A POEM TO THE QUEEN, UPON The KING's Victory IN IRELAND, AND HIS Voyage to HOLLAND.  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  
〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉  Euripides. 
OXFORD, Printed by Leonard Lichfield, for John Wilmot, 1691.   

TO The Highly Honoured, THE Lady M. S.  
MADAM,  
WHEN I sent you this Poem in Manuscript (an account how I spend my time; being a Tribute you always exact from me) you were pleased to return it with a very harsh Request that I should Print it. I cannot hinder myself from saying, that it is somewhat Tyrannical, and very much like the French Monarch, who imposeth a fresh Gabelle upon his Vassals, when they are burdened with Taxes sufficiently before; but since you have provoked me to be an Author, I'll assure you it is at your own peril, for I'll haunt you with Panegyric, and tease you with the Commendation of yourself: Nay, I could pursue my Revenge farther, by pulling off your Mask, and discovering to the world who you are; and so make a reprisal upon your Modesty for disturbing my Solitude. If I followed the common Mode of Dedications, I should declare, That all the scattered Excellencies of your Sex are united in your single Self; which like the Sunbeams contracted in a Burning-glass, forbidden too familiar an approach: But there must be a distance to allay the brightness, that it may be a gentle, and to me, MADAM, I hope a most auspicious Influence: however I can affirm with great truth, That your Complexion is of the first and most elaborate blush, not farded with Art, but a genuine native mixture; and your Genius is as refined as your Person: You are neither a Coquette nor a Precieuse; neither a vain Talker, nor an affected Wit: I only fear that your enjoining the Publication of this Trifle, will be the first time that ever your Judgement was called in question. Whilst other Ladies are taken up with their Toilette and Looking-glass, you are employed in reading the best Authors; and not only so, but in an happy Imitation of them: This your several Composures would manifest to the world, if you would think them worthy to see the light; but you are obstinate against all Solicitations of that nature; so that it must be a Posthumous work, and the care of an Executor. But let me tell you, MADAM, you in the mean while defraud the World of what would benefit and enrich it, and we shall cast but a doleful regard upon the Copy when the Original is gone: I know not any One to whom these Verses may be more properly applied, than to yourself.  
Non tu Corpus eras sine pectore, Dii tibi formam  
Dii tibi divitias dederint artemque fruendi.  
I am very sensible, MADAM, of the absurdity to speak Latin in a Lady's presence, but I am sure you understand it; and for the sake of those who do not, I will translate them after my way, that is somewhat Paraphrastically.  
MADAM, the Gods did smile when you were Born,  
And you an Heavenly Beauty doth adorn;  
You with a Mind as elegant are blest,  
The House is suited to the noble Guest;  
A Soul degenerate doth not it disgrace,  
(Like a Brass Watch within a Silver Case)  
And Jove doth court you in a Golden Shower,  
Into your Lap doth mighty Treasures pour;  
And you profusely done't the Gifts employ,  
You have the Art those Riches to enjoy.  
Your Charity, MADAM, as it is very diffusive, so it is that of the best kind; which conveys Relief privately to the afflicted: You don't make a pompous invitation of the Poor into your great Hall, where they eat with constraint, and tremble under their Benefactors: this is not to succour but expose their Wants; like a shallow River it makes a noise with Ostentation; but your Bounty spreads in Cascade, and is very gentle in its descent: 'tis like a refreshing Dew that falls silently, and in the Night. Tho' some affirm that Wit and Courage are inconsistent; yet in you, MADAM, they are reconciled; and you are Heroical as well as Ingenuous: For give me leave to remember, That upon the first Landing of our Glorious KING, you were touched with a more than ordinary Joy; nay, You once resolved to do that Honour to our Sex, by dissembling your Own, as to disguise yourself En Cavalier, and go in to the Prince: Then, MADAM, you would have appeared like the Goddess of Wisdom, with your Spear and Shield; or like another Boadicia, Fight against Romans too, in vindication of your injured Country. You always had an untainted prospect of Affairs, and foretold that the heat Things were pushed up to, would end either in absolute Slavery, or a mighty Deliverance; and the success hath justified the better part of the Augury: For whilst this poor Nation was in the last defailances of Spirit, NASSAU, like a good Samaritan, poured a Sovereign Balsam into her Wounds; and restored a distressed and almost an abandoned Church, which had fallen into the hands not only of Foreign, but Domestic Thiefs: Amongst many others which I could name, this is a conspicuous instance of your Prudence; that when you lived in a place where the Genius of it is Calumny, and where Weeds only thrive and grow luxuriant, but there's a Malignity in the Air which destroys all generous Plants; yet even there the most envious and inquisitive had nothing to object to your Conduct: Nay once, MADAM, you fell Sick, and they did not count it a Judgement, tho' this is their usual way of executing their Piques; they will wound you in the most sensible parts of your Fortune and Reputation, and then entitle Heaven to their own Treachery and Malice: There was but one time wherein I heard you but so much as slightly taxed, and that was when a celebrated Man for voice and gesture, like a travelling Shower, came to spend his Tropes and Figures upon an Audience where you were in, when the rest of your Sex were in Tears your Eyes were observed to be dry: Yet this did not proceed from want of tenderness in your Temper, but it was an effect of your Judgement; for you distinguished the Enthusiast from the true Orator: You have often declaimed against this rapturous way of talking, as the most frivolous, so the easiest attainment possible; for the Man of this talon when he is a little put to it for sense, he hath always recourse to warm Topics in reserve, which bring him in again. Methought you compared an extempore Harangue very prettily to weak Wine upon the fret, which gives a brisk relish upon the Palate, and then dies upon it; whilst a studied Discourse, like Liquor drawn out of an old consular Vessel, hath a strong body, and conveys a practical heat to the Conscience: You must know, MADAM, that this Gentleman hath derived all his Eloquence from your Sex, for being kindled with an Amour in his youth, his Imagination hath not been cool ever since; and now he applies all the strains of a profane Passion to a divine Object; and the Affection he could not gain in the Ruelle, he endeavours to captivate in the Pulpit: As in a Catholic Country, a disgraced Lover always turns Capuchin; and the most zealous Votary in a Convent is he that hath lost his Mistress. Mendoza the Spaniard, MADAM, hath a very severe Expression; El ambition de la emprenta es una colpa que non basta arrepentirse; That the ambition to be in Print is a fault for which repentance can be no sufficient expiation: Now besides the presumption of the attempt, I am conscious of a great many defects in this Poem; there are flaws in the Conduct of it, and the Characters are not worked up with that vigour of thought and stile as they ought to be: but as I was never equal to such a performance, so at present I labour under a great decay of Spirits; being but slowly recovering of those Wounds the iniquity of some men's proceed have given me: Besides, MADAM, you know, I was always a Dreamer; and one who, for want of better Company, generally converseth with himself: we lose ourselves in our own Labyrinths, and weaken the powers of our Mind by too much thinking: I am sensible it is an Humour not to be indulged, for with the least encouragement it grows headstrong, and becomes frequent in its Accesses; and tho' the lucid Intervals, as they call them, when the Clouds are dispersed, are I believe more sprightly than the softest Moment's of any other Men whatever; yet they do not recompense for the Fears and Sadnesses which are incident to this condition at all other times. This, MADAM, I have often lamented to you, and you have been so kind as to mix your Condolances with my Complaints: It hath this peculiarly unhappy, That as it discolours those Objects to us which strike others with an agreeable light; so it subjects all that we say or do to mistakes; a little neglect in our Behaviour is censured to be Pride; and that unwieldiness it loads us with, is called an affected Sloth; tho' it is impossible to be assiduous and eager in the pursuit of that we fancy we can take no pleasure in: But it was never so dark with me yet, but I could distinguish my Friends, and take the right measure of their Obligations: Those I have received from you, MADAM, are lodged in a distinct Archive, with the marks of a particular Esteem; for I am with the deepest Respect possible, for your Person and great Endowments,  
Your LADYSHIPS, Most Humble, and Obedient Servant, MATT. MORGAN.   

To the QUEEN.  

MADAM, with eager Joy your Conqueror meet,  
He comes to lay his Laurels at your Feet;  
Who in his absence made our Troubles cease,  
Present him now with Olive-wreaths of Peace;  
Let Garlands crown him at his finished race,  
He is your Prisoner in a strict embrace:  
Tho' he escaped the Dangers of the War,  
The Wounds you give leave an immortal Scar:  
We with swift motion to the Centre move,  
Danger endears us unto those we love:  
Nothing's so gay as dissipated fear,  
When beauteous Sunshine doth refract the tear;  
For when the Bullet in its wanton scope  
Was like to have destroyed all Europe's Hope;  
Your Soul was clouded with a dark presage,  
Did feel, almost anticipate its rage:  
It touched his Shoulder, but it pierced your Heart,  
Your quick resentment did intent the smart:  
Like tuneful Unisons what him did strike,  
Did equally affect your string of life,  
The bleeding Husband, and condoling Wife!  
