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For profp❜rous princes gain their fubjects heart,
Who love that praise in which themselves have part.
By you he fits thofe fubjects to obey,
As heaven's eternal monarch does convey
His pow'r unfeen, and man, to his defigns
By his bright minifters the stars, inclines.
Our fetting fun, from his declining feat,
Shot beams of kindness on you, not of heat:
And, when his love was bounded in a few,
That were unhappy that they might be true,
Made you the favourite of his laft fad times,
That is a fuff'rer in his fubjects crimes:
Thus thofe first favours you receiv'd, were fent,
Like heav'ns' rewards in earthly punishment.
Yet fortune, confcious of your destiny,
E'en then took care to lay you softly by;
And wrap'd your fate among her precious things,
Kept fresh to be unfolded with your king's.
Shewn all at once you dazzled fo our eyes,
As new-born Pallas did the gods furprife:
When, fpringing forth from Jove's new-clofing wound,
She ftruck the warlike spear into the ground;
Which sprouting leaves did fuddenly inclofe,
And peaceful olives fhaded as they rofe.
How ftrangely active are the arts of peace,
Whose restlefs motions lefs than wars do ceafe!
Peace is not freed from labour but from noife;
And war more force, but not more pains employs :
Such is the mighty swiftnefs of your mind,
That, like the earth, it leaves our fenfe behind,
While you so smoothly turn and roll our sphere,
That rapid motion does but rest appear.
For, as in nature's fwiftnefs, with the throng
Of flying orbs while ours is born along,
All seems at reft to the deluded eye,
Mov'd by the foul of the fame harmony,
So, carry'd on by your unwearied care,
We reft in peace, and yet in motion share.
Let envy then those crimes within you see,
From which the happy never must be free;
Envy, that does with mifery refide,
The joy and the revenge of ruin'd pride.
Think it not hard, if at so cheap a rate
You can fecure the conftancy of fate,
Whofe kindn: fs fent what does their malice feem,
By leffer ills the greater to redeem.
Nor can we this weak show'r a tempeft call,
But drops of heat, that in the fun-shine fall.
You have already weary'd fortune so,
She cannot farther be your friend or foe;
But fits all breathlefs, and admires to feel
A fate fo weighty, that it ftops our wheel.
In all things elfe above our humble fate,
Your equal mind yet fwells not into state,
But, like fome mountain in thofe happy isles,
Where in perpetual spring young nature fmiles,
Your greatness fhews: no horror to affright,
But trees for fhade, and flowers to court the fight:
Sometimes the hill fubmits itself a while
In small descents, which do its height beguile;
And fometimes mounts, but fo as billows play,
Whose rise not hinders but makes fhort our way.
Your brow, which does no fear of thunder know,
Sees rolling tempefts vainly beat below;
And, like Olympus' top, the impreffion wears
Of love and friendship writ in former years.
Yet, unimpair'd with labours, or with time,
Your age but feems to a new youth to climb.
Thus heav'nly bodies do our time beget,
And measure change, but share no part of it.
And still it fhall without a weight increase,
Like this new-year, whofe motions never ceafe.
For fince the glorious courfe you have begun.
Is led by Charles, as that is by the fun,
It must both weightless and immortal prove,
Because the centre of it is above.
SATIRE on the DUTCH. Written in the YEAR 1662.
S needy gallants, in the fcrivener's hands,
Court the rich knaves that gripe their mortgag'd
The firft fat buck of all the feafon's fent,
And keeper takes no fee in compliment ;
The dotage of fome Englishmen is fuch,
To fawn on thofe, who ruin them the Dutch.
They fhall have all, rather than make a war
With thofe, who of the fame religion are.
The Straits, the Guiney-trade, the herrings too;
Nay, to keep friendship, they shall pickle you.
Some are refolv'd not to find out the cheat,
But, cuckold-like, love them that do the feat.
What injuries foe'er upon us fall,
Yet ftill the fame religion answers all.
Religion wheedled us to civil war,
Drew English blood, and Dutchmen's now wou'd spare.
Be gull'd no longer; for you'll find it true,
They have no more religion, faith! than you.
Intereft's the god they worship in their ftate,
And we, I take it, have not much of that.
Well monarchies may own religion's name,
But states are atheists in their very frame.
They share a fin; and fuch proportions fall,
That, like a ftink, 'tis nothing to them all.
Think on their rapine, falfhood, cruelty,'
And that what once they were, they ftill wou'd be.
To one well-born th' affront is worfe and more,
When he's abus'd and baffl'd by a boor.
With an ill grace the Dutch their mischiefs do;
They've both ill nature and ill manners too.
Well may they boaft themselves an ancient nation;
For they were bred ere manners were in fashion:
And their new commonwealth has fet them free
Only from honour and civility.
Venetians I do not more uncouthly ride,
Than did their lubber ftate mankind beftride.
Their fway became 'em with as ill a mien,
As their own paunches fwell above their chin.
Yet is their empire no true growth but humour,
And only two kings touch can cure the tumour.
As Cato 2, fruits of Afric did display;
Let us before our eyes their Indies lay:
All loyal English will like him conclude;
Let Cæfar live, and Carthage be fubdu'd.
1 Venetians do not more uncouthly ride, &c. Horfes are almost uselefs in Venice from its fituation, there being canals in every street, "To ride as badly as a grandee of Venice," is become a proverb all over Italy.
2 As Cato did of Afric fruits difplay
Let us before our eyes their Indies lay;
All loyal English will like him conclude
Let Cæfar live, and Carthage be fubdued.
The occafion of the third punic war, which ended in the abfolute deftruction of Carthage, was the republic's having quarrelled with and been defeated by Maffiniffa, king of Numidia, who being allied to Rome, they had reason to fear her refentment, to deprecate which they fent thither two folemn embaffies, and banished Afdrubal and Cathalon, the two generals, who had commanded their defeated forces. Such a fituation of affairs occafioned the holding of feveral councils, in all which Cato ftrongly urged a war, ftimulated thereto by the pride, luxury, riches, and growing power of Carthage. One day as he harrangued to this effect, he is faid to have taken fome fine figs from his breaft, and flung them on the table, the fize and beauty of which having attracted the eyes of the fenators, They are of Carthage," cried he, "only three days old; we require no longer time to face this afpiring enemy." And ever after when this point chanced to be in debate, he concluded his fpeeches with the
On the Memorable VICTORY gained by the DUKE over the HOLLANDERS, June the third, 1665. And on her JOURNEY afterwards into the NORTH.
HEN, for our fakes, your hero you refign'd To fwelling feas, and every faithless wind; When you releas'd his courage, and fet free
A valour fatal to the enemy;
You lodg'd your country's cares within your breaft
(The manfion where foft love should only reft :)
And, ere our foes abroad were overcome,
The nobleft conqueft you had gain'd at home.
Ah, what concerns did both your fouls divide!
Your honour gave us what your love deny'd:
And 'twas for him much easier to fubdue
Thofe foes he fought with, than to part from you.
That glorious day, which two fuch navies faw,
As each unmatch'd might to the world give law.
Neptune, yet doubtful whom he fhould obey,
Held to them both the trident of the fea
The winds were hufh'd, the waves in ranks were caft,
As awfully as when God's people past:
Thofe, yet uncertain on whofe fails to blow,
Thefe, where the wealth of nations ought to flow.
Then with the duke your highness rul'd the day :
While all the brave did his command obey,
The fair and pious under you did pray.
very laft words of this poem, "Let Carthage be fubdued," "delenda efi Cartbago."
I Daughter to the great earl of Clarendon.