath her Load  
My Muse declines the Road.  
'Tis You alone to praise Yourself are fit,  
But innate Modesty is so  
Predominant in You,  
It bridles up Your Tongue and curbs Your Wit.   

VII.  
And yet, if I like Daedalus could fly  
And soar with artful Wings above the Sky:  
Like him, could quit that deep and horrid Shade,  
Shake off those Chains  
That clog my Brains,  
Which Tyrant Dulness hath upon me laid:  
I'd cut the yielding Regions of the Air,  
And o'er Your Islands, o'er Your Ocean steer,  
And view those watery Secrets, You have made so clear.  
And though perchance in my Pindaric Flight,  
Raised to a too-ambit●ous Height,  
The Fate of Icarus should prove my Doom;  
And angry Phoebus melt my waxen Plume:  
Yet mine a much more glorious Lot would be,  
Whilst gently I should drop into Your Sea,  
Nor give the drowning Flood a Name, but take my Name from Thee.   William Tunstall.  

To his Ingenious Friend, and Brother-Angler Mr. Thomas Heyrick on his Submarine Voyage, etc.  

I.  
HOW oft, where winding Rivers smiled,  
As they through flowery Meadows played;  
Where Innocence and Pleasure made their Seat,  
Secure, though Low, and Happy, though not Great,  
Have we the well-spent Hours beguiled?  
Drank draughts of Joys, no bitter Griefs allayed,  
No Disappointments did invade?  
Joys, Pure, as pearly Drops from Fountains rise,  
Clear, as the Crystal Streams, that charmed our Eyes.  
Free, as the Choristers of the Neighbouring Groves,  
That in melodious Airs tuned forth their Loves.  
Smooth, as the Azure Heaven around us spread,  
Or stealing Rills, that not one Murmur made.  
No busy Fiends our Souls possessed,  
No dire Ambition seized our Breast,  
But fair Content lapped up our Souls in Rest:  
Not Eastern Monarches half so blest!  
Above vexatious Thoughts of being Great,  
Contented with our Watery Sphere,  
(For sometimes too a Rural Muse was there)  
We ruled our Fortune, and commanded Fate.   

II.  
These Happy Times are gone! Your towering Mind  
To such low Stations could not be confined,  
You launched into the Main, and left us far behind.  
" Follow me Friends (You cried) where Honour calls us on,  
" And where Rewards our Industry will crown,  
" The Gallant Mind new Continents descries,  
" And Learned Souls make new Discoveries,  
" While sordid Moles hug their ignoble Ease.  
" The Bounds of the Dull Stagyrite we'll pass,  
" Leave his dark hints behind:  
" His Course Euripus' narrow Streams confined,  
" And swallowed up his fluctuating Mind.  
" We'll rifle Virgin-undiscovered Seas,  
" That may the Learned and Ambitious please,  
" That will with Knowledge and with Gold abound;  
" Till doubly We  
" Are with Victorious and with Learned Laurels crowned,  
" And rule, what Kings fight to command, the Sea.  
You spoke,— but We were Deaf with Fear:  
(For Fear and Sloth no brave Advice will hear)  
Some laid in Ease refused to stir,  
Some the Sea's Surface did deter:  
The Boldest only by the Shore durst creep,  
And You alone did stem the Terrors of the Deep.  
We now too late our Cowardice deplore,  
See You returned with envied Store;  
While We, (the due Reward of Sloth) are Poor.   

III.  
The Sea's now truly Free, You made it so;  
Did through all Parts of that vast Empire go,  
Nor missed one dark Recess.  
Th' Ocean's no longer unconfined,  
Nor the S●● Bottomless;  
Nothing lies hid to Your inquisitive Mind.  
Not where the Sea-Nymphs dance and play,  
Not where their wearied Limbs they lay  
Extended like a Lovesick Maid,  
When she in pleasant Dreams doth grasp a Shade,  
And wakes and sighs, because She is betrayed:  
Not where the Jolly Tritons do resort  
To talk of Love, of Business, or of Sport,  
Where Phoebus' blushing-red with Love, or Toil,  
Doth hurry down the Western Hill,  
To his Enjoyment, or his Rest,  
T' unbend his Cares upon fair Thetis' Breast:  
Or where Great Neptune doth his Amphitrite Court.  
Nor can We tell, but You,  
Who did so many Secrets know,  
Some Sea-Nymph might, or Goddess, woe  
And have your Assignations too below.   

IV.  
Pleasure and Learning in Your Muse are joined:  
You Doubly gratify the Mind,  
Delightfully and Profitably Kind.  
To th' Curious World an History You give,  
Which by no other Means We could receive;  
(For all th' Inhabitants are Dumb below)  
Which, as You've made That Great, will make You Live;  
While Fish's cut the Waves, or Waves themselves do flow.  
The Mighty Whales and Regal Dolphins there  
Grow Big and Braver from your Artful Pen;  
The Vranoscopus forgets the Sphere,  
And Charmed by You begins to look on Men:  
All Neptune's Court You've opened to our View,  
Adorned with Orient Pearl and Burnished Gold,  
His Guard of Tritons and the Scaly Crew,  
That in the watery Plains their Revels hold:  
Which Glorious Objects do our Eyes detain,  
While You our Souls do steal with your surprising Strain.  
But surely, while those Depths You sweetly sing,  
And charming Verse from the Abyss do bring  
Such, as might rock the rattling Winds asleep,  
And smooth the Angry Furrows of the Deep:  
While Venus-like Your Lovely Muse doth rise  
From Seas; and Storms themselves have something, doth surprise;  
No single Name can all these Wonders show,  
But now You are Arion and the Dolphin too.   

V.  
Your fatal Knowledge Neptune grieves in vain,  
Laments, that e'er he let a Spy  
With treacherous Skill surveyed the watery Plain,  
See where his Forts and Magazines do lie,  
And (what Invasion tempts) his Treasury.  
In vain the Indians do deplore  
The Spaniards first Arrival on their Shore:  
Once found, they were to all a Prey▪  
Discove'ry opened to Slavery a way.  
So doth a gloomy Fate hang o'er the Sea,  
If any dare so Hardy be  
To trace the Steps of Your Discovery.  
Such Difficulties overcome, we know,  
Your Mind can't be confined long below:  
Neptune already doth the Knowledge fear,  
And's Brother jove must doubly guard his Sphere.  
A Dolphin You did through the Ocean go,  
And now a Bird of Paradise You'll be,  
And all the Secrets o'th' Celestial Empire see.   
Ribworth Septem. xi. 1690. Theophilus' judd of St. John's College Cambridge.   

To Mr. Heyrick on his Excellent Poems.  

I.  
NAture, from whose Indulgent Hand  
We all, that we esteem, do take,  
Doth Costly Births of Worthless Matter make:  
Doth Noble Forms upon them lay:  
The charming Visions rise at her Command  
Though their Materials be but Dust and Clay.  
You greater Wonders to the World impart;  
Your Learned Pen exceeds her Best of Art.  
Her shapeless Chaos You anew Create,  
Her Meanest Subjects from Your Wit grow Great.  
Mortal, Imperfect, all her Products are:  
Deathless You tender them, and in Perfection Fair.   

II.  
The Proud Pellaean Youth, that cried—  
Had raved,— Moore Worlds for to subdue,  
Had he lived now, t' have been outdone by You,  
Who scorn the Bounds, that Him confined,  
Pass o'er the Rubicon, his Arms defied,  
And please with Wonders of the Deep Your Mind.  
You once-Renowned Drake's Great Acts outdo;  
He the Gulph's Surface, You its Bottom, view.  
Bold Curtius' Deed with Yours runs Parallel;  
Who scorned the Acherontic Jaws of Hell!  
Both leaped the Gulf, Both to the Gods were Dear;  
You best-beloved, whom They and Ravenous Seas did spare.   

III.  
Who then am I; that dare device  
With my Unhallowed Verse to come,  
Where Nobler Muses are with Wonder Dumb?—  
In vain We strive to praise the Sun  
Whose Worth above Expression's Power doth rise;  
And's best by silent Adoration shown.—  
The Mighty B— s can only sing Your Praise,  
The Tuneful B— s, just Partner of Your Bays!  
Great Homer's far- 〈…〉 to Him is due,  
And Pindar's Song does seem revived in You:  
And surely He, that would such Worth comprise,  
Must have a Soul, like Yours, Great, Boundless, Sharp & Wise.   George Walker of Emmanuel College in Cambridge.  

To the Author on his Ingenious Submarine Voyage. ODE.  

I.  
SAges of old how vainly we admire!  
How fond's our Dotage on Antiquity!  
Tho' their Short Sights could naught des●●●  
Vnobvious to each Vulgar Eye;  
The Idoled Stagirite could rise no Higher  
Than the thin Notion of Hecceity:  
When his more Prying Wit to ' Euripus flew,  
It's Famous Ebbs to view,  
His Weaker Eyes  
Used to the Dark Recess of Occult Qualities,  
Could not Sustain Truth's Glaring Light,  
Dazzled with the Bright Miracle, He cried,  
O Wondrous unintelligible Tide!  
In what Dark Cover art Thou involved,  
Not by Entelechy's or Acts resolved?  
Why do I on its Fruitless Surface gaze?—  
Guide Me some Triton through its Wand'ring Maze,  
Take Me (He cried) and with an Eager Leap  
Plunges into the Swelling Deep.  
Yet the Philosopher no Triton found,  
But in the Rapid Stream was Drowned:  
What Fruitless Trials than would He have made,  
Had He the Boundless Depth essayed!   

II.  
We'll no more Trophies to Columbus raise,  
Nor to Vesputius' stolen Praise:  
Too much We prise  
Their mean Discoveries.  
What has their Pregnant Wits brought forth  
In the Long-expected Birth,  
Beside the dull reiterated Scene of Earth?  
Hurried by Storms, the unsought Ground  
They rather Happened on, than Found:  
Those Random Gusts the Praise must have,  
For a small Share our forced Discoverers can crave,  
Who only were by Mechanism brave.  
They in a Blind Neglect passed by  
Nature's Great Excellence, Variety;  
They could Discover naught worth Wonder there,  
When Wafted round its Crystal Hemisphere.  
Whilst Your more prying Eye  
Could not upon its Surface terminate,  
Nor could the Loudest Storms Your Zealous Search abate.  
You through Maeandrous Caverns fearless rove,  
Discerning plainly in their Cause  
The Ocean's so-surprising Laws;  
While We above  
Blind with Amazement do in vain,  
Strive by Effects t' unfold the Cause's endless Train.  
You Neptune's Magazine have well surveyed,  
And thrô's Whole Watery Realm a Progress made▪  
Sure by some Amorous Siren in Your way  
You were the Charms of Language taught;  
She did impart  
With her Best Skill the Graceful Art,  
And by that Bribe would Mutual Flames have bought.   

III.  
The Mariner no more will Nature cruel call,  
Tho' He on Quicksand's fall;  
Tho' Threatening Billows beaten,  
That on Sharp Rocks He split:  
For taught by You none can a Shipwreck fear,  
Tho' Circumstantially Severe:  
Since Sinking only does a Voyage prove  
Into far Richer Scenes of Life, than these above.  
Go on, Bold Wit, and add to Nature's store,  
All Her dark Nooks with curious search look o'er:  
Now into Her Remotest Corners pry,  
And let no Lurking World escape Your Eye.  
Rove through all Regions of the Sky,  
And with some Agile crowd,  
People that Vast Capacious Solitude:  
Find where the Promptuary's of Fire are stowed,  
And in that Supermundial Heat  
Room for some Cold Inhabitants create,  
Search Nature through; till We no Blanks can see,  
But find Her stretched into Infinity.   Lancelot Manning, B. A. of Trinity College in Cambridge.  

MISCELLANY POEMS.  

On the Right Honourable John Earl of Rutland, etc.  
Offspring of Hero's! Who art truly Great,  
Above the reach of pleased, or angry, Fate;  
And equally dost scorn her smile and hate.  
In Innocence and Virtuous Courage safe,  
Above the World, You at its Troubles laugh:  
Nor can its Pageantry attract your Eyes;  
You fear not one, and th' other You despise.  
A Life like this did Atticus commend,  
The pride of glorious Rome and Tully's Friend,  
Who ' n Rome none of its Civil wars did feel,  
With no Commotions of the State did reel,  
But in the world scarce with the World did deal.  
" 'tis the world's Imperfection still to want,  
" And satisfaction, nor to have, nor grant;  
" But with incessant pains to tear the Breast,  
" And beg of every helpless Cause for rest.  
Angelic Natures our weak state exceed,  
Their Purity's from taint of Matter freed,  
Their Knowledge no increase or growth doth need.  
In this they most show our confined store;  
They are so happy, they can wish no more.  
Ambition is the Feverish Soul's disease,  
Which restless seeks for something, that may please.  
About with them their Malady they bear,  
And wheresoever they fly, they find it near,  
And grope for help around and grasp the Air.  
" Contents not there: He that doth strive for more  
" Doth live uneasy with his present store.  
" The wise Man doth Retirement's pleasures know,  
" And's never lesle alone, than when he's so.  
Fools are for nothing fit; the Middle Size  
Drive on the Business of the world and Noise,  
The Highest Souls to Nobler pleasures rise.  
Out of the reach of Fortune they are placed,  
Draughts of Sublime AEthereal Joys do taste,  
Whom no Misfortunes break, nor Time doth waste  
So Adam in his Paradise did live,  
Blessed in himself and his beloved Eve.  
Ere Glory drew unwary Eyes aside,  
Ere Gold did o'er the servile Troops preside:  
And to all Mischief opeed a passage wide.  
Ere glittering Courts Mens yielding Minds did sway,  
Did all their tender precious Hours betray;  
Whose loss not all their hopes and golden dreams could pay.  
●r'e Men their Ease bartered for Gold or State,  
And sold themselves at an Unworthy rate:  
E●'e Vice on Innocency's Tomb did grow:—  
Such is Your Life, and such a Paradise have You.  
Who in Yourself find Native Inborn store,  
No● from the World do need to borrow more.  
For he, that wants, though ne'er so rich, is poor.  
A scheme of Life, like Yours, Lucretius laid,  
(Whose Boundless Wit all Nature's works, surveyed)  
And fitted to th' Immortal Gods, he made:  
He gave them what would most Divinely please;  
And 〈◊〉 them up in blessed Content and Ease.   

To the Right Honourable Katherine Countess of Rutland.  
THE Cautious Heathens, ere they would admit  
Their Poets of their Deities to treat,  
First at their Altars made them Homage pay,  
And purge their Dross and loser Strains away:  
That the Exalted Purified mind  
Might Notions fit for Heavenly Being's find.  
So the bold Artist, that of You would speak,  
Should Patterns from Celestial Natures take;  
And stamp his Soul in an Angelic Mould;  
Ere he Your Virtues should attempt to ' unfold.  
In highest Sciences we words do want;  
Expressions, that may give our Notions vent:  
Thus Rhet'rick dumb at Your Perfections grows;  
Our Language then, that 'tis defective, shows.  
And though those Flowers, which other Tongues refine,  
She doth unto her Treasures wisely join;  
All's yet too low for Subjects so Divine.  
Homer the Language of the Heavens could tell,  
Mysterious Secrets of the Gods reveal:  
He that, how Good, of Great You are, would show,  
Had need the Depth of Heavenly wisdom know:  
For all we deal with here doth flag too low.  
Angels the Mighty work should undertake,  
And show what Words they for such Merits make.  
Had You lived in those Fabulous Ages, when  
The Heavenly Seats he●d Colonies of Men;  
When every Spark of Worth or Mounting Fire  
Durst up into a Deity aspire;  
What Deities had Your Perfections showed,  
How many from Your Single Worth had flowed?  
Each Virtue had a God or Goddess given,  
And You could from Yourself have peopled Heaven.  
Nor of this Age alone extends Your Fame,  
The Times to come shall spread Your Glorious Name.  
And wheresoe'er the Name of MANNERS flies,  
(A Name that doth all Excellence comprise)  
As down the Ages it doth pass along,  
You'll be the Subject of their Grateful song:  
And with Your Beauteous Offspring fix it fast,  
Coëval with the World and Time to last.  
And as Great Caesar's haughty Name did come  
Successively to all, that governed Rome;  
Your Name, like Incense, shall descend to story,  
And be the Age's Bliss and Sexe's Glory.  
And all, whose Generous Breasts aspire to Fame,  
With decent boldness shall assume Your Name,  
Which in all Ages shall be understood  
Significant for what is Great or Good.  
Had but the Early Centuries, that could find  
The Virtues and the Grace's Womankind,  
Seen the Fair Draughts of Your Celestial Mind:  
New Sexes to their Deities they ' had given,  
Nor left one Single God to rule in Heaven.   

On the Lord Roos, Eldest Son of the Earl of Rutland.  
WHen common Work for Painter's hands doth call,  
Rude artless Draughts do from their Pencils fall;  
Adapted to the judgement of the Crowd,  
No Dancing Life doth make the Members proud:  
●ut when a Celebrated Piece doth sit,  
For Wisdom known, for Beauty, or for Wit;  
The artful strokes do Life and Vigour breathe,  
And steal an Immortality from Death.  
So Nature, when the Common Herd she makes,  
Rough worthless Matter from base Rubbish takes:  
Careless in any Shape she moulds the Clay,  
No Beauteous Characters thereon doth lay:  
To the Dull lump no cost she doth impart,  
Course the Materials and as course the Art.  
But when some Godlike Birth she would improve,  
That draws his Sparkling Line from Thundering jove:  
With her bright Seal she stamps him for her own,  
In dazzling Hieroglyphics writes him down.  
For's Body takes Materials, fair as those,  
That do the Mass of Common Soul's compose:  
Fills it with every Virtue, every Grace,  
And heavenly Beauties in the M●nd doth place:  
Virtues, that soar far above Common ken,  
Known but to Angels, and Seraphic Men!  
So Nature, Princely Youth, with you did deal,  
With Excellence did Soul and Body fill:  
And that it might not Casual appear,  
A Turn of Greatness and a Generous Air,  
A shining Spirit through the Whole did bear.  
Rays, such s●own the Gods, o'er all did fly  
And every 〈…〉 d breathe Divinity.  
Others wi〈…〉 ious steps to Virtue rise.  
Break to't through crowds of pressing Enemies;  
Must violence on headstrong Nature lay,  
Unhinge the Passions, ere they will obey:  
Which, like tame Lions, if not ruled by Art,  
Will back into their Natural wildness start:  
Like Countries, that but newly are subdued,  
Will soon rebel and cast off Servitude.  
Your Happy Mind inherent Virtue bears,  
The Gift of Heaven and of Your Ancestors.  
Others attained; an Habit 'tis in You,  
What others do to Pains and Culture owe,  
In Your Great Mind doth Naturally grow.  
Your Family's Virtues so upon You wait,  
It doth the Question put beyond debate,  
That Parents Child's Souls do generate.  
Grant blessed Heaven, Your Worth mayn't fatal be;  
Nor too soon purchase Immortality!—  
And when Your Wisdom and Your Worth are known,  
To th' wo●ld Your Candour and Your Goodness shown:  
And when those Virtues, that to Age belong,  
Shall in Your Youthful Breast be found to throng:  
Let not too soon blessed Souls for You make room,  
Nor Death believe You old and sign Your doom.   

On an Indian Tomineios, the Least of Birds.  

I.  
I'm made in sport by Nature, when  
she's tired with the stupendious weight  
Of forming Elephants and Beasts of State;  
Rhinocerots, that love the Fen;  
The Elkes, that scale the hills of Snow,  
And Lions couching in their awful Den:  
These do work Nature hard, and then  
Her wearied Hand in Me doth show,  
What she can for her own Diversion do.   

II.  
Man is a little World ('tis said)  
And I in Miniature am drawn,  
A Perfect Creature, but in Shorthand shown.  
The Ruck, in Madagascar bred,  
(If new Discoveries Truth do speak)  
Whom greatest Beasts and armed Horsemen dread,  
Both Him and Me one Artist made:  
Nature in this Delight doth take,  
That can so Great and Little Monsters make.   

III.  
The Indians me a Sunbeam name,  
And I may be the Child of one:  
So small I am, my Kind is hardly known.  
To some a sportive Bird I seem,  
And some believe me but a Fly;  
Th● me a Feathered Fowl the Best esteem:  
What ere I am, I'm Nature's Gemm;  
And, like a Sunbeam from the Sky.  
I can't be followed by the quickest Eye.   

IV.  
I'm the true Bird of Paradise,  
And heavenly Dew's my only Meat:  
My Mouth so small, 'twill nothing else admit.  
No Scales know how my weight to poise,  
So Light, I seem condensed Air;  
And did at th' End of the Creation rise,  
When Nature wanted more Supplies,  
When she could little Matter spare,  
●ut in Return did make the work more Rare.    

Claudian's Eagle.  
THE Eagle doth not let his Eaglets rove,  
Till th' Sun doth their Legitimacy prove.  
When kindly heat doth the ripe Brood reveal,  
And swelling Births do break the tender shell;  
He turns his unsledged Offspring to the sky,  
And bids them look on Heaven with daring Eye.  
Well the discerning Rays he views, to see  
What will their Nature, Strength and Vigour be.  
The Spurious Bird, that can't the Sunbeams bear,  
His Father's Talons do in pieces tear:  
But He, that views the Sun with daring sight,  
Nor shrinks at, what dazzles all else, the Light;  
Nursed up with love becomes his Father's Heir  
Destined the mighty Thunderer to bear.   

The Fisherman and Treasure.  
BEneath a shade, that overlooked a Sea,  
To whom a Crystal stream did Homage pay,  
A Fisher, a●m'd with skill and patience, s●ood,  
Whose Age bespoke him Native of the flood:  
By ' whose Antic look and garb the Fish deceived,  
Him but a Trees poor leafless Trunk believed:  
Round whom the credulous Fry did fearless play,  
While he with Specious baits did them betray.  
It happened, as he his quiet Art employed,  
Which him with Sport and Livelihood supplied,  
Something far off did on a Billow ride;  
And as he watched his Quill with patient care,  
The moving Waves had brought the body near.  
A lovely Youth, perhaps some Virgin's flame,  
Perhaps his Father's joy, that should uphold his Name,  
With mournful Mien, to beg a Burial came.  
The Aged Fisher the sad Object viewed.  
And doubly him with briny Tears bedewed.  
" Death makes a dreadful change! perhaps (said he)  
" Thou mightst the Favourite of some Monarch be:  
" Nothing is spared by Death or by the Sea.  
" Perhaps, said he, some Lovesick Maid doth wait  
" Thy safe return, nor dreams of thy sad fate;  
" Counts every Moment of thy tedious stay,  
" And thinks each hour an Age doth bear away!  
" To our own doom we're Ignorant and blind,  
" Much lesle, what haps to distant friends, can find.  
" Perhaps— alas, what may not we suppose;  
" And yet what thoughts shall we in error loose?  
" Time passed lies hid, as well as Time to come,  
" And we of both in vain inquire the doom.  
" Physiognomists pretend events to tell,  
" But can't, what happened to the dead, reveal:  
" Both unintelligible Mysteries lie,  
" What hath been, or what future times shall be.  
" That which is sure, is, thou dost want a Grave,  
" The resting place indulgent Nature gave,  
" That, which the Rich with all their Treasures buy,  
" Nor Mother Earth doth to the Poor deny,  
" Where Kings and Peasants, Spades and Sceptersly.  
" Thy restless Soul wanders in devious ways,  
" Not suffered the Stygian Lake to pass;  
" While thy cold Members dance upon the Sea,  
" And thy unburied Corpse a prey doth lie.  
" There is a debt we owe to all Mankind,  
" Not to Relations or to Friends confined;  
" The whole World in our kindness claims a share,  
" And every One in need demands our Care.  
" Thou noting needest, and dost nothing crave,  
" But, what's in all men's power to give, a Grave.  
" Riches I've none, nor dost thou need them now,  
" That which I have I freely will bestow,  
" A Grave is the last Favour I can show.  
The Gods the Aged Man's intention heard,  
And, that his piety they might reward,  
Where he a Grave with trembling Members made,  
A mass of Treasure underneath conveyed.  
Virtue, that seldom her Reward doth gain,  
But clothed in Rags despised doth remain,  
While gilded Vice in costly State doth Reign,  
Rich now by th' gift of Bounteous Heaven doth grow;  
Who to th' mistaken World designed to show,  
What is to Piety and Virtue due.   

On the Lady Bridget Noel.  
WOnder of Nature! never yet  
So bright a Soul and fair a Body met,  
A jewel worthy such a Cabinet:  
Nature her gifts used wisely to dispense,  
And with good Mien supply the Want of sense.  
In You the stores of Wit and Beauty meet,  
This Decks your Face, and that your Mind:  
Heaven's Treasures are in You combined,  
And every God with gifts your Birth did greet.  

II.  
Angels to You do brag they're kin,  
Whose Soul doth through your Crystal body shine;  
And what appears without comes from within.  
Your Body such, as Goddesses put on,  
When they to meet their Earthly Loves come down.  
Nature on You hath Lavished all her store,—  
A Dearth of Beauty must succeed,  
And Fools revolving Years must breed;  
For She, that hath given all, can give no more.    

Hippomenes and Atalanta.  
WHen young Hippomenes beheld the place,  
The ground, on which was run the fatal Race,  
Where Atalanta should the Victor grace:  
And saw their Members scattered o'er the plain,  
Whom Fate ordained to Love and to be slain;  
Who paid their Life which in the Race did yield,  
By fair, but cruel, Atalanta killed.—  
" Is this the sole Reward, great Love, he cried,  
" That doth to thy unhappy Slaves betid?  
" Are these the Deities we must adore;  
" That thus delight themselves in human gore?  
" If i'th' the AEthereal Plains such Monsters be,  
" Heaven shall be uninhabited for me.  
" My bleeding Country shall my Aid demand,  
" My Friend in danger shall require my hand,  
" Actions like these beget a glorious Name,  
" If i'th' attempt I die, I die with Fame.  
" These mangled Limbs were Men, that by their Hands  
" Might have gained Crowns and conquered foreign Lands.  
" But Love betrayed them,— Low in dust they sleep,  
" And Ignominy o'er their Names doth creep.  
" They throve by War, were by soft Love undone,  
" They well knew how to stand, but not to run.  
" Hence then for ever I abjure the flame.—  
— But as he spoke, fair Atalanta came.—  
A Bearded shaft did through his Liver dart:  
And throbbing pain went tingling to his heart,  
Silence sealed up his lips, the sight took place,  
The Valiant Heart bowed to the charming Face.  
Th' expanded Organ greedily received  
Those piercing Looks, that him of rest bereaved.  
A secret Warmth through every Vein did glide,  
And his Blood flowed in an unusual tide.  
In's Mind thoughts of untasted Joys did move.  
And sunk insensibly his Soul to Love.  
His hardened Resolutions now expire,  
And melt like rigid Ice before the Fire.  
He now rejects the vows he once did make,  
And thus, quite changed, his Words in Raptures broke.  
" Pardon, great Love, a Criminal, that ne'er knew  
" What was to Thee, or Atalanta due.  
" And you (blessed Souls) whom Love and Beauty slew,  
" I'll either Conquer, or make One of You.  
" In bold Attempts 'tis gallant even to dare,  
" For though we miss the Prize, we Honour share.  
" Show me the Post— I with Impatience die,—  
" My eager Love will double strength supply;  
" And in the Race what warmth my breast will hea●,  
" To save a Life, and Atalanta get:  
" All that I fear is, lest my throbbing heart,  
" From her fair side unwillingly will part:  
" It will be Lead, when it from Her is gone,  
" Nor can I from so great a Treasure run.  
" But if, at worst, the Fates my Bliss withstand,  
" 'Twill be worth while to perish by her Hand.  
" For since we once must yield to Destiny,  
" By such an Angel who'd not wish to die?  
" Her Eyes can cure the wounds, her fair Hand gave,  
" One Look of hers can ransom from the grave.   

The Honourable Grazier.  
THE Roman Heroes, that the World subdued  
Both by their Candour and their Fortitude;  
Did with their Arms as useful Arts put on,  
And Governed all by Moderation.  
Conquered themselves, and then for Rule were fit;  
Masters at Home, and then made All submit.  
The spirit of Magistracy could put on,  
And could without resentment lay it down.  
Could in all states an even Temper show,  
This day Dictator and the next at Blow.  
So calmly you did bear the change of State,  
Steered right the dangerous Ship of being Great,  
Not swelled with empty Gales of flattering Fate.  
And when that needful Maxims you did call,  
From thence you gently did descend, not fall.  
Your great Soul lesle employments stooped to bear,  
As Gods sometimes to earthly seats repair.  
Fate rules mean Souls, the brave do Fate command,  
Who still unmoved on their own Basis stand.  
And should the World in pieces break, and all  
The shattered ruins in one Tempest fall;  
No fear could from the rolling Mountains rise,  
Nor could their Innocence admit surprise.  
" 'tis the great Good, that we from Virtue gain;  
" Unmoved in all Earth's changes to remain!   

On a Peacock.  

I.  
THou foolish Bird, of Feathers proud,  
Whose Lustre yet thine Eyes ne'er see;  
The gazing Wonder of the Crowd,  
Beauteous, not to thyself, but Me!  
Thy Hellish Voice doth those affright,  
Whose Eyes were charmed at thy sight.   

II.  
Vainly thou think'st, those Eyes of thine  
Were such as sleepy Argus lost;  
When he was touched with rod Divine,  
Who late of Vigilance did boast.  
Little at best they'll thee avail,  
Not in thine Head, but in thy Tayl.   

III.  
Wisemen do forward look to try  
What will in following Moment's come:  
Backward thy useless Eyes do lie,  
Nor do inquire of future doom.  
" Nothing can remedy what's past;  
" Wisdom must guard the present cast.   

IV.  
Our Eyes are best employed at home,  
Not when they are on others placed:  
From thine but little good can come,  
Which never on thyself are cast:  
What can of such a Tool be made?  
A tail well-furnished, but an empty Head.    

On a Flea presented to a Lady, whose Breast it had bitten, in a Golden Wire, Extempore 1679. (by Mr. Joshua Barnes.)  
— HEre, Madam, take this Humble Slave,  
Once vile,— But, since your blood is in him, Brave!  
I saw him surfeit on your Lovely Breast;  
And snatched the Traitor from that precious Feast.  
For his Attempt sure He by me had died;  
But the respect, I bore your Blood denied.  
The Gods forbid, fair Madam, that by me  
Your Blood be shed althô in this poor Flea!—  
'Twas Sacrilege in him those Drops to draw;  
But now that Treasure in his skin doth lie,  
It consecrates his Life and strikes an awe;  
That no bold Nail dare make the Traitor dy.  
Nay if a Quaff of Nectar once could make  
Mankind Immortal, as the Poets feign,  
This Flea can never die for that Drops sake,  
Which he hath sucked, sweet Madam, from your Vein;  
At lest— no human Power his life can spill,  
(Which lies in your pure blood, that can't decay:)  
But You, whose Property's to save and kill,  
As you did lend that Blood, may take't away.  
Then lo!— this Royal Slave in chains of Gold,  
Here I submit most humbly to your doom:  
Either let Mercy him your Prisoner hold,  
Or let your Ivory Nail prepare his Tomb!  
Oh! could he speak, I'm sure the Wretch would crave  
A Prisoner's life, to be confined with You:  
Nay he could be content to meet his Grave;  
If by your Hand death might to him accrue.  
Go, happy Flea! for now to One you go,  
giveth Bliss, if She's your Friend, and Glory, if your Foe▪   

On an Ape.  