With a divided Empire you did Reign,  
And each the Province gallantly maintain;  
Whilst Caesar did destroy the Irish Hosts,  
Calphurnia drove the Frenchmen from our Coasts;  
They valiantly attacked a naked Shore,  
Like Falcons unreclaimed did wildly soar;  
Herostratus a Cottage set on fire,  
And when the Thatch blazed out he did retire:  
The ancient Argonauts did sail from Greece  
In Triumph, to bring home the Golden Fleece:  
But they our bleating Captives took away,  
'Twas like the Victors an ignoble prey;  
But when we armed their Insolence to chastise,  
With hasty Sails their abject Navy flies;  
We'll scourge these false and domineering Braves,  
A Whip held up shall quell this War of Slaves:  
Encroaching Kings did by degrees obtrude  
Upon their easy Necks this Servitude;  
And their Despotic Government did rise  
Upon the People's ruin'd Liberties:  
Lewis th' Eleventh stripped the noble Tree,  
Whose stanchest Maxim was Hypocrisy;  
His Faith he at the vilest price did sell,  
And all his Art was to Dissemble well:  
He bragged that Minor France he made of Age,  
And brought the driuling Kingdom 
* Out of its Minority: His own Expression.  Horse de Page;  
But him a faithless Guardian we call,  
Who with his Pupils Rents turns Prodigal;  
For at his Fortune he arrives too late,  
For when he is Mature there's no Estate;  
But it received a more consummate Fall  
Under that Cruel, Meager Cardinal;  
Whose Purple with Patrician Blood was died,  
And Treachery was mixed up with his Pride:  
'Twas he that did his barbarous Arts employ,  
The World in mutual Conflicts to destroy.  
Caesar such spiteful Ministers forsaken,  
He would have him discarded for his look;  
For he did more in Anthony delight,  
Because he loved and revealed all the Night;  
Who in great Luxuries himself did sooth  
His Body full, and all his Features smooth;  
But he did hate a lean and envious Race,  
He abhorred Cassius for his plotting Face:  
But this last Hand their Ruin doth complete,  
He's with the Spoil of ravaged Cities, Great;  
And when whole Provinces do wasted lie,  
They call that Solitude his Victory;  
And now his Image they fall down before,  
Bernini made the God they do adore;  
Unto his Statue they do Incense burn,  
The Marble Hero doth whole Nations spurn.  
Spain to Augustus did an Altar raise,  
As an Eternal Monument of Praise;  
But frugal Sacrifice they did bestow,  
For at its Foot a Laurel once did grow:  
They did applaud the Omen of the Tree,  
Of course it must portend a Victory;  
He checked their Paeans, and reproved their Sloth,  
For constant Firing would have spoiled its growth:  
But here the Votaries incur no blame,  
They with obsequious Oil still imp the Flame:  
'Tis the distinguishing Character of France,  
Their Falshood's covered under Complaisance;  
Their Wisdome's Craft, their Wit is being Loud,  
Haughty when Prosperous, when Afflicted Proud:  
Slaves by Tradition, and they can't refuse,  
Salt without Meat, and Toil in wooden Shoes;  
They clink at every Step they do advance,  
Jolly they are, but they in Fetters dance;  
Gloire in their empty Cottages doth rebound,  
They live on great Reports, are fed with Sound:  
This Country is the Rendezvous of Boys,  
They return jaded with St. Germain's Toys:  
He at his Native Customs fiercely rails,  
And all he boasts is Lovure and Versailles:  
He chatters on, and all things talks by rote,  
Like unfledged Preachers who the Fathers quote;  
He learns to flatter, and unlearns to blush,  
Accomplished is his Comb, well-bred his Snush:  
His sober Looks are changed into Grimace,  
And new impressions do the old efface;  
As Cartes did his Candidates advise,  
To strip themselves of all their prejudice;  
To blot out the Ideas of their Mind,  
Not the least trace of Notion leave behind:  
Or else they were not adequately fit  
For all the Resveries of his towering Wit;  
So of what's Solid you must him divest,  
 he into a Monsieur can be dressed:  
We'd give the Traveller leave to be a Fop  
With great Impunity, if he there would stop;  
But he grows Wise, in Politics refines,  
His Land disgraceth first, then undermines;  
He pierceth farther through the Alps to Rome,  
He goes, but he may safer stay at Home:  
For Poison there is tightly made,  
And all their false Religion is a Trade:  
This is the Forge of all their holy Leagues,  
Where Popes are chose by Secular Intrigues;  
'Tis the beloved Interest doth the feat,  
Conscience the Fucus doth but smooth the cheat.  
So of all Dogs the Mastiff is the prime,  
A fierceness hath peculiar to the Clime;  
He with armed Teeth on obvious Foes doth fall,  
And with loud Threaten fills the spacious Hall:  
With a strict Paw and vigilant Eye doth watch  
The Guardian of the solitary Thatch;  
But if transported into Foreign Earth,  
He Vappid grows, and doth disgrace his Birth;  
Forgets the inbred Virtue of his Sires,  
Who scorned Supiness before Country Fires:  
But were inflicting Wounds in open Field,  
And made the Curs of lesser Nations yield.  
He generous was when he on Flesh did feed,  
But Quelques Chooses always spoil the English Breed:  
No more with harsh Alarms the Campagne rings,  
For he Barks shriller than an Eunuch Sings;  
Their active Envoys here did sow their Tares,  
And the unwary fell into their Snares:  
All critical Occasions they did wait,  
For each Complexion laid a different Bait.  
When the Ressortes of their Machine did play,  
They fired the Pile their Face another way:  
All things to vile Constructions they did draw,  
Corrupted Gospel, and perverted Law;  
Our Hopes eluded, ridiculed our Fears,  
Our Sighs they taxed, and did proscribe our Tears:  
The feeble Stream did to a Torrent rise,  
Swelled with the tribute of their Flatteries:  
The Lewd they did with secret Favours please,  
The Slothful they enervated with Ease;  
So large a Dose of Opium they did take,  
Nothing but Smithfield Fires could them awake;  
So strong a Lethargy did their Spirits seize,  
Nothing could cure but actual Canteries;  
Some they did Menace, others they did Bribe,  
There always is a Mercenary Tribe.  
So Monsieur Pelisson did keep a Court,  
To which the hungry Converts did resort:  
There in full Heaps the Lovis d'ors were told,  
For so much Proselyte there was so much Gold.  
They at an Auction did their Faith abjure,  
The dastard Quarry stooped unto the Lure:  
These to the Conqueror are still allied,  
Shifting the Gallican and Austrian Side;  
For still as either Interest doth prevail,  
They to be sure fall in and sink the Scale,  
They'll buy a Lapland Wind to fill the Sail:  
They have a Tithe in all the Blood that's spilt,  
Their Holy hands do Consecrate the Gild.  
This with extravagance of Zeal was done,  
Zeal is the frenzy of Religion,  
As its soft place is Superstition.  
They should have lived in Old Caligula's days,  
He unto Flamen-ships their Pride might raise;  
Who wished the Roman Empire in a Yoke,  
To cut it off at one imperious Stroke:  
They on his Rage a barbarous Edge might put,  
Tho' dull themselves they have no power to Cut;  
With an officious diligence give the Knife,  
Whilst he destroyed that complicated Life:  
When Subjects both of Church and State were gone,  
The Tyrant and his Priests might reign alone:  
Then Rhadamanthus did his Poisons shed,  
And like a Basilisk looked the Prisoner dead:  
With a Rapacious hand, and Furies face,  
Profaned the Bench, did desecrate the place,  
Where sat the Reverend Sages of the Law,  
Whose Age did with their Learning strike an awe,  
And mild Behaviour did Affection draw.  
He quarrelled with himself, at Mankind railed,  
Scurrility was a Weapon never failed,  
Upon such spurious Orators entailed.  
Yet tho' he was of that Gigantic size,  
He cramped himself into a mean disguise;  
And his last Stake would venture on the Sea,  
An Element less turbulent than he:  
But let the Goat now browse upon the Vine,  
As if he would destroy the future Wine;  
Yet at the Altar there's enough to shed,  
Betwixt the Horns on his devoted Head:  
Nothing but Dirt you can expect from Mud,  
And that in him was kneaded up with Blood.  
So when a flash of Lightning he espied,  
The sneaking Roman Emperor did hid:  
He in a Fright at last was downward sent,  
(The greatest Cowards are the Insolent)  
He trembled Waking, and did dose his Sleep,  
At last the Vermin through an Hole did creep:  
But all defects of Right are now supplied,  
By Him who in the roughest Times was tried;  
Who stoutly, and almost alone withstood,  
The Rise of that Arbitrary Flood,  
Before it had the Limits overflown,  
And all our ancient Properties did drown.  
He at a deepmouthed Pack did stand at Bay,  
And threw them off as fast as they did play;  
Made for the City Charter a Defence,  
With all the Nerves of Manly Eloquence,  
Words were Ambitious to express such Sense.  
Some faithless Men did violate their Trust,  
Aggressors were on their Forefathers Dust;  
Where they should make a stand, they did submit,  
And tamely yielded what they should transmit;  
They would not let the Fruit an Offering be,  
But like the Peasant they plucked up the Tree.  
A luscious tho' a very servile Pen,  
Did poorly Celebrate these worst of Men;  
The Blot indelible which did it slain,  
He called the greatest Glory of a Reign:  
For their blind Zeal a subtle Bait was laid,  
For a French Soupe their Birthrights they betrayed.  
'Twas then the Ornament of our Nation fell,  
(Who can his Tragedy without Weeping tell?)  
