112

While you so smoothly turn and rowl 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

and peace

yet

in motion fhare.

Let then those crimes within you fee;

envy

115

From which the happy never must be free; 120
Envy, that does with mifery refide,

The joy and the revenge of ruin'd pride.
Think it not hard, if at fo cheap a rate
You can fecure the conftancy of fate,
Whofe kindness fent what does their malice feem,
By leffer ills the greater to redeem.

126

Nor can we this weak fhow'r a tempeft call,
But drops of heat, that in the fun-fhine fall.
You have already wearied fortune so,
She cannot farther be your friend or foe; 130
But fits all breathlefs, and admires to feel
A fate fo weighty, that it ftops our wheel.

Johnfon fays," the mind perceives enough to be delighted, and readily forgives its obfcurity for its magnificence." I own I think its obfcurity fo grofs that it cannot be forgiven, and its Dr. J. WARTON. magnificence loft by its no meaning.

ages

Ver. 119. Let envy then] Great minifters, in all and countries, have ever been attacked by fatyrical wits. Above one hundred and fifty-nine fevere invectives were written againft Cardinal Mazarine, many of them by Scarron and Saudricourt, which have been collected and called the Mazaranides.

Dr. J. WARTON,

134

In all things else above our humble fate,
Your equal mind yet fwells not into state,
But, like fome mountain in those 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:

159

Sometimes the hill fubmits itself a while
In small defcents, which do its height beguile;
And fometimes mounts, but fo as billows play,
Whofe rife not hinders but makes fhort our way.
Your brow, which does no fear of thunder
know,

144

Sees rowling tempefts vainly beat below;
And, like Olympus' top, th' impreffion wears
Of love and friendship writ in former years.
Yet, unimpair'd with labors, 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.

Ver. 139. Sometimes the hill submits itself a while

In fmall defcents,]

"quà fe fubducere colles

Incipiunt, mollique jugum demittere clivo."

Virgil, Ecl. ix. 8.

JOHN WARTON.

Ver. 143. Your brow, which does no fear of thunder know,
Sees rolling tempefts vainly beat below ;]

149

I cannot readily turn either to the paffage or author of the following reflection :-" Great men ought not to listen to, or even hear the mean cries of envy. Atlas, who fupports the hea vens, hears not from his height the roaring and beating of the waves of the fea at his feet." JOHN WARTON. Ver. 149. Thus heav'nly] Dr. Johnson is of opinion, that

And ftill it fhall without a weight increase,
Like this new-year, whofe motions never cease.
For fince the glorious courfe you have begun
Is led by Charles, as that is by the fun,
It must both weightlefs and immortal prove,
Because the centre of it is above.

154

"in this poem he feems to have collected all his powers." I fhould lament if this were true. But then he adds, "He has concluded with lines of which I think not myfelf obliged to tell Dr. J. WARTON. the meaning."

SATIRE

ON THE

DUTCH.

WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1662*.

AS needy gallants, in the fcrivener's hands, Court the rich knaves that gripe their mortgag'd lands;

5

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 shall 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 refolved not to find out the cheat, 11
But, cuckold-like, love them that do the feat.

This poem is no more than a prologue a little altered, prefixed to our author's tragedy of Amboyna,

VOL. I.

F

DARRICK.

What injuries foe'er upon us fall,

Yet ftill the fame religion anfwers all.
Religion wheedled us to civil war,

19

Drew English blood, and Dutchmen's now wou'd fpare.

20

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 state,
And we, I take it, have not much of that.
Well monarchies may own religion's name,
But states are atheifts 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 would
be.

25

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. 30 Well may they boaft themselves an ancient na

tion;

For they were bred ere manners were in fashion: And their new commonwealth has fet them free Only from honour and civility.

Venetians do not more uncouthly ride,

Than did their lubber ftate mankind beftride.

Ver. 35.

35

Venetians do not more uncouthly ride.] Horfes are almost useless in Venice from its fituation, there being canals in every street, fo that it cannot be thought the Venetians are ex