I.  
THIS Creature, that our Scorn doth grow,  
Whose Actions we with laughter see,  
Of Reason doth resemblance show,  
And follows us with pleasing Mimickry:  
It aims at Wit; a Man would grow;  
And would be Rational, if it knew how.   

II.  
'Tis more than We to Angels can;  
Their Deeds we cannot Imitate:  
We'er after all Endeavours Man;  
Nor can we even in Shadow change our state:  
Nor what they are, or what they do,  
Can we but even in Show attain unto.   

III.  
Trifles our anxious Heads do fill,  
Which this blessed Creature trouble not:  
Quarrels thence flow, the Cause of ill,  
While unconcernedness is his happy Lot.  
He is our Scorn, and much more W'  
The Scorn or Pity may of Angels be.   

IV.  
Like Man ambitiously he acts,  
While We in Paths of Beasts do tread;  
Follow vain Fools in Vicious tracts,  
And even to Hell are by Example led:  
Great Aims his Mind doth upward call;  
While basely We to what's below us crawl,    

No to Morrow.  
AN Holy Hermit, that to aged Years  
His precious Moment's had employed in Prayers;  
Renewed the Golden age, by Nature fed,  
Took his Repose upon Earth's flowery Bed,  
And had Heaven's Canopy above his Head:  
With what was pre●ent did content his Mind,  
And future things to Providence resigned.  
To Him some Friends did earnestly repair,  
And begged at th' Consul's Choosing he'd appear.  
To whom Grey Hairs and Piety replied,  
" What's in my power You shall not be denied.  
" What You desire of me to Day I'll do,  
" But for to Morrow I can nothing show.  
" You that are Young and hope for Future years,  
" For times to come may fill your Heads with Cares.  
" I use the Time is present; and no more,  
" Than what to Day brings forth, accounted my store.  
" I many Years have lived, yet never knew  
" What was to Future Times and to to Morrow due.   

Mart. Lib. 12. Epig. 23.  
WHen Money I on my bare Bond do crave,  
Youv ' none: I'll Mortgage, Sir,— o! now you have,  
Thus, Thelesine, you will not trust a Friend,  
But on the Credit of his Field You'll lend.  
You're cast at Law; tell not me, tell my Land—  
You want a Friend— not I, my Field shall stand.   

On the Crocodile.  

I.  
I AM the Terror of the Sea,  
Proud Nile's chief Glory and his Fear:  
From far I dart upon my Prey,  
Which to my watery Hold I bear.  
Dogs dare not drink for doubt of Me,  
Tho' they against Bulls and Lions dare.  
I am chief Instrument of Fate;  
Two Elements upon me wait;  
Water and Land conspire to make me great.   

II.  
Of food I no Distinction make,  
But in my Cruelty am Just:  
Of Man and Beast alike I take,  
And eat them both with equal Gust.  
With Draughts of Gore my thirst I slake,  
And Flesh I down my throat do thrust.  
Fear gave rise to Divinity;  
And Gods have rose from Cruelty:  
Wise Egypt showed so; when She worshipped me,   

III.  
The Indians kill me for their Food,  
And say, I am Delicious meat:  
They drink of their Relations Blood,  
And eat, what did their Fathers eat.  
In me they injure their own Brood,  
Their Malice doth their Judgement cheat.  
But I may yet a Question make,  
Whether when Me they hunt and take,  
They think their Hunger or Revenge to slake.   

IV.  
No Creature can my Power withstand:  
Yet to that power Deceit I tie:  
And by this Double Gordian band  
Secure my hungry Tyranny;  
The Terror of the Sea and Land  
In ambush on the Sands I lie.  
What e'er I take I do devour,  
Yet o'er the Head I tears do shower,  
And weep and grieve,— because I have no more.   

V.  
Men me Abhor, yet Imitate;  
Like Falsehood use without all Shame:  
As Lawless Power, as deep Deceit  
Doth Christian under Christian tame:  
I live i'th' Actions of the Great;  
What they're to Others, to them I am.  
Would you then Power and Cunning see  
Mixed with deep Hypocrisy?  
They are conjoined in Man, as well as Me!    

On a Pen.  
THE feathered Herald of loud Fame I sing;  
Love's sweetest Friend and Satyr's sharpest sting.  
The fierce Denounce● of devouring Arms,  
The soft Proposer of mild Peace's charms:  
That o'er the Troops of Proudest Monarches sways,  
That rules the Sword, which Heaven and Earth obeys:  
That charmed the Barbarous World, and brought the Rude  
And Savage Troops from lonely Solitude:  
That made them down in Peace together lie,  
And moulded them into Civility:  
Their yielding Hearts with secret Joy did move,  
With ties of Friendship and of mutual Love:  
First showed the Service, we to Heaven did own,  
The reverence we should unto Justice show,  
And Rules of Converse, and what ere we know.  
Earth's Distant parts the Nimble Pen doth bind,  
And to re●otest Nations bears the Mind.  
Thou wondrous Gift of Heaven! that canst dispense  
Immortal favours and eternal Sense.  
Thou to dark Ages dost full Luster give;  
By Thee Great Homer and Great Maro live!  
Those, we ne'er saw, yet by thy Help we know;  
And Friendship can at greatest distance show.  
Thou needful Rules for Government dost give,  
And from Oppression dost the Weak relieve.  
The Reinss of all things in thy power do lie,  
And He rules All, who well can govern Thee.  
The peaceful Mind thou canst to War excite,  
And sink the Warrior down into delight,  
Great Revolutions on thy power depend,  
And Fates of Kings thy Motion do attend.  
What secret spell doth in thy Letters lie?  
What Magic Powers do from thy figures fly?  
What wonders do the Savages relate  
Of thine alwise, all-wonderfull Estate?  
That Characters, which from our Pens do stray,  
To distant Climates should our thoughts convey.  
Well might the Indian think the Letter spoke,  
When by its help He in his theft was took.   

On a Faithful Dog.  
MOST Loyal Creature! whom no Bribes can bend:  
Still thou untaught thy Master dost defend.  
Lov'st generous Actions, that will bear the Light,  
Irreconcilable to deeds of Night.  
To Thiefs and Villains a professed Foe,  
And what soe'er doth hidden treachery know.  
ne'er in distress didst leave thy wretched Lord,  
But didst at Life's expense thy help afford.  
From thy indulgent Master ne'er didst fly,  
Nor e'er betrayed the hand, that nourished Thee.  
But when all Loyal help is tried in vain,  
True and unmoved dost by his side remain,  
And dost thy Faith in Fates extremes maintain:  
Well did the fierce 
* Masinissa  Numidia's Prudent Lord  
Choose from thy tribe his uncorrupted Guard.  
Thy Life shames giddy Man's; for He's a slave  
To every Veering Wind and Dancing Wave.  
Him Gold, or Spleen, or Flattery moves to range,  
Or, what is worse, merely the Love of change.  
He knows nor Gratitude, nor Honour's Laws,  
But in extremity his help withdraws,  
And leaves his Lord to th' mercy of his Foes.—  
Villains or Fools the noisy Crowds compose;  
Or sprightly Traitors, or dull stupid Logs;  
How are they honoured, if we style them Dogs?   

On the Mole.  

I.  
BY Niggard unkind Nature I  
Am doomed to perpetual Night;  
In my dark solitude I lie,  
And hate, what all do Love, the Light.  
My days from nights no difference have,  
But all my Life I'm in my Grave.   

II.  
I in Earth's bowels seek my prey,  
In cursed solitude remain,  
In those dark Regions, where no Ray  
May help to ease me of my pain:  
Doubly accursed, that have no sight,  
Or, had I, am debarred the Light!   

III.  
Once I was an AEthereal mind  
(If learned Antiquity ought know)  
But cloyed with Joys of Heavenly kind,  
I longed for Pleasures here below:  
Till angry Heaven from thence me thrust,  
And set my Mansion in the Dust.   

IV.  
Now Blind, who once did Glory see,  
And dwelled in the AEthereal Air:  
From Heaven, and thoughts of it, I fly,  
And do all Commerce with it fear.  
In caverns deep my Seat I place,  
And eat, as guilty men, Heaven's face.   

V.  
The starting▪ trembling, Guilty Soul,  
And Conscience, that awake doth keep,  
Might seek for shelter with the Mole;  
And fix her habitation deep.  
But tell me where a troubled mind,  
A Dungeon deep enough shall find!    

The Norway Whale.  

I.  
I Am the Messenger of angry Fate,  
And do approaching Monarches Death relate▪  
Norway with trembling Eyes doth look on me,  
And I ' me the Comet of the Sea.  
Meteors from Heaven betoken Death,  
And I do tell it from beneath,   

II.  
To Mariners an Island I appear,  
And fearless they unto my side draw near,  
Wondering what unknown Land their course doth stay,  
And think they have mistake their way.  
Their Charts and Mapps in vain they spread,  
Believing Nature's lately brought to Bed.   

III.  
Yet wisely Nature with my Bulk doth deal,  
And Folly on my Greatness doth entail;  
Makes me a dull, stupid, and senseless Piece,  
My Head but not my Brains increase.  
Did Wit or Mali●e dwell in me,  
How dangerous a Monster should I be?   

IV.  
How many Whales may even our Country boast,  
Whose Souls are in their Massy Bodies lost?  
Who, if it haps they done't mischievous grow,  
Their praise is, that they know not how:  
Their Innocence from Folly got,  
Their Excellence not in their Head, but Throat.    

On Sleep.  
SLeep, thou most soft and pleasing of the Gods,  
That kindly easest weary Mortals Loads!  
What other angry Deities infer,  
Thou, Tutelary, Genius helpest to bear.  
Even jove himself must part the time with Thee,  
Thou Ease and Aid of our Mortality!  
To th' Gods and Fate we do the day resign,  
But half the Time, the Night, sweet Sleep, is thine:  
To whom our Life those Cordial hours doth own,  
Help to digest the Bitterness of woe!  
The Springs of Life would soon exhausted be,  
If not replenished and refreshed by Thee.  
Thou call'st the flagging Spirits to the Brain,  
With Balmy Dew sprinklest the wearied Train,  
That grow and flourish with thy moistening showers;  
As silver Drops lift up the tender Flowers.  
The long-distended Nerves are laid to rest,  
And silent Ease spreads o'er the heaving Breast:  
A pleasing Numbness on the Limbs doth seize,  
And all, but Labouring Fancy, is at ease:  
A thousand shapes She o'er the Brain doth roll,  
Disjointed Schemes play i'th' deluded Soul:  
Inverted thoughts without, or Form, or Law,  
Fragments of what before we heard, or saw:  
Till the refreshed Spirits with haughty Pride,  
With vigorous Strength through all the Limbs do glide,  
And break the Silken Fetters, Sleep had tied.  
Thou lull'st at once Us and our Woes asleep;  
Thy Guards from Troubles faithful Sentry keep.  
It is the sacred Time they must refrain,  
And wait, till we rise from thy Arms again.  
Thou Safe Asylum, where the wretched Slave  
With the proud Victor equal share can have:  
Both meet in thy Embraces, both lie down,  
(I' th' Grave and Sleep there's no Distinction known)  
Both senseless of the Joys, or Griefs, they own,  
The weary Wretch, that Tugs at th'Oar doth find.  
Of all the Gods, Thou art to him most kind.  
Thy Charitable help doth condescend  
Ease to the loaded Prisoner to lend,  
That low in Dungeons lies far from the sight  
Of Mortal Eyes, and th' common Good, the Light:  
Thou cheerest his blinded Eyes and troubled Mind,  
And Him, that's lost to all the World, dost find.  
Thou visit'st Humble Cotes and silent Cells,  
Where Native Innocence and Pleasure dwells;  
Where Love and Peace do undisturbed reign,  
And Truth and Safety's more esteemed, than Gain.  
But far thou fliest from Courts and Rooms of State,  
From Noise of Business and of being Great.  
Ambition there upon the Mind doth seize,  
And Lust and Rage do rob the Soul of Ease:  
Bloody Revenge the Tortured heart doth tear,  
Nor doth black jealousy the Entrails spare.  
They smile without, but inwardly do bleed,  
And restless Vultures on the Liver feed.  
Scorpions and Furies there may make abode,  
But there's no Room for Thee, thou pleasing God  
With weary steps they may to Honour crawl,  
And Golden showers into their Laps may fall:  
But Thee they want, blessed Sleep, who sweet'nest all.  
All States and Tempers of thy Pleasure's taste;  
Which, when all other Joys are gone, do last.  
Despairing Wretches, from whom Comforts fly,  
May in Ambitious Dreams yet happy be,  
And what they ne'er shall have, Enjoy by Thee.  
The Valiant Soldier dreams of Mortal Wars,  
Of bloody Wounds and Honourable Scars,  
Grasps at Imaginary Crowns, and lies  
Entranced in Ravishing Sighs and Exstasies:  
Till the soft Bonds of downy Sleep do break,  
Then grieves and sighs, that he so soon doth wake,  
A Lover's mind Beauteous Ideas dress,  
While slumber doth his wand'ring Soul possess.  
The Object of his Flame he doth adore,  
Freely Embraces, what was Coy before,  
What his unbounded thoughts desire, enjoys;  
Fancy the room of what's not there supplies.  
Unwillingly he's waked out of his Dream,  
And grieves, that all was but Ixion's Scheme.  
The sweet-tongued Poet, whose Immortal Song  
Makes Men rise Gods, and Age itself grow young,  
Tho' poor Contempt offend his waking eyes,  
Rich in thine Arms, thou Sole Moecenae, lies.  
Sleep doth the Draughts of former Acts retrieve,  
Disordered Cuts of Ancient Gests doth give:  
Each of his Calling or his Deeds doth dream,  
Merchants o'th' Sea, the Husbandman of's Team,  
Lawyers of Strife, and Sportsmen of their Game.  
Sleep the Day's Pleasures doubles in the Night,  
And kindly represents what doth delight;  
Deaths younger Brother!—  
The first Essay of our Mortality;  
The First, that learns us, what it is to die!  
A near agreement Sleep and Death do keep,  
" Sleeps a short Death and Death a longer sleep.  
In sleep our business with the World is done,  
What's acted, or what's spoke, to us unknown:  
Secret, as when we in the Grave lie down.  
We're unconcerned at th' buzz and Noise of things,  
At the Erection or the fall of Kings.  
No plots nor deep Designs in hand we have,  
Are but one step on this side of the Grave.  
The Dust doth equal all, and Sleep doth so:  
Alike to both, Monarches and Captives bow:  
While ●ast their senses sleepy Fetters bind,  
No difference We 'twixt Prince and Peasant find;  
All senseless Lumps of flesh alike; nor can  
The Wise be severed from the Foolish Man.  
Both may have Dreams, and both alike confused;  
Chance governs all, where Wisdom is not used.  
And Peasant's may have Dreams as great and high,  
As those that fill the head of Majesty.  
They're breathing Mummies all, and till they wake,  
Wisdom or Greatness no Distinction make.   

Martial's Ague. Lib. 10. Ep. 45.  
IN sighs, Leutinus, thou dost spend the Days,  
And wonder'st much so long thy Ague stays.  
With Thee in gilded Coach it lolls at ease,  
With Thee doth sup on far-fetched Rarities:  
With Generous Liquor drunk it still is thine,  
And knows no Water, but what cools the Wine,  
Crowned with Roses and with Perfumes spread.  
Sleeps upon Down and rests on Purple Bed.  
With Thee so entertained, what should it do?  
Wouldst have it to an half-starved Wretch to go?   

AEtas parentum pejor avis tulit Nos nequiores, mox daturos Progeniem vitiosiorem. Hor.  
WE all prize Life; and yet how short's the Date?  
Not worth the trouble we are daily at.  
Pressed with the load of Years, with Life we're pleased,  
With both our Arms, though wretched, 'tis embraced.  
Unhappy man! cursed with a double Woe,  
With Life's Vexation and its Shortness too.  
How blessed was our uncorrupted State;  
When from God's Hand we dropped Immaculate?  
ere Nature had from Vice received its stain,  
ere the Creation's Glory had its Bane.  
When Moderation kept in drink and meat,  
Men eat to Live, and did not Live to eat;  
Before luxurious Variety  
Had taught our Father's Immature to die.  
When Nature opened her unrifled store,  
By former Ages never touched before,  
Which flourished in its fresh unbafled Power.  
When Native Knowledge o'er the Soul was spread,  
That could the use of Herbs and Metals read,  
And all, that might draw out Life's tender thread.  
When benign Influences of the Stars  
Contributed to Length of Happy Years,  
That Those, who many Ages lived, might find  
Those needful Arts, of use to Humanekind,  
We, of all Generations far the worst,  
In Time, in Place, and in ourselves accursed,  
In the gross Lees o'th' Elements do dwell,  
With nauseous Air and putrid Matter swell:  
A Place, refined Souls would think an Hell.  
Where old Decrepit Nature, through Decay,  
Doth feeble, weak, inglorious Births display;  
Robbed of her pristine store, the spirits fled,  
The shortlived shadows withered Look and dead.  
But yet the greatest and worst part of Woe,  
Unhappy Man unto Himself doth own!  
We by our Vice our Natures do deprave,  
We by Intemperance make too soon our Grave.  
Passions do Knowledge blast and Reason blind,  
And wear at once our Body and our Mind,  
No wise designs for future times we lay,  
Confined to the small Compass of to day.  
Nature hath made us Wretched, but We more;  
Fate curses us, and we add to the store.  
Woes from ourselves, or outward Causes, bred  
With our own hands We pull down on our head.  
A Virtuous Life would all these ills remove;  
Our Nature, Years, and Knowledge, would improve;  
Would render our short Lives more blest, and fair,  
Than theirs, that did so many Ages wear.  
This Life's in order to an other State,  
The End and Crown doth upon Death await:  
The Way to Happiness is through that Gate.  
And in our Life it matters not to tell,  
How many Years we've lived, but how Well.   

Martial Lib. 9 Ep. 15.  
DOST think, He whom thy liberal Table drew,  
Can ever be to Love or Friendship true?—  
He loves thy Mullets, Oysters, and not Thee:  
Could I so entertain him, he'd love Me.   

The Battle between a Cock and a Capon. Lamport 1682.  
LET other Poets treat of lofty Things,  
The rise of States and fall of Captive Kings:  
A lower subject doth my Muse invite,  
An humbler Theme, but of no lesle Delight.  
A bloody Battle late was sought between  
Two Combatants of different hopes and Mien.  
One, the proud Captain of the brooding Race,  
That doth the Yard o'th' careful Housewife grace:  
With tender Chuck calls the admiring Rout,  
And proudly leads th' obsequious Hens about:  
The drowsy Peasant's Clock, whose wakeful throat  
Doth Midnight's shades and Day's approach denote:  
Calls up from his course Bed the snoring Hind,  
Whom Sleeps strong fetters do securely bind,  
While guilty Greatness can no Quiet find.  
The Creature, whom enjoyment can't appease,  
But Raves in lust, and Rivals all his Race;  
Not a Seraglio his Desires can please.  
Impatient Lust doth in his Visage lie,  
And deadly Rage dwells in his bloody Eye.  
The Other of the Combatants was one  
Of meaner hopes and expectation:  
Not much unlike in shape, but much in Mien,  
Nor Male, nor Female, but a sort between.  
Monster! not made by Nature, but by Art;  
Whose sex the careful Housewife did impart:  
Who conscious, Lust did fret the Nerves away,  
And on Life's Balsam did too freely prey,  
With bloody Knife did rob him of the p●ize,  
Where Love is placed, and some say, Courage lies.  
Angry with all the World for th' Inju'ry done,  
A melancholy sullen Creature grown,  
He Confort shuns, and loves to be alone.  
Ghastly and pale he looked, whether for fear,  
Or rage at the Misfortunes, he did bear,  
Or want of generous spirits and active fires,  
Which daring uncontrolled Love inspires:  
Each part unseemly looked, but most of all  
The bending Feathers of his useless Tail.  
The Combat noised, to the unusual Sport  
A gallant Train of Noble Youth resort.  
All do the Castrate's sneaking looks deride,  
And give their suffrage o'th' proud Champion's side.  
Till from the rest 
* 〈…〉  One, born of noble Race,  
Whom Honour, Beauty, Wit, and Worth did grace;  
Whether it was his perspicacious Eye  
Did growing sparks of hidden Valour spy;  
(And who of Valour greater Judge than H●●▪)  
Or that he scorned to walk i'th' beaten road,  
The common Path, that all the Vulgar trod;  
●, that, as generous Spirits do, He chose  
To lend his help unto the weaker cause,  
As Cato did though Gods did him oppose:  
Castrate's Defence he took, and thus he spoke.  
" Narses did once an Empire's fate revoke:  
" Renown with Kingdoms he did bravely win.  
" And Victory sat on his beardless Chin.  
" Europe and Asia still deplore the fate,  
" That Sinan Bassa's Valour did create!  
" Both filled with Fame and Honourable scars;  
" Unfit for Venus, fit for Mars' Wars.  
O'er Castrate's Soul the pleasing Accents spread,  
And lifted up his long-dejected Head.  
Great thoughts in his depressed Mind did grow,  
And glowing Heat through every Limb did flow,  
From valiant Race he sprung, (if Fame says true)  
And his Descent from bloody Warriors drew:  
Till Numerous Injuries and long Disgrace  
(Scorned and contemned by all the female Race)  
His highborn generous Spirit did debase.  
But now swelled up by Praise to bloody Fight,  
Praise, that the Coward doth to Fame excite,  
With deep Revenge his Soul doth inward bleed,  
And Jealousy doth on his Liver feed,  
A Jealousy from Impotence that's bred.  
Rage, Madness, and Revenge his soul possess,  
And his torn Heart to mighty Acts address.  
Fierce Chanticleer with haughty scornful Pride  
And mixed Disdain over the Pit did stride,  
And did th' Unworthy Combatant deride:  
But, see'ing at last he did to fight prepare,  
He giveth the signal to th' unlucky War,  
With that shrill Note, that opes the Morning's Eye,  
That dreadful Note, that makes even Lions fly:  
And with Revenge, which his proud Soul did swell,  
He like a Tempest on his Enemy fell.  
Both met, both others heightened Courage tried,  
And in deep Gore their shining Weapons died.  
The Cautious Castrate let his eager Foe  
In haughty Vaunts and scorn his strength bestow:  
Disgrace and long-felt Shame had made him wise,  
Taught him grave Arts and useful Policies:  
How to beguile a fierce and eager Foe,  
How to ward off, and how return a Blow;  
With circling winding Course his Foe deceive,  
And deadly and unlooked-for wounds to give.  
To make his enemy's fierceness useless still,  
To fly and wound, and Parthian-like to kill.  
With various fortune the event they try,  
One doth on Force, th' other on Fraud rely,  
And Victory with equal wings doth fly.  
Besmeared with gore, with blood and fury red,  
Blood they drink down, and showers of blood they shed.  
With loss of blood at length the Cock grows faint,  
And doth, too late, those fiery spirits want,  
Which he so prodigally spent to please  
The Lust of all his Speckled Mistresses:  
Finds, what his glory was, his shame doth grow,  
And Lust, that heightens, doth enervate too.  
Yet scorning longer a base Foe to ' engage,  
He summons the remains of force and rage:  
One blow he with united Forces made.  
And Castrate senseless on the Pavement laid.  
Nettled with the Disgrace, brave Castrate rose:  
Disgrace, that sparks of hidden Valour blows,  
●●rments within, and wakes the sleeping seeds,  
That many years lay dead, to gallant deeds.  
All, that from Rage or wrankled Malice flow,  
All, that Revenge or Jealousy can show,  
All, that past Scorn, Disgrace, or biting Slight;  
All in one fatal bloody Blow unite;  
Which strowed the Cock supinely on the ground,  
While Blood and Life flowed from the gaping wound.  
Castrate on his fallen Foe with pride did tread,  
And lifting up his late-dejected Head,  
He would have Crowed, to show the Victory;  
But barred by former wrongs that faculty,  
He Cackled something out, which those, that know  
The Tongue, he spoke in, do interpret so.  
" Here the Insulting Conqueror doth lie,  
" Mighty in Venus' School, that could supply  
" The Love of twenty Hens, and every Morn  
" With fiery Lust his blushing Cheeks adorn.  
" Venus' and Mars have different ways of fight;  
" One doth in Love, th' other in Rage delight:  
" Courage resides i'th' noble seat the Heart;  
" But Love's confined unto a lower Part.   

Olympias ' s Lamentation over Dead Alexander.  

VAin Youth! to what amounts now all thy Toil,  
Or what Enjoyment hast thou of thy Spoil?  
That, which with the Expense of sweat and blood  
Thou dearly boughtst, is shared by th' wrangling Crowd.  
Each on thy Spacious Empire sets his Eye,  
And Thou neglected dost unburied lie.  
Alive the trembling World to Thee did pray,  
To Thee, now dead, none doth Obedience pay.  
Thy former Deeds forgotten, by thy side  
Thy fear, thy Reverence, and Authority did.  
Nor couldst Thou, out of all thy Conquests, save  
So much ground, as would serve Thee for a Grave.  
The World but Yesterday thou thought'st too small,  
And scornd'st the Narrow compass of this Ball:  
Thy Towering thoughts and thy Designs laid low,  
Seven foot of ground thy Burial place will grow;  
But even that common Right thou wantest now.  
Thy wild Ambition up to Heaven would soar,  
Made servile Priests thy Altars to adore:  
Alive thou wert enrolled with Gods above,  
But Death Thee truly did a Mortal prove:  
Thy Death unravelled all, thy Life had Wove.  
Better, hot Boy, thou hadst in Greece remained,  
And o'er thy Native Land in quiet reigned:  
Than thus the peace o'th' Injured World to break,  
And unjust Spoils from faultless Nations take:  
And for thy Glorious Robberies, but to claim  
The whole World's Curses and a Posthume Fame.   

Big with great Schemes and flattering hopes we die:  
New crowding Numbers do the Soul employ,  
While others swell up to Maturity:  
Death closes up the Scene of Actions past,  
And the imperfect Embrio's into Air do waste.    

On a Robin-red-breast, that for many years built and dwelled in a Church.  

I.  
PRoud Man with high conceits doth swell,  
And wonders of's own Worth doth tell:  
Vainly believes, that he alone  
Hath any Notion of Religion.  
But they, blessed Bird, that hear thy Songs, believe  
The Truest Devotion in thy Breast doth live.  
No Envy, Pride, or Discontent dwells there;  
No factious Interest, mean Designs, or Fear,  
Nor do Hypocrisy thy Actions wear.   

II.  
Angels are said their Prayers to Join  
With holy Men in Acts Divine:  
Thou mak'st the Chorus, when we pray,  
And when we praise, thou singest thy cheerful Lay.  
To highest flights thy warm Devotion goes,  
Thou op'st the Morning, and the Day dost close.  
Thou by thy carols ownest a Deity,  
To th' Altar dost for Sanctuary fly,  
And wisest Men can only follow Thee.   

III.  
And if those Ancient Dreams be true,  
That Souls through many changes go;  
Some pious Mind, That wanted Rest,  
Came and took up thy Zealous flaming Breast.  
We here below with mists and Errors deal,  
What Language Angels speak, there's none can tell;  
Nor know we, but those Airs, that pleased our Soul,  
That did in high Seraphic Numbers roll,  
Might be some Hallelujah, Thou hadst stole.    

On the Death of a Monkey.  

I.  
HEre Busy and yet Innocent lies Dead,  
Two things, that seldom meet:  
No Plots nor Stratagems disturbed his head,  
Or's merry Soul did fret:  
He showed like Superannuated Peer,  
Grave was his look, and Politic his Air;  
And he for Nothing too spent all his care.   

II.  
But that he died of Discontent, 'tis feared,  
Head of the Monkey Rout;  
To see so many Brother Apes preferred,  
And he himself left out:  
On all below he did his Anger shower,  
Fit for a Court did all above adore,  
H'had Shows of Reason, and few Men have more.    

Advice to a Despairing Lover.  

I.  
WHY, silly Wretch, wilt pine and die,  
And unregarded lie?  
Thou never sure didst think to move  
Either her Pity, or her Love,  
That's free from passion, like the Gods above.   

II.  
Let die with Thee those hopes, that fed  
These follies in thy head:  
The Sun doth never cease to fly,  
Nor th' Moon her wont Course lays by,  
Because a silly peevish Worm will die.   

III.  
Monarch's may die; and yet stern Fate  
Flies at the wont rate:  
The Laws of Nature still wheel on,  
And their unerring Course do run,  
And no new grief doth stop their Motion.   

IV.  
Why then wilt thou resign thy Breath,  
Since she minds not thy Death?  
She, like the Stars, perhaps may see;  
But placed in her Felicity,  
She can't have sense of sorrow, or of Thee.   

V.  
Thou by thy Death wilt add one more,  
One Victim to the Store,  
And as those Heaps, in Battle slain,  
Are known by Number, not by Name,  
Thou nothing by thy Death, but Death shalt gain.   

VI  
So do the unregarded Fry,  
Like Beasts neglected die;  
And after some few Years of sleep  
Oblivion o'er their Names doth creep;  
And their left Friends scarce their Remembrance keep.    