Solemn as Age, He cheerful was as Youth,  
His Soul was Virtue, and his Words were Truth:  
All without Affectation he did treat,  
Kind without Fraud, without Ambition, Great;  
No Country with a Braver Man was blest,  
He was in all Capacities the Best:  
Kingdoms might justly for him be at Strife,  
(He loved his Country better than his Life.)  
His aged Father lost a Glorious Son,  
Who had through all degrees of Honour run.  
His faithful Wife a mournful Farewell took,  
And still Regretted with a parting look;  
She with strong Tears did deprecate his Grave,  
The great Southampton's Daughter could not save:  
His Children next their Duty did address,  
The Hand they Kissed did in requital Bless;  
Still he was haunted with the Men in Black,  
Who with false Arguments did his Soul attack;  
Would force his latest Moment's to receive  
A Doctrine which themselves did not believe:  
At least they never practised.—  
Him with their Milksop Principle did tease,  
And would not let him Die who lived in Peace:  
For being a Patriot they spilled his Blood,  
He Died like Socrates for being Good.  
The English what they are do still appear,  
(The plainest Humour still is most sincere)  
The Crasis of their Genius is such,  
They always well, but sometimes think too much:  
He like an Hospitable Lord doth treat,  
Others may feast on his superfluous Meat;  
Drink with the overflowings of his Cup,  
And his waste Thoughts will set an Author up:  
When like a Diamond he doth polish it,  
'Tis a rich Stock, the Filings of his Wit;  
The Water's splendid, and the Foil is dark,  
And a true Lustre shines in every spark:  
He is not singular, doth not write Essays  
On purpose to discredit his own Days.  
Great Affectation in the labour shines,  
We scorn his brahmin's and his Mandarines;  
Our Virtue in a finer Mould is wrought,  
Purer than all his Naked Indians taught:  
Our Laws compact, our Government is wise,  
But stiff Formalities we do despise.  
He doth defraud great Authors of their due,  
Or them he doth contemn, or never knew:  
Harvey's bright Reputation doth attack,  
When his Chinese Physician is a Quack;  
Doth leave untouched Gassendus learned Toil,  
And of all Philosophers the sweetest, boil:  
His Ancestors he scarce his own doth call,  
For he's Himself a great Original.  
For Birth he's not ambitious to be known,  
But his Experiments are all his own;  
With a Promethean, Chemic Heat inspired,  
All things are from Himself, and not acquired:  
And to decide, the World is in Suspense,  
Which greater is his Piety or Sense.  
Hobbs to be sure is foremost of the List,  
But he omits his great Antagonist,  
Who hath so many Learned Volumes writ,  
Not to be fathomed with his fleering Wit:  
He with mysterious Numbers fills each Page,  
And is the Archimedes of the Age.  
Hobbs altho' trod upon yet still would By't,  
And baffled had the Impudence to Write:  
His boasted Penetration went not far,  
His Atheism only made him Popular;  
For he of Libertines did lead the Van,  
And only did old Heresies Japan:  
Rather a lasting Pyramid of Disgrace,  
Where he was Born should signalise the place,  
With Capital Inscriptions of his Fault,  
His very Memory should be razed with Salt.  
The ancient Music was an Oaken Reed,  
When Mopsa listened, or the Flocks did feed;  
Amphion they for Wisdom did admire,  
Only in Metaphor he touched his Lyre:  
For a great Legislator he became,  
And did with Laws their savage Manners tame:  
What's more complaining than the Lover's Flute?  
And what's more sweet and learned than the Lute?  
It doth in high Imperial Strains command,  
And is not fit for every Vulgar Hand;  
He must have deep, and Mathematic skill,  
Who can the Chords with a true Measure fill:  
What Passions can't the noble Wood excite,  
To make us Serious, or move Delight?  
In mournful Accents chief doth prevail,  
A Widow 'tis which doth the Dead bewail,  
Her Beauty shines the brighter through the Veil.  
Now the severest Remedies apply,  
He is far gone in Etymology:  
HE hath all the Symptoms of a Feverish Wit,  
But now he is outrageous in his Fit;  
For he his Runick Poetry would obtrude,  
Tho' like their Country it was very rude:  
The Goths like Locusts every where were seen,  
And all things they destroyed of fresh and green;  
They o'er the World did like Banditi rove,  
All Learning to extirpate, not improve:  
So a shrewd Author in conjecture Wise,  
Hath proved his Sweden to be Paradise:  
To all the World that Country he prefers,  
And our first Parents hath made Laplanders.  
Judicious Spencer shakes his Reverend Head,  
Depressed when living, slighted now he's dead:  
Passionate Tasso doth almost Blaspheme,  
To see aspersed his great Jerusalem:  
The Colour's lively and the Flesh is sound,  
'Tis Gold Embroidery on a Purple Ground:  
Marini can't be angry, but doth smile,  
His Humour is as charming as his Style:  
A Table richly spread you there enjoy;  
Tho' all desert the Dainties do not cloy:  
The least resenting he provoketh most,  
'Tis the Ingenuous, Candid Cowley's Ghost:  
He did complain of Fame's inconstant Breath,  
And he is robbed of that too after Death:  
His Davideis merits a first place,  
The Body's strong, and sprightly is the Race:  
'Tis solid sense in vehicle of Rhyme;  
As Ovid sweet, like Virgil is sublime:  
If Nature had but lengthened out his Span,  
Cham's had exceeded far the Mantuan Swan:  
For a begged Lunatic he needs must pass,  
Who prefers Rabelais unto Hudibras.  
An Edge-hill Soldier where some Blood was spilt,  
Cries up the Target, and the Basket Hilt;  
Upon his Arm shows an old-fashioned Scar,  
But damns our modern Discipline of War:  
So an Old Woman at her times doth rail,  
Commends the Velvet-hood and Farthingale;  
But the Commode and Top-knot doth decry  
Where now the Head is reared three Stories high:  
But He his own Ideas doth confute,  
The Ancients still must yield to him in fruit:  
Like Dioclesian He his hours doth waste  
In Gardens, to impose upon our Taste:  
And each Opinion's false that is not His,  
A Tyrant like his spurious Phalaris.  
The very Names would Columella fright,  
He doth with Labyrinths perplex our sight:  
here the Quincuncial Lozenges are seen;  
There never was such Fruit as is at Sheen.  
Pardon me, MADAM, if these words are used  
To vindicate an Age that is traduced;  
And such an one Augustus would have chus'd.  
England in Miniature doth the World contain;  
All things are Great where You vouchsafe to Reign:  
England to Tyranny doth set the Bars,  
And is the Arbiter of Foreign Wars:  
Rational Duty to their Kings is shown,  
Fear is the worst Supporter of a Throne;  
When it breaks out into a public Hate,  
To be Compliant than it is too late:  
They're justly balanced betwixt each extreme,  
The Frenchman's Levity, and Spaniard's Phlegm.  
They the Ingredients in right temper have,  
As gay as Athens, and like Sparta, grave;  
Tho' these did in Formality exceed,  
Their adust Choler did Moroseness breed:  
The Man looked sad, and did in method walk,  
Wise in his Nods, but frugal of his Talk;  
In a Laconic Syllable he speaks,  
These were the Puritans amongst the Greeks:  
Admired themselves, despised the World beside,  
Their Talk was Calumny, and Silence, Pride;  
Their Laughter was Hypocrisy disguised,  
And Merit, tho' it served them, never prized:  
They to promote their politic ends of State,  
Did shift alternately their Love and Hate:  
On trivial Matters they insisted long,  
Were obstinate and positive in the wrong;  
They to great Torments did themselves inure,  
All things but Contradiction could endure;  
For you might lash these Stoics till they bled,  
Their Body Iron, and their Soul was Led.  
Our Nobles Courteous, Valiant are, and Wise,  
Tenacious of their ancient Liberties;  
And great Immunities do the People bless,  
(Oh if they did but know their Happiness!)  
Wise and rich Senators them represent,  
And they are Governed by their own Consent:  
Nay, the industrious Owner of the Flail,  
A Freedom claims by virtue of Entail;  
They great Supplies do with Affection bring,  
And give their Hearts up with the Offering:  
He doth their Cheerfulness with Thanks approve,  
And with Protection doth repay their Love.  
Just so in Lombardy that fruitful Land,  
Where Nature sows with no illiberal Hand;  
A well-proportioned Elm sustains the Vine,  
In mutual Embraces they combine,  
And Strength and Beauty do together join:  
The Fruit refresheth, and the Shade delights,  
With grateful Clusters its support requites.  
But Coward! Oh the infamous Disgrace!  
That Stigma ne'er was fixed on English Race:  
It is enough to baffle that Report,  
To mention Poitiers-Field, and Agincourt;  
Where a whole Nation was a Captive made,  
Each Soldier Prisoner had a whole Brigade.  
Let Cavendish and Hawkins now revive,  
Methinks I see Old Frobisher alive;  
He riseth to assert our tarnished Fame,  
His Mouth is foam, and both his Eyes are flame:  
Drake's artificial Thunder than should roar,  
Their tawdry Ships should by his Guns be tore;  
He first invented that compendious way,  
With an ex tempore, floating Death to slay:  
Their rotten Carcases should then expire,  
In towering Pyramids of Nitrous fire.  
But where shall we another Ossory have,  
Who was cropped off by an untimely Grave?  
