On either side dwells Safety and Delight; For, though a firmly settled-peace May shortly make your public labour cease, The grateful nation will with joy consent, That in this sense you should be said, (Though yet the name sounds with some Two of the best and stateliest piles which e'er dread) In all my rooms and galleries I found They starv'd to death: the gasping walls were cleft, The pillars sunk, the roofs above me wept, See how my face is chang'd, and what I am Since my true mistress, and now foundress, came! It does not fill her bounty to restore Before my gate a street's broad channel goes, Man's liberal piety of old did rear; My warlike guard of ships, which farther lie, The stream's eternal siege they fixt abide, be Than any flood so strengthen'd by the sea, Tow'rds the white palace where that king does reign, Who lays his laws and bridges o'er the main. At that part of my prospect take offence, 1 And thou, fair River! who still pay'st to me Just homage, in thy passage to the sea, Take here this one instruction as thou go'st When thy mix't waves shall visit every coast; When round the world their voyage they shall make, The spring-tides of the term: my front looks Which now triumphant o'er the main does ride, down On all the pride and business of the town; The liveliest image of the Deity, We in their houses should Heaven's likeness find, In the best mirror that the world can show. And here behold, in a long bending row, How two joint-cities make one glorious bow! The midst, the noblest place, possess'd by me, Best to be seen by all, and all o'er-see! Which way soe'er I turn my joyful eye, Here the great court, there the rich town I spy; And back to thee some secret channels take; Ask them what nobler sight they e'er did meet, Except thy mighty master's sovereign fleet, The terrour of all lands, the ocean's pride. From hence his kingdoms, happy now at last, (Happy, if wise by their misfortunes past!) From hence may omens take of that success Which both their future wars and peace shall bless. 97 Mixt with the mourning willow's careful grey, Where reverend Cham cuts out his famous way, The melancholy Cowley lay: And lo! a Muse appear'd to's closed sight, One of old Gideon's miracles was shown; (The Muses oft in lands of vision play) And upon all the quicken'd ground a १ Body'd, array'd, and seen, by an internal light, The fruitful seed of Heaven did brooding lie, A golden harp with silver strings she bore; A wondrous hieroglyphic robe she wore, In which all colours and all figures were, That Nature or that Fancy can create, That Art can never imitate; And with loose pride it wanton'd in the air. A crown was on her head, and wings were on her She touch'd him with her harp, and rais'd him The shaken strings melodiously resound. "Art thou return'd at last," said she, "To this forsaken place and me? Thou prodigal! who didst so loosely waste Of all thy youthful years the good estate; Art thou return'd here, to repent too late, And gather husks of learning up at last, Now the rich harvest time of life is past, And Winter marches on so fast? But, when I meant t'adopt thee for my son, Had to their dearest children done; show, Would'st into courts and cities from me go; Thou would'st, forsooth, be something in a state, create; Business! the frivolous pretence "Go, renegado! cast up thy account, And see to what amount Thy foolish gains by quitting me : Thou thought'st, if once the public storm were past, All thy remaining life should sunshine be: And thou, with all the noble company, Upon the naked beach, upon the barren sand ! "As a fair morning of the blessed spring, After a tedious stormy night, Such was the glorious entry of our king; That he would give them ev'n a heaven of brass: They look'd up to that Heaven in vain, That bounteous Heaven, which God did not re strain Upon the most unjust to shine and rain. "The Rachel, for which twiceseven years and more Given to another, who had store Give thee, to fling away But think how likely 'tis that thon, all." And to her thus, raising his thoughtful head, The melancholy Cowley said- When in the cradle innocent I lay, My ravish'd freedom to regain; Still I rebel, still thou dost reign; grow. "When my new mind had no infusion known, That ever since I vainly try To wash away th' inherent dye: Long work perhaps may spoil thy colours quite, To all the ports of honour and of gain, Plenty he sow'd below, and cast about him light! Thy gale comes cross, and drives me back again, VOL, VII, и The court, and better king, t' accuse: The heaven under which I live is fair, 'The fertile soil will a full harvest bear: Thine, thine is all the barrenness; if thou ON THE DEATH OF MRS. KATHARINE PHILIPS. CRUEL Disease! ah, could not it suffice "Teach me not then, O thou fallacious Muse! rage. Was 't not enough, when thou, prophane Disease! Was 't not enough thus rudely to defile, But thou must quite destroy, the goodly pile? Mak'st me sit still and sing, when I should Deface the innocent pride of beauteous images? plough. When I but think how many a tedious year Our patient sovereign did attend How cheerfully, and how exempt from fear, To wait on his, thou fallacious Muse! Kings have long hands, they say; and, though I be So distant, they may reach at length to me. However, of all the princes, thou Should'st not reproach rewards for being small or slow; Thou! who rewardest but with popular breath, And that too after death." ON COLONEL TUKE'S TRAGI-COMEDY, As wher. our kings (lords of the spacious main) But, though