Death's Warning.  
A Gallant lived in Pride of Youthful Powers,  
Lulled in soft Ease, blessed Health, and tender hours;  
Whose Easy Mind ne'er ruffled was with Care,  
Nor did the Toil, or Load of Business bear:  
ne'er knew Concern, but an Intrigue of Love,  
Nor beyond that amuzing Court did rove.  
But stretched in shades he like an Indian lay,  
To every smiling Moment's Birth did play,  
And drank and danced and sang the Circling Years away.  
To whom Death did in griezly shape appear,  
Unerring Death, that doth to all repair,  
Meets us in Beds of Down, as well as Fields of War.  
Th' Officious Fiend doth on our footsteps tread,  
Dresses in every Shape his hateful Head,  
As oft in what we Love, as what we dread.  
The Poor beneath their troubles groaning die,  
The Rich expire in Exstasies of Joy:  
The Manner differs, not the Destiny.  
Th' Amazed Spark, struck with a cold surprise.  
Who had with pleasing Objects fed his Eyes,  
Found at the sight, wild Notions filled his head,  
And all his Youthful Warmth and Vigour fled.  
Till he, recovered from his deep amaze,  
Asked the Grim Shape, from whence, and what He was.  
To whom the Spectre with insulting pride,  
Li●ting his Conquering Arm on high replied.—  
" I'm the world's Monarch; to Me Princes bow,  
" Sceptres and Crowns do at my feet fall low.  
" At my Command the suppliant Numbers come,  
" And take their fixed inevitable Doom.  
" All Creatures do beneath my Empire lie;  
" And willing, or unwilling, they must die.  
The Pointed Accents the Young Spark did hear,  
Being already almost dead for fear;  
And cried," My tender Youth great Monarch spare.  
" I am feeble, unresisting, Prey,  
" Too mean for your Victorious hand to slay.  
" 'Twill fully all your former glorious Fame,  
" To say, You such a Prostrate overcame.  
" The rugged Soldier doth your force defy,  
" And loudly calls on You, that from him fly.  
" Dares you in your own Realm, the Scenes of blood,  
" Where scattered Members o'er the Fields are strowed.  
" The wretched Prisoner your Relief demands,  
" And begs his wished-for Freedom from your hands,  
" That can his fetters lose and break his Bands.  
" Despairing Lovers, that no Joy do know,  
" Do hope to find in You an End of Woe.  
" You fly from those, that do defy your power,  
" Are deaf to those, that do your Aid implore.—  
" Humble the Haughty, with the Wretch comply;  
" And let untouched the prostrate Suppliant lie.  
Death seemed to such a soft entreaty kind;  
If ever he to Pity was inclined,  
(But Wisemen say, he's Deaf, as well as Blind.)  
And told him, He his unripe Youth would spare,  
But bade him for his next Approach prepare,  
For he would then no vain excuses hear.  
Th' emboldened Youth acknowledged his high sway,  
And promised, his next Summons to obey;  
But begged, he might have notice of the Day.  
To whom Death cried," You shall have what you crave,  
" You shall of my Approach due warning have.  
Glad of's Departure the Joyed Youth arose,  
Lapped his late frighted Soul in soft Repose:  
Sang Requiems to ' his now-composed Mind,  
Tasted each pleasure, that looked fair or kind:  
Did set no bounds to ' impetuous Desire,  
Freely embraced what Passion did require.  
ne'er thought of Death more, or the threatened Grave  
Which Melancholy dreadful Prospects gave,  
But still on this relied, He should a Warning have.  
No Preparations for's Departure made,  
But to the Time of Age that Work delayed,  
And hoped, that Debt e'en then might be defrayed.  
At last unlooked-for Death approach did make  
And him did from's enchanted slumber wake:  
Who loudly at the Injury did rave,  
And taxed Death, that he no Warning gave.  
Who, smiling with a Grin, in Scorn replied,  
" My Justice in all Ages hath been tried:  
" With equal feet to Crowns and Spades I come,  
" None are above, none are below, my Doom.  
" I've kept my promise; I fair warning gave,  
" Each time you slept, I warned You of the Grave.  
" Sleep is my Younger Brother, we dwell nigh;  
" And there's but one step betwixt Him and Me.  
" ay i'th' last Fever did to you appear,  
" And when the Dropsy seized You, I was near.  
" Your Nerves in Lust and in Debauch'ry broke,  
" Your Palsy Hands in drunken Revels shook,  
" Loudly with pressing signs did on You call:  
" But You, regardless You, was Deaf to all.  
" You scaped before, and hoped still so to do,  
" Far from your thoughts did drive the Day of Woe,  
" You would not hear me call, nor will I you.  
Th' Astonished Youth but little had to say,  
And Death, who now refused to hear him Pray,  
With one stroke even to That did stop the Way.   

On a Sunbeam.  

I.  
THou Beauteous Offspring of a Sire as Fair;  
With thy kind Influence thou dost all things heat:  
Thou gild'st the Heaven, the Sea, the Earth, and Air,  
And under massy Rocks dost Gold beget.  
Th' opaque dull Earth thou dost make fine,  
Thou dost i'th' Moon and Planets shine;  
And if Astronomy say true,  
Our Earth to them doth seem a Planet too.   

II.  
How unaccountable thy Journeys prove!  
Thy swift Course through the Universe doth fly,  
From lofty heights in distant Heavens above,  
To all that at the lowly Centre lie.  
Thy Parent Sun once in a Day  
Through Heaven doth steer his well-beat way;  
Thou of a swifter subtler breed  
Dost every Moment his Day's Course exceed.   

III.  
Thy Common presence makes thee little prized,  
Which if we once had lost, we'd dearly Buy:  
How would the Blind hug, what's by us despised▪  
How welcome wouldst thou in a Dungeon be?  
Thrice-wretched those, in Mines are bred,  
That from thy sight are buried,  
When all the Stores, for which they try,  
Neither in Use, nor Beauty, equal Thee.   

IV.  
Could there be found an Art to fix thee down,  
And of condensed Rays a Gem to make,  
'Twould be the brightest Lustre of a Crown,  
And an esteem invaluable take,  
New Wars would the tired World molest,  
And new Ambition fire Mens breast,  
More Battles fought for it, than e'er  
Before for Love, Empire, or Treasure, were.   

V.  
thou'rt quickly born and dost as quickly die:  
Pity so fair a Birth to fate should fall!  
Now here and now in abject Dust dost lie;  
One Moment 'twixt thy Birth and Funeral.  
Art thou, like Angels, only shown,  
Then to our Grief for ever flown?  
Tell me, Apollo, tell me where  
The Sunbeams go, when they do disappear.    

The Athenian Madman.  

I.  
IN Athens, once the Nurse of Arms and Arts,  
Where Wit and Learning fixed their seat,  
Sometimes even there doth Folly meet,  
For Nature variously her Gifts imparts:)  
A Madman dwelled, the Laughter of the Town,  
Who every Morning to the Port went down,  
And thought all Ships, that entered, were his own.   

II.  
The Captains Hailed, did for the Cockets call;  
Enquired what Riches were on board,  
What Merchandizes they had stored;  
And what mishaps did in their Voyage fall.  
Did his commands upon his servants lay;  
To various parts the Cargo sent away,  
To Merchants all, or storehouse, did convey.   

III.  
Nor was his (so despised) a cursed state;  
An Innocent Madness him doth seize,  
A Frenzy, that his Mind doth please;  
And uncontrolled thoughts upon him wait.  
He thinks he's Happy and he's therefore so.  
Believes he's Rich, and Wealth in Streams do flow:  
He hugs the thought, and thence doth blessed grow.   

IV.  
How many Men, than he, more raving are,  
Who are amidst their Treasure poor,  
And pine and starve in swelling store,  
And might be happy, if they thought they were.  
It is not Riches, that Content can win,  
The secret we must to our heart resign,  
Content lives not without, but dwells within.   

V.  
We all alike do Happiness desire,  
Yet commonly the Treasure lose:  
The Madman doth, what's present choose,  
He thinks no farther, nor doth more require.  
Fancy makes him, what others fain would grow;  
A serious Judgement doth small difference know,  
'Twixt being Happy, and 'twixt thinking so.    

Martial 's happy Life. Vitam quae faciunt, etc. Lib. 10. Ep. 45.  
WHat things our Life do happy make  
From me, my sweetest Marshal, take.  
A left Estate, not got with pain;  
A fruitful Field, that swells with grain;  
A Kitchen, that is ever warm;  
Life free from Quarrels and from Harm.  
Rarely to be concerned with State,  
Never to ' have Lawsuits, or debate;  
But on the Mind Content to wait.  
The Strength entire and Body sound,  
And Innocence with Prudence crowned:  
An ●qual and a Faithful Friend,  
Discourse, that may in Pleasure end,  
Nor Feasts, that may to Riot tend.  
No drunken Nights, yet such, as may,  
Wash off the sully of the Day.  
No lonely Bed, yet One, that's chaste;  
And Sleep, that tendious Nights may waste.  
With what we have to be Content,  
Nor, what we have not, to resent:  
Not fear our last approaching Day,  
And yet not rashly fling our Life away.   

Advice to a Virgin.  
FAir blooming Beauty, left without defence,  
Nothing to guard Thee, but thine Innocence!  
Whose unexperienced Mind no ill doth know,  
But Judges all things good, 'cause Thou art so.  
Little thou think'st, what Dangers Thee surround,  
What Plots and Stratagems laid under ground;  
Which the fond Lovers, in thy Rays that play,  
Against thy Innocent Designs do lay:  
And though they crouch beneath your sparkling Eyes,  
Each boldly hopes, that You will be his Prize.  
'Tis all great Fortunes and great Beauties get,  
The One to buy th' Other to invite, Deceit.  
For barren Countries none will ever fight,  
'Tis the rich Soil the Conquest doth invite.  
To gather common Stones no labour strives,  
'Tis for rich Gems the Sunburnt Negro dives.  
Where Plenty springs, or where rich Mines abound,  
The Victory with due Rewards is Crowned;  
To Birds and Beasts is left the Barren ground.  
Guard then your Beauty; 'tis a Dangerous Store,  
A Fatal Treasure, that hath Ruined more,  
Than e'er were Wretched made by being poor.  
Expect then often Storms; all are your Foes,  
What e'er their Countenance, or Behaviour shows,  
That would possess those Treasures, You disclose.  
Let Virtue Rule, and Prudence be your Guide,  
All Vice and the Suspicion of't avoid.  
Be Virtuous and be thought so; Few there be,  
That dare attempt upon Your Chastity,  
If no unwary Action did precede,  
By which they gathered hopes, they might Succeed.  
" Fame's quickly lost and ne'er to be retrieved,  
" And Rumour, true or false, blasts, if believed.  
You're Angels, while You do admit no Stain;  
But when You fall, You Mortals are again.  
See that fair Flower, the Glory of the Field,  
That did enchanting Joy and Pleasure yield,  
By some rude Hand cropped in its height of Pride;  
How, all its Beauty fled, it withering died.  
See but the Snow; like You, 'tis Starry bright,  
While no warm touch doth taint its Native White:  
But if aught doth its Virgin-Beauty stain,  
Not all Earth's Treasures can restore again.  
Nor let (fair Piece of Nature) Your young Years  
Be drawn away with Lover's vows and tears.  
Love every Passion, it doth see, can Ape,  
The changing Proteus puts on every shape.  
Whom Love doth seize, he straight grows Eloquent;  
And Streams of Words flow from desire and want;  
Mind not the Trifles, on men's lips that grow;  
'tis Scum, that from their bo●ling Breasts doth flow;  
Free of their Oaths, but in performance slow.  
Impunity renders the Traitor's safe,  
Even jove at Lovers perjuries doth laugh.  
Your Yielding Mind let not vain presents bend,  
Beware of Gifts an Enemy doth send:  
They are the price they'd buy You at, and when  
You are their own, the Gifts are theirs again.  
Be deaf to Flattery; it deludes the Mind,  
And oft, when all Arts fail, doth entrance find.  
But then's most Danger, we should to't resign,  
When't meets with that Arch-Flatterer within.  
ne'er dream, that Constancy in Man resides,  
Who lessi'th ' Prize, then in the Conquest Prides,  
In Love and in Ambition what Men have,  
They slight, and for what they possess not, rave.  
One Conquest got, another fills the Mind,  
Nor can the greatest Treasures keep't confined.  
Of Thoughts and of Desires no bounds are known,  
Nor can the brightest Beauty fix Love down.  
Nor will Preeminence more be You allowed,  
Once got, you're lost among the Common Crowd.  
No greater Privilege will Your Beauty gain,  
But in the Mass of things will Scorned remain,  
Nor but for change be visited again.  
The tasting Bee doth search the secret Bowers,  
And rifles all the Beds of filver flowers:  
Nor Rose, nor Lily, can enforce his stay;  
Fresh sweets the winged Chemist call away.  
Untouched You'll th' object of their Worship be;  
Yielding You do at their Discretionly,  
And when the Thief hath robbed, he'll hate and sly.  
See! The throat-parched Wretch, whom Thirst doth fire,  
Approaches the cool Fount with hot desire.  
He bows his Head, and knelt upon the brink,  
And freely o'th' transparent Waves doth drink.  
Refreshed, he careless doth pursue his way,  
No thanks to th' charitable Nymph doth pay,  
Nor her once-rav'shing Charms can beg his stay:  
Rises and slights what he did late adore;  
Turns his ungrateful Back, never to see her more.—  
Thus sang my Friend— But did Fair Martha know  
The Truth and Love, that in my Soul do flow;  
Her Virgin-Sweets She'd to my Arms resign,  
Bless Me, and bless Herself in being Mine.  
No Goddess e'er deserved so well as She!  
And no True Lover e'er exceeded Me.   

The Twelve Rules of Friendship to my Worthy Friend, Mr Joshua Barnes, B. D. Precedent of Emmanuel College in Cambridge.  
FRiendship's the purest, the Divinest Love,  
The only Passion, Angels know above:  
Where purged from Matter Souls do truly join,  
Abstracted from all sordid low design,  
And where no Mixture of the Sex creeps in.  
The Gordian Knot, that nothing can untie,  
No Time can wear, nor date of Age destroy.  
Whose Rules, without the gaudy Dress of Art,  
Accept from Him, who freely sends his Heart.  

FIRST RULE.  
No Supercilious Look, no Cato's brow,  
No surly State, or Pride, in Friendship show.  
Act not a Master, or Superiors part  
But freely to your Friend disclose your Heart.  
When Friendship's bonds concording Hearts do tie,  
Why should a distance 'twixt the Persons lie?   

II.  
Be Deaf to Rumour, and to whispered Lies,  
Which wicked Arts and Envious Tongues device.  
Detraction's secret-wounding Arrows fly  
Silent as Night, and Black as Destiny.  
Still keep One Ear for what your Friend may say:  
Fame may deceive; in justice Hear his Plea.   

III.  
No base, mean Action of your Friend desire,  
Nor basely act for Him, if He require.  
Do virtuously, you'll please your virtuous Friend,  
If not, let Friendship, not your Virtue, end:  
That Friendship's bad, which Virtue can't commend.   

IV.  
Warn him of Dangers, which he doth not see  
Through Ignorance, or Inadvertency;  
Chiefly those Snakes, that under Flowers repose,  
Pretended Friends, the very worst of Foes:  
From these our treacherous Disappointments rise;  
These know our Hearts, with these we do advice;  
But Guard ourselves from Open Enemies.   

V.  
Causeless Suspicions eat; they taint the Mind,  
And make the best-meant Actions seem unkind.  
Show not too quick a sense of Injuries,  
Our greatest Griefs do from Opinion rise.  
He, that on Trivial Grounds doth Frantic grow,  
Doth live Uneasy, and makes Friendship so.   

VI  
Honour your Friend's brave Acts with worthy Praise,  
But don't your Eulogies to Flattery raise.  
Laboured Expressions float above the Heart,  
The Product not of Nature, but of Art.  
Yet been't too sparing: If Extremes must be,  
Let them upon the side of Kindness lie.   

VII.  
Severely Blame his faults, but Taunting spare.  
Scorn from a Friend the deadli'est Sting doth wear,  
And in a Friend's disguise a Foe is there.  
Chide but with Goodness, blame with Clemency;  
Public Reproofs are kin to Calumny.  
Comfort Him, if his Shame or Grief abound,  
And pour in Oil, when you have searched the Wound.   

VIII.  
Speak well of Him; but eat officious Lies:  
Immoderate Praises turn to Injuries.  
Defend him Absent; Vindicate his Name,  
And boldly from Detraction free his Fame.  
Nay, if he's Justly taxed, excuse his Fault,  
With all, from Truth, or Prudence, can be brought.   

IX.  
Be in your Kindness generous and free,  
Give, but upbraid not: That turns Injury.  
And when his Gratitude he'd make appear,  
Accept his Presents, though but mean they are.  
Despise no Gift, that doth from Love proceed:  
Slights and unkindness make Love deeply bleed.   

X.  
Counsel him Faithfully; let not Advice  
From your Advantage or Designs arise.  
We're all ill Judges of our Acts: Blessed he,  
Can with Impartial Eyes and Judgement see,  
And hath a Friend, on whom he can rely.  
His Interest be your Aim, and Truth your Guide:  
Advice on Safety, not on Favour's side.   

XI.  
Be Gallant in's defence: For no design,  
Fear, or unworthy thoughts your Love decline.  
To ' his Aid through strongest Opposition fly,  
Nor draw your Hand back, till you've set him free.  
Nothing's too dear for Friendship: For his sake  
Your Name, Estate, and Life lay down at stake.   

XII.  
Value and prise his Kindness, Love him high,  
In gallant Actions with his Friendship vie.  
Wear him still next your Heart, the lasting stay,  
When Health, Wealth, Pleasure, Honour fly away:  
The mighty Cordial, that doth ease our trouble  
Divides our Griefs, and makes our Pleasure's double.    

The Memorandum.  
FRiendship can numerous Mountain-Faults pass by;  
They are but Molehills in a Friendly Eye:  
And Love can Multitudes of Sins conceal.—  
But He, that Secrets doth reveal,  
And what's entrusted to his Breast doth tell;  
Or He, that treacherously his Friend doth smite,  
Whispers Reproach, and stabs him in the Night,  
Forfeits to all these Laws his Right:  
Branded like Cain like Cain accursed too,  
Foe to the World, and all the World his Foe,  
Never may He the Joys of sacred Friendship know!   

On the Phoenix.  
I'M Nature's wonder, the Creation's glory,  
Pride of Arabia, Prodigy of story:  
On whom profusely Nature spends her store,  
And after for a thousand years is Poor.  
Wonder not then, she Me alone doth make;  
So much from her my single Worth doth take,  
Another cost would Bankrupt Nature break.  
ay, to myself both Parent am, and Heir;  
My Parent Me, and I my Parent bear.  
I'm always Divers, and am yet the Same;  
Find a new Life by dying in the Flame:  
Changed, yet unchanged, through endless Ages I  
Wear out alone a long Eternity.  
Nor yet can I with all my Pomp and State  
Keep Scandal off, th' Attendant of the Great;  
The Sceptic World only believes, I'm bred  
In the warm Climes of a Romantic head.  
My tedious Years I without Joys delude  
In my uncomfortable Solitude:  
The Birds and Beasts, and all the World besides  
At Spring's approach do choose their Loving Brides,  
Into Extatick Charms the hours improve,  
And melt the Circling Moment's into Love.  
Those happy Minutes are to Me unknown,  
Not all my Spices can their loss atone;  
But I am cursed, because I am Alone  
" 'Tis oft the Lot o'th' eminently Great,  
" To want those Pleasures, meaner Men await;  
" Captives to Grandeur, and the Slaves of State.   

An Epitaph on his Dear Friend Mr. Robert Cony, the Younger, who died November the Ninth 1681. and lies buried in Weypole-Church in Marchland Norf. By J. B.  
IN Prime of Youth and near to Manhood drawn,  
Here envious Night oppressed my hopeful Dawn:  
Before the Nuptial Crown adorned my Head;  
Before I tasted of the Bridal Bed,  
In Parent Dust sealed up to Death I lie  
A sad Example of Mortality.  
Beauty and Youth and Wit and Wealth are vain;  
For I had All: Yet all could not obtain  
A short Reprieve from the Unwelcome Grave:  
The last Possession, that Poor Man must have.  
Then let All know, how Naught by Death's regarded;  
And virtue's in the other World rewarded.   

To my Worthy Friend Mr. Joshua Barnes B D. Senior Fellow of Emmanuel College, on his Incomparable History of King EDWARD the Third, etc.  
TO bring back Fate, which knows not to Return;  
And raise the Heroes from their silent Urn;  
Long-past revolving Ages to restore,  
And Acts, done many hundred Years before,  
Maugre Oblivion, in Just Garbs to dress,  
And bring August Shades from their dark Recess,  
Out of the gloomy hidden Cave; where lie  
Days past, like Dreams, and waning Moons slid by;  
And mixed Heaps of lost Mortality:  
To ●a●se the World anew; lost Years to trace,  
Make present Times to Ages passed give place;  
And Monarches once again with their old Crowns to Grace:  
Fame's quite-spent Lamp more brightly to Renew:—  
Seemed, Learned Friend, a Task befitting You.  
The Ancients dreamed of Charms, that brought the Moon  
From her bright Orb, struggling, enraged, down:  
But None could e'er dark Shades to Life restore,  
And break Fate's Adamantine Gates before;  
Except Alcides and Apollo's 
* AEscul●●●●u●  Son;  
This They could do, and You as much have done:  
Nay more, for You no common Life do give;  
Your Heroes to Eternity do Live!  
With this Addition to their smiling Fate,  
You make them Happy, as You make them Great,  
And add not only to their Life, but State.  
O●d Time in Your Learned Work grows Young again:  
In You our Valiant Worthies Live and Reign.  
Their Souls, as Rivers under Mountains Dive  
And after in the open Air revive,  
In our Great WILLIAM and his Captains Live.  
The Mighty Grafton like Your Chandos ●ell,  
He lived, as Bravely, and He died, as well:  
To Edward That, and This to William Dear,  
And both the GARTER'S honoured Badge did wear:  
Both died too soon:— But both Immortal are.  
Nor do Your Heroes now Ignobly stand;  
Once more they Influence their Native Land:  
You give them Life, and they do Souls bestow;  
They actuate the Senseless Clods below;  
Reading their Acts Cowards do Valiant grow.  
Th' Esseminate Gallant, on his Bed of Ease,  
Feels a new Warmth on all his Vitals seize;  
Gets a new Soul from each enlivening Word,  
Rises a Champion, and calls for his Sword.  
Nothing to ' exalt our Glory doth remain,  
But to Read You, and grow True Englishmen:  
Your Book alone would armed Troops advance,  
To claim once more our long-lost Right to FRANCE.  
How Boundless was Your Mind; to fill that Sphere,  
Where sparkling Fame did lofty Trophies rear!  
How Fair and Beauteous Your Ideas were!  
That could the Treaties, Counsels, Battles, show;  
Stupendious Acts, that made even Fate to bow;  
And but seemed fit for Your BLACK-PRINCE to do,  
That Reign of Wonder; Gem of Times; the Glory,  
But hardest part, of all the English Story:  
When one Sun by our Conquering Arms beheld,  
Two Monarches slain, a Third to quit the Field;  
Two Captive Kings to London's Tower were brought,  
And injured Princes here for Comfort sought.  
Our Edward then, the whole World's Love and Fear,  
Did at his Will the Fate of Kingdoms steer:  
H●ld Europe's Balance, and fixed Fortune's Wheel,  
And where he turned, made Fate's strong Pillars reel.  
To Merit more, than to Possess, did choose;  
And proffered Empire bravely did refuse.  
When, Honour's Darling, his Victorious SON,  
Kings, as He pleased, could make, or could dethrone:  
And all the Neighbouring Monarches thought their Crowns,  
Fixed with his Smiles, but tottering with his Frowns.  
When England was the Theatre of Fame,  
And Warriors hither to gain Honour came.  
Our EDWARD solely Valour's Umpire stood,  
His Approbation made the Brave and Good.  
Then High Exploits, and Acts on Virtue placed,  
Above French Princes English Commons raised:  
That Subjects (Virtue makes the meanest Great)  
Five Kings at once could at their Tables treat.  
When Victory due to Piety was given:  
Their Arms forced Kingdoms and their Prayers took Heaven.  
When Valiant and Religious Acts could meet,  
Christian and Soldier mutually did greet.  
History before was but like Fairy Land,  
That thick with Monsters and wild Shapes did stand:  
'Twas modelled, not to ' instruct; but cheat the Mind,  
Truth and its useful Ends were left behind,  
And all for Flattery and mean Arts designed.  
But You did all its Primitive Worth restore;  
Truth never looked so Beautiful before.  
Above Expression Soars the lofty Mind;  
But You fit Words do for great Actions find.  
Your lofty Style's filled with such Manly Heat;  
You could have fought the Battles, that You writ.  
Bold and Expressive, fit for Godlike Men:  
Mars tuned Your Soul and Phoebus steered Your Pen.  
Our Souls go, as we read; our Present State,  
Is lost i'th' Mighty Acts, that You relate;  
We Joy at Good and Grieve at Adverse Fate.  
We Glorious Patterns in each Line do read,  
And here we truly may consult the Dead.  
And now—  
You, Modern Sparks, that in degenerate Ease,  
Or active Vice spend Your ignoble Days!  
That ne'er did crowned with Foreign Trophies come,  
But brought the Vices and Diseases home:  
Senseless of-Fame to late Posterity,  
You can't be mentioned but for Infamy,  
While Your great Sires embalmed in Honourly.  
Read This— and blush to see, how You disgrace  
Those Names, whom Virtue to the Stars did raise,  
Your Ancestors, their own and Nation's Fame,  
You, their Degenerate Sons, to Both a Shame.  
They Conquered France, which now Your Arms outbraves;  
You're Apes to those, were Your Forefathers Slaves.  
Why then, my Friend, should Your bright Rays be hid?  
And You, that can new Life bestow, lie Dead?  
Show to the World, You are for all things fit,  
In History True, in 
* Poema Latin●m Heroicum Franciados 〈◊〉 Libb. 12. ja●jam abs●lvend●●.  Poetry a Wit.  
That Your Black-Prince can now in You acquire  
What Alexander did in vain desire,  
An Homer, who his Godlike Acts might praise,  
And found his Honour forth in endless Lays.  
So sung by You, shall CRESSY's deathless Field,  
Neither to Homer's Pen, nor Maro's yield.  
But th' English Valour than shall soar as high,  
As ever well-tongued Greece or Rome could fly.  
Then Kings shall bribe Your Verse, and each Crowned Head  
With emulous Strife shall beg Your Muse's Aid:  
Shall do Great Acts, to be rehearsed by You;  
And Virtue for Your Praise's sake pursue.  
The Greatest Monarches court You for their Friend,  
And Presents, to bespeak your Favour, send:  
Jealously strive each other to outvie  
In Gifts to You; Who can return them Immortality.   

On Old Age.  

I.  
OLD- Age, the State we all desire,  
For none would immaturely die:  
But Riddles in our Nature lie;  
Tho' we with frequent Prayers do it require;  
Yet when Indulgent Heaven grants our Request,  
How are we with its Weight oppressed?   

II.  
In vain we for Content do seek;  
Tired with what doth to us betid,  
We wish for things as yet untried,  
Which, when we have obtained, we still dislike.  
Grey hairs we pray for, yet when they are come,  
We querulously curse our Doom.   

III.  
So Life we do accept, and yet,  
If we beforehand could foresee  
Of our few days the Misery,  
And had our choice, All would refuse the Cheat.  
At all Adventures it becomes our Lot,  
And's given to those, that know it not.   

IV.  
Except we early Victims fall,  
Yet we this State must undergo:  
When Age shall wrinkle Caelia's brow,  
When Milo shall his shrunken Limbs bewail:  
When all the Joys, do upon Youth attend,  
Shall in unwelcome Aches end.   

V.  
Yet 'tis our fault, this State don't please;  
Our Youth we foolishly engage,  
And no Provision make for Age.  
Inherent Vanity our Mind doth seize;  
None of those Virtues laid in store, that might  
Give to the wearied Mind delight.   

VI  
The Wise and Virtuous well the Time can spend,  
When the disinterested Mind  
None of the Body's setters bind;  
But Peace and Fame do on Grey hairs attend:  
When well-spent Days add to the Aged powers,  
And to Old Years insert Young hours.   

VII.  
The cooler hours of elder Days  
Are well adapted to Delight,  
On whom no turbulent Passions light:  
'Tis folly that doth every state debase.  
" Nothing more monstrous to the World appears,  
" Than Gray-haired Fools, or Children of old Years.    

Plutarch' s Serpent.  
A Subtle Serpent, that long time did reign  
O'er all the Subjects of the spacious Plain;  
That often to old Age did Youth afford  
And with his cast-off Skin new strength restored;  
In his Divided bosom long did bear  
The fatal seeds of an Intestine war.  
Th' Ambitious Tail, that long time had been led  
(And Justly too) by Conduct of the Head,  
To jove complained, that now it was but due,  
That he should Govern for a Day or two.  
In anger jove did to the prayer consent  
To teach Ambitious Fools to be content;  
And a Decree unalterable made,  
That in no case the Head should lend his Aid.  
The Tail, a part of great Activity,  
But with a curse annexed, It cannot see,  
With haughty Pride assumes the fatal state,  
And makes the once-commanding Head to wait:  
What was his Lord doth in proud Triumph draw,  
And now despises what once gave the Law.  
Proud of the Government through Woods he hies,  
O'er Rocks and fatal Precipices flies.  
The Head beholds the Danger and doth fear,  
The stupid Tail hath neither Eye, nor Ear;  
Nor Reason to perceive, when Danger's near.  
Till, after many dreadful Perils passed,  
The wriggling Tail in narrow holes at last,  
And dark blind Caverns, is past help set fast.  
Forward he cannot, backward must not move,  
And no way's left, but to Petition jove.  
jove is implored, but's Deaf unto the cry,  
In the deserved plague doth let him die;  
And to the World doth a sad warning show,  
" What, when the Rabble governs, will ensue.   

The Looking-Glass to Gellia.  
FOR Interest Men know how to please,  
And praise even your Deformities:  
Withered and Old you shall be Young,  
And purchase Beauty from their Tongue,  
Not your own Art their Wit shall want,  
They'll do in Words, what you in Paint.  
If You do laugh, why▪ I laugh too;  
If You do weep, to weep I know:  
Yet think not, 'tis for flattery meant;  
I what You are do represent.  
When You was Young, I showed You so,  
And alter, now You alter, too:  
Yet thó I thus Extremes do try,  
The Change in You not Me doth lie.  
When You with Paint bedaub your Face;  
And call back long-lost Youthful Grace:  
When You new Sets of Teeth prepare;  
And deck your Head with others Hair:  
When You your hated Breath perfume,  
And line your Mouth, that stinks of Rheum:  
'Tis not my fault, that You look Fair;  
I truly show the Cheats, You wear.  
With Shows You first the World deceive,  
I back to You the Poison give.  
Yet, faithless Gellia, know among  
The Arts you have to make You Young,  
Death can't be chouced with borrowed Grace,  
Nor will mistake your Painted Face.  
Not all your Instruments of Pride  
Your Age's Date from him can hide.  
Death knows his Time, will surely come,  
And lay You old and ugly in your Tomb.   

On Speech.  

I.  
THOU wondrous Modulation of the Air,  
The brightest Index of the Heart:  
Who all those Lively Signatures dost bear,  
By which our thoughts to others We impart!  
What else would in Oblivion's shadows sleep,  
To Knowledge by thy help doth creep!   

II.  
There's not a secret passion of the Mind,  
No Motion in the Soul doth rise;  
But it from Speech can fit Expressions find,  
And's Judged of more by the Ears, than Eyes.  
How do fit Words and Sentences advance,  
And on our Tongues in order dance!   

III.  
In various sounds the senseless Creatures play,  
And welcome the returning Spring:  
Their joys i'th' rudes notes the Beasts Essay;  
And tuneful Birds their warbling Carols sing,  
Distinct their Voices; only Man is found;  
That can Articulate the Sound.   

IV.  
Admired Faculty, that stamps the Air,  
And seals upon't, what We would have,  
Which doth a Draught of our Ideas bear,  
And keeps the speaking Portraitures, We gave,  
Doth the Mysterious tract of Thoughts unfold;  
Tho' each Tongue hath a different Mold!   

V.  
This Privilege, granted alone to Man,  
No other Creatures do partake:  
Beasts have no Language, 'tis well known; nor can.  
We prove, what Speech Angels above do speak.  
All that belongs to them do Mysteries grow,  
Stupendious heights, we never know.   

VI  
Angelic Motions we can never find,  
Nor trace the steps, in which they move.  
To our Infirmities they're not confined,  
Nor Nature's Laws do fetter them above.  
All, that we know of those Superior Powers  
Is, that their State is not like Ours.   

VII.  
They may by Heavenly Hieroglyphics speak,  
To which our Souls can never rise:  
Draughts of their thoughts by forms or figures make,  
Or unintelligible Mysteries.  
Their Tongue all apprehension doth excel,  
No Ear can hear't, no Voice can tell.   

VIII.  
What empty shrunken things our Minds would be,  
What Melancholy on them seize;  
Were they debarred the Joys of Fantasy,  
And roving Thoughts, which the tired Soul do ease:  
Where in unbounded fields the Mind may fly,  
And find new blandishments for Joy.   