A Mulct upon the Witty and the Brave:  
In Time's untroubled was Mankind's Delight,  
And equally their Terror in a Fight;  
He Governed mildly, fiercely did Command,  
Peace in his looks, and Vengeance in his hand.  
In his Illustrious Son he doth survive,  
Who doth his Virtues with his Blood derive;  
With equal steps of Honour thou may'st run,  
But thy great Father ne'er can be outdone.  
Fortune did from her Caesar now divide,  
Like Labienus turned to Pompey's side:  
At Sea to Conquer is our ancient Right,  
And there for our Inheritance we Fight;  
But she like that, herself Inconstant shows,  
And as the Ocean, hath her Ebbs and Flows.  
But we our blemished Honour will regain,  
With Tracts of Blood we'll chase them through the Main:  
Nay, the Fubs-yatch shall their great Admiral hail,  
He to her Flag shall strike his lofty Sail.  
Tho' in that Element we were distressed,  
The Land repaired the wrong with Interest:  
With actual Slaughter did retort their Boasts,  
And for their empty Smoke we sent them Ghosts.  
Who's qualified to tell that strange Defeat?  
Pharsalia should be writ with Lucan's heat:  
In a true light who can the Battle show?  
Fit for the Traits of hardy Angelo:  
Raphael a softer Deity invokes,  
But he dashed strong, and aimed at mighty strokes:  
Let him the Efforts of his Genius try,  
Mix on the Pallette his Ingredients high;  
But chief let him heighten up the Red,  
To paint the Blood in large effusions shed;  
Then pleat the Armour in a curious fold,  
And the deep Shadows burnish o'er with Gold;  
Then let him scatter a more florid Light,  
And set off all with Prominence to the sight:  
But to describe the generous Horse's rage,  
Breathing out Fire, impatient to engage;  
The Pencil thrown at random does that part,  
And Chance shall finish what's denied to Art.  
Death doth in several shapes itself disguise,  
In a disploded Globe of Fire it flies,  
And with a Cynic Spasme the Soldier dies:  
With his last Anger he tears up the Ground,  
His Soul is summoned to attend the Wound;  
This tender being every Fit doth seize,  
Lies at the mercy of each slight Disease;  
A Fever burns it, and an Ague shakes,  
Morbid impressions from the Body takes:  
And here the fatal Shot its powers doth reach,  
It makes a Sally at an open Breach;  
But single Fate no pensive Eye bemoans,  
These are Preludiums to deeper Groans:  
For by the Canon Cohorts are destroyed,  
The Earth regorgeth with the Slaughter cloyed.  
Now draw our flaming Hero on the Banks,  
Exposed to Death the foremost of the Ranks;  
Where Wounds the thickest flew he still was seen,  
And nothing left of Victory to glean:  
Then all the Troops in a close order join,  
On the unfaithful Marble of the Boyne.  
Auspicious Heaven to the Bold's a Friend,  
Against two Elements they do contend;  
Whilst of the Waters they the Depths explore,  
A swift-winged Fire comes wounding from the Shore:  
The Work grows warm, discoloured is the Flood,  
The tinctured Waves swell higher with the Blood;  
Tho' deeply gashed yet still they persevere,  
Veterane Soldiers know not how to fear:  
The Danger's near, they are upon the brink,  
Their Courage buoys them up, they cannot sink.  
The flying Mischief doth not always hit,  
For sometimes a good Genius frustrates it;  
And interposing doth divert the Blow,  
In vain it murmurs then, in vain doth glow:  
But it doth like a blust'ring Meteor rise,  
It a false Terror gives, and then it dies,  
It only huffs the Bully of the Skies:  
Or as the Ancients thought the Sun did drown  
When it did Set, and hissed when it went Down;  
It in the watery Region doth command.  
And Fish are Massacred at second hand:  
So Caesar whom no Element could confine,  
Nor Danger ever stopped, thus passed the Rhine:  
He with large Beams the River Captive made,  
And curbed its Fury with a strong Steccade:  
He Warred in Britain, Germany, and Gaul,  
And did return Unwounded from them all:  
But the Pellaean Youth great Risks did run,  
Tho' he adopted was great Ammon's Son:  
For at the Oxydraques his chief Renown,  
Where he did single fight against a Town;  
Two Javelins did his mighty Spirit check,  
One in his Shoulder, t'other in his Neck:  
He at the Granick did a Blow receive,  
A vulgar Hatchet did his Helmet cleave;  
His Head it left unhurt, that Sacred part;  
At Gaza he was wounded with a Dart:  
When Swords did cut him, and the Slings did maim,  
His Heavenly Parentage he did disclaim;  
From that Enthusiastic Dream was freed,  
He thought himself no God when he did bleed:  
The Granick could not stop his youthful rage,  
Of a soft Nation made a great Carnage:  
Apparently he had the weaker side,  
But that defect with Courage was supplied.  
In all great Actions there is something rash,  
As generous Wine's diluted with a dash;  
If the concerted Measures do succeed,  
Th' Event applauds it for a glorious Deed:  
As 'tis the plague of an ingenious Mind,  
That unto Madness it is oft inclined;  
The Fancy an Ecstatick Rapture feels,  
And the brisk circulation fires the Wheels.  
We in Great WILLIAM his Example see,  
His Valour hath, but from his Vices free;  
Intemperance that split him was the Shelf,  
And then he did degenerate from himself;  
His later Life his former did reproach,  
When his great Soul did sink into Debauch.  
To gain their Breath now let the Soldier's halt,  
Then make the Guns against their Foes revolt:  
'Tis a Sedition terrible and new,  
Their very Mortars now prove Rebels too:  
Let the Praetorian Guards now make a stand,  
'Tis like the Persian's immortal Band;  
Or like that Company which never yields,  
Whose Men have Hearts of Brass, and Silver Shields.  
The Irish leave their Bogs, and show their Face,  
And with armed Squadrons fill an empty space:  
They are the Offspring of weakhearted Men,  
The plastic Egg was from a Dunghil-Hen;  
Their sluggish Customs with Religion keep,  
They're Country bleats, their Ancestors were Sheep:  
With Punic Faith they flatter and deceive,  
Impostures ne'er so gross they will believe:  
Their Talk with Solecism doth still abound,  
And they will stumble upon Carpet-ground;  
Shoes they have none, are clad in Native Frieze,  
The ancient Nomades were these Rapperies:  
The Sun doth Vapours from their Swamps exhale,  
But still their weight doth o'er his Beams prevail;  
Too heavy for his Chariot to bear,  
He's forced to drop them in the Atmosphere;  
With their moist Fleeces it is always full,  
And this Baeotian Air doth make them dull:  
So that betwixt two constant Plagues they move,  
Morasse below, and weeping Clouds above.  
To pierce the dark Retreats where they did lurk,  
Before was Labour, 'twas the mighty Work:  
A kind, protecting Shrub, they shrunk behind,  
'Twas easier to Conquer them, than to find;  
Nay, on the Surface they were rarely found,  
They lived like Troglodytes, all underground:  
To kill them scarce a Triumph doth afford,  
Ignoble Blood pollutes the Victor's Sword.  
So great Aemilius, Perseus did despise,  
And when he Kneeled, in scorn he bid him rise;  
With too much ease he did the Glory reap,  
His Baseness made the Victory too cheap:  
The knotty Oak is worthy of the Wedge,  
The passive Willow only dulls the Edge.  
Now paint two fierce Competitors for Fame,  
Versed in the Sleights of this inhuman Game:  
If thy ingenious Art can fix a Sound,  
Echo which doth in hollow Vaults rebound;  
Draw the Upbraid which they first do throw,  
And them they urge with a Reprisal-blow;  
The velitary Skirmish is with Words,  
But the Triarian Weapons are their Swords.  
The Knot is cut which could not be untied,  
The Rivals fall by one another's side;  
He doth himself with his Revenge confound,  
Stab, but his Purple Soul leaves in the Wound:  
That and the Body are at mutual strife,  
When Death approacheth the Frontiers of Life;  
How to elude its Force it cannot tell,  
It must evacuate the Citadel:  
Death takes possession of the battered place,  
Slights all the Lines, and doth the Works deface;  
Martial Encounters they are glad to see,  
Disease is an unequal Enemy:  
Tho' this through all the Field did strike a damp,  
It was a Charnel-house, and not a Camp:  
Here he his Court like Eastern Monarches keeps,  
He Triumphs in the midst of slaughtered Heaps.  
Old Masinissa in a Rage doth cry,  
Let my brave Soldiers Fight before they Dye:  
No Mortal yet that Skeleton withstood,  
Nothing can Conquer them that's Flesh and Blood.  
He scarce from Execrations can refrain,  
Demands of Death his Legions back again:  
Their Veins did with distempered Pulses beat,  
Blood that was kindled with the Summer's heat  
Now in the straightened Passages it swells,  
Like to proud Monks within their narrow Cells;  
Is clogged with Heterogeneous Particles.  
They like a Friend do not a Visit make,  
But like rude Tartars do Freequarter take;  
For there they fix a riotous Abode,  
The stream of Life with foreign Mixtures load:  
Upon it they do violent Torments lay,  
And force it with themselves to come away.  