we praise this voyage of your mind, And though ourselves enrich'd by it we find; We're not contented yet, because we know What greater stores at home within it grow, We've seen how well you foreign ores refine; Produce the gold of your own nobler mine : The world shall then our native plenty view, And fetch materials for their wit from you; They all shall watch the travails of your pen, And Spain on you shall make reprisals then, Cruel Disease! there thou mistook'st thy power, No mine of Death can that devour; On her embalmed name it will abide As high as Heaven the top, as Earth the basis wide. All ages past record, all countries now, On whom the golden apple to bestow; This is the sovereign face. And some (though these be of a kind that's rare, That's much, ah, much less frequent than the fair) So equally renown'd for virtue are, But if Apollo should design Though Sappho and the famous Nine To be a princess, or a queen, Is great; but 'tis a greatness always seen : Of female poets, who had names of old, But that too soon was past. Though long perhaps, too, that may live. The trade of glory, manag'd by the pen, 99 And skill in painting, dost bestow, Upon thy ancient arms, the gaudy heavenly bow. Firm and erect towards Heaven bound; he. Though it with beauteous fruit be crown'd, leaves and pleasant It lies, deform'd and rotting, on the ground. Never did spirit of the manly make, And dip'd all o'er in Learning's sacred lake, A temper more invulnerable take. No violent passion could an entrance find Into the tender goodness of her mind : Swift as light thoughts their empty career run, And thou the goal of Earth shalt reach as soon as Thou in the Moon's bright chariot, proud and gay, Of thousand flowery lights thine own nocturnal spring. Thou, Scythian-like, dost round thy lands above The shining pageants of the world attend thy Nor amidst all these triumphs dost thou scorn Through walls of stone those furious bullets may (O greatness without pride!) the bushes of the Force their impetuous way; When her soft breast they hit, powerless and The Fame of Friendship, which so long had told Till hoarse and weary with the tale she grew, Rejoices now t' have got a new, As when a prudent man does once perceive To understand and practise here, So well Orinda did herself prepare, Hail, active Nature's watchful life and health! Her joy, her ornament, and wealth! Hail to thy husband, Heat, and thee! field. Night, and her ugly subjects, thou dost fright, They screen their horrid shapes with the black With them there hastes, and wildly takes th Of painted dreams a busy swarm: The various clusters break, the antic atoms fig. Ill omens and ill sights removes out of thy way. To shake his wings, and rouse his head: A gentle beamy smile, reflected from thy look. To the check colour comes, and firmness to the knee. Out of the morning's purple bed, Thy quire of birds about thee play Thou the world's beauteous bride, the lusty The ghosts, and monster-spirits, that did presume bridegroom he ! Say from what golden quivers of the sky Do all thy winged arrows fly? Swiftness and Power by birth are thine: From thy great sire they came, thy sire, the Word Divine, 'Tis, I believe, this archery to show, That so much cost in colours thou, A crimson garment in the rose thou wear'st; Are clad but with the lawn of almost naked light. The violet, Spring's little infant, stands Girt in thy purple swaddling-bands Thou cloth'st it in a gay and party-colour'd coat. W th flame condens'd thou do'st thy jewels fix, Flowers fairer than her own, and durable as she. Ah, goddess! would thou could'st thy hand withhold, And be less liberal to gold! Of how much care, alas! might'st thou poor man relieve! To me the Sun is more delightful far, And all fair days much fairer are, But few, ah! wondrous few, there be, Who do not gold prefer, O goddess! ev'n to thee. Through the soft ways of Heaven, and air, and sea, Which open all their pores to thee, Like a clear river thou dost glide, And with thy living stream through the close channels slide. But, where firm bodies thy free course oppose, But the vast ocean of unbounded day, In th' empyræan Heaven does stay. Thy rivers, lakes, and springs, below, From thence took first their rise, thither at last must flow. TO THE ROYAL SOCIETY, PHILOSOPHY, the great and only heir Though full of years he do appear, To ripeness and perfection might have brought course; Instead of carrying him to see In Nature's endless treasury, (His curious but not covetous eye) With painted scenes and pageants of the brain. Some few exalted spirits this latter age has shown, That labour'd to assert the liberty (From guardians who were now usurpers grown) Of this old minor still, captiv'd Philosophy; But 'twas rebellion call'd, to fight Like some old giant's more gigantic ghost, With the plain magic of true Reason's light He chas'd out of our sight; To graves, from whence it rose, the conquer'd phantom fled. He broke that monstrous god which stood Children and superstitious men afraid. Behold the ripen'd fruit, come gather now your fill! Yet still, methinks, we fain would be Catching at the forbidden treeWe, would be like the DeityWhen truth and falsehood, good and evil, we, Without the senses' aid, within ourselves would see; For 'tis God only who can find From words, which are but pictures of the thought, (Though we our thoughts from them perversely drew) To things, the mind's right object, he it brought: The thirsty soul's refreshing winė. No, not from Rubens or Vandyke; |