IX.  
How much more miserable were our State,  
Were This, our greatest Comfort. ●●ed;  
That mollifies the Stings of angry Fate;  
Unloads the Sorrows of the anxious Head:  
Doth cure the Wounds, that from Fate's Arrows fall,  
And in a Friend's Breast buries all?   

X.  
Delight of Life and Mirror of the Heart,  
By which our Thoughts, which none can see,  
We to our own and others Joys impart;  
And bring to View the boundless Treasury.  
Thou of our Inward Soul a Scheme shouldst give;—  
And cursed be He, that doth Deceive!   

XI.  
Bond of Society and Tie of Love,  
From whence doth lasting Friendship flow:  
Thou our Exalted pleasure dost improve;  
And art the Universal Soul below.  
With raptured Joys thou charmest the fleeting Hours,  
And lull'st up Love in shady Bowers.   

XII.  
Rhetoric, that doth th' unstable People move  
And raise, or lay, as Storms the Sea,  
From well-placed Words and Reasons doth improve,  
And owes his Energy, blessed Speech, to Thee.  
What was a Chaos, thou a World didst make:  
From thee the Mass did Beauty take.   

XIII.  
The Raptur'd Flights of Poetry do own  
Their Birth and Beauty unto Thee:  
From Thee the famed Castalian Waters flow,  
An in soft music's Number's melted be.  
How low would all their Lofty Flights be laid.  
If not in Robes by Thee arrayed:   

XIV.  
Reason may in the solid Mind be found,  
And Judgement in the Soul appear:  
But they're like Treasures buried under ground,  
Or secret Mines, that do no Products bear.  
Thou deckest them in Rich Garbs, and mak'st them shine;  
Thou stamp'st them, and they're currant Coin.    

On Time.  
THou saw'st (and o! how glorious was the sight?)  
When the Creation smiled at Infant Light,  
And banished all the Dismal shades of Night.  
When the bright Births at fruitful Heaven's command  
Immac'ulate dropped from the Great Workman's hand,  
ere Sin, or Curse, their genuine Beauty stained.  
The Rolling Ages, that have since slid by,  
Have all been brought forth by thy Midwifery:  
From the first Monarch, but without a Crown,  
To Him, that last forsook th' Uneasy Throne.  
Thou saw'st at first, when swelling Families,  
(Widely dispersing round their Colonies)  
Did into Towns; Towns into Cities rise.  
When Right of Empire was in Fatherhood,  
And every one was King of his own Blood.  
Till the Paternal Rule in Numbers lost,  
In various Multitudes and Errors crossed,  
The Reinss of Empire were by One engrossed.  
Thou saw'st the Faults, in the first Empire grew,  
The vicious Habits, its Destruction drew:  
Till th' fatal Period swiftly hurrying on,  
The mighty Babel from its height was thrown,  
And from it's shattered Limbs, in pieces broke,  
Their Rise the lesser States and Kingdoms took:  
Till one above the rest more Powerful grown,  
For justice, Valour, and for Wisdom known,  
Exalts by secret steps her lofty head,  
And, some by kindness won, and some by dread,  
O'er all at last doth her wide Empire spread.  
Till she, or Cruel, or Effeminate grown,  
Lesle hurt by others Arms, than by her own,  
Falls into th' Pit of sure Destruction.  
Thus hast thou viewed the slippery State of things,  
The Persian, Graecian, and the Roman Kings:  
And shortly shalt the sad Catastrophe  
And Fall o'th' now-decreasing CRESCENT see.  
Wisest of Being's! What we do design,  
And in dark Caverns of our Breast confine;  
Even where no Thought comes, where no Eye can peep,  
But all's lapped up in misty Clouds of sleep,  
What Princes wish, or Cabinet Councils plot,  
The Births, that are from their Conjunction got,  
Subtlest Interpreter, thou dost reveal;  
Tho' Oaths and Sanctions do the secret Seal.  
Even what Just Heaven before the World decreed,  
What can from nothing, but his Hand proceed:  
What shall to Peasants happen, what to Kings,  
What to the Lofty, what to Humbler things:  
What swallows up Man's bold and daring Mind,  
And where even Angels can no footsteps find,  
What doth surpass th' Intelligences sight,  
Or hath, or shall by Thee be brought to Light.  
Nor is't enough, thou saw'st the former days,  
And in our Times knowst, what will come to pass:  
But when this Generation hath its Doom,  
And crowding Numbers in our Places come;  
When all, that now is High, must Low be laid,  
And Generations after Us are dead:  
Then Thou wilt see, what now doth fly our Eyes,  
What Abject People shall to Empire rise:  
Where Mighty Cities, now their Nation's Glory,  
Shall lie in Dust and be forgot in Story:  
And in some unthought unsuspected place,  
Others shall in their Room their proud Heads raise.  
What Families shall up to Rule be born,  
Whom Ages passed ne'er knew, or else did scorn:  
And all be to such Alteration brought,  
The very Ancient Names of things forgot:  
That even the World may in the World be sought.  
The Mighty Innovator Time, that brings  
Those changes, are not in the Power of Kings.  
What neither their Commands nor Arms can raise,  
By secret unknown means He brings to pass.  
Should Scipio or should Caesar now awake,  
And into Light from their dark Mansions break;  
Should They, to what was the World's Mistress, come,  
How would they wonder at once Glorious Rome!  
Their once-known Palaces would seek in vain,  
Nor their Triumphal Arches find remain:  
But She that did of the World's Empire boast,  
See in her Heaps of Scattered Ruins lost;  
And to such steps of Desolation led  
Her very Name and Valour buried.  
Little they thought, what Time would once bring forth,  
That the despised People of the North,  
The Barbarous Scum, which Roman Souls did hate,  
The Dregss and Lees of Men and Scourge of Fate,  
Should through the Barrs of that strong Empire break,  
And the vast Fabric into pieces shake,  
That other Nations proud with their Success,  
Should their own Fame and Rome's Contempt increase:  
Till o'er Her every Land did Conquest boast,  
And took again what their Forefathers lost.  
They knew not what was in Fate's leaves enrolled.  
Nor would have credited, had they been told:  
Such Revolutions there's no Art can tell;  
'Tis only Time, that will the Truth reveal.  
Time! Thou dost bring things into open view,  
But Thou canst drink a Cup of Lethe too.  
Thou over all dost draw a sullen, Cloud,  
And dost in Mists, what's now apparent throwed;  
The Acts of Ancient Days, to us unknown,  
Bu●ied long since in deep Oblivion:  
What Heroes did, and Common People bore,  
Forgetful Time, thou canst not now restore!  
Those Noble Seats, that Honoured once our Isle,  
When Roman Eagles nested in our Soil,  
Low with their Mistress Rome in dust are laid;  
No footstep's found, may lead unto their Head:  
Are sought in vain among their poor remainss,  
Shown but to puzzle Antiquaries Brains.  
As Father Ocean here to Earth doth Lend,  
And there his Watery Empire doth extend;  
So thou dost sometimes new Inventions show,  
But hidest other Rarer Matters low.  
Tobacco, Guns, and Printing late arose.  
But We are Robbed of Richer things, than those;  
Faith, Justice, Honour, Liberality,  
And Ancient Friendship deep in Lethe lie.  
Where is an Hero now, that owns a Muse:  
Hawks, Hounds, and Mistresses they'd rather choose.  
Thy Essence doth a Train of Wonders hold:  
Thou never art above a Moment old,  
Yet Thou beheld'st the rude misshapen Mass,  
ere Light, Heaven's Firstborn, showed her darling Face.  
The Circling Years do die and leave their Place,  
And new Times in their rooms their Heads do raise:  
Yet Thou Coaeval with the World dost Live,  
And to its utmost Period shalt survive.  
thou'rt ever here, and yet art ever past,  
thou'rt ever dying, yet dost ever last.  
Thy subtle Parts always in Motion be,  
Yet Thou dost ever a Succession see.  
Waves crowd on Waves, and while We look they're passed,  
And Eager Brethren after them do haste.  
These press the former, those behind them press,  
Nor let the fresh Supplies the Stream decrease:  
New Waves the Place of what passed by retain;  
The River yet unchanged doth remain.  
Thou of all Jewels the most Precious, (Time!)  
Of all the Stores o'th' East or Western Clime.  
Imperious Gold, that all things doth command,  
Whose powerful Charms there's nothing can withstand:  
Doth here an End of his vast Empire see;  
That cannot have an Influence over Thee.  
Thy moving Wheels cannot be stopped by force,  
No Bribes persuade Thee to renew thy Course:  
Deaf to Entreaties, and to all our Moan,  
" Once past, thou'rt lost, and art for ever gone.  
A Drug, while Thou upon our hand dost stay,  
Which We well know not how to throw away:  
But when thou'rt past, a jewel in our Eye;  
Whom not the Treasures of the World can buy▪  
Ages before our Birth We can't recall;  
They no Relation have to Us at all:  
What then was done, as We can ne'er retrieve,  
So neither are We bound account to give.  
The Future Time We know not, that 'twill come;  
We may before to morrow have our Doom;  
We may be Summoned by Death's Mighty Power:  
And when We die, Time is to Us no more.  
" The Present Time's then all the Time We have,  
" Those precious Moment's our best Conduct crave:  
" That We be Wise our latest Stake to Save.   

On a Covetous Man. Mart. Lib. 4. Ep. 40.  
WHen Heaven to You a small Estate did lend,  
You kept your Coach and Footmen did attend:  
But when blind Fortune had your Store increased,  
And ten times doubled what You had at least:  
Your Narrow Soul, contracted with the Store,  
Lost all the Pleasure, it did taste before.  
A Curse into your Treasures Heaven did put;  
You groaned beneath their weight, and went afoot.  
For all your Merits what doth then remain;  
But that we pray, Heaven send your Coach again?   

DORINDA weeping.  

I.  
Stay pretty Prodigal, o stay;  
Throw not those Pearly Drops away:  
Each little shining Gem might be  
Price for a Captive Prince's Liberty.  
See down her Cheeks the shining Jewels slide,  
Brighter than Meteors, that from Heaven do glide.   

II.  
Sorrow ne'er looked before so Fair,  
Nor ever had so sweet an Air:  
All-conquering Rays her Woes do dart,  
And unknown Passions to the Soul impart.  
More Fair she looks, while Griefs her face doth shroud;  
Than the Sun peeping through a watery cloud.   

III.  
O turn away those Killing Eyes!—  
Venus from such a Sea did rise.  
Love doth in Tears triumphant ride;  
Such mighty Charms can never be denied:  
That at one sight such different Passions move,  
Relenting Pity and Commanding Love   

IU.  
Come, curious Artist, as they fall,  
Gather the shining Jewels all:  
Harden the Gems, and each will be  
More valued, than the Indie's Treasury:  
But if the secret doth exceed thy Art,  
It is but borrowing Hardness from her Heart.    

To Sr. James Butler, on the Death of the Lady Butler: In a Dialogue between H. and J.  (H.) 
WElcome dear Friend! Thou dost my Griefs dispel,  
No Sorrow long can wound, when Thou art well.  
Illboding Dreams o'er my sad Fancy rolled,  
And the approach of some black Fate foretold:  
Strange frightful Spectres o'er my Mind were spread;  
I saw the Virtues and the Graces bleed,  
As though the Soul o'th' Universe was dead.  
Avert the Omen Heaven!  (I) 
Thy Cautions spare,  
There's nothing left that now deserves thy Care.  
All Worth and Excellence with One is fled,  
The Quintessence of all, that's Great, is dead.  
Th' Expiring World groaned at Her Funeral,  
With whom the Glories of her Sex did fall.  (H.) 
What ill do my Presaging thoughts Divine?  
Spare One, Just Heaven, I'll to thy Will resign;  
One Inno'cent spare; and all the rest be Thine.  (I) 
We multiply the sorrows, that we dread,—  
Meet then the Storm that hover's o'er thy Head;  
The Fair, Chaste, Spouse of Noble Butler's dead.  (H.) 
Too much— Fate hath not now a Curse in store,  
I've heard the worst of Ills, and Fear no more.  (I) 
The whole World seemed distracted at her fall,  
Amazing Horror seized upon All.  
So, when the Sun's Eclipsed, with Panic fear  
The Savages confused Cries do rear,  
And think, the World's Catastrophe is near.  
With frightful Fury hideously they roar  
To scare the Monster, would the Sun devour.  
They gain their Point, but we lament in vain,  
Our Sun is set, never to Rise again.  (H.) 
Yet let's Lament; 'tis all that we can do,  
To think of Bliss, that's past, amidst our Woe,  
Heightens our Grief; but vents our Sorrows too.  (I) 
She fell an Holocaust of chaste Delight,  
Beauteous and Fair, as Rays of newborn Light.  
Charming, as Virtues i'th' Idea be,  
Or Graces, seen by th' Intellectual Eye.  (H.) 
So falls the Rose, Queen of the fragrant Bowers,  
She falls the Glory o'th' Enameled Flowers,  
While heaven laments her Death in melting Showers.  (I) 
To blooming Youth a boundless Wit was given,  
Not go with Labour, but infused from Heaven.  
Beauty did o'er her Soul and Body shine,  
Her Body seemed, even as her Soul, Divine.  

CHORUS.  
Wit, Youth, and Beauty made Her Bright,  
Did all in Her agree:  
None else, but Phoebus, God of Light,  
Is Source of all the Three.   (H.) 
Angel's can't sin: They're placed in such a State,  
They nor can Fall, nor can Degenerate.  
They merit Praise, who by their Choice are Good,  
Not those, who can't be Vicious, if They would.  
Nor justly can Rewards to Angels come;  
virtue's not Abstinence in them, but Doom.  
How high and Glorious do Her acts appear,  
That lived in Heaven, though in this lower Sphere:  
And, though a Mortal, rivalled Angels here?  
They've no Temptation, and She scorned all:  
They live Above, She trampled on this Ball.  
To what was Good, like Angels, vigorous still,  
And every thing did Dare to do, but 〈◊〉  (I.) 
What Virtues were there, Put her Soul did grace,  
Virtues not known, but in an Higher place,  
Nor acted, but by the Seraphic Race?  
Her Help, like Guardian Angels, she bestowed,  
Bounteous as Nature, or as Nature's God.  
On all she looked with an Auspicious Ray,  
So Good, from Her none went displeased away.  
And so Devout, she seemed all o'er Divine,  
That Hallelujahs her whole task had been,  
Or that one Saint prayed at another's Shrine.  (H.) 
She's Dead! not all her Worth could bribe her Fate;  
So in the Grave, d●vested of all state,  
Lie Young and Old, the Humble and the Great.  
Th●u, Butler's Hero; who 'mong all the Stars  
Of Courtly Beauties ne'er saw'st One like Hers,  
Art left like Us in vain to seek relief:  
" Greatness is not exempt from Fate or Grief.  
That Loss is trivial, which we can supply,  
How stinging that, which Riches cannot buy,  
Nor doth i'th' reach of Art or Honour lie!  
To Thee a while the Heavenly Form was showed,  
Worthy the Gift or Ransom of a God.  
Thy blessed Arms the Trea●ure d d enfold,  
(Too soon, alas! with Saints to be enrolled.)  
And when thy Soul did to high Transports rise,  
She sunk from thy Admiring, Longing, Eyes.  
Who can wish Thee thy Sorrows to refrain▪  
Even the Souls in Hell know no such Pain,  
As once to ' have been in Heaven and then to lose't again.  (I) 
Farewell, Heaven's Best of Gifts! In Thee were laid  
Perfections, that have Gods of Mortals made.  
Greatness of Soul, without insulting Pride.  
Humility, where no mean thoughts reside;  
And Virtue, unto Candour near allied!  (H.) 
Thou Highest Point, that Nature could attain,  
The Moddel, She can never ●each again.  
Th' Acme, to which our finite Worth can rise,  
Perfect, if Aught can be below the Skies.  

CHORUS.  
The World no longer gives us Ease,  
All here must loathsome be:  
But doubly Heaven our Souls will please,  
When there We meet with Thee.    

On a Pearl.  

I.  
The daring Negro dives for Me,  
And I'm the noble Price of Blood:  
Blind with my Rays he doth no danger fee.  
The common Stones in Quiet sleep;  
Nor are torn from their Mother's Arms, the Deep.  
So cursed 'tis to be eminently Good;  
No Rocks, nor shelte●s Me can shroud.   

II.  
Some say, I am condensed Dew,  
And from high Heaven my Extract claim:  
That Drops, whom Night upon the Sea doth strew,  
My eager Parents swallow down,  
Till they are big with Heavenly Embrio's grown:  
From Pearly Drops of Dew at first I came,  
And hardened I am but the same.   

III.  
My Worth I from Opinion get,  
And roving thoughts o'th' empty Mind:  
In Me the Price of Provinces to eat,  
The lavish Cleopatra taught,  
And drink dissolved Kingdoms at a Draught.  
Such Sparkling Juice not Gods themselves can find;  
But must to Nectar be confined.   

IV.  
Condensed in Regions of the Main,  
The Wife think Me a Sunbeam set;  
Where I my Orient hue unchanged retain:  
When Sol doth gilled fair Thetis face,  
And the Sea represents a Burning-glass;  
Where the contracted Rays in one do meet,  
Hardened by Cold they Me beget.   

V.  
Yet though I'm of AEthereal kind,  
My Habitation is but mean;  
To rugged Rocks and Oyster-shells confined:  
So Heaven doth many a Gallant Mind,  
To a deformed crazy Body bind.  
Both promise little, while the Shell is seen,  
But yet the Pearl is found within.    

On the Earth, our Common Mother.  
THOU Universal Mother of Us all,  
From whom the Creatures have Original;  
From Monarch Man, with awful Empire crowned,  
To the base Reptile creeping on the ground.  
There's nothing, that hath Life, but owes its Birth  
To Father Sun and teeming Mother Earth.  
With genial Warmth He doth Her Bosom heat,  
She with wide Arms doth his Embraces meet:  
Conceives, grows big, and from Her fruitful Womb,  
The Lovely Births in Beauteous Order come.  
Nor Life alone Her Liberal Hand doth give,  
Her Bosom bears the Food, on which they Live.  
With needful Herbage She doth clothe the Field,  
That Nourishment to Man and Beast doth yield.  
Each Species of Her Creatures finds Her Good,  
Appropriating to each kind Her Food.  
And, that the Generations might not end,  
With seminal Virtue She doth them befriend.  
Each Creature gets his Like, and not one Plant  
A way to Propagate his Kind doth want.  
Unlike the Tree, from whence it fell, the Seed  
By wondrous Virtue doth the Species breed.  
And, what no form o'th' Parent doth retain,  
By Plastic Power doth get its Like again.  
Nor is She Mother and kind Nurse alone;  
Her Arms receive Us, when our Race is run:  
And when our wearied Days we bring to end,  
We find Her Bosom an Eternal Friend.  
There in our Restingplace we all lie down,  
All sense of Grief and former Sorrow flown,  
" Life is to Trouble tied, the Grave to none.  
The former Ages, that long since slid by,  
At Quiet in Her Clasping Arms do lie.  
The King and Peasant do together rest:  
No Pride fills One, nor Envy th' Other's breast.  
The present Ages the same Fate shall have,  
Tend to their Common Restingplace the Grave.  
And Ages not yet sprung from Fate's Decree,  
When they've run out the Line of Destiny,  
(An equal Fate Death upon all things brings)  
Shall all be lost i'th' Mass and crowd of Things.  
So doth the River borrow from the Main  
Those Streams, that rest not, till they're there again.  
From its first Rise through devious ways it goes,  
With swift unwearied Course to th' Sea it flows,  
And in its Mother's Lap seeks long Repose.   

The Parting Lover.  

I.  
BEneath a Mournful Yew, more than half-Dead,  
The Melancholy Damon fate;  
With Moving Accents sighing out his Fate,  
The Object of his Passion fled:  
Caelia, the Glory of the Plains,  
Caelia, the Flame of all the Youthful Swains;—  
With pale dead Eyes he saw her Flight,  
His Eyes Just closing in Eternal Night.  
His loaden bosom thus his Sorrow spoke,  
His Words and Heart thus at one instant broke.   

II.  
" So by Design or Chance, some Lonely Wretch,  
" Left on a distant, Northern, Land  
" With Swelling Eyes beholds the barren Strand,  
" Th' uncomfortable, naked, Beach;  
" Where grizely Famine leads the way,  
" Fruitful in nothing, but in Beasts of Prey.  
" Monsters behind his back do roar,  
" The Sea Destruction doth present before.  
" And if to Heaven he looks with weeping Eyes,  
" He sees that setting Sun, that ne'er will rise.   

III.  
" What shall He do, lost Wretch! Where shall He go▪  
" His Sighs the Fatal Winds increase;  
" And floods of Tears do swell the Mounting Seas:  
" All things conspire unto his Woe.  
" The ragged Rocks no comfort give,  
" The barren Sands on them forbid to Live.  
" With sooty Wings sad Night draws on,  
" A Night, that ne'er will see a Rising Sun:  
" Till griping Famine him doth eat away,  
" Or He to hungry Jaws becomes a Prey.   

IV.  
" And to increase his Woe, far off at Sea  
" The Ship, in which his Hope's confined,  
" Opens Her Bosom to the Prosperous Wind,  
" Regardless of his Misery.  
" Loudly He doth of Fate complain,  
" Loudly laments his Wretched State in vain.  
" The Noisy Billows cannot hear;  
" Relentless Rocks are deaf unto his Prayer,  
" The floating Ships before the Winds do play:  
" The Winds bear them, his Hopes, and fruitless Prayers away.    

The Chase of the Fox at Welby 1677. To St. John Bennet of Welby, Esquire.  
THE Morn was fair and still; the Heaven was clear,  
And not one ●ullen Star would disappear:  
The Winds were not yet up; but in their Beds  
In a deep Sleep had sunk their Drowsy Heads:  
The Sluggard Sun had not yet left his Rest,  
Nor raised his weary Head from Thetis Breast:  
When I in Field a Gallant Train did meet,  
For Vigorous Sport and Generous Actions fit:  
They all on winged Coursers mounted stay  
And big with Expectation wait the Prey.  
Their curious Spies they first send out to try  
And make Discovery of the Enemy:  
These Scorn, as others do, to trust the Sight,  
Abused so oft, so seldom in the Right:  
Which every palpable Appearance escapes,  
And cheats it with Imaginary shapes:  
A s●rer Guide leads these sagacious Spies,  
That makes the Nose Supply the place of Eyes.  
Their cautious Foe, the Fox, had fled the Light,  
And wisely before Day had crept from sight;  
Gorged with his Prey, and in his Brakes immured,  
Fearless He slept and thought himself secured:  
But his Pusuers trace his hidden Course,  
And follow him by a Magnetic Force,  
First they employ their curious Nose to find  
Those subtle Atoms, he had left behind;  
Those Exhalations in his Footsteps lie,  
That from his Breath, or from his Sweat do sly:  
So Small, they to our Eyes do disappear,  
And undiscerned mix with the Common Air.  
These, as i'th' wanton Wind they play about,  
Their Noses, Chymist-like, can draw them out;  
And following the Stream, these Atoms make,  
Run to the place, from whence the Fountain broke.  
Mean while the Fox, waked with th' unusual Noise,  
And with Attentive Ears catching the Voice,  
Fears some Pursuers; but doth wonder, how  
Through all his Mazes they his Course should know:  
What Eyes could trace his Footsteps on the Green,  
What Witchcraft thus could follow him unseen.  
But now not trusting to a Longer stay  
Resolves with silent Steps to steal away,  
And use those secret Arts, and that Deceit,  
With which his raging Followers he could cheat:  
But as he through the shady Goss doth slide,  
By one o'th' Watchful Huntsmen he's espied.  
His Joyful Horn doth quickly tell it out,  
And's Echoed back again by all the Rout:  
A noise more Dismal than the Mandrake's Voice,  
A Noise, that chills the Fox's Blood to Ice.  
The Sentence not more sad to th' Guilty Man,  
Or Cannon to the trembling Indian.  
Thunder speaks Music to't. Death's in each Note,  
And sure Destruction breathes from every throat.  
A Plague lies in each Breath, He hates to meet;  
And wishes oft, his Ears were turned to Feet.  
Yet to his Arts he flies, and all doth use,  
With which so oft he could his Foes abuse.  
The River, with his wanton Banks that plays,  
Runs not more secret, nor more winding Ways,  
Nor Dancing Atoms change more quick their Round,  
Nor Snow, that hovers loath to touch the Ground.  
But all (alas!) in vain his Arts he tries,  
In vain Acts over all his Treacheries:  
And like those, that would from Diseases run,  
He flies a while from what he cannot eat:  
Nor can He hope to scape, though ne'er so fleet,  
That Death, that's brought him by an Hundred feet.  
For the quick-scented Dogs through all the Ways,  
And those strange Shapes, that cautious Reynard plays,  
With an unerring Course pursue their Chase.  
Follow him, where no Tract is left behind,  
And catch the Scent, that dances in the Wind;  
Extract it from the Mass of other Parts,  
And find it, though mixed with a thousand Arts.  
Noses so qui●k and pure, methinks, should find  
The Secret tract, an Angel leaves behind:  
And might with little pains in time be brought  
To trace the wand'ring Passage of a Thought!  
Thus, while they follow with an eager Cry,  
And chase their faint and panting Enemy,  
O'th' sudden all was hushed, and every Throat  
In a dull silence choked his joyful Note.  
No Shout, nor Noise, did rend the parting Air,  
Only the raging Huntsmen fret and swear.  
All ply their busy Noses, round they coast  
To catch that Scent, which in the Crowd was lost:  
Till the Grave 
* One of the Finders.  Talbot with a Spanish pace  
The long-lost and neglected Scent doth trace;  
Finds what their eager Hast had left behind,  
And catched it Just dissolving in the Wind.  
He gives the Signal; straight they follow, all  
With their Loud throats do one another call,  
And, striving to regain the Time, they'd lost,  
With doubled Hast after their Foe they post:  
And with such winged Speed they now pursue;  
The unknown Foe is quickly brought to view.  
When Jo! a mixed Crowd from th' neighbouring Town,  
Warned by the Noise, tumultuously came down;  
All, armed with Pitchfork, Spit, Flail, Spade and Pole,  
To kill the Fox, that had their Poultry stole,  
Outnoise the Dogs, and with loud Curses fill  
The Air with sound of Follow, follow, kill!  
" Kill him, cries One, he stole my Peckled Hen,  
" And got my fatted Capons out o'th' Peneus  
Another Woman lets ●er Tongue fly loose,  
And cries," the Thief did kill her Brooding Goose.  
" My Cock, faith One, my Turkey, faith Another,  
" My pretty, Copled, Pullet, cries the tother,  
Then all poor Reynard with fell Curses rate;  
With Noises rude and inarticulate.  
The Amazed Fox, astonished at the Noise  
Much of the Dogs, more of the Woman's Cries;  
Seeing his useless Arts no help could show,  
Resolves at last to see, what Force would do:  
Summons his Vigour, doth new Courage rear,  
And down the Wind his even Course doth steer.  
So some smooth River, loath to leave the Plains,  
And those fresh Fields, where Mirth and Pleasure reigns,  
In many wand'ring Turns his Passage takes,  
A thousand Stops, a thousand Windings makes:  
Plays with his flowery Banks, oft turns his Head  
And with full Eyes o'erlooks his watery Bed,  
Courts every wanton Shade, and feigns Delay,  
Until at last, unable more to stay,  
Forced by the raging Streams, that do descend,  
His direct Course He to the Sea doth bend.  
The Fox begins; the Chase they all pursue,  
Swift, as winged Thoughts e'er to far Countries flew:  
Light's flow to them, the sluggish Wind doth stay;  
They catch that Scent, his Wings had boar away.  
All that by Force or Courage could be shown,  
That could by Swiftness, or by Art be done;  
Th' Industrious Fox did for his Safety try;—  
" But there's no struggling with our Destiny.  
He's grown Infectious to himself;— They find  
His Course by th' fatal Breath, he left behind.  
His Breathing brings his Ruin on; that Breath,  
That gives to others Life, to him gives Death.  
Death doth from Breathing, or Refraining grow;  
To Brach is Death, and not to Brach, is so.  
At last the Fox unable more to strive,  
Unable more their Fury to survive:  
Seeing i'th' Dog's approach his certain Fate,  
Resolves to sell his Life at a dear rate.  
So some great Hero, compassed by his Foes,  
Death and Destruction all around him strews:  
With fiery Rage on all Opposers flies,  
And makes a Bulwark of slain Enemies:  
Sure not to Live, unwilling yet to die,  
Till he hath left a dear-bought Victory.  
Thus the brave Fox, when all his hopes were dead,  
And no way left to hide his loathed Head,  
Resolves, he will not unrevenged die,  
Nor fall a tame and heartless Enemy:  
With Rage salutes the First; his bloody Jaws  
Fixed on the next, do make the Others pause,  
And keep an awful Distance; Till they all  
With one accord upon their Foe do fall,  
In vain he strives, in vain he fights; for soon  
Being by the Raging Tempest overthrown:  
He with a faint and trembling Voice doth cry;  
" I lived by Rapine and by Rapine die.   

On a Mandrake.  

I.  
THE Play of Nature under ground,  
The Draught, that from her Hands doth fall  
In Regions, where no Light is found,  
But Sullen Darkness Covers all:  
Like Man; as like, as Draughts could be;  
Where Nature had no Eyes to see.   

II.  
Each Limb and Part exactly drawn,  
Doth much our Admiration raise;  
Nature her Mimic Art hath shown,  
And wantonly with Mankind plays:  
And, though it may seem useless, yet  
The very Sex She don't omit.   

III.  
In this the Picture doth excel,  
And doth above the Substance rise:  
The Mandrake doth in Regions dwell,  
Unseen, unknown to Mortal Eyes;  
And, where our final Rest we have;  
Doth Live and Flourish, in the Grave.    

On Man's unhappy Composition.  

UNhappy Man! how ill in Thee are Joined,  
A Feeble Body, and an Active Mind.  
A Soul of Fire, a Body but of Earth;  
That do from different Regions draw their Birth:  
One Natu'rally doth tend to Heaven above;  
Th' Other towered Earth, from whence it came, doth move.  
When such Discordant Parts in Man do meet,  
They Justle and each other roughly Greet:  
The Motions of the Soul the Body sway;  
Which every Nod and Impulse should obey:  
But at each Sally of the Towering Mind,  
With wearied Journeys That doth lag behind.   

Thoughts are our Plagues; the Beasts, that none do know,  
Are Free from trouble and resentment too.  
As Nature bids, they every thing receive,  
And take it, as her Bounteous Hand doth give.  
No pining Thoughts do sour the Joys, they taste,  
No preying Passion doth their Body waste;  
While Ours by the Souls Motion's worn so thin;  
'Twill scarce keep Life, and Breath, Life's Tenant, in.  
At Things above Ambition makes us Soar,  
And grasp at what is placed beyond our Power:  
Our feeble Strength we ne'er consult: And then  
No wonder, We are tumbled back again.  
A chain of Sorrows hangs upon our State:  
We for Impossibilities do wait,  
Anxiously seek for what will never come,  
And yet are angry, when We meet our Doom.  
The fault doth not in outward Causes lie,  
But in our Judgement, that is warped awry.  
Our Power's confined, and we should Happy be,  
If We the Limits of our Power could see.  
If We could fix our wand'ring Thoughts at home,  
Nor let beyond our Sphere our Wishes roam,  
All things, We see, are Passive here below,  
Nor from themselves their Power-to-act doth flow,  
They're dead, unless some greater Essence give  
Influx of being, that may make them Live.  
'Tis only Heaven doth purely act, and can,  
Crumble in Dust the vast Designs of Man:  
His Will must stand, whatever We Design,  
Nothing can stop the course of things Divine.  
All Aids are useless; what is Infinite,  
Doth need no Help, nor doth Increase admit.   