Now like Autumnal Wine it doth ferment,  
But its Impurities not having vent,  
Unto the sharp Intestines they are sent:  
There through the Arteries they find open Doors,  
Whilst the dull Air doth Constipate the Pores:  
Tortion the Nervous Fibres doth molest,  
The Carneous with Convulsive throws oppressed;  
These racking Pains the Patiented waking keep,  
And all their Opiates can't procure him Sleep:  
In vain their Styptic Remedies they put,  
They can't the Mouths of gaping Vessels shut:  
His Spirits quite decayed, he weltering lies,  
And when the Blood is all drained out, he Dies.  
Now the Clinquant and well-dressed Volunteer,  
Wisheth for Armour, and gins to fear;  
Death is a frightful Spectacle when near.  
He scorns to fight for Mercenary pay,  
But gratis comes to throw his Life away:  
He is distinguished by his gaudy Plumes,  
His Fortune all in Equipage consumes,  
And the Pursuers trace him by Perfumes:  
They at his Face their murdering Piles do hurl,  
They storm his Locks, and put them out of Curl:  
A Crimson Wound into his Bosom flies,  
And pierceth deeper than Corinna's Eyes;  
Nay, in Ritratto her it doth deface,  
It breaks her Image in a Crystal Case;  
With Lockets of her Chesnut-hair 'tis set,  
But for her Lover a weak Amulet:  
For against Fate it can't his Breast defend;  
In Death we are forsaken by our Friend:  
This doth so fast unto the Fortress climb,  
To write a Billet doux he hath not time:  
With his last Sigh he doth invoke her Name,  
And now is Martyred in a fiercer Flame:  
Before he only had a modish Blot,  
But now he is all o'er a Powder-spot:  
The Palpitations of his Heart doth quell,  
Ah Lycidas! Poor Lycidas thus fell.  
Shomberg doth now his ancient Prowess show,  
His Courage stagnated gins to flow;  
He prodigal of Wounds doth now repay,  
With Usury his Phlegmatic delay.  
So Hannibal did the Cunctator dread,  
He like a Tempest hovered o'er his Head;  
He always did suspect that hanging Shower,  
Would fall at last, and like a Torrent pour;  
Although it looked so quiet on the Hill,  
It did the Fields with Inundations fill:  
He in the World had tarried now so late,  
He seemed indulged as an exempt of Fate:  
His reverend Hairs the Assassins should surprise,  
As they were daunted once with Marius' Eyes:  
In those black Orbs Intelligences roll,  
They are the polished Mirrors of the Soul.  
The Gauls in their Pursuits relentless are,  
And Age their Ancestors did never spare;  
That they the Gates were entered, when they heard,  
The Senate to the Capitol repaired;  
And there like Romans did expect their Fate,  
They sat like Gods, and they would die in State:  
But they were worried by a savage Herd,  
And the rude Soldier plucked the Conscript Beard:  
They all things had of Age but panic Fears,  
In them were ruined Centuries of Years:  
Against Posterity it was a Crime  
To kill these living Registers of Time.  
Brennus' sacked Rome with more than barbarous Rage,  
He was the cruel Boufflers of his Age:  
Boufflers! His Birth strange Prodigies did attend,  
The Mischiefs he should act they did portend;  
He hath fulfilled all his foreboding Stars  
With Murders, Rapines, and Piratic Wars:  
With Fire and Sword whole Provinces he clears,  
He's fanned with Sighs, and swims in Orphans Tears.  
A Mormoe to the Cradle is become,  
Strangling a future World too in the Womb:  
In dread of him the trembling Infant grows,  
And Mothers Curse him with abortive throws.  
Dying he will not for his Vengeance call,  
And have the World's accompany his Fall;  
Heaven mixed with Earth the Monster might survive,  
But he will see it Ruined whilst alive:  
They to the Work the Instrument did suit,  
Their bloody Edicts fit to execute;  
For thither savage Men their Course direct,  
And them they do Employ, or else Protect.  
The proud Tarqvinius was expelled from Rome,  
The place where now Apostate Princes come;  
And here a Convert lately did reside,  
And to the grief of all her Minions, Died:  
A train of Favourites did to her belong,  
Cherished the Learned, but much more the Strong:  
She to indulge her Passions hither came,  
When her cold Country could not quench her flame:  
Fresh Conquests over Italy did obtain,  
She brought her Goths and Vandals there again;  
Those formerly did like a Tempest spread,  
But these were soft and more politely bred.  
That Faith she did with all her Kingdoms yield,  
For which her Father died in Lutzen-field:  
When Life with Wounds was forced to quit its Post,  
He put off Man, and fought the rest a Ghost;  
She with new Poinancies did her pleasures taste,  
Lucrece when Ravished in her Mind was ;  
But she such Injuries could well sustain,  
So Ungentile she thought it to Complain:  
She for her Vices chose a proper Land,  
Where Absolution ready was at hand.  
So Donna Olympia at the Rudder sat,  
Her Distaff governed the Pontificate:  
At such a rate did all Preferments sell,  
A Female-Pope is sure Infallible:  
Tho' on the Tiber her a Chair should hold,  
It is a lustral Water for a Scold;  
She to the Vatican had a private Door,  
Wheedled the Rich. and did oppress the Poor;  
And Ruffians for her Ministers she chose,  
She baffled Crowns, and Mitres did dispose:  
On those who were not Rich they did not fall,  
And the whole Church was Simoniacal;  
She did not underhand require a Bond,  
But Scudi must be paid into the Fond;  
The Vicar slept in an Incestuous Bed,  
With Tyrian Purple and with Holy spread;  
In softer Fetters then St. Peter bound,  
Tho' Mortal so deformed could not be found,  
Or in Profane or Consecrated Ground:  
His Nose in grain, sharp Look, his Eyes did gloat,  
A Woman once they chose, but now a Goat:  
He had no Gifts his Merit to enhance,  
He was made up of Lust and Ignorance;  
With a Red Cap he did an Abbot bless,  
He thought him Uglier than his Holiness:  
Learning tho' ne'er so great did not regard,  
But what was Monstrous met with a Reward.  
Tarquin capricious Time and Fortune's sport,  
At last took Refuge in Porsenna's Court;  
Strict Correspondence did their Friendship bind,  
And were in Sympathy of Humour joined.  
Cocles a narrow Avenue did gain,  
Against an Army did the Pass maintain;  
And when the Bridge behind was broken down,  
He through the River Swum into the Town.  
Claelia the Heroine must next advance,  
Whose Name hath furnished out a whole Romance,  
Sprightly as the Pucelle of Orleans:  
She from a flight Confinement did escape,  
And a short Voyage o'er the Tiber make;  
The Noble burden did the Courser save,  
So that he did not founder in the Wave;  
When he his charming Hostage re-demands,  
She did herself refund into his hands:  
When he such Valour, and such Faith did see,  
Himself dismissed his generous Enemy.  
But Scaevola was with a great warmth possessed,  
He was for striking at the Tyrant's Breast;  
But by his side did an Addresser kill,  
Who served him with his Life against his will:  
He Gamester-like Cursed the unslucky throw,  
Martyred the hand which did mistake the Blow;  
'Twas bravely aimed, in vain it was not spent,  
It spoiled a Courtier's fulsome Compliment:  
Porsenna did in him by Proxy bleed,  
The Error did excel the real Deed.  
Tasso a lofty Compliment once had,  
When he told him who writ the Lusiad; 
* Camaens.   
That Vasco whom the Portuguese prize,  
Who farthest pushed their large Discoveries,  
Where Phoebus with his infant Beams doth rise:  
That he with Wishes fraught did sail away,  
And the rich Cargo he brought back was Day.  
So when Great WILLIAM did from us departed,  
Each individual Venture was an Heart;  
And when again restored unto our sight,  
His Presence will be welcomer than Light:  
But that he should be from all Dangers free,  
His Tutelar Angel was the Guarantee;  
He did protect the Charge which he did love,  
And liberal Heaven can't Insolvent prove:  
Preserved a Life which doth exceed all Price,  
Cleared up the Mists, and sunk the drifts of Ice:  
With two collided Clouds struck out a Ray,  
Which did the Wanderers to their Port convey;  
This Harbinger with streaks of light did mark the way.  
Till you come back we with Impatience burn,  
And we keep here the Pledge of your Return:  
She without you cannot enjoy the Court,  
Your Absence if 'tis long, she can't support;  
Till her Ulysses hath repassed the Flood,  
Her Life is but a sort of Widowhood.  
But he must first his Native Belgium view,  
Receive the Homage to his Valour due:  
Affairs of Moment he must first debate,  
And by their Model cut out Europe's Fate.  
He Executes, but first he doth Advise,  
Valiant as Scipio, and like Fabius, Wise;  
An Heroc of Immaculate Renown,  
A Solemn Look, and yet without a Frown;  
Fearless in Danger, Humble with a Crown.  
Xenophon Cyrus in false Colours drew,  
He really that Fiction doth outdo;  
He hath surpassed in all his Actions since,  
The most exalted Platform of that Prince:  
His Genius in Infancy excels,  
Outstripped the Body's sluggish Particles;  
It would not wait its slow and tedious pace,  
But flew like Atalanta in the Race:  
Weak Barriers could not the great Champion hold,  
Unfoiled his Strength, but incorrupt with Gold;  
The Purple Clusters did oppress the Root,  
From the Dwarf-tree there hung down ripened Fruit:  
His Mind did great Conceptions entertain,  
Through all the Rock there shined a glistering Vein;  
Image of War his slumbering Thoughts did teise,  
It did disturb our Young Themistocles:  
Awake he finished the unpolished Scheme,  
And Conquests got of which he first did Dream.  