How Happy Man, was He entirely One,  
Nor did admit of Composition;  
Was his AEthereal Soul of Heavenly breed;  
Like Angels, from the clogs of Matter freed:  
Or, like the Beasts, only with Flesh arrayed,  
And only of unthinking Matter made.  
One State would all his Hopes and Thoughts exceed;  
By th' Other He would from all Care be freed.  
Excess of joy in Orre his Soul would Crown;  
In th' Other Ignorance all Fears would drown.    

The Sceptic, against Mechanism.  
LEarning lies deep, and short is Reason's Line,  
And weakly do we guests at things Divine!  
When those near hand our strict Discovery fly,  
What Hopes to dive into Infinity?  
The Soul's a Particle of Heavenly fire,  
And boldly doth to every thing aspire:  
But yet how low Her lofty Flights do fall;  
When She attempts the Wonders of this Ball!  
Our Apprenhension Angels do exceed,  
Like Thought, they can to distant Regions speed,  
Nor helps They for Progressive Motion need.  
Yet Mysteries, deep hid, they cannot find,  
Such as Exceed th' Intelligences Mind,  
And render all created Being's Blind.  
No more, vain Friend, your useless Knowledge show,  
Lost in Abysses, that no bottom know:  
Lapped up in Shades, where not one cheerful Ray  
Amid the dismal Darkness points out day.  
I grant your Skill,— but how far doth it reach;  
Or what import the Mysteries, you teach?  
If solid Orbs cramp up the Heaven above,  
Or if they Free i'th' fluid AEther move:  
What unseen Spring to them doth Motion give?  
Leave these to those, who in those Regions Live.  
How the Sun's piercing fire and genial heat,  
Doth Metals under Massy Rocks beget:  
What are the Marchasites, of which they're made,  
And changing Salts, in the Composure laid:  
How Heat Course Metals into Gold refines,  
(The Art for which the broiling Chemist pines)  
Leave this (if such there be) to Daemons of the Mines.  
How Orient Pearls from Heavenly Dew are bred,  
And, by what They at first were made, are fed.  
The Wonders that in Neptune's Storehouse be,  
The ragged Sea-calves better know, than We.  
Thou think'st to search all with thy narrow Mind;  
The Grasp's too wide for what is so confined.  
Be Man: And if thou canst, Inform me how  
This Tree, this Flower, this Spire of Grass doth grow:  
Why the same Moisture different Shapes doth wear;  
Why this doth Green, why this doth Red appear;  
Why this doth Fruit, this Flowers, this Herbage bear:  
How each a seminal Virtue doth retain,  
And though not conscious, gets his Like again:  
Whose Plastic Virtue can new Being give,  
From whom new Birth, when Dead, they can receive,  
And even burnt Flowers can from their Ashes live.  
How doth the Imp, when with the Stock 'tis knit,  
The Stock's rough Juice to its own Nature fit,  
And in the twisted Knot doth sweeten it?  
Or Buds of generous Fruits in Wild ones set  
A precious offspring from base Plants beget?  
Our Knowledge by the Sence's help we find,  
'Tis those deceitful Guides inform our Mind.  
If then the Medium's false, through which Arts go,  
How can we hope the genuine Truth to know?  
The Water pure and clear i'th' Fountain flows;  
But with ill Mixtures doth its Nature lose;  
And tafts of every Soil, through which it goes.  
We from our Senses upon trust Receive,  
And Them, althô they oft delude, believe.  
But Truth and Skill must Disputable grow;  
If no account we of our Senses know.  
If hidden Secrets in their Nature lie,  
That all our diligent Inquiries fly,  
If we their Nature strive to search in vain,  
What then's the Learning, that by them we gain?  
That we do Hear and See, we all do grant,  
But of the manner how, are Ignorant.  
If then in things within us we may err,  
With which each Moment we're familiar:  
What hope remains, that we the Truth should find  
Of things without, by our deluded Mind?  
The Sense deceius us, and like Painted Glass  
Tinges all Objects, that do through it pass.  
All Sense is made by Contact, You allow:  
Contact from unseen Particles doth grow,  
Which from all Objects to the Senses flow.  
If they're Material, whence do they arise?  
What is't their Energy and Force supplies?  
Whether they always in the Air do rove,  
And wait Impulses, by whole Laws they move?  
Or, when they're wanted, by the Object made,  
And thence with Message to the Sense conveyed?  
If these their Subtlety to Motion owe,  
Fragments, that from attrited Matter grow,  
How happ's it, Time hath not worn all things so?  
And why may not succeeding Ages fear,  
That Length of Time the Universe should wear,  
Till nothing Solid in the World appear?  
The Senses various Particles employ;  
What strikes the Ear, doth not affect the Eye;  
And where the Ear is deaf, and Eye is blind,  
The subtle Smell can a Sensation find.  
The Atoms different, as the Organs are,  
And various Forms, various Contextures wear  
Besides the different Motions they dispense  
From divers Objects unto every Sense:  
By which they to the Judging Soul do show,  
Whether they Acceptable are or no.  
The Eye doth Knowledge of each Colour take,  
That various Motions doth i'th' Organ make;  
In such Variety, such Cost and Dress,  
Not all the Flowers of Rhetoric can express.  
But whether What do these Impulses give  
Their Power from Angulous Particles receive;  
Or barely they This unto Motion owe;  
A Secret lies we vainly with to know.  
Since than Effluviums from all Objects break,  
And through the Air their unseen Journeys take,  
To every Sense in various Measures come;  
How is it that the crowding Troops find room?  
Numberless Numbers to each Sense repair,  
That various Motions, Forms, and Garbs do wear;  
Enough to stifle up the liquid Air.  
The justling Streams, always in Motions be,  
To all around without Distinction fly.  
And from all parts of Matter since they flow,  
And heady Journeys in cross Paths do go:  
Who in their Passage doth prescribe them Laws?  
Or guards them, that they no Confusion cause?  
Why do not Storms disperse the Rays of Light,  
Why not obstruct their Journey to our fight?  
Or those bright Rays, that in clear Days arise,  
And from ten thousand Objects cheer our Eyes,  
Hinder the Motion of progressive Noise?  
In the same Moment from all parts they flow,  
Contrary Courses in their Journeys go;  
At the same time all Senses gratify,  
Yet we no Battle, nor Confusion spy.  
'Tis true they're Subtle; But they Numerous are:  
They're liquid: Yet the thwarting troops may jar;  
For waves meet waves, & streams with streams do war.  
A Guardian Angel must be their Defence,  
Or we must grant, that Atoms have a Sense.  
No human Force their Fury can restrain;  
No giddy Chance their Motion can maintain;  
No Mechanism their Nature can unfold;  
No Laws, nor Rules in Sage's Books enrolled.  
Nature the Eye in beauteous Orbs hath dressed,  
Laid out more Work on't, than on all the rest;  
'Tis her much valued Gem, that doth excel  
The Treasure, Mines, or Sands, or Seas reveal:  
Whose wise Contexture may deep Wits employ,  
And hath made Atheists own a Deity.  
Man is a Microcosms; suppose him One,  
The Eye is of that Little-World the Sun.  
Heaven's firstborn Light without this had been lost;  
In vain had Nature then been at that Cost.  
Yet how this Organ entertains the Light,  
And how that wondrous Act is made, the Sight  
Whether it Rays receives, or Rays sends-out,  
Remains yet an inextricable Doubt.  
If th' Eye by sending-forth of Rays doth see,  
So great Expense what is it can supply?  
How do the Streams make Journeys to the Sky?  
For if our Sight we on Emission ground,  
We must lend Rays to fill the World around;  
These too to ' each Object must adapted be  
And Images bring back, by which we see.  
In vain, what Life and Light doth give, the Sun  
His annual and daily Course doth run;  
In vain his cheerful Beams doth send: If we  
Can from ourselves the want of Rays supply.  
If we do from ourselves send Beams of Light;  
What is the Difference betwixt Day and Night?  
This than's untenable——  
Yet if the Organ by Reception see,  
How flows the Poison from an Envious Eye?  
How do his Optics venomous Beams instill,  
And Great Men in the height of Glory kill?  
Whence hath the Basilisk his deadly Ray;  
That can th' unwary Wretch at distance slay?  
How is't, if Wolves first upon Men do look,  
Men are with Hoarseness, or with Dumbness struck?  
Whence are the Charms flow from a Beauteous Eye?  
That do the struggling Slave in Fetters tie?  
What Energy doth through his Vitals move;  
What Magic Charm doth stir him up to Love?  
When Thoughts on winged Particles advance,  
When piercing Looks the Lover's mutually entrance,  
And their Souls on the fiery Atoms dance?  
How is it Cats and Owls see in the Night,  
When no Ray can illuminate the Sight.  
Their Eyes in Darkness shine; why may not We  
Infer, that they by their own Beams do see?  
This Object is a Central Point, from whence  
Rays move around the whole Circumference:  
To all about, where e'er they're placed, do fly;  
In every station, do salute the Eye.  
Th' adjoining Atom is a Centre too,  
From whence in equal streams the Rays do flow.  
Ten thousand Objects entertain the Eye;  
From each ten thousand thousand Beams do fly.  
Since in strait Lines the Rays of Sight are led,  
How are they truly to the Eye conveyed?  
Why don't the Numbers in each way that rove,  
The direct Course of steady Beams remove?  
Why is no End unto their Motion put;  
When they each other Infinitely cut?  
But yet admit, they to the Eye arrive,  
Who of their Nature can a Reason give!  
Do they each Moment from the Sun repair;  
Or have they settled Mansions in the Air?  
If One; they swifter far than Matter move,  
Their Nature from their extract they improve,  
And seem a Quintessence sent from above.  
What Nourishment must the vast Fount supply;  
From whence such Streams incessantly do fly,  
And fill the Liquid Air and Spacious Sky?  
If from the Sun the Beams of Light do flow,  
How doth a Candle the same Office do?  
How doth the Glow-worm with the Sun contest,  
And Brandish forth her Beams, when He's at rest?  
Why's Rotten Wood and Fishes Scales so Bright?  
Why doth Sea-water Sparkle in the Night?  
These Subtle Parts, if in the Air they lie,  
How haps, i'th' dark that they escape our Eye?  
And then in Shades of Night why don't We see?  
If Colour's in the Superficies made,  
And variously, as that reflects, is bred:  
If what absorps the Light is Black; that White,  
Which forcibly Reflects the Rays of Light;  
And all the dresses, that the World can show,  
Are the compounded Mixtures of these two:  
Why should two Marble Stones of equal weight,  
Polished alike, equally Smooth and Bright,  
Two different Colours wear of Black and White?  
The same Contexture, Form, and Parts they show:  
From whence in them do different Colours grow?  
Admit all Colours, to the Organ brought,  
Are by Reflection of the Object wrought:  
And Draughts and Schemes present Deformed or Fair,  
As they Impulses rude or pleasing bear:  
From various Parts that various Colours grow,  
And all do on the Superficies flow;  
For under that the Sight doth nothing know:  
Whether these Parts, so subtle and refined,  
That carry the Ideas to the Mind,  
Barely by contact do their Acts maintain;  
Or do materially invade the Brain,  
A pressing doubt doth yet unsolved remain.  
If these Impulses to the Eye do give,  
That thence doth an Account of things receive;  
The Sense, that only did from Motion grow,  
When Motion sinks and dies, must perish too.  
How haps it then, Ideas stay behind,  
And, when We please, can paint anew the Mind,  
When what created them is fled, like Wind?  
If th' Eye into't nothing Material drew,  
How is't the Mind can former Objects view,  
And dress i'th' Brain the wand'ring Schemes anew?  
How haps, what did unto our Sight advance,  
In Dreams again i'th' cheated Soul do dance,  
And with fresh Charms the credulous Mind entrance?  
Dreams that arise, as all the Learned own,  
From confused Parts of Bodies seen or known.  
If through the Eye the Vigorous Object darts  
Into the Brain these small AErial Parts;  
How are they entertained, when Crowds do come?  
How do the little narrow Cells make room?  
Do all, that to an Object do belong,  
Into one Place unmixed with others throng?  
If not: how are things passed called back with ease?  
How is, what's gone, remembered, when We please,  
Even Adjuncts and Particularities?  
But if new Streams the former do expel,  
How is't of so mere Days we acts can tell?  
The various Turns of Years long-since repeat;  
What We've seen acted, what We've read, relate.  
If Old and New i'th' Brain together crowd,  
How is it Room and Peace is them allowed?  
How do they and their Equipages come?  
For if Material, they must take up room.  
And tract of Time would hoard up such a Crop,  
The crowded Atoms would the Channels stop,  
And choke the Passages of Vision up.  
The Ear in winding Labyrinths is laid,  
Fit to receive and keep the Sound, is made:  
But yet what Mind's so sharp, so deep, so strong.  
To tell the Mysteries to this Sense belong?  
What Garbs the fluid Atoms do array  
When they our Thoughts to others do convey?  
Whether the Atoms are of different size,  
Or but from various Impulses rise?  
When Soft and Melting Streams do flow from Love,  
Or Stormy Accents do from Anger move?  
Whence flow the Charms that do to Speech belong,  
When Graces dance on a beloved Tongue!  
Why the same Words from one should Love create,  
And from another but engender Hate?  
Who can the Charms of Rhetoric express,  
The Tuneful Motions and the Godlike Dress?  
What Magic force the Captived Ear doth tie,  
When well placed Words from Artful Lips do fly,  
And calm or raise the Mind, as Storms the Sea?  
How these Impulses, that to th' Ear do pass,  
Such transports in the heightened Spirits cause?  
The Ferment scarce will cool and sink again,  
And Pleasure's more tumultuous, than Pain.  
What Motions Speech must to the Ear convey,  
Or in how many Forms the Atoms stray?  
Since We can scarcely find two words alike,  
But all must diversely the Organ strike.  
Some no distinct Idea do create;  
And Some are what We call Articulate.  
The Birds have one, the Beasts another Tone,  
And every Species hath a different one.  
Beside from senseless things the various Noise,  
That from Collision of their Parts doth rise:  
What doth from Solids, what from Fluids' flow,  
What do from Winds, from Seas, and Thunder grow.  
Whence are the Charms, that Music doth dispense;  
That lulls in pleasing Slumbers up the Sense?  
When Raptures from the Numbers are compiled,  
Which rendered Alexander Fierce, or Mild:  
Can quell the Lustful or Revengeful Flame,  
Can Bloody Rage and Savage Fury tame:  
Can Conquer when all Arguments do fail,  
When Reason's Ineffectual, can prevail:  
Can Witchcraft's force and poison's fire assuage,  
And, when all Medicines fail, Disease's Rage.  
What Sorcery doth in these Numbers lie,  
And what Enchantment from the Sounds doth fly?  
The wondrous Art what Learning can explain,  
That from moved Air doth all its Virtue gain,  
And yet so Forcible and Strong, to call  
The Senseless Stones to build Thebe's stately wall?  
Enchanting Art! the Learned do own in Thee,  
The next great Power unto the Deity.  
By Musical Numbers, Heaven, they say, was made:  
And by their help the Earth in Beauty laid.  
Reason and Sense do from thy Concord's fly,  
For th' Human Soul itself's but Harmony.  
Smelling, Thou subtle Sense, what th' Eye can't see,  
Nor doth within the Sphere of Hearing lie;  
What no Brisk Sallies, no Impulses brings,  
But silent lies hid in the Mass of things;  
Thy secret Art can through all Mazes find,  
Tho' with confused Heaps of Parts combined.—  
But how 'tis done, a Mystery yet remains  
That Baffles all our curious Wit and Pains.  
How is it the Sagacious Hound doth find  
The unseen Parts, that mix with Air and Wind?  
When with a trembling fear the Prey doth fly,  
Employs his eager speed to ' outstrip the Eye,  
And hopes, that done, no farther Danger's nigh.  
How is't, the Wind don't the Composure break,  
And all the chain of Steames in pieces shake?  
What doth those Parts from mixed Heaps extract,  
And render the disjointed Parts exact?  
How doth the Hound pursue, when no tract's shown,  
And keep the steady Path, where no Guide's known?  
Tho' others of the Kind the footsteps tread,  
The mixture cannot Him to Error lead:  
How are the Kindred Vapours severed?  
How doth He follow what at first He traced,  
And Hunt without distraction to the last;  
And all the bragging Chymist's Art surpass,—  
Who, when mixed Metals do compound one Mass,  
In time, by Pains, and by the help of Fire,  
Each Metal can extract and render each entire.  
How is't, the Vulture hath so quick a smell,  
He can in distant Realms of Battles tell;  
And Slaughters at three hundred Leagues reveal?  
How do the Particles of Smell come whole,  
That must so far o'er Seas and Mountains roll?  
Who gives them Knowledge to find out the Way?  
How haps, they are not wildered, while they stray,  
Or lost, when they must mix with those of Land, or Sea?  
How is it, Pestilential Vapours fly?  
Why fix on this, and why the next pass by?  
How Poison they in pleasing Odours breath,  
And while We suck Delight, We draw in Death.  
No Light of Sense or Reason can descry,  
What Steames from Aromatic Bodies fly:  
When different Bodies different Odours cast,  
And these Effluvium's are unlike the last.  
How is it Gums such Streams of sweet diffuse;  
And yet in Bulk or Weight do nothing lose?  
Tho' many Ages they to last are found,  
With Odorous Parts incessantly abound,  
Impregnate all the Sphere of Air around.  
Yet for so great Expense, no great Decrease,  
Nor do they grow proportionably lesle.  
Now if these Atoms are Material, why,  
Since they the small parts of the Compound be,  
Doth not the Whole at length by parcels die?  
Do they a secret unknown Virtue bear;  
To change into their Kind the Ambient Air:  
As all, Fire meets, doth his fierce Nature wear?  
As Loadstones in the Iron their Virtue leave;  
For what they touch, to Iron again will cleave?  
Or do the Odours, that they thus disclose,  
When they have circled round, i'th' Drugs repose?  
In their first Parent lose themselves again,  
And so their Odour, Bulk, and Weight maintain?  
As Tapers in fast-closed Urns are found,—  
(Whose Circling Rays do move for ever round)  
To feed on Unctuous Fumes, they from them cast;  
Supply themselves, and so can never waste.  
I pass the Doubts, that lie i'th' Sense of Taste:  
And those as great, that are in Feeling placed.  
For wheresoe'er We looks an unknown Coast,  
Our Mind perplexed in endless Storms is tossed;  
And in th' Abyss all Wit and Learning lost.  
There may more Senses be, that yet We want,  
Whole Absence renders Us so Ignorant.  
We known't, how high Angelic Sense doth rise,  
Nor what th' Intelligences makes so wise.  
We wondrous Acts done by the Creatures see,  
Nor can We tell, but they new Senses be.  
What makes the Cock at his due Seasons crow,  
And Time of Midnight so exactly know?  
How doth the Haleyon future Calmes presage,  
And how Sea fowl approaching Tempest's Rage?  
When they to Isles retire, and Seamen show  
(Their Hate and Terror) Storms before they blow.  
Why Palms do flourish, when to Palms they're nigh;  
And when they're parted, or decay, or die?  
How doth the Needle his dear North pursue,  
What Sense doth learn him to be ever true?  
Why doth the Magnet his Course Iron enfold,  
Nor can be Bribed by what's more Precious, Gold?  
The Subjects that for Sympathy are famed,  
And what by Us Antipathies are named,  
May different Senses be; and so may those,  
Whose Nature all our Learning can't disclose;  
That do above our Ignorant darkness rise,  
Lost in the name of Occult-Qualities,  
Th' Asylum of the Slothful or Unwise.  
Boast of thy Mechanism, vain Friend, no more;  
Nor think these Depths by Reason to explore.  
Fix on what Part Thou wilt in all the Round,  
Questions arise, thy Wisdom will confound.  
What may Opinions try, no Standard's known,  
Where Genuine Truth from falsehood may be shown;  
But gloomy Mists over the Mind do roll,  
And Prejudice doth prepossess the Soul.  
All here we knows but Probability,  
The Utmost Bound, to which our Wit can fly,  
And that which Terminates Philosophy.  
One Starts a Wit; the Schools his Schemes allow;  
Until Another Specious grounds doth show,  
And doth the long-built Fabric overthrow.  
All strive for Empire, both in State and Wit,  
He's Victor, unto whom the rest submit.  
But here's the Fate of Both, Both slippery stand,  
And yield to th' next Intruder their Command.  
How wretched 'tis to trust on Chance, that's blind!  
It brings no Comfort to the doubtful Mind.  
The Human Soul can't rest on such a Guide,  
Nor's with unthinking Matter satisfied.  
No Truth from Principles so weak can flow,  
The more We search, the Darker still We grow.  
Doubts after Doubts arise, and when one's done,  
New Crowding Numbers hastening hurry on.  
And what appeared a Trifle to our Mind,  
At nearer insight We a Mystery find.  
So Countries seem to Seamen from the shore  
But small; yet when they farther do explore,  
They find with stretched-out Arms the widened Coast;  
Till the bold Eye is in the Prospect lost.  
A Wise, Just, Being over all presides,  
The turns of Stupid Thoughtless Matter guides;  
Whose boundless Wisdom knows to govern all  
The Startling Wonders of this changing Ball.  
In Him Man's Happy and his Soul at rest;  
Doubts are hushed up and Peace becalms the breast.  
Courage on his Alliance doth depend;  
In Him our anxious Fears and Terrors end.  
" We in the Deity alone can rest,  
" And in that Acquiescence must be blest.    

A Pindaric Ode in Praise of Angling.  

To My Worthy Friend Mr. Thomas Bateman.  

STANZA I  
WAter, thou mighty Universal Good,  
Thou Mother of Fertility;  
Thou Nature's Vital Blood!  
That through Earth's crooked Veins dost slide,  
Through secret Caverns and dark Ways dost glide;  
And with thy Kindly Influence  
Dost Life and Vigour to the Whole dispense:  
Thy Power doth through all Parts of Nature wind;  
All, that we Feel, or Smell, or Taste, or See,  
All owe their Birth and Growth to Thee!  
Thy Moisture doth the parts of Bodies join,  
Hard Rocks and Adamants thy Virtue find:  
An unseen Balm each Particle doth tie,  
Doth them in lasting Friendship twine;  
Which, when by Chemic Art extracted thence,  
The separated Parts do all  
To scorned Dust and Rubbish fall:  
Wisely did Thales Thee the Source of All things call!   

II.  
Old Fainting Nature thou dost keep alive;  
With pleasing Cordial dost her strength retrieve,  
Which the doth thirstily drink down.  
And th' Age shall come, as Sacred Bards have told,  
Which they in Heaven's high Laws have found enrolled;  
When Heat shall th' Earth's Balsamic Moisture sink,  
Infatiate Heat the Radical Moisture drink;  
And th' Feverish World shall burn and fry  
Deliquiums and strange Syncopes endure  
Till th' Hectic Fire beyond all Medicine grown,  
The Circling Zodiac shall in pieces fly  
And melted by the raging Calenture,  
Th' Eternal Poles shall sink and all  
The Massy Rocks, the Earth's Foundation  
Into the deep-wrought Pit of sure Destruction fall.   

III.  
Blessed Element! How grateful to my Mind!  
Nurse of Delight and pleasing Joy!  
What Charms can I in thy Embraces find!  
No wonder wise Antiquity  
Did Beauteous Nymphs to Crystal Rivers turn;  
And made their Lovers i'th' cool Streams to burn.  
Enchanting Goddess! without Thee  
The World would all a Lybian Desert be,  
Hot scalding Sands would o'er its Surface spread.  
And noxious Beasts and poisonous Serpents breed.  
Thou deckest the Lovers shady Bowers,  
Thou dressest up the Meads with Flowers;  
Thy fourfold Streams through Paradise did run  
Dressed by the Hand Divine,  
Silvered by Thee, and Gilded by the Sun.  
Ceres to Thee her Growth doth owe;  
And Bacchus thanks Thee for his generous Wine,  
B●ed by the Sun and thy sweet Flowers!  
And Gods to Thee their Gratitude should show,  
From whom their Nectar and Ambrosia slow!   

IV.  
Here in Elysian Fields by chiding Rills  
The Offspring o'th' eternal Hills;  
Beneath a pleasing Shade, that can defeat  
The Sun's impetuous Heat;  
Where Zephyr gently murmurs through the Bowers,  
And dallies with the smiling Flowers,  
And all the winged Choristers above  
In melting strains sing to the God of Love:  
While pleased Nature doth a silence keep,  
Even Hills do Nod, and Rivers seem to Sleep:  
Here with a Friend, Copartner of my Joys,  
Whose Artful Soul knows every way  
The scaly Offspring to betray,  
The bold, the fearful, or the cautious Prey:  
I an extensive Empire lay  
O'er all the watery Plain;  
And numerous Subjects do our Sceptres fear.  
SALMON, the King of Rivers, that each Year  
Removes his watery Court to th' Sea;  
But with the Sun and Spring returns again,  
And o'er all Bars of Art, of Nature, flies,  
O'er Floodgates, Wears and Rocks his Course doth steer.  
And if the Alps in's Passage lay  
Like Hannibal would find, or force, a Way.  
The Beauteous TROVT, of the same Princely Blood,  
But of a lesle Estate and kept at Home,  
Confined to his own narrow Flood,  
Can't with such State o'er distant Regions roam.  
In his own fenced Court secure he lies;  
Till by some treacherous Bait betrayed, he dies.  
The ravenous PIKE, the River- Wolf, whose Throat  
Like Hell promiscuously all swallows down;  
Bold and Rapacious a great Tyrant reigns  
O'er all the Subjects of the watery Plains.  
No Kind hath an Exemption got;  
To him no Rule of Love or Kindred's known:  
The Fury of his Jaws not his own Race can eat.   

V.  
With these the armed PERCH, that dares  
Even with the Tyrant Pike make wars,  
And doth a petty Empire own  
O'er all the lesser Fry;  
Delicious Food to curious Palates known.  
BREAM, that i'th' calmy Deeps doth lie  
And at great Banquets makes a Dish of State.  
BARBELL, the River-Swine,  
That doth i'th' watery Regions root and eat:  
In hollow Rocks doth place his Seat,  
By Floodgates, Cataracts, and Bridges lies,  
And all the Force of sweeping Nets defies.  
CHEVIN, that under shady Boughs doth play,  
And's killed more for Delight and Sport, than Prey:  
On whom the Hungry even unwilling dine.   

VI  
HUMBER and GREYLING, that swift streams do love  
Of Derwent, Fruitful Trent, and Crystal Dove.  
CARP even by Princes prized, whom curious Tastes approve;  
In fenced Ponds, safe as a Treasure laid,  
The Streams Physician TENCH, whose balmy Slime  
Heals all the Maladies of the watery Clime.  
The silver EEL, that yet doth keep unknown  
Her Secret way of Propagation:  
These and a Crowd of Species more  
That live on many a distant Shore;  
Some that in Beauty do exceed;  
Some that in Strength and some in Speed:  
And some by Nature armed for bloody Fight.  
Some that in fertile Mudd do feed,  
Some that in barren Sands delight,  
Some that fenced Rocks and woody Shades do own:  
Beside the ignoble lesser Fry,  
The Rabble of the watery Clime,  
Not worth a Fisher's Time,  
And more unworthy Memory,  
Destined by Fate the Greater's Prey to be.  
I'th' Water's cursed democracy,  
Are Subjects all of our Dominion.   

VII.  
With artful Hand and with judicious Eye  
We sleeve the Artificial Fly.  
Nature, the Universal Guide,  
In every step and progress She doth make,  
Our Art can overtake:  
There's not an Insect, dressed in all the Pride,  
In all the pompous gaudy Pageantry,  
That Nature's Wardrobe can create,  
But our unbounded Art can imitate.  
All, that on Plants, or Simples breed,  
All, that on Trees, or Waters feed,  
All, that the fruitful Spring,  
The Sun and Heat do to Perfection bring;  
All, that do grow from Putrefaction:  
Each Colour, Shade, and Shape, that's made  
I'th' Universal Shop, where lie  
The Moulds, in which each Creature's laid  
And Garbs, each Insect do invest,  
Our Artful Bait puts on,  
By a quick Eye and a rich Fancy dressed.  
So true, it can't Distinguished be  
By Trout or Greyling's piercing Eye.   

VIII.  
With Art contrived, managed with Art, the Fly,  
By steady Hand and nimble Eye,  
To any distant Place we throw;  
And th' fatal Bait to credelous Eyes do show:  
Wary, as Treason lurks, we move  
Silence do all Conspiracies improve.  
The deadly Baith shakes pendent in the Air,  
Deadly and fatal, as a Blazing star,  
Destruction with it falls to all, are near:  
Infectious Influence it doth breathe  
None can its Charms deny:  
" So sleep and slippery are the Ways to Death.   

IX.  
Sometimes in pity to the watery Race  
Our generous Endeavours press  
To kill the Raving Tyrant of the Flood  
The Pike, that his own Subjects makes his Food;  
Waylays the Streams and beaten Roads  
And common ways to their Abodes,  
And all, that in his Reach do come,  
Do in his hungry Entrails find a Tomb.  
Hunger, that Death to all about doth breathe,  
Fatal to him doth his own Death bequeath:  
A Captive Fish in Chains we tie;  
Which, Decius-like, with comely State  
Doth for his Kindred's safety boast to die:  
With all inviting Motions plays,  
That may desire and hunger raise,  
And draw the Tyrant to the deadly Bait:  
And how doth he rejoice,  
To perish with him in one common Fate?  
While all the Kindred Fry,  
In crowding Shoals express their Joy,  
That now untroubled Peace doth o'er the Waters fly.   

X.  
Of Old—:  
The happy Man, that did a Tyrant stay,  
And a slaved People to their Freedom bring;  
Or He, that from some deadly Dragon's Sting,  
Or bloody Jaws of Beasts of Prey  
The frighted Multitude did free;  
Each joyful Mouth did sing his Praise,  
With honoured Wreaths each hand his Head did crown:  
Statues and Obelisks the Crowd did raise;  
And Garlands on Triumphant Arches nod;  
And the next Age made him a God:  
Thus Python's Death Apollo's Godhead gave;  
And Hydra slain rendered Alcides Brave.  
What Honour then to Us belongs,  
What Praises, and what just Renown,  
Who th' watery Race from their Great Tyrant save▪  
The watery Race, whose silent Tongues  
Cannot in melting Numbers Pray,  
Nor Thanks for Favours lent repay!  
Mean Souls may long Entreaties love,  
Them Prospects of Rewards may move:  
That Favor's Great, which without these is Generously done.   

XI.  
Sometimes with patient Skill  
We watch the Motion of our trembling Quill:  
No Force, nor Tyranny we use;  
Each Fish, or may accept or may refuse:  
And no One's took, but he that william.  
All the inviting Baits we prove,  
Which Nature naked doth present,  
Or Art, her Handmaid, doth improve:  
And if we find their Stomaches low  
All Dainties, that on Nature's Bosom grow,  
And all sweet melting Pasts we use;  
Rich, Aromatic, Drugs infuse  
With cleanly Art and Neatness spent:  
(Cleanliness much the watery Race doth love,  
Who every moment wash their Filth away.)  
All, that may please their curious Scent,  
Or their more-curious Eye;  
That those, whom Hunger doth not move,  
Are took by Wantonness and Curiosity:   

XII.  
Blessed Art! for Contemplation fit,  
And towering Sallies of the Mind;  
Where Fancy free and unconfined,  
To distant Objects takes her Flight.  
Sometimes from streams in humble Vales below  
We to th' Celestial Cataracts do rise,  
And visit all the Scaly Race  
That streams, above-the-Firmament, do grace,  
And Angle with a Iacob's Staff!  
Now we to meaner Subjects bow,  
On our own Crystal Rivers gaze,  
And see the World deciphered in the Glass,  
And at its serious Follies laugh!  
See Tyranny i'th' Ravenous Pike is shown,  
I'th' Armed Perch Opperession,  
And in the Servile Crowd Passive Subjection;  
The Servile Crowd, that ne'er of Wrongs complain.—  
Cursed Democratick State;—  
That doth no Law or Precepts own,  
But headlong Fury over all doth reign.  
And all the lesser Fry  
Without or Crime, or Cause, must die,  
Only beacuse they're Small and others Great.   

XIII.  
Raptur'd Delight! the Soul, that loves not Thee,  
Whom Fatal Pleasures o'th' Deceitful Court,  
Or Sycophantick Flattery,  
Whom Riches, or whom Honours sway,  
Or whom Revenge doth draw away,  
Or other low or base Design misled  
From thy serener Sport;  
May He upon some naked Beach,  
That o'er those Streams doth hang, he cannot reach,  
Or may he in a Lybian Desert dwell  
With burning rolling Sands o'erspread,  
One Degree on this side Hell:  
May he among the Cinders live and burn,  
Till he a perfect Salamander turn:  
With raging Thirst for cooling Currents long,  
But never get one Drop to cool his Tongue.  
And if a Fish he e'er doth chance to see,  
May it a Crocodile or Hydra be:  
May scaly Serpents round his Temples twine,  
Serpents, whose Heat  
Their blood doth up to Poison boil:  
May Asps and Adders be his Meat,  
And blood of Dragons be his Wine;  
May He far off behold a flowery Plain,  
And winding Rivers through it smile,  
Like Tantalus to ' increase his pain:  
May these to him be seen,  
As to the Damned the Joys of Heaven, with a vast Gulf between!  
May all these Plagues doubled to him resort,  
That any Poaching Ways doth use,  
Or th' Honour of our Art abuse,  
Or with devouring Nets doth spoil our Sport.   

XIV.  
May I (far from desire of being Great.)  
Enjoy a little Quiet Seat,  
That overlooks a Crystal Stream:  
With Mind as Calm, as is her Brow,  
Pure as the Fountain, whence her Waters flow:  
Those Pleasures taste a Cynic could not blame.  
And may (Ye watery Sisters all,  
With Fruitfulness and Plenty crowned)  
May all your Dewy Blessings on Me fall!  
Ye, that from craggy Rocks do take Your Source,  
Or from the Flowery Hills do grow:  
All, that in hollow Vaults resound,  
Or do from Fruitful Valleys flow:  
All, that through Rocks Your way do force,  
And foaming Waves pieces dash;  
All, that in Flowery Meadows stray,  
And with Your Amorous Banks do play;  
All, whose proud Waves the Walls of Cities wash;  
All, that through Deserts take Your Course.  
All, whose wide Bosoms Ships do plow,  
Which Vice and Riches bring:  
All, that to humble Cores do bow,  
And hear the Jolly Sheperds, when they sing:  
The Haughty, Rapid, and Imperious Dames;  
The Still, the Quiet, and Soft-gliding Streams:  
May all asisst the Angler's harmless Sport,  
And with Full Hands unto Our Line Resort;  
All, that with Silver Feet  
In Melting Numbers and Harmonious Strains,  
Immortal Spencer once did cause to meet  
On th' Marriage-Day of Medway and of Thames!    

On the Honourable the Countess Dowager OF GAINSBOROW, etc.  
EMbodied Virtue, Light of Human Race,  
Your Age's Glory and Your Sexe's Grace,  
Whose Fair Example Vice itself might move  
To be a Proselyte to Virtuous Love.  
And ah! what Sinner could the Force oppose;  
When Virtue from so strict a Beauty flows,  
Beauty, that double Charms on Worth bestows.  
Lately the World of Your Rare Wedlock rang,  
And Angels of the Nuptial Concord sang,  
When a Male Virtue equally was placed  
With Yours, embracing and alike Embraced;  
Two Souls in one Dissolving Rapture couched,  
With the same Magnet Two blessed Souls were touched;  
So Just the Flame, so Equal the Desire;  
As if One Soul two Bodies did inspire  
Not with a Raging, but a Lambent, Fire.  
This Mutual Friendship all admiring saw,  
And Glorious Copies thence began to draw;  
When ah! the Generous Hero sank away,  
Remorceless Death seized the Illustrious Prey,  
And left Your Single Light to gilled our Day.  
Thus when the shining Monarch of the Skies,  
Below the Western Mountains faints and Dies;  
Singly the silver Moon his Place supplies.  
Ten thousand Luminaries round Her wait,  
And silently adore Her Princely State:  
Above them all the Beauteous Goddess goes,  
And Gracious Beams on her Attendants throws:  
The Gladsome World approve Her Empire well,—  
And now scarce miss the Sun, That but so lately fell.    

THE SUBMARINE VOYAGE A Pindaric Poem IN FOUR PARTS.  
By Tho. Heyrick, M. A. Formerly of Peterhouse College in Cambridge.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.  Homer. Odyss. 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. V. 384. etc. 
CAMBRIDGE, Printed by john Hayes, for the Author, M. DC. XCI.   

To the Right Honourable JOHN Lord ROOS Eldest-Son To the Earl of RUTLAND, etc.  
My Lord,  
THIS Poem, drawn by the loud Fame of Your Learning and Candour, comes from the remotest Parts of the World to fall down at your Honour's Feet; there being not one Part of the Earth or Sea, which is not filled with the Report of Your Goodness, and which doth not know, that Your Family is the Asylum of Arts and Arms. It hath passed safely the Northern Snows, and Southern Fires, nor hath it been swallowed up in the merciless Gulf. It hath been preserved from the Savage Monsters of the Sea, and the as-savage Indian Cannibals. It hath visited both Indies, and it would be too hard a Fate to have it suffer Shipwreck in the Port. It flies to You for Protection from a sort of Monsters, afric never bred, nor the Indies are acquainted with; whom the Sea never produced, nor can show in its Depths and Abysses, viz. those Momes, whose strength lies not in their Teeth, but their Tongue; who kill not for Hunger, but Malice; and whose Words are like the poisoned Arrows of the Indians. It hath seen the greatest Rarities in the World, which it finds outdone in Yourself; and with an admiration, it never was touched with before, begs leave to adore those Perfections, which it is not in the power of Words to express. Which if Your Honour vouchsafe, it will be the greatest Credit and Security, that a Mortal Muse could ever deserve, or desire; and consequently an Eternal and Weighty Obligation to  
(My Lord) Your Honour's Most Humble and Obliged Servant THO. HEYRICK.   

A PINDARIQVE Ode.  

PART I  

STANZA I  
UPON a Promontory's Point,  
That stretched out far into the Sea;  
That of perpetual War had boar the dint,  
Of foaming Waves, and angry Surges sway:  
A Desolate and lonely Place,  
Where Seals securely played,  
And feathered Fowl their winged offspring laid;  
But unfrequented by all Human Race,  
I stood: By wild Meanders thither led,  
My wearied Feet had wandered with my Head,  
Lost in the Maze of thought:  
Steep headlong Cliffs my eager footsteps stayed,  
And I a Scene of Seas surveyed,  
Which mixed Fear and Pleasure brought:  
Whose beauteous Bosom smooth and fair,  
Did all the charms and flattery wear,  
With which she used to cheat the credulous Mariner;  
When Smiling she invited to betray.  
The Wanton waves did with the Sunbeams play:  
(If any Waves did there appear)  
The liquid Plains were folded up to rest.  
The wars of Nature seemed to sleep:  
Peace stretched her Downy feathers o'er the Deep,  
And the calm-brooding Halcyon built her Nest.   

TWO  
A Sail far off dressed in the height of pride  
Top and Top-Gallant did in triumph ride:  
The subject Waves did groan beneath the weight,  
Which soon should by the Change of Fate,  
(Such a Vicissitude of things is laid)  
Exalt themselves above her Lofty head.  
The careless Crew within in Mirth and Joy  
Their few short Moment's did employ,  
Nor e'er dreamed of their hastening Destiny.  
For lo! a sudden Storm did rend the Air:  
The sullen Heaven, curling in frowns its brow,  
Did dire presaging Omens show;  
Illboding Helena alone was there.  
The starting Sun denied his Light,  
Not willing to behold the sight;  
Nothing so merciless as Night!  
Mountainous Waves came crowding from afar,  
That threatened even to Heaven a War.  
The bonds of Nature seemed broke,  
And her foundations with the Tempest shook:  
As though the loose disjointed World  
Was to be once more in a Chaos hurled.  
The labouring Bark in vain doth strive  
In Cataracts of Seas to live:  
Her Mizen's gone, the Sailyard cracks,  
Her Rudder's lost, the Mainmast breaks:  
On the deaf Gods in vain they call,  
The Gods to their own Empire look,  
Are more with Fear than Pity struck,  
And the Tenth wave doth sink them all.  
Into the vast Abyss they fall—  
They and their Great Designs:  
The hopes of Merchandise and Gain,  
The Dear-bought price of Dangerous pain,  
Their Golden dreams of undiscovered Mines.   

III.  
Bless me! cried I, what dubious Fate  
On mortal Men doth wait.  
Blindly in deadly Paths we walk,  
The messengers of Death about us stalk;  
Unseen their Ambushments are laid,  
Arrest us, when there seems least cause of Dread.  
In other things alike; with anxious Pain  
We strive Discoveries to gain,  
Which mock our wearied Expectation.  
Skin-deep we only pierce, and what's behind  
Is unknown Regions, we can never find:  
The floating Islands show themselves and then they're gone.   

IV.  
How despicable is our State below;  
What fetters choke the soaring Mind:  
Little of Truth in all the Mass we find,  
That may Rewards on Painful years bestow.  
Dark Mists and Errors us surround,  
We walk upon Enchanted ground,  
Spectres and Phantôms fill the Round.  
Mormoes' dressed up in Antic shapes appear,  
And what we grasp but fills our Arms with Air.  
With wand'ring Eyes we Heaven behold,  
And see the starry Orbs from far,  
Perceive that they are rolled,  
But yet the hidden Wheels a Secret are.  
From what Materials they are bred;  
Their Distance and their Magnitude;  
And if they be inhabited,—  
Are secrets that our Minds elude.   

V.  
So we the surface of the Earth behold:  
Where Joy and Plenty hath her Bosom crowned,  
Where burning Sands do curse the Barren ground:  
Where with Prolific heat she smiles,  
And where she's fettered up with cold:  
Where Craggy rocks lift their aspiring head;  
Where she sinks down into a fruitful Mead,  
And with soft joy the Mind beguiles:  
Where Beauteous Nymphs with silver feet do tread:  
We see her Civil and her Antic dress,  
Where she's a Paradise, and where a Wilderness.   

VI  
But this our Knowledge and our Sight confines,  
What is below's a Secret made:  
Where Precious stones in hidden beds are laid;  
Where Quarries rise or River's wind,  
That under Mighty rocks their passage find;  
Or where's the Seat of undiscovered Mines.  
Where Princely Cities once did show their head,  
Now in their Ruins buried.  
Where Sacred Monuments of Kings were placed,  
The false Repositories of the dead,  
By Eating Time defaced.  
What is betwixt us and the Centre set,  
What are the Rocks, on which the Earth is raised;  
How they endure the Subterraneous heat,  
And keep in bounds the Central fire,  
By which at last the Fabric must expire.  
These all are Mysteries, which we can't undo;  
For when we would below the surface know,  
Our native Soil an unknown Land doth grow,   

VII.  
But who of Thee, false Element, can speak,  
Thou treacherous Sea! that smil'st to wrack?  
That dost new Faces every day put on,  
As Variable, as thy Guide, the Moon,  
What boundless Mind can fathom Thee,  
That by thy Changing shun'st Discovery?  
And why, Just Heaven, dost thou long Life bestow  
O'th' senseless Hart and stupid Crow;  
O'th' Serpent, that her Skin can cast,  
And th' Eagle, that doth many Ages last:  
To whom it nothing doth Import;  
That can't to Noble Speculations rise,  
Nor Nature's secrets view with sharp sagacious Eyes?  
Why should swift Change snatch man's short Thread away,  
That only can due Homage pay,  
The great Attendant on thy Court:  
And why should Art be long, and Life be short?  
Why should Amphibious Creatures see  
What doth to Man a Secret lie;  
Into the Depth of the Abyss go down,  
And in two Empires live, while Man's confined to one?   

VIII.  
May some kind Genius gratify  
My daring Curiosity,  
That would the Seas surprising Bottom see!  
The Wonders, Nature secret keeps  
In her vast Storehouse of the Deeps;  
The various Plants, that Deck the watery Plain;  
The Trees and Shrubs, that it adorn,  
And precious Products, that on them are born;  
The massy Heaps of Pearl and Golden Oar,  
The working Sea hath driven up in store;  
With all the scattered Riches of the Main:  
The numerous subjects of the Realm of Waves,  
The Fountains of the Deep and Substerranean Caves!   

IX.  
— Scarce had I spoke,  
When Neptune chanced my wish to hear,  
That's often Deaf to shipwrecked Wretches Prayer;  
And liked my bold Ambition well.—  
A sudden Numbness all my Members stroke:  
The cheerful Light, that welcome Comfort gives,  
And th' wearied Mind with Joy relieves,  
With an unpleasing force my Eyes did strike,  
And the Sun's heat I did dislike.  
Weary o'th' too-thin piercing Air,  
Another Element my thoughts Employs:  
The watery Plains I viewed with pleased Eyes.  
Fearless the noise of Storms I hear,  
The foaming Surges bring no cause of fear;  
And Hurricanes become familiar.  
I longed to visit Neptune's Court,  
And see the Tritons and the Sea-Nymphs sport.  
Mean while within a Change I found;  
Nature was working some new feat,  
And summoned all her Powers to meet,  
Armour of scales enclosed me round:  
My Hands and Legs did nimble Fins display,  
That could through yielding Water cut their way.  
And from the Cliff, whose Downfall stemmed the Eye,  
And made even starting Nature fly,  
Fearless I cast myself into the Sea.—  
A Dolphin now I sport and play i'th' Main,  
Do unto Man my Ancient Love retain:  
And Reason still and Curiosity remain.   

X.  
But o! what Language doth suffice to tell  
The Rapine and Oppression,  
The Armed Force and Violence,  
That in those liquid Regions dwell?  
Justice and Equity were flown,  
And Right and Property not known:  
No Laws to be the Poor's defence,  
No Tenderness to Innocence:  
The Lesle became the Greater's Prey,  
Only because they could not fight:  
And while these others swallow, They,  
And what they had devoured, became another's Right.  
No one by Might or Subtlety's secured;  
The Greater still commands the Lesser's fate;  
Now this devours, and now he is devoured:  
All on unruly Appetite doth wait.  
So cursed is an Anarchy  
So insupportable democracy.  
Insatiate Element! how well with Thee  
Do thy Inhabitants agree!  
Pity from both of you is banished,  
Justice from both of you is fled:  
And when you do devour,  
You both are hungry still and gape for more.   

XI.  
There was a Rock that overlooked the flood,  
That the Seas Terminating Pillar stood;  
By battering Waves in numerous Ages rend,  
Or Earthquake's fury, from the Continent:  
Whose Craggy Cliffs no other Race did bear,  
But Birds, the wild Inhabitants o'th' Air,  
That to the subject Sea for food repair:  
Under whose side— whether by Nature's skill  
By giddy Chance, or some Diviner will,  
Or teeth of Time, or restless Waves, that tear  
The hardest Rocks, and steeliest Mountains wear;  
And (did not heavenly Powers their fury stay)  
Even Nature's fixed Barrs would eat away,  
A Cave was formed— a Refuge for th' oppressed,  
Where injured Innocence secure might rest.  
'Tis said, when Giants with the Gods did fight,  
This sheltered frighted Neptune in his flight:  
Since which no armed Force may it invade,  
But 'tis for Wretches an Asylum made.   

XII.  
Hither I fled, affrighted at the Sight  
Of bleeding Justice and of injured Right,  
Oppressed by all-commanding unrelenting Might.  
Hither the Lovesick Tritons oft did come  
And to the Pitiless Rocks lament their doom:  
With Mournful strains their Sea-Nymphs pride rehearse  
To the regardless Rocks in polished verse;  
Whose tuneful Accents the rude Waves disperse.  
Here wanton Meremaids often would resort,  
And spend the Halcyon days in various sport:  
Invent new Arts to make them look more Fair,  
Comb and adorn their Green dis-shevelled Hair.  
And here be-nighted Neptune sometimes keeps his Court.   

XIII.  
Hence from my Safe Retreat,  
With Eyes, that trembled yet for Dread,  
I saw the Pearls lie in their Mother-Bed;  
From Heavenly Dew and Drops of Night,  
And from transparent Moisture bred:  
Enlivened by Sol's Genial Heat:  
How Drop by Drop the Films are made,  
Th' Attracted Moisture o'er them spread,  
Till they by New Accessions grown,  
Adorned with Dazzling Sparkling Light,  
Are fit to ' Enrich an Haughty Monarch's Crown.  
The useless, undisturbed Store,  
No Savage Hand had tore:  
No daring Negro from the Bottom bore.  
But th' o'rstocked Soil, pressed with the too Rich Load,  
Might send new Colonies abroad,  
And Furnish all the Neighbouring Sea.  
What boundless Riches in small space do lie;  
When each one might a Province buy,  
And Lavish Cleopatra feast and Anthony▪   

XIV.  
Here Marchasites and unripe Metals lie,  
From the next Promontory rend,  
By th' never sparing Sea:  
Useless as yet,  
The Precious Compounds want  
The Sun's engendering Heat;  
Which by kind Nature's Aid,  
And Hatching Time, will once Mature be made,  
And lie for Future Days a Blessed Discovery.  
The Artful Salts, the Chemist's use,  
That Wonders can produce:  
The Minerals, that have the Art  
New Shapes to Metals to impart,  
And Monstrous Changes cause  
In spite of Nature's fixed Laws:  
Th' Ingredients, that Compose  
(If such are unto Nature known)  
The Philosophic Stone,  
Which Thirsty Chemists (that so Dote on gain,  
They Broil in the Devouring Fire in vain;  
While all their Hopes in Empty Smoke do fly)  
At any Value would obtain,  
Would at an Eastern Kingdom's Purchase buy.—   

XV.  
There lies a Broken Anchor, on whose Trust  
The Lives of all the Nautick Crew were Weighed;  
That scarcely bore the first impetuous Gust,  
But Them to Rocks and Gaping Sands betrayed,  
Or to the dreaded Strand:  
There Heaps of Bodies under Hills of Sand,  
(The Mummies of the Sea)  
That at the Resurrection-Day  
Need take no Pains to make their Members hit,  
Their Scattered Parts again to Knit;  
But once informed with Heat and Active Fire,  
Their Bodies will be found Entire,  
And in one Moment be for Rising fit.  
Here Guns and Swords and Instruments of War,  
That Death do give near hand, or from afar,  
With those, they slew, One Fortune ran:  
Peaceably now they lie and would do so,  
They of themselves no Mischief do,  
Nor would, without the Cruel Hand of Man.   

XVI.  
There Two, that struggling Sank into the Deep,  
With Deadly Hate grasping Each Other fast,  
E'en Dead their Hostile Postures keep;  
The Enmity yet seems to last:  
The senseless Bones Each Other hold,  
Not Death th' unkind Embraces could unfold:  
But when the Raging Tempests blow,  
And Tides move all the Deep below;  
The Clashing Bones yet seem to Jar,  
And keep up a Perpetual War.—  
Another lies hard by,  
That o'●board fell with a far-stretch'd-out Blow,  
Aimed at his Eager Foe,  
And i'th' same Posture fell, i'th' same doth lie.  
His Threatening Arm his Deadly Sword doth wield,  
Menacing Death i'th' watery Field;  
And to Express His Rankered Hate within,  
Dead He retains a Ghastly Grin.   

XVII.  
There Two in soft Embraces sleep;  
Death can't unclasp their folded Arms:  
Love is a God above His reach,  
Above His Injuries and Harms,  
And even can Destiny Obedience teach:  
They yet Love's Pleasures seem to reap,  
Spite of Death's Adamantine Chain:  
In spite of the great Change of Fate,  
And all the Movings o'th' the unsettled Main,  
A surly Billow bore Her into th' Sea,—  
Th' inflamed Lover could not stay behind,  
But bid Defiance to the Wind,  
And to th' Insulting Ocean's sway:  
He leaped into the Flood and caught  
The Fatal Treasure in His Arms;  
Sunk with the Precious Weight,  
Nor could refuse to die with that Dear Load of Charms.  
'Twas not a Death but Ecstasy!—  
A tender Passion made Him grasp Her fast,  
And He in Hopes of Safety was by Her embraced.  
Venus Herself did the kind Lovers see,  
(Venus herself sprang from the Sea;)  
And by Consent of all the Powers above,  
Fixed it down a firm Decree;  
That from all Change and Injury free,  
They should remain the Monuments of Love.  
Their Bodies here below do Join,  
Their Circling Limbs in Love-knots twine:  
And i'th' Elyzian Shades (if we  
May credit what's in other Regions done)  
Their once-two Souls are now but One.—   

XVIII.  
There an Indulgent Mother lies,  
Embracing yet Her tender Child:  
With anxious thoughts She her fair Bosom filled,  
For Her dear Infant's Safety not Her own.  
Minding more its Piercing Cries,  
That did to Her the Storms and Tempests drown;  
Than the Ship's confused Noise.  
When Prudence bade Her Safety seek,  
And every Soul did at the Danger schreek;  
She was singing Lullabies.  
Her Head seems toward Her Child inclined,  
Her Arms in tender Wreaths about it twined:  
Upon its Cheeks Her Lips do rest,  
And th' Infant yet doth seem to suck Her breast.   

XIX.  
To Friendship's Laws a Sacrifice,  
In State a Gallant Hero lies,  
And in His Death Himself doth seem to Pride.  
When His Friend's Lift-up Hands did help implore,  
When Gods were deaf unto a Wretch's Prayer,  
And Tempests roared so loud, they could not hear:  
The side, which Heaven forsook,  
With Generous Pride He took:  
He Jumped into the Foaming Tide,  
And Him even from the Jaws of Ruin tore.  
But Fate, that envied Him his Praise,  
Put a Period to His Days;  
Lest He should stop the Destiny's power.  
Tired with the saving of His Friend;  
(So hard 'tis Struggling with our Fate)  
The angry Sea th' Occasion caught;  
Commanded Tempests to attend,  
And got a Worthless Victory  
O'er One, that was half-dead before,  
And yet o'er One, that cannot die,  
But in the Bosom of his Friend Survives;  
And in the Book of Fame for ever Lives;  
One step alone on this side Immortality.   

XX.  
Here a Ship's Hulk, that many Storms had boar,  
Visited many a Distant Shore,  
Enriched with Eastern and with Western Store.  
Now sunk grows Richer, than it was before.  
Oysters, that Pearls breed in their Fruitful Womb,  
Do in her empty Cabins lie:  
Mountains of Golden Sand do for Her Ballast come,  
And Amber-grease doth all the Hold employ.  
Nothing to ' enrich a Kingdom doth remain,  
But once to make Her Tied and Fit to Sail again.   

XXI.  
There One, just sinking in a Storm, yet stayed  
To take with Him his God,  
O'rwhelmed with the Precious Load,  
A Quick-untimely Passage to the Bottom made.  
In's Arms the Fatal Chest He yet doth hold,  
Embraces, what his Ruin was, his Gold.  
And what far more than Life was prized above,  
Retains below unalterable Love.  
Here Shattered Limbs and Scattered Treasures lie,  
And never nearer come:  
The Greedy Hand, that all did clasp,  
Insatiably for more did roam,  
Now senseless don't at Gold and Jewels grasp,  
Which in his reach do lie,  
Death numbs the Covetous Hand and blinds the Greedy Eye.   

XXII.  
See there an once-Insatiate Head,  
Ambitious, Covetous and Vain,  
Whom never Bounds or Limits could contain!  
Pearls stick his hollow Eye-holes full,  
And Gold crams up his empty Skull.  
And what alive He needs could gain  
By Fraud, by Prayers, or by Command,  
He Purchases when Dead:  
Even Rings (by th' working of the Sea)  
Which the last Wrack became the Ocean's Prey,  
Are Shuffled Artfully upon his hands:  
That if his Covetous Soul could see  
The State, in which He Dead doth lie,  
She'd chooseed before a Life of Immortality.   

XXIII.  
There One, new-dead, becomes the Fish's prey,  
And justling Crowds his Members gnaw;  
His mangled Limbs around do draw.  
Haddocks and Cod's make Him their meat;  
Lobsters and Crabs his Entrails eat,  
And in his hollow Trunk their Eggs do lay.  
And these by the next Fisher took,  
By pleasing Bait and deadly Hook,  
Become to Men luxurious food.  
Men do Mankind in Fishes eat, and they  
On Men revenge their near Relations blood.  
A Mixture in our Nature is,  
And the next step's a Metempsychosis.   

XXIV.  
There One, by Chance, or by kind Fate,  
Entombed lay in so much state,  
As might the Envy of the World create.  
He was stretched out upon a Pearly Bed,  
On sparkling Heaps of Gold his Head,  
Branches of Coral round his Temples twinned,  
And like an artful shroud his Limbs enshrind:  
The Fyllegrin Case showed all within,  
And Studs of Pearls did at due distance shine.  
No Mortal sure was ever laid  
In so Magnificent, so rich a Room:  
' 'Twas worth the Dying to have such a Tomb.—  
A thousand Wonders more I did surveyed;  
Round unregarded Heaps of Treasure lay  
To every bold Adventurer a Prey;  
But Fear still kept me in.—  
From far the precious Mountains shine,  
And every daring Soul invite:  
And o! thought I, might I be Guide  
To English Ships, that there might fraught,  
I could do more than PHIPPS and all his Divers did.   

XXV.  
By chance it was a solemn Day  
Neptune made a Processive Round;  
Road in's Triumphal Chariot o'er the Sea  
With Pride of all the Ocean's Beauties crowned.  
'Twas in remembrance of the Time,  
When he o'reburthened with the weight,  
The Cares and Stings of his Imperial State,  
When Hostile Robbers did his Realm infest,  
Ravaged all the Watery Clime,  
Broke up his Treasures in the West;  
The richest Part of his Dominion,  
That had to former Ages lain unknown;  
When he in his own Court a Prisoner kept,  
Durst not stir out for fear of Hostile Force:  
But underneath th' Atlantic Island crept,  
And in the hollow Ruins of her ancient Castles slept.   

XXVI.  
In such Distress the watery God  
Privately left his dark Abode;  
And under favour of the Night,  
To Great ELIZA's Court did take his flight.  
ELIZA, Brittain's thrice-Renowned Queen;  
ELIZA, the Illustrious Heroine;  
That Martial Spirit Patronised his Cause,  
And did assert his Injured Right.  
Her tall Victorious Ships the Seas did scour,  
Restored them to their Ancient Laws,  
And Him unto his Native Power.  
Great Soul! it was thy lucky Fate  
The Sea and Land to vindicate:  
Men to their Freedom to restore,  
And Deities unto their Violated Power.  
" To oblige Kings and Realms is Great,  
" What then to put a God into thy Debt?   

XXVII.  
The Grateful God the Favour owned,  
And that the Gift he might repay,  
I'th' Sovereignty o'th' Sea  
Her and Her Successors enthroned:  
And Yearly kept a Feast upon the happy Day.  
The Noble Train near my Asylum drew:  
Neptune th' Auspicious Place would see,  
That once from dreaded Danger set him free.  
My Transformation and my Fear he knew.  
And, lifting up his awful Trident High,  
He smote the Face o'th' liquid Deep;  
And charged all the watery Fry;  
That they should safely me from force and Rapine keep.   

XXVIII.  
Neptune fate in his Chariot High  
Drawn by Six Hippopotami;  
Streamers of English Arms i'th' wanton Air did fly.  
A Seagreen Robe was o'er his Shoulders spread,  
Enriched with all th' unvaluable Store,  
That Seas do breed or Storms devour:  
And on his Head  
A Crown of Rays from Phoebus sent  
Or as Acknowledgement, or Rent;  
For Revelling each Night i'th' Deep,  
For's hours of Pastime or of Sleep.  
On tuneful Shells the Tritons played,  
The Winds and Storms to sleep were laid,  
And a profound Peace o'er the Deep was spread.  
Mermaids in melting strains their Voices tried,  
And Sea-Nymphs in soft Airs replied;  
That even rude Rocks & surly Seas took in the Music pride.   

XXIX.  
Mountainous Whales before the Court were sent,  
That moved all Lets out of the way;  
And, where the Road through Creeks or Inlets lay,  
Shuffled up Isles into a Continent.  
The Monstrous Norway-Whale was one  
That covered many Acres of the Sea;  
That oft had for an Island gone,  
Oft did the credulous Mariners betray,  
Who moared their Ankers on his side,  
And did beneath his Shelter ride.  
Seas they drink down, and vomit up again;  
And when they please do make an Ebb or Tide;  
Now 'tis Dry Land and now the Main.  
Th' Aërial Being's (in a Fright)  
That never since the Inundation  
Such Cataracts of Seas had known,  
Farther retired toward the Orbs of Light;  
And feared the Loss of their Dominion.  
The troubled Sea around them boils,  
The Continent startles, and the Isles  
For Fear shrink in their trembling Head;  
And Earthquakes, as they turn their Course, are made.   

XXX.  
Near these their Place did take  
Sea-Elephants that on the Rocks do sleep,  
That overlook the Deep;  
Hang by the Teeth secure, nor wake,  
Till treacherous Nets are set around,  
Till they're with Cords and Fetters bound,  
Nor can one Struggle for their Freedom make.  
The Sea-Mors, that's killed for his sovereign Horn,  
And thought by some the only Unicorn.  
The Swordfish and the Thrasher, that engage  
The Monster of the Sea;  
And bloody Battles with the Whale do wage.  
The Tortoises, that Barren Islands court,  
From far to Fruitless Sands resort,  
And under them their Eggs do lay:  
The Dolphin, that in Music doth delight,  
And all surpasses in a speedy Flight:  
Porpoises, that make Storms their sport,  
And only before Dangerous Tempests play:  
The Crocodile, for Power and Cunning famed,  
Nor for his Cruelty lesle Named:  
That Eats, and Weeps; that He may Eat again.  
The Shark, an Enemy to Man,  
That craftily about the Ships doth stay,  
And never Spares his Prey:  
Seales, that in hollow Caves delight,  
And eat Man's Dangerous Sight,  
On Barren Rocks and Isles are bred,  
Where foot of Man did never tread.  
The Remora, the Wonder of the Sea,  
That Ships even under fail can stay:  
Small in his Bulk, but hoisting round their Keels,  
No Waves or Tides the Captive force away:  
Whom Neptune did forbid to touch his Chariot-wheels.   