His Recreations Manly did appear,  
More Serious than others Business were;  
He drew the stubborn Bow, and shook the Spear:  
In vain the savage Monster of the Wood,  
With raging Jaw and Tusks his Arm withstood;  
In his tough sides he did the Javelin lance,  
And thus, saith he, I'll Ganch the Boar of France;  
Who doth with Desolations fill the Land,  
And he shall fall by Meleager's hand:  
On a resisting Prey his Shafts were sent,  
Fairly he Killed, but scorned to Circumvent;  
Tho' Stratagem they say first here was laid,  
Which after was improved to Ambuscade:  
That Terror grew which was at first Delight,  
And Hunting was the Rudiment of a Fight.  
A longer Life doth only Years increase,  
With an united Strength to force a Peace:  
Of a contagious War the World to cure,  
But long ago his Wisdom was Mature;  
Fortune from you did a strong Philtre take,  
Charmed to your Side it will not it forsake:  
Smiled on your Youth, when Old it shall not Frown,  
Your Victories to the Earth shall weigh you down;  
The Laurel which escaped the Thunder's rage,  
And still was Green, shall hoary grow with Age.  
Augustus, when he had the World allied  
In mutual Amity, contented Died:  
Harwich by Union's joined unto the Brill,  
Holland he treads but England's with him still:  
Of our Nobility he hath the flower,  
To serve and to adorn his Royal Power.  
So that our Monarch at the Hague doth sit,  
‛ Compassed with Honour, Courage, and with Wit:  
They in one Sphere Concentrically move,  
Like Medicaean Stars attending Jove:  
There they a Country Cultivated see,  
A State whose Genius is Industry:  
The meanest doth with Application thrive,  
And every One brings Thyme unto the Hive.  
Frugal they are, but Plenty they enjoy,  
The Poor they best relieve, that is, Employ:  
Their Merchants to the utmost Indies run,  
Where they have spawned another Nation.  
They with high Ramparts have the Sea withstood,  
And have overwhelmed the Spaniards with their Blood;  
For they by Inches did their Country gain,  
For every spot of Earth an Army slain.  

* The Fifth.  Charles did with sober Policy design,  
More closely all these Provinces to join,  
Into a mighty Kingdom them unite,  
But he in Discontent turned Anchoret:  
With drowsy Friars he his Days did close,  
He did disturb the World's, and their repose:  
He left the Plan unfinished to his Son,  
To fix it with the Inquisition;  
For this Tribunal is a spiritual Throne,  
And here the Priest doth domineer alone:  
Injustice here, and holy Thefts do dwell,  
The Darkness, and the Cruelty of Hell;  
For in the Dungeon there's Cimmerian Night,  
And yet then that more terrible is Light;  
For than they barbarous Judges only see,  
Who do their Death without remorse decree:  
In Sanbenitoes' dress those wretched Men,  
Whom to Eternal Flames they do condemn:  
If Rich, then unavoided is your Fate,  
The flagrant Heresy is a great Estate,  
If Poor, half the Damnation they'll abate:  
This a peculiar Name and Triumph hath,  
They call this Butchery an Act of Faith:  
Holland these Usurpations did oppose,  
The Shield was hammered with Pyracmon's blows.  
Philip did fight for what was his before,  
And his own Flesh he like a Madman tore;  
But Self-defence did their Resentments draw,  
The Sword prevented that Draconick Law;  
This they owed chief unto Great NASSAU:  
Whose Family of Heroes is the source,  
And hath flowed on in a Pacifick course;  
With Surface smooth an even stream doth keep,  
'Tis not obstreperous, silent 'tis and deep:  
In him the same Affection doth remain,  
Those whom his Fathers raised he doth sustain,  
And they are shaded with his prosperous Reign:  
With Arcs Triumphal now her Prince receives,  
His Conquests all cut out in Bas-reliefes;  
And the rich Ground is plentifully spread,  
With blooming, future Honours for his Head.  
Savoy doth anxiously Supplies request,  
Succour him first for he is most Distressed;  
The Eagles in his Rocks have built their Nest:  
The French through rugged Paths have made their way,  
Those heights are proper for such Birds of prey:  
They in a barren, abrupt Country live,  
Their Diet like their Faith is Primitive;  
For slender Sustenance their strength recruits,  
Where they can dig them out they feed on Roots:  
Wines they have none, their Drink is melted Snow,  
When heated with the Sun their Hills do flow;  
Their Bodies Nervous are, but very thin,  
've hanging down a mighty, Double-Chin;  
It makes their Women look like Endor-Haggs,  
With livid Visages, and flaccid Bags:  
This evil doth proceed as some do think,  
Because the Alpine-water they do drink;  
Which from the Springs within the Clefts do fall,  
Impregnate with an Acid Mineral:  
With the same Vigour they their Prince sustain,  
As against him they did their Faith maintain.  
Although these Valleys have but glimmering Light,  
Yet for their Hearths and Altars they did fight:  
Heaven doth not always take the juster side,  
His Power to show, and to chastise our Pride;  
Like Plague and Famine it doth suffer France,  
Upon his injured Kinsman to advance:  
Victorious Princes break through sacred Ties,  
Those Webs were only made for vulgar Flies.  
Nothing could Charles-Emanuel control,  
His Country was too Narrow for his Soul;  
Still his Ambition did fresh Objects seek,  
His penned up Courage into Flames did break:  
These were the cause, the Jealousies of Spain,  
That he a larger Empire did not gain;  
But he for Christendom did cut out work,  
And like a Fox did in his Mountains lurk:  
With Hannibal's Vinegar they all are cleft,  
This Prince hath scarce a Territory left;  
But these Events don't with our Prophet's suit,  
It doth their Revelation-Dreams confute:  
Nostre-Dame saw in Hieroglyphic Scroll,  
The Convoys all cut off from Pignerol;  
In his Divining Elbow-Chair he sat,  
And looking wisely as did Montaigne's Cat,  
Foretold the Overthrow of Catinat.  
These Arts unto their Merchants we should leave,  
Whose professed Livolihood is to Deceive;  
With Schemes of Wether they dawb round their Brain,  
And if 'tis Cloudy it may chance to Rain:  
And now that all the World with Wars is filled,  
If there's a Fight some Troopers may be killed:  
Embargo should be laid on Platonists,  
Else all our Knowledge will be lost in Mists.  
A noble Treatise lately hath been wrote,  
'Gainst these Idaealists an Antidote:  
There's nothing rough the tender Mind to tear,  
But from those Thorns the fertile Ground is clear:  
Nothing but what's perspicuous there is taught,  
You are not like the Ram in Brambles caught;  
To extricate himself he vainly tries,  
And you to Jargon fall a Sacrifice.  
His Arguments are in a due method placed,  
His Notions by their bright impressions traced;  
They all do like a regular Prospect lie,  
Not to amuse, but please the Learned Eye:  
His Reas'ning in a deeper Mould are seen,  
His Metaphors like Beams do play between;  
Tho' they're profound, yet they the Mind delight,  
As Shade is but a sort of thicker Light.  
Nature with Assiduity he hath served,  
Her utmost Favours are for him reserved;  
Into her Closet doth admission gain,  
And all her Mysteries he shall explain:  
He with his Judgement shall new-form our Clay,  
Solve all Phaenomena another way;  
New Passages shall by his Eye be seen,  
Which lurk within this curious Machine:  
He thinks beyond an ordinary stint,  
He brings his Bullion to a finer Mint;  
His Grains unto the Sixtieth part assayed  
Are true, tho' in the tenderest Balance weighed;  
As in Philosophy, he shall impart  
His Nostrums in the Aesculapian Art:  
Scurvey, and every insolent Disease  
Shall be subdued by our great Hercules;  
The pallid Legions shall their Victor fear,  
And the Augean Stable he shall clear:  
From New-discovered Indies bring home Wealth,  
The Author of our Learning and our Health:  
The Moderns, nay, the Ancients hath Outdone;  
The Nation may be proud of such a Son.  
Others for Martial Exploits are born,  
But such as he the Kingdom must adorn;  
As in that Land where Nature's always dressed,  
With the Sun's genial Caresses blest:  
Ripe Fruit is justled out with younger Seeds,  
Still a fresh Colony of Blossoms breeds:  
So to our KING all Seasons Laurel bring,  
And the whole Year is a perpetual Spring;  
For every Conquest, like a pregnant Rose,  
With opening Buds fresh Triumphs doth disclose:  
We'll Conquer with the Auguries of his Fame,  
As Nicias carried Victory in his Name;  
With Carcases we'll surfeit all the Ground,  
We'll shake their Walls down with our Trumpets sound;  
Display the Eagles, Legions advance,  
We'll fix our Standards in the Heart of France.  
Now, MADAM, who your Merit can set forth,  
In strains adjusted to such wondrous Worth?  
So bright a Theme should rapturous Thoughts infuse,  
A Task too weighty for a vulgar Muse:  
This should the Genius of Old Waller raise,  
Whose rich and elegant Talon was to Praise;  
The sweetest Bard that ever yet hath sung,  
When to his Voice his learned Harp he strung,  
On his melodious Lips the Audience hung.  
You, MADAM, have a glorious Instance given,  
That Woman's the peculiar Work of Heaven;  
Men are debased with very course allay,  
Theirs is a delicate, a China Clay:  
They defaecated are from spurious Dross,  
The Texture soft, and beautiful the Gloss;  
As when the Horizon doth begin to clear,  
To those who have been Darkened half the Year;  
When it doth gradually improve to Day,  
And the saint Beam becomes a pointed Ray;  
The amazing Splendour doth at first surprise,  
But after doth refresh their longing Eyes:  
Nay that which we less Northward never saw,  
Discourse congealed with solid Ice doth thaw;  
For Cold doth all their Syllables condense,  
Transparent Words they have, and Crystal Sense:  
But when the Sun's Meridian Heat is felt,  
They all into their proper Idioms melt.  
Olaus Magnus doth this Story tell,  
Or else John Struys, Le Blanc, or Mandeville.  
So till your Monarch, MADAM, hither came,  
We scarce were kindled with a vital Flame;  
But then a new Creation did appear,  
And a fresh Colour in our Hemisphere:  
We with loud Accents did proclaim our Wrongs,  
For his kind Influence did unloose our Tongues.  
A Blemish on our humane Nature lies,  
That we a candid Temper do despise,  
Whilst the ill-humoured Wretch is counted wise;  
An Horror strikes with his mysterious looks,  
As dark and false as are the Sibyls Books;  
And when he opens trivial Things are spoke,  
Only that vilest sort of Wit, a Joke:  
As Monsters never have an easy Birth,  
There is Austerity in his very Mirth.  
On a calm River unconcerned we slide,  
But startle at the roughness of the Tide;  
We are surprised, our Joy proclaim aloud,  
When only Strictures issue from the Cloud;  
When his stiff Wrinkles do grow supple, then  
'Tis to oblige himself, not other Men:  
So peevish is, his Mind is so diseased,  
You watch his Minutes when he will be pleased:  
For being surly they to Honours rise,  
And want of Breeding all their Merit is;  
Either they are capricious or severe,  
And they prefer them purely out of Fear:  
The World's so intricate, and so untrue,  
To pass its Labyrinths we want a Clown;  
If Corydon had but the secret knew!  
He hath spun out his Melancholy Years,  
Betwixt deluding Hopes and certain Fears;  
Hath been deceived by Consecrated Wiles,  
By Frowns affronted, and betrayed by Smiles:  
We of an open Enemy can beware,  
But Saint-ship is an unavoided Snare.  
He to his Head did arrogate a Ray,  
And this false Glory made him lose his way;  
Did prosecute too much the Thinking Trade,  
The place indulged him with too great a Shade;  
If he had left it soon, or never seen,  
Competently Happy he perhaps had been:  
But the Supplanter's fallen from his Sphere,  
He ne'er deserved to be promoted there:  
He was reflected in a treacherous Light,  
The Bigot did conceal the Hypocrite;  
All his Asceticks strictly he did want,  
His Fancy else would grow luxuriant;  
Living despise his sanctify'd Grimace,  
When Dead thy Blood shall spurt into his Face:  
Good-Nature always hath a kindly heat,  
It keeps the Mass of the Creation sweet;  
All distressed Objects his Compassion move,  
Forgives his Enemy, his Friend doth love;  
Avoids excess in Sorrow, and in Joys,  
His Mind is steady with an equal poise:  
He is not querulous, won't for Trifles fight,  
Censure, when undeserved, doth nobly slight:  
His Humour disengaged, his Carriage free,  
He o'er the weak cannot Insulting be:  
It is unjust to Droll upon a Fool,  
When the Philosophers may go to School;  
And looking down they the Abyss do dread,  
Beyond the reach of all their probing Led:  
Scarce of one Argument we know the force,  
Yet the least Knowing, with most warmth Discourse,  
Are still prescribing Magisterial Laws,  
And with a shake solicit for Applause:  
What should in humane Nature kindle Pride?  
Yet Changelings one another we deride.  
Madness deserves our Pity, not our Blame;  
The Soul is shocked, and Organs out of frame:  
Counsel corrects the wild Extravagant,  
And we with doles of Bounty succour Want:  
But nothing comforts a Soul deeply grieved,  
That sad Condition cannot be relieved;  
But he unbiass'd to the World is kind,  
An Halcyon Benignity of Mind!  
This Character my Muse in Sketches drew,  
But, MADAM, the true Protraicture is You:  
There's a Balsamic Virtue in your Blood,  
Which makes the Customs of your Life so good;  
Of easy and Familiar Access,  
You with Impartial Beams your Subjects Bless;  
The meanest in your condescensions share,  
All your Deportments so obliging are:  
There's a Majestic Sweetness in your Mien,  
Nature designed, and Fortune crowned You Queen;  
The People's Darling as You were their Choice,  
Heaven did applaud your Unction with their Voice:  
Your very Enemies assert your Right,  
Them to your Cause your Looks do proselyte;  
Each Glance doth charm, and every Smile engage,  
Attracts Affection, and disarms their Rage:  
If to attempt your Life a Plotter came,  
Horror would seize him, an uncommon shame,  
He could not violate so bright a Frame:  
Heaven doth its Ministers about You place,  
They seem but the reflections of your Face;  
They stop the passages with bars of Light,  
And the Profane prohibit from your Sight;  
With heaped Designs if they should dare to storm,  
You strike them dead with your Angelic Form.  
A Matron did a Tax to 
* The Fourth.  Edward bring,  
Who was a Brave and very Handsome King;  
The Jolly Monarch in her Arms she took,  
Nothing could be denied to such a Look:  
So what we pay, and all that we can do,  
Is but a Tribute to your Beauty duo.  
Your Courage, MADAM, is in-laid with Wit,  
That a Rich Metal, this enamels it:  
The Noble Guests do in one Mansion dwell,  
The purest Gold is still most flexible:  
Objects of such transcendent Excellence,  
With too intense a Beam confound the Sense;  
Some great Alloy should interpose between,  
As the Malteses Spectacles are green;  
For with white Earth their Country is so bright,  
The darted Atoms overcome the Sight.  
Your Tongue attracts the Hearer, but your Eyes  
Approaches too intruding, do chastise;  
But like a Friend with Sweetness they Reprove,  
And we the Charming Reprimander love;  
Unto the Wound they make, the Cure do bring,  
The Hybla-sweetness expiates for the Sting:  
So in Zenobia Palmyra's Queen,  
Valour and Ingenuity were seen:  
In Person she her thick Battalions led  
Like Pallas, born out of the Thunderer's Head:  
She with fierce On-sets did the Romans vex,  
Yet still retained the Softness of her Sex:  
Warlike, but could in gentle Accents speak;  
Her Odenat taught her Arms, Longinus Greek:  
And these two Qualities in that Language meet,  
Although 'tis very lofty, yet 'tis sweet:  
Th' Illustrious Princess beautifies your side,  
A pregnant Mother, and a faithful Bride:  
They a conspicuous Example give  
To all the World, how wedded pairs should live:  
A Friendship 'tis to a great height refined,  
Happy we cannot be, unless we're kind:  
For the Ill-natured do themselves devour,  
Their Blood is tainted, all their Juices sour:  
We're not so far discouraged to Despair,  
But that You still will Bless us with an Heir,  
A Young Ascanius is the People's Prayer.  
You shall have true, not personated Groans;  
The Cargo for the stay it made, atones:  
Tho' the Rich Carack peevish Winds detain,  
It makes a Recompense with triple Gain.  
Groans, did I say? You shall bring forth with Ease,  
The Birth as soft as what it gives us, Peace:  
If Heaven our servant wishes doth defeat,  
(As still our Happiness is incomplete)  
The Fruitful Princess shall the Throne supply,  
And in her Offspring You shall never die.  
This Lewis to the World was slowly sent,  
Inflicted on it as a Punishment,  
Tho' the French say, He was Heaven's Compliment:  
A fatal Present to the World was made,  
By whom it hath been ruined and betrayed:  
For he a Public Mischief is become,  
In his Conception he was troublesome;  
His Mother tortured with unusual pain,  
Did of the Conflicts of her Womb complain;  
The struggling Burden could not quiet keep,  
Oppressed her waking, did distract her sleep;  
She with her start did her Lady's tire,  
And in her Midnight-Dreams she screamed out, Fire:  
Myriad of Ghosts did in her Fancy rise,  
With gaping wounds did glide before her Eyes,  
Herd Imprecations mixed with doleful Cries:  
Starved Nurses with their murdered Infants came,  
And Ruins glowing with a sullen Flame;  
Swords hung impending, and before her stood  
An ample Vessel filled with reeking Blood:  
She thought she saw a cruel Monster dead,  
And in the Purple-stream a floating head:  
Heaven should its marks of Vengeance on him place,  
A Firebrand should be stamped upon his Face,  
That with this Signature they him might fly;  
Seleucus had an Anchor on his Thigh.  
To carry on his barbarous Designs,  
Makes a vile Peace with the false Algerines:  
The Christian Princes should united be  
T' attack their Mole, and throw them in the Sea,  
This Nest of Pirates sink, demolish Rome,  
They both are Scandals unto Christendom:  
An Emissary is a Privateer,  
Comes smoothly on, and doth false Colours wear:  
He like a Proteus doth himself disguise,  
Till he has ta'en and carried off the Prize;  
A Congregation doth promote this Trade,  
It is an Office for such Converts made.  