XXXI.  
Nor lesle those Swimmers added to the State,  
That Earthly Creatures personate:  
The Lion, Bear, and Bull o'th' Sea;  
The Horse and Hog, that do i'th' Ocean play:  
The long-billed Fish, to Birds of kin,  
And that, which flies with Moistened Fin.  
The Meremaid, that doth Virgin Looks acquire,  
The Veiled Nun and Cowled Friar;  
Besides a Thousand Kind's, that have no Name,  
That never to our Sight, or Knowledge came:  
All, that their Castles on their Backs do bear,  
All, that Offensive Weapons wear;  
And all the Innocent Fry, that still to Death are near:  
All, that Luxurious Palates please,  
The Lustful Dainties of the Seas;  
All, that Apicius Table fit,  
Or Heliogabalus with Joy would meet;  
In Decent Order and with Comely State  
Did on the Ceremony wait,  
Nor did the Useful Herring fail,  
Whose Numerous Shoals ('tis said) can choke the Whale.   

XXXII.  
Thrice Neptune and his Court  
With Mystic Rites and Songs of Joy  
(While Milk-white Omens all around did fly)  
Encompassed the British Isle,  
And every River blessed and every Port:  
The British Isle! the best Beloved Seat  
Of all the Offspring of the Seas;  
Whom He with Circling Arms doth ever greet.  
And bad blessed Plenty, Victory, and Ease  
Upon her Charming Bosom smile:  
Bade every Stream and every Rill  
Plenty and Fruitfulness instill;  
From Thames, that washes Stately Palaces,  
Medway that Proud Victorious Navies sees,  
To those that visit Humble Cottages.  
Till all the whole Worlds Scattered good,  
All, that's Esteemed by th' Generous and Great,  
Do in Her Lovely Bosom make abode,  
And there fix down their Glorious Shining Seat.  
Till England be the World's Epitome:  
And envied Britanny  
The Lesser World, but yet the Happier, be.    

A PINDARIQVE Ode.  
PART. II.  

STANZA. I.  
THERE was an Isle, Fame sings,  
To ' Antiquity well known,  
Whose Powerful Kings  
O'er afric did extend their wide Dominion:  
Th' Atlantic Island named.——  
West o'th' Herculean Straits the Happy Soil was spread,  
With Arts and Arms Embellished,  
With Peace and Justice Crowned:  
Till (many Ages long-since past)  
Either that undermining Waves had tore  
The unsecure Foundation;  
Or Struggling Nature with the Burden groaned,  
And Sunk beneath the Weight She bore;  
Or Nature's God, for Crimes to Us unknown,  
A Dreadful Vengeance took,  
And by an Earthquake's Power,  
I'th' starting and affrighted Sea did sink Her down;  
Earthquakes, that have the World's Foundation shook:  
Have lowly Valleys into Mountains raised;  
The Proudest Cities have debased,  
And Towering Hills to Vales depressed;  
Old Isles overwhelmed, and in their stead,  
Made new Ones show their unknown head:  
Heaven's unrelenting, all-devouring, Rod  
The Dreadful Messenger of Angry God.   

II.  
The Earth's Third Part sunk in one Moment down.—  
The Guardian Angles were with Wonder struck;  
Th' Infernal Shades th' Alarm took;  
And th' other Parts o'th' World without an Earthquake  
Even jove and Pluto, Jealous grown,  
Envied their Brother's late enlarged Dominion.  
And all that Western Spacious Coast,  
Which We America do stile,  
Which was or many Ages lost  
In dark Oblivion,  
Beyond that Dangerous Ocean spread,  
E'er Great Columbus his Discovery made;  
Proved but some small remains of that most Potent Isle.   

III.  
Hither Great Neptune's Course did lead  
To th' Palace o'th' Atlantian Kings:  
Which doth the wildest thoughts exceed,  
Castalian Fury e'er did breed,  
Which Bacchanals or Dithyrambiques sings:  
Outdoes those Notions, fill the Poet's head,  
When Pegasus expands his Wings:  
More Rich, more Stately, and more Bright,  
Than all, that heated Rage can write;  
All, that Flattery can indite:  
All, that Inventive Greece did once bestow,  
On Gods above, or on their Kings below:  
The Fabric did more Excellencies show,  
Than e'er from Poet's Fancy were instilled;  
" Tho' they can Richest, Quickest, and the Cheapest build.   

IV.  
Here in a Spacious Hall,  
A Faithful Register was kept of all  
The memorable Conquests of the Sea:  
E'er since the Universal Flood, when She  
Her Empire over all had hurled,  
And Neptune ruled the World.  
What her old Limits were before;  
Where She unchanged doth keep  
The Bounds of Lands and of the Deep.  
Where th' Ocean doth usurp upon the shore;  
And where the Land possesses, what She had.  
Where Hills were by the Deluge made.  
Where Continents broke, and Isles were spread.  
And where, what once was Sea, now Land appears:  
Charts of the Land and Sea, as once it stood,  
Before the Changes of the Sweeping Flood;  
And as it now is Seen to later Years.   

V.  
The Voyage of the Heaven-contrived Ark,  
Which Providence did safely Steer;  
While She, th' whole Species did of Mankind bear:  
The first frail Bark,  
In which Men durst attempt to trust the Sea!  
The Minutes kept, how every Day  
Her Sacred Course through th' Ocean lay:  
When She to East or West did Steer,  
When She to North or South did bear:  
When She o'er Europe sailed, or Asia;  
And how Mount Ararat at last Her Course did stay.   

VI  
The certain time, when by Impetuous Rage,  
The Great Atlantian State sank down;  
And did the Sea-Gods Temples Crown;  
Six Centuries before great Plato's Age:  
When Sicily from Calabria was rend,  
And when beloved Britain from the Continent.  
When Goodwin Sands  
Was once a Powerful Prince's Lands.  
When AEgypt's Fruitful Soil  
Was ravished from the Sea by Mud and Filth or Nile.  
When th' Ocean shall new Conquests make,  
When, what did once belong to Her, retake.  
When Holland must Her Debts repay,  
And count for all Her Provinces stole from the Sea.  
He that would Curious be,  
And know of future Times the Destiny,  
He need but Visit that Great Court and see.   

VII.  
There in another Column stood,  
The Great Commanders of the Flood:  
Those that have uncontrolled swept the Seas,  
And Triumphed o'er the Watery Provinces.  
When the Sea Infant-Burthens bore,  
And Men sailed Safe in sight of shore,  
Nor trusted to the Wind but to the Oar.  
When Daring Men by Custom Bolder made,  
But by Experience more,  
With heavy Fleets the Ocean did invade.  
When bold Phoenicia could not stay at home,  
But did for Gain to distant Regions roam:  
Did Rich Atlantis rape,  
Nor could our CASSITERIDES Escape.  
When Purple Tyre sat Mistress of the Sea:  
When Carthage raised her Emulous Head,  
And o'er Imperial Rome prevailed;  
When her Bold Fleets the Ocean's Bosom spread,  
And Hanno first of all round afric failed:  
When Greece from them the Secret got,  
And Alexander, that both Empires sought,  
Sailed by Nearchus unto India.  
When Rome to her own Coast confined  
Dared not to trust the faithless Wind:  
Till from some Ships wrecked on the Shore  
She learned the Dangerous trade;  
And grew so ' expert her Neighbours to invade:  
And made th' unquiet World the fatal Skill deplore.   

VIII.  
When with the Roman Empire Arts too died;  
And Barbarous Rage took in the Downfall pride.  
When Fear and dire Necessity  
Compelled the frighted Troops, that fled,  
Inhospitable Cliffs to choose,  
Secure from Reach of Barbarous Foes:  
Whence Venice raised her glorious Head;  
Venice, the Jewel of the Sea;  
With silver Feet that on the Waves doth tread,  
But her high Temples among Stars doth lay.  
When the great Secret of the Loadstone found  
For bold Discoveries gave a ground:  
That doth through pitchy Night and Darkness guide,  
Miraculously finds the unseen Way,  
When there's no Marks nor Tracts left in the liquid Sea,  
Even when the Polestar's hid.   

IX.  
When English Ships with gallant Pride  
Did o'er the subject Sea in Triumph ride.  
And all the Men, that Former times did grace,  
The Heroes of Immortal Race,  
All, whose brave Souls with Valour were inflamed,  
All, that for Arts or Arms were named,  
For Victories on Land or Sea were famed;  
Seemed by a Metempsychosis  
In Englishmen again to rise.  
When all, that Ancient Greece dared do,  
Or Tyre or Carthage skill could know,  
Or Rome's exalted Minds could show;  
Or later Venice, that Espoused the Sea,  
Are all comprised in Our one Britain.   

X.  
Around hung the surprising Sights  
Of all the Memorable Fights,  
That ever died with Gore the frighted Main:  
Where Art with Nature for the Empire strove;  
The Ships yet seemed to move,  
The Men to live,  
Their Former Rage and Vigour to retain:  
Their swollen Limbs did bold Defiance breathe  
And gave a Life to Death:  
Their blood shot Eyes yet darted Fire,  
And their stretched Veins did show their inward Ire.  
The Draughts of Wars in Ages long-since gone  
Lapped up in dark Oblivion;  
To which no tracts nor Footsteps lead  
But even the very Fame is dead:  
In lively portraitures are shown,  
In Postures and in Garbs are drawn,  
To Us and all the World unknown.  
There Maps of Realms, whereof we ne'er did hear,  
That lie Rewards for future Industry;  
Whose very Names yet never reached our Ear,  
But to succeeding Times shall be familiar.  
That might we thence Great Neptune's Records bear,  
And all the Secrets of his Court declare,  
How welcome to the Inquisitive World would such an History be!   

XI.  
The Memorable Time was set  
When Xerxes did the Ocean beaten,  
And fettered up the Hellespont:  
Which unrevenged long bore not th' Affront.  
When He, his Numerous Army by an Handful torn,  
His Bridge of Boats by Tempests overborne,  
In a poor Schiff was forced to pass that Sea,  
Which he once bragged, He'd taught to obey  
The former Feats of ancient Greece,  
Ever since jason won the Golden Fleece.  
What they have told in Vanity and Pride,  
What they've forgot and what they've magnified;  
Where they've told Truth, and where they've lied.   

XII.  
The Struggle, Carthage made, to try,  
When just expiring, for her Liberty:  
When yielding to inevitable Fate  
She sunk unwillingly beneath the weight:  
When all her Beauteous Ladies deigned to spare,  
To make new Cordage for her Ships, their Hair.  
Nor was forgot.  
The bloody Battle, that was fought,  
When Carthage lofty Head was low,  
With Hannibal Rome's Mortal Foe,  
That Barreled Vipers into Roman Ships did throw.   

XIII.  
There was described at large  
The great Deciding Fight,  
That to the Empire of the World did give the Victor Right,  
There Cleopatra's Gilded Barge  
With curious Workmanship did shine,  
And promised something Great within.  
With base ignoble Fear she fled;  
The gallant Warrior turned his Head,  
His Head and Heart with Her was led.  
With her loose Charms betrayed  
He could not stay behind,  
Weak and Effeminate as Womankind;  
He could not want her Look,  
His mighty Heart in pieces broke:  
Honour and Fame forgot,  
The Empire of the World esteemed at naught,  
He turned his Sails and said;  
" In Empire I have had my share,  
" Gallant my Acts have been in War,  
" And I in Love as nobly dare.  
" I can't thy Presence, Cleopatra, loose,  
" The World for Thee I'll give:  
" And rather now to be thy Captive choose  
" Than the World's Emperor live.  
So He with Love, not Fear o'ercome,  
" Followed his Heart and left to Caesar Rome.   

XIV.  
There Pompey's Gallant Sons were shown  
Crowned with Honour and Renown.  
The Noblest Spirits, Rome e'er bore,  
Who influenced with Generous Rage  
Both for a violated Country's Good,  
And for a Murdered Father's Blood,  
Did against Caesar and the World engage;  
And first did learn the Ocean to command the Shore.  
Nor was through all the Ages down  
A memorable Action passed,  
When Rome retained her old Renown,  
Or when with Barbarous Rage her Glory was defaced;  
Till Famed Lepanto's happy Fight,  
That did the Sea of Turkish Force acquit.   

XV.  
There was the 
* Battle 〈◊〉 Scluce nea● Flanders. A. D. 1340.  Famous Sea-Fight shown,  
Which unto Scluce did give so vast Renown,  
Scluce, in the Books of Fame well-known!  
Nor Greece from Salamis did bear  
A Richer Prize, than Albion purchased there:  
When our Third EDWARD and his Godlike Son,  
The Admired BLACK-PRINCE, did raise the English Name,  
And proud Valois his Mighty Fleet o'ercome,  
Asserting o'er the Seas their high Dominion.  
The Feathered Messengers of Fate  
Flew thick, as storms of Hail, from English Bows:  
Nor could the French endure their stinging Weight,  
But rather desparately Chose  
Their gaping Wounds in the salt Floods to close.  
Then thrice-ten thousand French their Lives resigned,  
Staining the British Seas with hostile Gore;  
Their fainting Lilies now grew sick and pined;  
While Neptune trembled at our Angry Lion's Roar.   

XVI.  
But above all with greatest Care,  
(For lesser Fights are lost,  
As smaller Sounds are by the Great engrossed)  
The Wonder and the Scorn o'th' Sea,  
That even frighted the submissive Eye,  
The Great Armada, swelled with Spanish Pride,  
That came to take Possession, not to War,  
Was in most costly Colours drawn,  
Did in Triumphant Manner ride,  
Already sure of Victory;  
Had England in vain Hopes already swallowed down.  
Till English Valour through the empty shadows broke  
The Pompous Fleet in pieces shook;  
Th' unwieldy Carracks got new wings to fly.  
The Burdens of the Sea  
Did Burdens now unto themselves become;  
And wished, they could shrink into lesser Room.  
Their Fetters and their Chains were took,  
And even their Instruments of Cruelty  
Did to their Owners dreadful look;  
And told what was their Doom:  
Through all the Northern World they fled;  
Each Promontory did their Treasure share;  
Each barren Soil enriched by the War:  
Beyond the Farthest Thule trembling and aghast,  
They by their Valiant Foes were chased:  
And Famine, Cold and Ignominy past,  
The poor Remains reeled shattered and despised Home at last.   

XVII.  
Nor did the skilful Art omit  
The Acts in various Ages done,  
That even did Fame affright;  
Which no bold Language could recite,  
Nor could by Pencil's skill be drawn.  
All Species of Ships were there,  
Those, that first cut the Waves with Fear;  
And near the Shore did creep:  
Those, that with Oars did lash the Deep;  
Those, whose wide Sails the Waves did sweep:  
From the tall Flagg-ship, Pride of all the Main,  
To the Canoe o'th' Sunburnt Indian.   

XVIII.  
And, as a sign of Confidence, was showed  
The Secret Book,  
In which no one but Favourites may look,  
Nor even are those allowed;  
Till Sanctions bid them Secrets keep  
Nor e'er reveal the Mysteries o'th' Deep.  
There were large Charts o'th' Southern unknown Land,  
How the Coast trends to East and West.  
In what Degrees of Longitude 'tis laid,  
How far to th' Southern Pole 'tis spread.  
The Capes and Promontories were expressed,  
Where a Safe Port, and where a Dangerous Strand;  
Where Ships secure may ride, and where lies hid a Sand.  
The Depth of Rivers and of Shores were took,  
Not even a Creek, but was marked down:  
The Traffic, Strength, and Riches of each Town.  
That on the Neighbouring Sea doth look.  
Their Customs both in Peace and War,  
What Merchandise the Land doth bear:  
What they do want, and what they spare.  
The Trade-winds, that do thither blow,  
The Roads, that thither lead.  
And Isles, that are i'th' Passage spread:  
That He, who the least Skill doth know,  
May thither without help o'th' Compass go.   

XIX.  
There, what hath puzzled Curious Brains,  
But ne▪ r Rewarded for the Cost or Pains,  
Are Maps, that do display  
The Northern Passage to Cathay.  
Where the Straight opens, and where lie  
The Sea-marks for Discovery;  
How to escape broken Lands, that there arise,  
And how too ' avoid the Shoales of Ice:  
Where the Coast Southward bends,  
And where the Scythic Promontory ends.  
Th' extent of BACON'S Polar Land,  
Charts of the Dolefull Strand;  
The Icy Mountains, that affright:  
How the Inhabitants the rigid cold do bear,  
And misty Damps of the condensed Air,  
How they endure an half-year Night.  
Besides the Virgin Soils, that never yet  
Did Conquest or Discovery admit;  
That in his secret Catalogue are writ.   

XX.  
Nor were the Secrets of his Empire hid,  
Where the famed Rivers (Paradice's Pride)  
Whose Names and Situation  
With endless Contests have men's Brains employed,  
Yet in their wanted Channels run;  
And like Seth's Pillars have survived the Flood.  
Where Isles, that have from the Creation stood,  
By restless Waves are undermined,  
And with next Earthquake will a Ruin find,  
Where Infant growing Isles do swell,  
And will in future Times their Heads reveal.  
Where old Phaenician Wracks have slept,  
Treasures from former Ages kept:  
Stores, that would be  
Prized for their Worth and more for their Antiquity.  
Who shall in future Ages rule the Sea,  
And Acts of Ancient Times outdo.  
The Fortune and the Fate of Brittany,  
When the Espoused Sea shall Venice leave,  
And Her of all Her pristin Fame bereave;  
A certain Symptom of approaching Woe.  
And what hath unto Ages lain unknown,  
There is an Art the Longitude to find.  
And, what done't lesle Distracted the Curious Mind,  
The Reason of the Needle's Variation.   

XXI.  
There one might know  
The Fate of every One, that unto Sea doth go:  
What Prosperous Winds shall Him attend,  
What Lucky Adventures Him befriend,  
Or if unruly Storms his Shattered Bark shall rend.  
Where controverted Ophir lies,  
Whence Solomon had his Rich Supplies.  
Where th' floating Isle, the Proteus of the Sea,  
Obeys Great Neptune's Law,  
And doth a fixed Mansion get.  
Where Polar Loadstone Isles are set,  
(If any such there be)  
That the touched Needle draw.  
Where working Seas shall Harbours fill,  
And Towns of Trade  
Shall shrink to Villages from their Exalted State;  
And in their stead  
Some Despicable Place grow Great.   

XXII.  
This Palace once th' Atlantian Kings did own,  
In its own Structure Beauteous 'twas an Great:  
But all its former Glories are outdone,  
By Juices which do lie to us unknown;  
Such as do Gems and Precious Stones beget:  
And by the Plastic Power which Nature secret keeps,  
But in dark Mines reveals, and i'th' unfathomed Deeps;  
By these her Structures all are turned to Adamant,  
And neither Darling Beauty nor unyielding Hardness want.  
Unviolated Temples stand,  
That don't beneath Time's burden groan:  
Neither by Tides nor Storms bore down,  
Nor Injured by rolling Sand.  
Branches of winding Coral crawl  
Upon the Sacred Wall,  
Like clasping Ivy round embraced:  
Which never Sacrilegious Hand  
Or Savage Force defaced.  
Th' Altars within their Privileges retain,  
Do Sanctuaries yet remain:  
Thither the helpless Fry  
Pursued by Violence do fly,  
And from th' Asylum all their Foes defy.  
They to the Helpless yet do lend their Aid,  
Nor may Armed Force the Sacred Seats invade.   

XXIII.  
Within and round are shown  
The Tombs of the Atlantian Kings;  
Which of themselves are Stately things,  
But by accession of Sea-Treasure Nobler grown.  
Each common Stone  
A jaspis or an Hyacinth doth grow:  
Mother of Pearl the common roads doth strew,  
And even Plebeian Tombs do Saphires show.  
And He, who last did in Atlantis Reign,  
That to futurity he might remain,  
Beyond the common doom,  
Which swallows up the Worthless Crowd,  
Neptune on Him his Greatest Gem bestowed,  
A Gem so Great, it served Him for a Tomb.  
There Queens in Crystal Monuments were set,  
That showed the Beauty lay within:  
Who from themselves much Fame did get;  
But from what th' Ocean lent did seem Divine.  
Some did in Tombs of Amber live,  
And nothing to a Life did want, but Breath:  
A Grave more Precious and more Fair,  
Than all Arabia's Gums could give:  
Than Egypt for Her Monarches did prepare,  
Or Artemisia did to Her Dear Lord bequeath.   

XXIV.  
The Princely Gardens kept their Beauteous Store;  
With Powdered Pearls the Walks were spread,  
Nor is upon Earth's Bosom bred  
A Beauteous Flower,  
But by kind Nature's Artful power  
The same of Precious Jewels there was made,  
Which no Time ever can devour.  
Close Arbours and aspiring Groves,  
That were entrusted oft with secret Loves,  
By Petrifying Juice are turned to Stone:  
And the same Order and Proportion  
They yet unchanged own.  
Designed Wracks the Treasuries do store  
With rarities of every distant shore:  
The Noted Ports yet Ships do show,  
Whom Tempests overbore;  
And ordered so  
That they into the very Harbours fell:  
And Bloody Sea-fights do the useless Armouries swell.   

XXV.  
A Band of Triton's upon Neptune wait,  
And Guard his Palace Gate,  
And yet keep up the old Atlantian State.  
The Castles and the Towns remain,  
The Cities yet their Privileges retain:  
Triton's do in the Nobles Houses stay,  
And Sea-Nymphs in the Groves and Meadows play.  
On Earth Vicissitude of Things  
Rules o'er the Peasant's Spade and Crowns of Kings.  
City's are not exempt from Fate,  
But, as they had their Birth, shall have their Date.  
Their Names and Situation soon are lost;  
And She, whose lofty Head stood high,  
In the next Age in lowly Dust shall lie,  
And even her very Ruins be forgot.  
But here Atlantis doth a Conquest boast,  
Which i'th' uncertain Sea  
Hath from all Change Exemption got,  
And's placed beyond the Reach of Destiny.    

A PINDARIQVE Ode.  
PART III.  

STANZA I  
HEnce Curiosity me led  
To view the Neighbouring Sea:  
Where 'tis with Green Sargossa spread,  
And imitates a Flowery Mead;  
Doth the unwearied Eye to rove invite,  
And every where gives Prospects of Delight:  
Under whose Shade the harmless Fry,  
No Fear nor Danger nigh,  
Their Innocent Revels keep,  
And deck with sparkling Pearly scales the Deep.  
Where Tortoises from far resort,  
Journey again unto their well-known Port;  
Do with unwearied Feet repair  
Unto the Place, where they were bred,  
Or where before their Eggs they laid;  
And without Guide, but Nature being their Friend,  
Through devious ways are without Polestar led:  
And upon barren Desolate Isles,  
They stupidly unto the Care  
Of Hatching Sands their shelly Brood commend,  
Or to the Sun's auspicious Smiles.   

II.  
Where Artful Crabs, by Nature taught,  
Their Food of Oysters and of Muscles make:  
Whose Armoury of Shells so well is wrought,  
Their furious Gripes can't the Contexture break.  
But when to take in pearly Dew they ope,  
The watchful Crabb doth the Occasion steal,  
With little Stones the gaping Shells doth fill;  
That those on whom rude For●e could naught avail,  
By Policy are caught.  
Where the poor Fish, to all a Prey,  
On whom kind Nature hath bestowed  
An Art to raise himself above the Flood,  
Doth his useless Skill essay.  
By Albicores and Dolphins be pursued  
With moistened Fin knows how to fly,  
But can't avoid his steady Destiny.  
Seafowl his Course prevent,  
Seize on the helpless Prey:  
And he, that durst not trust the Sea,  
Dies●n a Foreign Element.  
A sad Dilemma, when to stay or fly,  
Death equally is nigh:  
Death that doth to all Seats repair.  
That neither Land nor Sea doth spare,  
Nor the swift Flights of those, that cut the Air.   

III.  
Nor did I miss the Plain,  
Where the Seas Terror, the Leviathan,  
In his extended Pride doth reign.  
Whose Subjects do at awful Distance wait,  
And dread him as their Fate.  
But not his Monstrous Bulk and Mighty State,  
Not his devouring Jaws  
Can stop his Destiny;  
Such often is the Doom of High and Great,  
Such are Fate's rigid Laws,  
By despicable Foes to die.  
So scorned Vapours oft the Earth have shaken;  
So Worms destroy the aged Oak,  
Neither by Tempest nor by Thunder struck:  
So Elephants despised Mice do kill,  
So the Egyptian Rat the sleeping Crocodile.   

IV.  
Two Fish, but small in Bulk, yet great in Mind,  
When none the mighty Monster dare assail,  
With Skill and Force combined  
Revenge their murdered Kind;  
One armed with Sword, the other with a Flail.  
This from below th' unwieldy Monster gores,  
Nor can he to his Deeps descend:  
The other furious Blows upon him showers,  
From which no Armour can defend.  
Which way soe'er he moves he finds his Doom;  
The goring Sword, if he descends, he meets,  
And furious Batteries; if he up doth come:  
Death on each Weapon waits;  
No way is left to fly,  
But, while his trembling Subjects wait th' Event,  
He meets his uncontrolled Destiny.  
And what doth aggravate his Fall, he dies  
Not by an Equal Combatant,  
But those he did despise!   

V.  
Nor did I miss to ' inquire  
What symptoms in the Sea were seen,  
Before a Storm doth rise,  
While all is yet serene;  
What Ebullitions are i'th' Ocean made,  
While nothing doth our Eyes or Ears surprise.  
What secret skill by Nature is conveyed  
To Sea-fowls, that to Isles retire;  
And Porpoyses, that they  
Only before the Tempests play:  
How they those Secrets know,  
Which strange to Men do show.  
When Storms the troubled Waters shall molest,  
When Calms shall Lap the Sea in rest;  
And how the Halcyon knows when to prepare her Nest.   

VI  
Where in dark Caves  
That do no Rays admit,  
Beneath the Force of foaming Waves,  
And Influence of Cheerful Light,  
The ragged Sea-Calves make a Safe Retreat.  
Where they in solitary Holds do breed;  
And gloomy Seats and Safety to prefer,  
To all the Pompous Shows that Danger bear:  
And where with Milky Breasts the Seals their Young Ones feed.   

VII.  
How rising Spouts, the Wonders of the Sea,  
Or drawn by th' Sun's attractive heat,  
Or ratified by Subterranean fire,  
Do in AEtherial Regions play;  
And mix with Seas above the Firmament.  
How they new Qualities do get,  
And against Nature's Law aspire:  
And from their Kindred Waters rend  
Do revel in the Air;  
That's now become a Watery Plain.  
How the Vast Pillar doth the Burden bear,  
And gives new Nourishment for Clouds and Rain.  
How frighted Mariners, when nigh,  
With spread-out Sails the Danger eat;  
The Dreadful Neighbourhood do fly,  
Which on what e'er it falls doth drown.   

VIII.  
Nor did the Dreadful Gulf my Voyage stay,  
That opes a Passage to th' Pacifick Sea:  
Whether by the Great Workman's hand'twas made  
For Commerce and Enriching Trade:  
Or whether restless Waves as the way had tore  
On the Vast Chasm, was rend with Earthquake's power;  
It lies th' amazing way into another World.  
Th' unfathomable Depths appall:  
The Waves in Dreadful Storms are ever curled,  
In Hurricanes and Whirlwinds furled.  
The unrelenting Cliffs do never save,  
And the Vast Chasm doth represent a Grave,  
The hanging Rocks, that threat a fall,  
The foaming Waves, that rage below,  
And Hills above all clothed with Snow,  
That rob the Gulf of half the Day,  
And hide the Sun's Auspicious Ray;  
The furious Winds that from the Mountains break;  
And headlong Gusts, that Ships in pieces shake;  
Th' Abyss, that doth no Light admit,  
But seems for Friends a dark Retreat;  
The Rocks, on which no Peace doth fit;  
The Shores, that do not food or shelter show,  
And Savages, that do no Pity know:  
Fiercer than Rocks, and Ruder than the Wind,  
A Dreadful Scene present unto the Trembling Min●▪   

IX.  
Nor lesle the Northern Seas my Course invite,  
Doubly fenced by Ice and Night.  
Where Nature's fixed Bars are laid,  
The Fetters nothing can invade,  
But Heavenly heat from the Sun's presence shed,  
Where the unfathomable Depths are spread:  
Where Ghastly Horror and Confusion dwell,  
Gloomy, Dark, and Deep, as Hell:  
Whose Stranger Waves ne'er bore the Ploughing Keel,  
Nor e'er the Lashes of the Oar did Feel;  
Nor were Discovered, but by Thee,  
Generous and much-Lamented Willoughby!   

X.  
Where Barren Isles exalt their Head,  
Uncomfortable, as the Seas; in which they're spread:  
Whose Hoary Heads, clothed with Eternal Snow,  
No Friendship with the Sun do know;  
But all in Icy Fetters bound remain;  
Congealed in Numerous Centuries slid by,  
The Streams a Crystal hardness gain,  
So Hard, they never will relent:  
But when the World a Sacrifice shall die,  
And in her Funeral Flames expire,  
They shall outbrave the Raving Element;  
Nor yield to that, which Conquers all things, Fire.   

XI.  
Where the Bold Savage doth ill Fate defy;  
The force of Storms and Mounting Seas outbraves,  
And safely Dances on the Threatening Waves,  
And truly may be said to rule the Sea.  
Closed in his Boat secure He rows,  
Made of the Skins of Fish, He took his Prey;  
Which, by a secret Sympathy,  
Do with the well-acquainted Waves agree,  
And in a lasting Friendship close.  
Locked in his Schiff they can't a Passage find,  
Nor one Inquisitive Drop can search a way:  
Tho' Water doth through Rocks and Mountains wind,  
And in each Particle of Matter lie.  
Antiquity of Centauris told,  
That did half-Men, half-Horses grow;  
The Fumes of wild Poetic Heads of Old.  
A stranger Wonder He doth show  
A man (if yet a Man) above, a Monster all below.  
In Seales-skin's clothed He doth the Fish deceive,  
Who Him one of their Shoal believe,  
Until his Fatal Dart  
Credulity's Reward to them doth give:  
He Personates a Fish with so much Art,  
That not their piercing Eye,  
Tho' fight in them in its Perfection be,  
And doth, what they in other Senses want, supply,  
Can any difference spy.  
He lives, He eats, He sleeps i'th' Sea,  
Which seems to be his Element,  
And gives that Food, the Barren Shores deny;  
And doth his Bed, his Drink, his Sport present:  
And it a Question yet remains,  
What Classis of the Creatures He is in,  
Whether He is to Men or Fish of Kin:  
Whether He more to Earth or Sea doth own,  
To th' Solid or the Liquid Plains,  
And if what doth his Food bestow,  
May not be thought his Mother too:  
If that, which doth his Wants relieve,  
Mayn't be supposed his Being first to give.   

XII.  
Necessity doth teach Him Art;  
And though the Soil's to Him unkind,  
And doth all Needful Instruments deny,  
His Sport, what e'er He needeth, doth impart:  
For by kind Nature's Aid He all in's Prey doth find.  
Of Fish's Fins his Boat is made,  
And with their Skins 'tis overspread,  
Their Bones the room of Hooks supply,  
And from their Teeth He forms his deadly Dart.  
A Circling Pleasure that hath never End,  
Doth on his Quiet Life attend.  
Full Shoals of Fish to Him resort,  
Who by their Death to others Death bequeath,  
Thèy with them bring the Instruments of Death,  
And by their Own do Ruin unto Others give;  
And He can ne'er want Tackle, if He hath but Sport.  
Alive Great Fish do on the Lesser feed,  
Do Ravine even on those they breed;  
Here, when they're dead, the Enmity doth live;  
They senseless do become their Enemy's Bane,  
And after Death a Conquest over others gain,   

XIII.  
Nor did I miss, by Inclination led,  
For 'tis an Art my Soul doth please)  
To visit all the Spacious Fruitful Seas,  
That are with Numerous Shoals of Fishes spread.  
Where they upon the Artist wait,  
With Greedy Hast swallow the Deadly Bait,  
And Quarrel, who the first shall meet their Fate.  
By Ill Example led they still rush on,  
Regardless of their Friend's Destruction:  
Whose Mangled Parts their Hungry Jaws do eat,  
That now are dressed up for their meat,  
And made the Engines of Deceit.  
Unhappy Case! where Fellows Traitors are,  
And where Society becomes a Snare!  
Where Death to th' Living no Advice doth give,  
And where Dead Friends, the Living do deceive!  
From hence with winged speed I fled,  
Did all around as Enemy's dread:  
And where no warning was from Ruin took,  
Did on myself as on a Traitor look.   

XIV.  
I saw, where floating Woods of Timber, rend  
From th' undermined Continent,  
By Northern Tempests furious blow;  
Or else o'ercharged by weight of Ice and Snow,  
As hanging on the Cliffs they grow,  
They break, and into th' subject Sea do glide:  
How they in unknown Paths their Journeys steer,  
Till wakeful Providence's Care,  
That Necessaries doth for all provide,  
Their Course to barren Isles doth guide,  
Which, by th' Inclemency of their raw Air,  
Never a Tree or Shrub did bear,  
But the Inhabitants in want to do the Sea repair.  
Their Darts and Bows to Waves they owe,  
Their Houses do from Tempests grow:  
Their Food they draw from Tides;  
And their cold frozen Sea their useful Fire provides.   

XV.  
I saw the Sea-moss chased, whose prized Ho●n  
That doth his fatal Head adorn  
His Destiny doth bequeath,  
And what's designed his Safety, proves his Death:  
Where Isles of Ice, remote from any Shore,  
Themselves at eighty Fathom moar:  
Look like a Continent,  
And Capes and Cliffs, and Promontories represent.  
Upon whose Tops wild Beasts do fight,  
And Sea-fowls make the Cliffs look doubly white.   

XVI.  
Nor here my Curiosity was stayed,  
But with bold Course my daring Eyes surveyed  
Where secret Passages o'th' Deep were laid.  
Where by the working of the Sea,  
Or by some secret Cause to us unknown;  
The winding waters find their hidden way:  
And straining through the Earth do leave behind  
The Saltness, they did from their Mother own,  
Till fit for Use, Delight, and Nourishment, they're grown.  
And on some Mountain's side.  
They do a Passage find:  
Through flowery Meadows wind,  
Through fruitful Valleys glide  
Till they i'th' Sea again do their Ennobled Waters hide.   

XVII.  
Nor did I fear  
Beneath stupendious Rocks my Course to steer;  
The hidden Tracts and lonely Vaults to ' explore,  
That under Mighty Realms do sink,  
Through which the thirty Caspian,  
The CASPIAN, that doth numerous Rivers drink,  
Yet still unsatisfied doth gape for more,  
Nor ever swells with all the Store,  
Empties itself into th' Mediterranean.  
I did not fear the headlong Gulf, which all  
The Mariners its Navel call:  
The Vortex, which the Sea drinks down,  
And all, that comes within its Verge, doth drown.   

XVIII.  
Nor to my Curious Search did secret lie  
The devious Ways in Regions deep below,  
That do 'twixt distant Lakes and Oceans go.  
How the Friendly Waters meet,  
How the Shoals of Fishes greet  
In Realms yet undiscovered to the Eye.  
How Meers, whose Heads and Springs we cannot see,  
Nor what their Source doth breed,  
An Intercourse do keep  
With Caverns under Mountains laid,  
Or with the Treasures of the Deep;  
How what the Sea doth from the Land receive,  
When swelling Rivers to her Bosom come,  
She back again in Springs and showers doth give,  
And keeps an AEquilibrium.   

XIX.  
There lies a Deep, if we may Truth receive  
From those, that on the Seas do live,  
Not farm from th' CAPE, that hath a Name from Hope,  
Where no Art can a Bottom gain;  
Tho' they a thousand Fathom sound with Rope,  
But all their Labour and their Charge is vain.  
Here I sunk down into the deep Abyss,  
Where no created Being e'er before  
The Secrets went to ' explore,  
Or Nature's Work, that near the Centre lies.  
Below vast Rocks and massy Mounts I passed,  
Such as the Upper World don't know;  
The Strength and Fortresses below,  
On which the World is placed:  
Till through dark Paths and uncut Ways,  
Being arrived at th' utmost Place,  
Where e'en sharp Thoughts could not a farther passage trace;  
I my wearied Journey stayed  
At Nature's Bars, by the Almighty made.   

XX.  
The Bars, that fence the Windows of the Deep,  
The raging Waves secure;  
Lest they again the Earth should sweep,  
And all Mankind devour.  
But who the wondrous Locks can tell  
Who can the Adamantine Gates reveal?  
That fortify the fi●m Decree,  
Which hath forbid the Ocean to rebel,  
Set Limits to the Imperious Sea,  
And made her in her Confines dwell.  
Here I● vain for Daemogorgon sought,  
The Monster, ancient Ages thought,  
Did at the Centre lie;  
The World did actuate;  
Whose Breath did make the Seas with Tides to swell,  
And whose unruly Motion Earthquakes did create.   

XXI.  
Now through dark subterranean Caverns led  
And solitary Roads below;  
Upon whose Brow sits dismal Night,  
Where massy Rocks exclude the Light;  
Where ghastly Horror and Distraction's laid.  
Led by Instinct, not by Sight,  
Where Zembre's Lake doth fruitful Waters show.  
The wished-for Light I do regain,  
And what Antiquity did never know  
Find Nile's Illustrious Head.  
Down all his glorious Course I cut my Way,  
Through all the Realm's that do his Waves ado●e;  
The thirsty Nations that his Help implore:  
Not the steep Cataract's could force my stay,  
Whose dreadful Downfall doth the Sight surprise,  
And dulls the Eye, as th' Ear is deafened with the Noise:  
My daring Course with them I downward led,  
Nor feared the Treacherous Crocodile,  
Nor Hippopotamus of Nile:  
Viewed the remains of Dark Antiquity,  
Wept o'er its Pristin Glory fled,  
And grieved to see the Marks of present Slavery.   

XXII.  
Nor did the jewish Sea,  
Filled with Bitumen escape Discovery:  
Trembling I at its Borders stood,  
But durst not trust the Poisonous Flood.  
No Creature can the Noxious Waves abide,  
Nothing can through the Waters safely glide,  
Not Birds unhurt are to fly o'red't allowed.  
The Towns beneath do yet their Beauty bear,  
For they alas not Guilty were,  
The Men did all the Sin and all the Judgement share.  
Around th' Infectious Shore  
Fair-Trees deceitful Apples bore,  
To th' Eye they did with ravishing Beauty shine;  
(Such are the looks of Sin)  
But Loathsome Dust and Ashes held within.   

XXIII.  
Sometimes in distant Realms I rove,  
For Curiosity is unconfined;  
Where Springs their Vigorous Source send out above,  
Or where vast Rocks below their Streams do bind.  
Where they, unseen by Mortal Eye,  
The Subterranean Progeny do feed;  
Or Daemons of the Mines (if any such there be)  
Or beneath Rocks Metallick Compounds breed.  
Below the Alps now my Dark Course is led,  
Where PELION upon OSSA'S thrown,  
Where Hills on Hills, Mountains on Mountains stand,  
Till they to Heaven lift their Aspiring Head;  
And do not seem the Work of Nature's hand,  
But broken Ruins of the former World.—  
The Monstrous Caverns, that Vast Depts do hold,  
In their wide Arms do Se●s enfold.  
Who can their secret Sources show?  
Whether they swell from melted Snow,  
Which ever Crowns their Hoary Head:  
Or whether from condensed Air they're bred,  
In Great Vacuities below:  
Or whether from the Sea their secret Course doth flow:  
The boundless Treasure's in their Bowels laid,  
The Minerals, that there abound,  
And Richly pay for all the Barren Ground.   

XXIV.  
To all the Lakes from these Abysses bred,  
By hidden winding ways I passed:  
Now I in Switzerland lift up my Head,  
And trembling and aghast  
The barren Rocks and threatening Mountains dread:  
Where Nature shows but a Step-Mother's Love;  
Where the harsh Soil unkind doth prove;  
Yet all is sweetened by Blessed Liberty.  
Their rugged Rocks, that scarce their Toil repay,  
Their Vales with headlong Torrents washed away,  
They more do Prize than Dangerous State,  
Than Smiling Treacherous Pageantry,  
While Peace and Safety do upon them wait.   

XXV.  
Now I i'th' Garden of the World do rise,  
The Queen of Nations ITALY,  
And from a Lake behold the Country round,  
Which doth with Nature's Gifts abound,  
And only Freedom wants to make't a Paradise.  
But see the Dreadful Curse of Tyranny!  
The untilled Soil doth Mourn its State,  
Th' unpeopled Land a Wilderness doth lie,  
The wearied Peasant doth lament his Fate,  
Works for what He ne'er enjoys;  
But Groans, Sinks, and Expires beneath his Miseries.  
Rapine and dire Oppression all doth seize,  
And Curses, what God Blessed before.  
In vain God Plenty sends, and Store,  
If dire Exactions keeps the Subjects poor.  
Adam from Paradise was driven;—  
And here Men fly the next Blessed Place to Heaven.    

A PINDARIQVE Ode.  
PART IU.  

STANZA I  
NO Corner of the World my Course did miss:  
Not the unconstant stormy Irish Seas,  
Which even the Adrian Friths surpass:  
Not Naked savage Orcadeses,  
Nor Thule, which from Rome the Farthest lay  
Of all the Islands, She found out i'th' Sea.  
Not Norway Deeps, where the Prophetic Whale doth lie;  
Till the approaching Destiny  
Of Him, whom all the Nation doth obey,  
Doth call him up from's solitary Room,  
In Regions deep below, to tell the World the Doom.  
Not the tempestuous Seas, where Daemons dwell,  
Where Spirits rule the Winds, and move the Sea  
The Air and Ocean sway,  
And Lapland Witches Winds do sell.   

II.  
Not Seas and Lands by Icy Mountains barred,  
The Curse of Nature made in spite,  
Where fearless Bears the Shores do guard,  
And like their Land are clothed in white.  
Yet (so each One is to his Native Country kind)  
Spite of th' Inclemencies of Soil and Wind,  
The Region doth within possess  
(Whom their own Land the best doth please)  
An Olive-coloured Race of Savages.  
Nor could I without Pity see  
The poor Remains of Thee, Great Willoughby!  
Whose Breast retained a Generous Fire,  
Enough to ' have thawed the Polar Ice:  
But doomed by the more rigid Destinies,  
Disdaining thou by Night and Frost were't forced to expire.  
Thy shattered Hulk a Sea-mark lies,  
And doth forbid farther Discoveries:  
Nor th' unrelenting Element to dare,  
That would not so much Virtue spare.   

III.  
Nor did I lose  
The moving Sight of those,  
That while they sought the happy Coast,  
Where the Seas Bosom opens to Cathay;  
I'th' unknown untraced way,  
In spite o'th' Zenith Cynosure were lost.  
Where broken Isles is all the Land,  
Rough Icy Mountains all the Strand;  
That scarce a Living Creature doth contain,  
And (if ought be) doth seem by Nature made in vain▪  
Whose Seas do with the Land Resemblance hold,  
Now an unfathomable Deep  
And now a Shoaly Sea:  
Now Rocks, that do forbid a Way,  
Now an Abyss Precipitous and steep:  
Besides the lasting Curse of Night and Cold.  
Nor, Daring Gilbert, was thy Tract yet lost;  
When thou at Newfoundland took'st Seizure of the Coast.  
Great the Designs, which did outbrave thy Fate,  
Thou liv'st in Fame, and art than Destiny more Great.   

IV.  
By all the Coasts, that English Ships do plow,  
When they to fruitful Colonies do go:  
Where they the Skins of Beasts and Birds do wear,  
Where they adorned with Feathers do appear,  
And whe●e in clothes of downy Moss they pride.  
From hence my speedy Course did glide  
To Florida, that opes her beauteous Bosom wide.  
Florida, the Scene of Blood,  
That hath unconquered stood  
By Spanish Rage, or English Courtesy.  
By all the Coasts, that Gold so oft devours,  
The gilded Spanish Shores:  
All the Rich Wrecks, that overspread the Sea,  
All those in the Campeche Bay,  
So oft inur'd to Piracy;  
When Boucaniers their Pranks do play:  
And what all Ills hath suffered, PANAMA;  
The Glorious Island, once the Ocean's Pride,  
That now a Wilderness doth lie:  
Hispaniola, that did Empress ride;  
The fatal Inlet into Slavery.  
That first by venturous Mariner was spied;  
When the despairing Fleet had else returned,  
Whose Height so oft enslaved India mourned.   

V.  
By all scattered Isles, that guard the Western Shoar;  
Where barbarous Cannibals do on their Neighbour's prey:  
Who Neptune's bosom in their Canoes scour,  
And bloody Teeth do on Man's Entrails lay;  
Carouse in enemy's Blood,  
And the yet-quaking Members make their Food  
All, where the Amazonian River flows,  
That from a thousand Streams renowned grows.  
All, that the fair Guiana shows,  
Immortalised by Raleighs Pen.  
Or that, which hath its Name from Plate,  
And groans so oft beneath the Precious weight:  
All the Inhospitable Shores for Men,  
Down to the dismal Straits of Megallan.   

VI  
I found out all the Solitary Isles,  
Where Uncorrupted Nature smiles,  
Spread out in spacious Deeps alone:  
That ne' ●e to Knowledge were betrayed,  
And happy, it they never be;  
So blessed 'tis to be Unknown,  
And lie from Danger, as Discovery, fre●!  
Riches, when known, expose to Prey,  
And Happiness, when envied, doth betray,  
And to Invasion opes a way.  
Cut from the World these nothing Dread,  
But, thankful, on what Nature gives, do feed.  
Know but their own, and have no wild Desires,  
Nor nourish in their Breast Tyrannic Fires.  
Think, there's no World but what they do enjoy,  
Nor yet beyond their Coast their Wishes fly.  
Blessed in Peace, and in unsullied joy,  
Blessed in, the Crown of Blessings, Liberty:  
Blessed, that ne'er long for Foreign Stores,  
Nor foreign Vices nourish on their Shores!  
Here fixed Conte●t doth place her Seat,  
Beyond even Philosophic Notions Great.  
Happy in Ignorance, they know no more,  
Than Nature's humble Store;  
Pleased with their state, they Strangers are to Care,  
They nothing hope for, and they nothing fear.   

VII.  
All those, that far from Intercourse are laid,  
And do just Admiration gain,  
(Since they know none, and are to all unknown)  
How Men and Beasts were into them conveyed.  
Except they did remain,  
When swallowed Continents sunk down:  
Or by Angelic Ministry the work was done.  
Those, whom kind Nature doth bestow  
To be the Seaman's Guide;  
And kind Refreshment to provide:  
Where Tortoises sweet Food to them allow,  
Whom the salt Waves and salter Food had dri'ed:  
Where the salubrious Air  
And limpid Water doth their broken Spirits cheer.   

VIII.  
Nor did I miss the Southern unknown Coast,  
That doth of boundless Riches boast;  
And dares the bold Discoverer:  
Whose Virgin Soil ne'er yet did Stranger bear,  
Nor European Keel her Seas did ever tear.  
Vast spacious Tracts that Coast shall once unfold,  
Even to the Southern frozen Zone:  
Which vainly now are judged Sea;  
(And so was once America)  
As great, as are the Worlds already known;  
That yet in Darkness and Obscurity lie down.  
That do invaluable Treasures hold  
Of what, all Men adore, Eye-dazling Gold.   

IX.  
The quiet Waves of the Pacifick Sea,  
Where seldom Tempests rage,  
Or Storms with shattered Ships engage;  
But Nature there in her Repose doth lie.  
Where the Inhabitants of America,  
That the South Sea enjoy:  
Free from fear and from annoy,  
Sleep on the Shore in soft security  
With Bars of massy Silver by.  
They leave their Ships at Anchor on the Shore,  
Tho' freighted with inestimable Store,  
And far within the Land themselves employ:  
And neither Tempests fear not Piracy.  
By all the Happy Coast I passed,  
Happy in every thing, but Liberty:  
Where yet the Marks of DRAKE and CANDISH last,  
The scourges of the Spanish Pride.  
I saw where the Vast Carack once did ride,  
Enriched with all the Indian Store,  
Which Noble CANDISH by his Valour bore;  
And round the Wo●ld in Triumph drew:  
While trembling Spain lay gasping at the View.   

X.  
Hence through the Spacious Main,  
The way, that our Great Hero went,  
Along his shining Tract ● ran  
To every Indian Isle and Continent.  
The Sea, that do embrace the PHILIPPINES,  
Which Nature scattering o'er the Ocean throws:  
That, which around MALDIVA shines,  
Where the Sea- Coco under water grows,  
And a Medicinal Juice for Poison shows.  
The Sea, that the MOLUCCO Isles confines,  
Whose Fragrant Cloves the World do Store,  
And th' Ocean do perfume, when out of sight of Shore.  
Those, who their Parents, when they're old, do eat,  
Those, who the Figtree make their Meat,  
Those, who from Coco-leaves their clothes do get.  
Lands, that such Monstrous Crabs do breed,  
That Men their Dangerous Neighbourhood do dread;  
For what they grasp, they kill.  
Those, who such Giant Tortoises do find,  
Ten Men their hollow Cavity can't fill,  
But have at once within them dined.  
Through all that Sea, that's thick with Islands sown,  
And's Nature's Harvest when well grown,  
My Vigorous Course did go—  
From the Contemned Islands of the Main,  
Which no distinctive Names do know,  
To 
* So Mercator etc. But cibers make Zeilan, as Barrius and V●●tretius.  Sumatra, the ancient Taprobane.   

XI.  
Nor did that Coast escape my View,  
Whose Riches and unbounded Stores  
From foreign Climes and distant Shores  
So many Lovers drew:  
The Indian Sea, where all the World doth greet,  
The Centre where from every part they meet:  
The Sea, that ne'er doth rest,  
Whom Tides and Tempests break, but most the ploughing Keels molest:  
The Shores, where Wives with their Dead Husbands burn,  
And mix their Loving Ashes in one Urn.  
Where Servants with their Masters die,  
That in the other world they may not unattended be.  
Where Pythagoreans do all Flesh forbear,  
And whatsoever hath Life do spare:  
That Lawn before their Faces wear,  
Lest their unwary breath,  
Should give a Fly or Insect Death.   

XII.  
Where Brachman's with a Stoical Pride  
Do the extremity of Heat and Cold abide.  
The Shore, where Ganges is adored,  
And is with Pilgrims from all Quarters stored,  
Who in his Waves do hope to wash their Sins away:  
Where they to Monstrous Pagods pray,  
Whose Dreadful Looks do the Adorers scare,  
And only can be worshipped for fear.  
Where Hospitals for Birds and Beasts they build,  
And buy their Lives off, when they're to be killed.  
The Barbarous Shore,  
Where what they first at Morning meet, they all the Day adore.  
Or what the rest in Folly doth excel,  
Where they the APE'S Tooth worship, PERIMAL.  
The Sea of Bengala enslaved to Lust:  
Or th' black-mouthed beardless PEGVAN:  
Or where the KING can't his own Issue trust,  
But's Sisters Son doth after Reign.   

XIII.  
Nor could I miss Cape Comori,  
Where Mounts of Fruitful Shellfish lie,  
That Orient Pearls do in their womb contain.  
Where the bold Indian Jumps into the Main,  
Doth down unto the Shining Bottom Dive,  
That needs no Light, but what the Pearls do give.  
That up a precious Load doth bear;  
Unto the Sun and Air  
The rugged Oysters doth expose,  
Whose Heat the Treasures do disclose.  
While SHARKS and HAVENS wait  
To bring the Wretch his Fate;  
And with a Dire Revenge, repay  
Th'Invasion of their Element, the Sea.  
Pearls the too Costly Price of Blood!  
That neither Clothing can bestow nor Food;  
That one single Life can't buy,  
Made not for Nature's wants, but Luxury.   

XIV.  
Nor did I the Arabian Gulf omit,  
Where the Impostor doth in Triumph fit.  
Nor yet that Sea, whose red Discoloured Stream  
To endless Disputation gives a Theme:  
Which the jews wondrous Passage tells,  
And yet retains the Marks of Pharaoh's Chariot-wheels.  
But in the Tract, that Solomon's Ships did pass  
My Course to Sophola did hold,  
By Wisemen thought th' OPHIR of old,  
And yet Renowned for Gold.  
Whose Mines even Admiration do surpass:  
Whose Buildings yet do Ancient Greatness bear,  
Engraved with many an Antique Character.   

XV.  
Nor did I fear the Dreadful CAPE to pass,  
Of the known World the Farthest Part:  
Where Storms and Thunder do make Nature start.  
Where th' Elements do know no Peace,  
Where Feuds and Quarrels never cease;  
Whose Threatening Mountains have defied the Main,  
That hath for many Ages beaten in Vain  
Those Adamantine Rocks, that yet its fury do restrain.  
Twice I cut the Purning Line,  
Where Perpendicular Rays do from the Zenith shine.  
I swiftly passed th' Unnatural Shore;  
Where Parents do their Children fell,  
And Children cruelly do with their Parents deal.  
Where Niger's Streams the Parched Fields restore,  
And spite of the Sun's dazzling Light  
On every Face writes Night.  
Nor did my Course the Wondrous Isles forgo,  
Where Weeping Trees bedew the Thirsty Plain,  
And with their Fruitful Drops supply the Place of Rain,  
And Phaethon's Sisters in their Tears outdo.  
And what no lesle a Wonder may appear,  
Where Trees do Clustering Heaps of Oysters bear.  
To all the Scattered Isles my Course I Steer,  
Where groaning Atlas sinks beneath his Weight;  
All the Rude Coasts to the Herculean strait.   

XVI.  
Entered; The Barbarous Africa Shore I spied,  
Where once Rome's Emulous Foe with Haughty Pride  
Lifted her Crest on high:  
Her very Ruins ruined  
I could not without Indignation see,  
That once stood Candidate the Universe to Guide.  
Nor could I unsaluted MALTA pass,  
Where Valour doth Triumphant fit,  
And Rears on High the Christian Name:  
Once a Contemned Despicable Place,  
Whose Barren Rocks, but for Sea-Monsters fit,  
With Man could scarcely Friendship claim.  
So Time and Change is over all things spread;  
And that, which once lived High in Fame, lies Dead,  
And what lay low in Dust, exalts a Glorious Head.   

XVII.  
Malta, thou now art Darling Child of Fame;  
Yet this unto thy Worth thou dost not own;  
From thy Brave Valiant Sons thy Fame doth grow.  
Regions and Cities are but Senseless things,  
Nor of themselves Renown acquire;  
The dull Gross Matter wants an Actuating Fire:  
And when they do to Noble Acts aspire,  
They owe the Motion to Great Captains, and to Valiant Kings.  
'Twas not the Buildings made Rome Great,  
Nor was't the Capitol the World obeyed:  
Scipio and Caesar did Her Fame create,  
And Her Commanders Her to Grandeur led;  
Their Conduct and the Soldier's Valour did erect Her State.   

XVIII.  
Greece yet remains; the Soil's the fame,  
In every Thing but Men and Fame;  
The Ground, whereon She did her Cities raise,  
With weeping Eyes yet Travellers do trace;  
But o! A Fatal Change from what it was.  
Fruitfulness yet upon Her Bosom's spread,  
And Plenty on Her Face doth smile:  
But yet the Quintessence is fled;  
The Change is in the Men and not the Soil.  
The Men Greece Learned made,  
They Her Repute for Valour raised:  
They were the Souls, and when they fled,  
The Carcases Deformed lay and Dead:  
Now Cowardice and Ignorance the Region hath debased.   

XIX.  
Nor know we Blessed Isle, but Thou  
And Venice, which from small beginnings sprung,  
As former Times did not your Glory know,  
Which now's in Acts of Valiant Heroes sung.  
When your Great Souls (as they) must once lie Dead  
(The General Lot that haps to all;  
If others rise not in their stead;)  
In Fame, which is not to your Seats confined,  
But's the Reflection of a Gallant Mind;  
You may from your Exalted Stations fall:  
And other Seats, that yet no Worth do show,  
By Fate's unseen Decree  
May lift their low and obscure Heads on high;  
And from one HERO may Immortal grow:  
As to Epaminondas Thebes her Name did owe,   

XX.  
I saw Nile's troubled Stream,  
For Learned Pens a lasting Theme,  
That doth blessed Fruitfulness bestow.  
And the once Famous Road,  
Where Caesar's Navy stood;  
When Egypt did beneath his Sceptre bow:  
Where Tyre once did with Pride and Riches swell;  
Now desolate and Forlorn:  
The Famed SIGAEUM Promontory, where  
Homer's Immortal Heroes buried were.  
Nor did I miss the Bay,  
Where once the Grecian Navy lay,  
Whom HECTOR's Flames did burn.  
With mixed Scorn and Anger I beheld  
SCAMANDER's celebrated Stream,  
So oft with Greek and Trojan Bodies filled;  
Whose rapid Floods whole Armies bore away  
Into the Neighbouring Sea:  
(If We, what ancient Bards relate, esteem)  
Now a contemned despicable Rill,  
Whom Winter's Rains do fill;  
But Summer Heats doth of its Force bereave:  
And thence doth Ground for our Suspicion give,  
That all the Celebrated Tale was but a Poet's Dream.   

XXI.  
I viewed the Ports in History Renowned;  
The States by lavish Poets crowned,  
That did in Arts or Arms abound:  
Once the World's Pride and now its Shame,  
Which are in their dark Ruins sought in vain,  
That even their very Shadows don't remain,  
Mortal in (what they prized) even their Immortal Name.  
Greece, that none Learned or Civil would allow,  
To all the World is a Barbarian now.  
The Seas, which once her numerous Ships did plow,  
The Sporades i'th' the Ocean laid,  
The Isles, that did to highest Splendour grow,  
Now either Uninhabited,  
Or else with Barbarism do lie o'erspread:  
That even, Geographers can scarce make good,  
Where Learned Athens, or Voluptuous Corinth stood.   

XXII.  
From these sad Objects I was called away  
By a Vulcano, that arose  
In an unfathomable Sea:  
Or that the dreadful Place of Punishment  
Had there a Vent,  
And did its furious Flames disclose:  
Or that the Subterranean Heat  
Had worn, the Bounds so thin,  
Had with such Force against the Barriers beaten,  
They could not keep their eating Prisoners in:  
Or that a sulphurous Mine took fire  
And up unto the Stars the Seas did blow:  
Or that some dating Engineer below  
With his bold Art did up to Heaven aspire.   

XXIII.  
A sudden Fire from the Sea's Bottom broke:  
The wrestling Elements the whole World shook.  
Phoebus and Neptune ne'er before  
Did Martial up in Troops their Emulous Power:  
But in his Orb with Quiet blest  
Each of his Realms the Rule possessed.  
The Government o'th' Sea the Moon  
By ancient Right did own;  
But, Lofty Phoebus, ne'er before  
Was Tethys thus subjected to thy Power;  
Nor, except under thine Ambitious Son,  
Suffered till now a Conflagration.  
Water once ruled the World: and once in Fire  
Her old decaying Fabric must expire.  
When two such Potent Foes do disagree  
How Dreadful and Amazing must the Battle be▪   

XXIV.  
A wide-stretched Mouth did vomit Thunder out,  
Mountainous Stones from thence did fly,  
As though intended to Bombard the Sky.  
In vain the Sea to quench the Furnace tried,  
Her Realm of Waves to get the Victory brought:  
The Oiley Streams new Pabulum supplied,  
And sulphurous Mines within did warlike Store provide.  
Until at last, when naught could part the Foes,  
But Heaven and Earth seemed at a loss;  
They of Themselves, weary of ill-spent Store,  
Did let the undecided Battle fall:  
Resigned again the Claim to ' each other's Power,  
And Peace in Triumph did o'er Earth and Sea install.   

XXV.  
Through all the TYRRHEN and the ADRIAN Sea  
I cut my untrackt Way:  
And saw the Wrecks in their unrifled Bed,  
By Carthaginian Ships or Roman made:  
And could th' Antiquities, that there are laid,  
By Art be thence conveyed,  
How would they please the Curious Eye▪  
The Rarities what Sums could buy.   

XXVI.  
Not Hercules Pillars could my Course confine,  
I through the boundless Ocean steered,  
And neither Storms nor Tempests feared:  
The Marks of Roman Greatness viewed,  
That all the Northern Continent subdued,  
That did eternal Honour win:  
Saw, where Great Caesar first did trust the Sea,  
Wh●n he designed on Britain;  
And where his threatening Ships did stay.  
The Noted DOWNS, the Seat of War,  
That doth so o●t engaging Navies bear:  
Whose Bottom is an Armoury,  
That might an Iron Age supply;  
Where Valiant TRUMP and OPDAM lie,  
Whose gallant Acts a just Repute did gain:  
In this allied to Immortality,  
They were by Valiant English Heroes slain.  
Happy; if other Foes they'd met i'th' watery Field!  
Their Genii only could to Nobler Britain's yield.   

XXVII.  
Nor could I, Noble SANDWICH, pass thy Fall,  
For Evil Times too Brave a General!  
Rumour (and who's from Malice free)  
With poisonous Lies had blasted Thee.  
'Tis true thy Honour was above their Hate,  
But Fame, that's prized by th' Generous and Great,  
Unjustly Taxed, filled thy Great Soul with Grief:  
Nor could they Prince's Kindness bring Relief.  
No more, Proud Dutch, in your famed Victory pride;  
He to his Countrymen his Ruin owes:  
Who not by Valour, but by Treachery died,  
And not by Dutch, but by his English, Foes.   

XXVIII.  
So, my Wide Wishes satisfied,  
Nothing unto my Daring Soul denied  
Of all in which the Sea doth pride,  
Neptune his Order did revoke,  
The Charms, which made the Transformation, broke;  
And Me my Fishy Shape forsaken.  
Big with desired Knowledge I regain,  
The Nobler Form of Man:  
And by the Sea-Gods Care,  
From the dark Bottom, whence but Few return,  
On TRITON'S Backs I'm kindly born,  
And with a Vigorous Warmth desire the upper Realms of Air.   
The End.