* The Fifth.  Charles their Reduction once did undertake,  
But Fortune did the Brave Attempt forsake:  
To blow up Tempests they a Witch did hire,  
The conjured Winds against him did conspire;  
Their Legs the reeling Bodies can't sustain,  
They were beat down with mighty drops of Rain:  
The foreign Clouds came gathering from afar,  
Did with Auxiliary Showers maintain the War,  
It was a Deluge Perpendicular:  
Darkness so thick at random they did slay,  
They stumbled o'er the Bodies in their way,  
Flashes of Lightning only made the Day.  
Aurora would not now a Smile bestow,  
Her ancient Favourites she would not know;  
Tho' in their Country they do her enjoy,  
She now is sullen, and her Beams are coy:  
The tender Emporor his Captives saves,  
Throws over all the Horse, retained the Slaves;  
There they Curveted are foaming like the Waves:  
Luxuriant Mangers did these Coursers feed,  
Were of the sprightly, Andaluzian Breed;  
Unmoved with Danger, nothing doth them shock,  
They'll tread upon the Summitte of a Rock;  
Surefooted stand within an Inch of Death,  
And Neighing scorn the Precipice beneath:  
These are employed in a much milder sport,  
When Cavalleroes the Ventana Court;  
Where the Donzella sees her Lover ride,  
Admires the Trappings, and his Horse's Pride;  
When from her hands he doth a Favour beg,  
Perfumes him with an Orange-water Egg:  
The Ginnetts do no better usage find,  
Although they were begotten of the Wind;  
The Sea they with their floating Bodies fill,  
The cruel Parents did their Offspring kill.  
When Charles these terrible Disasters knew,  
From the unequal Combat he withdrew;  
Thousands of Drowned and Slain he left behind,  
And every thing was Conquered but His Mind.  
At Rome with more Success he did prevail,  
In seconding his Fortune, yet did fail;  
Being worked upon by a relenting Tear,  
Let lose his Triple-headed Prisoner:  
From the great Undertaking Bourbon falls,  
For he was killed in storming of the Walls:  
The Courtesans their Interest employed,  
That the young Cardinals should not be destroyed:  
But he did from his Victory desist,  
Carried the Falcon Hooded on his Fist;  
Would not repeat the Game, nor let him fly  
Against that ravenous Tyrant of the Sky;  
That he a mortal Wound might then receive,  
And pounce him to the Earth beyond retrieve:  
Francis did cut this Monarch tedious work,  
And for a Journeyman he brought in the Turk.  
So Lewis keeps erect the Horse's-tail,  
His Crowns supply the stock when Aspres fail:  
He on the Musselman side himself doth range,  
Nay his Religion too he would exchange;  
Already the severest Rites are done,  
For he hath suffered Circumcision:  
Henry, who justly was surnamed the Great,  
Did gain by Courtesy those he did defeat;  
He like a generous Enemy besieged,  
The Towns he took he never disobliged:  
In a new Model Europe would refine,  
He to each State their Portions did assign  
With such a poise, they should not break the Line:  
Kingdoms must yield Republics to complete,  
These must be pared when they are grown too Great:  
If one Division offers to rebel,  
Then all conjoined on the Disturber fell;  
For the Contrasting World is like an Hid  
Raised in one part, tho' plain in all beside;  
But he these rough Impediments removes,  
As sinooth as Frangipane or Chamois Gloves.  
But single Mutinies do not now suffice,  
For every part doth in Combustion rise:  
In the Phlaegrean Fields what they admire,  
Out of each Poor of Earth there bursts out Fire.  
The King had this projecting in his Head,  
When an infernal Villain struck him dead;  
After he had escaped so many harms,  
Wounded he tumbles in Monthazon's Arms;  
Which now his bleeding Monarch did sustain,  
It shed his Life, and stopped a glorious Reign:  
The mournful'st Story ever told in Verse,  
For his Triumphant Chariot was his Hearse:  
But when Ravillack on the Greve did Die,  
Not an Old Woman did so much as Cry;  
Tho' her own Sex did execrate his Nurse,  
For each inflicted Torture gave a Curse:  
These could not force altho' they were severe,  
Pity from them, or from himself a Tear;  
For the damned Wretch as hardened was as they,  
Like his Spectators too he would not Pray.  
A temperate People, MADAM, you command,  
'Tis like your Majesty a good-natured Land;  
The happy place where you have fixed your Throne,  
Is not the frozen nor the torrid Zone:  
Cold doth not mortify, nor Sun forsake,  
Doth in remiss degrees of both partake;  
It is a Kingdom competently great,  
Henry the Seventh's pretty Country Seat:  
Th' Iberian Sun exhausts and makes them dry,  
They like their Mountains barren are and high:  
Their Women early do begin to Paint,  
And in the middle of the Race they faint;  
For woven in an overcurious Loom,  
Decay in Youth, are withered in their Bloom.  
Nothing but what's their own the English wear,  
Complexion like their Manners is sincere:  
Italy boasts that they have hit the mark,  
And the World Tramontane is in the dark;  
Although in Heat they do so much excel,  
We have enough their Popery to dispel:  
As Wool we vindicate, and staple Cloth,  
So finespun Atheism is that Country's growth;  
A courser Ignorance is the People's Webb,  
For they run foul as Rivers at an Ebb:  
Priests Minds unpractised with false Maxims fill,  
With early Education them instil;  
Which thro' the Actions of their Life do flow,  
Unto this Source all Prejudice we own:  
To work it off doth Time and Labour ask,  
'Tis of our Reason the severest Task,  
The unctuous Face doth fasten on the Mask.  
Great WILLIAM their Society dissolves,  
Hath rooted out these second Race of Wolves;  
A non-resisting Sheep-fold they did seize,  
And their degenerate Blood their Paws did squeeze;  
But they from pointed Canon quickly run,  
Nay you may fright them with a single Gun.  
Now all malignant Aspects disappear,  
When Yours, a kind and brighter one is near;  
The joyful Atoms in the Sunbeams play,  
And Shades must vanish at the sight of Day:  
Hatred before you, and pale Envy flies,  
And all the Clouds are scattered by your Eyes.  
Holland had long esteemed you for her own,  
The noble Graft into the Stock was grown;  
Th' adopted Branch was like the Parent Fair,  
And suffered all Inclemencies of Air:  
Unshocked it stood, and did its Verdure hold,  
In spite of Tempests, and the Northern Cold,  
Which doth with solid Bars the Sea congeal,  
The Waters are bound up in Ribs of Steel;  
And yet o'er these the Travellers do pass,  
They slide on Marble, and do walk on Glass;  
They sail along, and are a living Fleet,  
Masts in their Hands, and Rudders at their Feet:  
These to their speed are substituted helps,  
With these they penetrate those Crystal Alps;  
Untrodden Paths of hardened Snow they clear,  
And to their several Ports their Bodies steer:  
You with Regret was from their Bosom torn,  
You left that Land your Native to adorn;  
Tho' with your Presence you brought us Relief,  
You left that Country swallowed up in Grief:  
Their Sorrows did with their profuseness drown,  
They sighed altho' you sailed unto a Crown;  
Their Tears did now their ancient Foe supply,  
The Dams were all broke up, no Eye was dry:  
The mournful Fraw no more her Princess meets,  
But goes lamenting through the Widowed Streets:  
People as thin as if there was a Plague,  
Your Absence did depopulate the Hague;  
But we Congratulate what they Deplore,  
Their Loss is an Accession to our Shore;  
And we gain what detracted was from them,  
've set the Jewel in a Diadem;  
Like that upon the Sacerdotal Breast,  
Foretells our Fate which always is the best:  
For from those mystic and enlivening Rays,  
With Joy we'll calculate our future Days:  
Others like Meteors ominously shone,  
You an auspitions Star do gild the Throne;  
You are not like imperious Juno, Proud,  
Or Ranting still, or always in a Cloud:  
The Trojans she with Tempests did annoy,  
And once sacked Ilium would again destroy;  
Our sublunary Ruin to complete,  
She forged Jove's Bolts with her outrageous heat:  
He with unstinted Appetite did devour,  
And Thundered with an Arbitrary Power.  
This did the bright Inhabitants provoke,  
Studded with piercing Beams to break the Yoke:  
The Planets first of Quality did conspire,  
Him to dethrone with an united Fire:  
Inferior Orbs did threaten Civil Wars,  
Then murmured next the Galaxy of Stars:  
The Mild at last were mingled in the Fray,  
The peaceful Subjects of the Milky-Way.  
Then of the multitude a Chaos fights,  
'Tis the rude Mobile of vulgar Lights:  
Comets which did with direful Faces burn,  
Which he had raised the State to over-turn;  
Do in the general Revolt combine,  
And will not now against the People shine:  
When he did see such mighty Tumults rise,  
In Mercury's shape he did himself disguise,  
And with winged speed did Abdicate the Skies:  
A milder Genius the Ascendant gains,  
He shall keep strong, and you relax the Reins;  
Whilst Government requires Imperial sway,  
Your Sweetness all those Rigours shall allay:  
When the Ledean Stars they single saw,  
The Seamen did improsperous Omens draw;  
But Fear doth yield to all their gay Desires,  
The Sails enlightened with these lambent Fires:  
So nothing we'll presage but what's serene,  
From our Two Princes when together seen.   
FINIS.