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Undaunted here you ride, when winter raves,
With Cæfar's heart that rofe above the waves.
More I could fing, but fear my numbers stays;
No loyal fubject dares that courage praise.

In stately frigates most delight you find,
Where well-drawn battles fire your martial mind.
What to your cares we owe, is learnt from hence,
When ev'n your pleasures serve for our defence.
Beyond your court flows in th' admitted tide,
Where in new depths the wondering fishes glide:
Here in a royal bed the waters fleep;

When, tir'd at fea, within this bay they creep.
Here the mistrustful fowl no harm fufpects,
So fafe are all things which our king protects.
From your lov'd Thames a bleffing yet is due,
Second alone to that it brought in you;

A queen, near whose chafte womb, ordain'd by fate,
The fouls of kings unborn for bodies wait.
It was your love before made difcord ceafe:
Your love is destin'd to your country's peace.
Both Indies, rivals in your bed, provide
With gold or jewels to adorn your bride.
This to a mighty king presents rich ore,
While that with incenfe does a god implore.
Two kingdoms wait your doom, and, as you choose,
This must receive a crown, or that must lofe.
Thus from your royal oak, like Jove's of old,
Are answers fought, and destinies foretold :
Propitious oracles are begg'd with vows,
And crowns that grow upon the facred boughs.

Your fubjects, while you weigh the nation's fate,
Sufpend to both their doubtful love or hate :
Chufe only, fir, that fo they may poffefs
With their own peace their children's happiness.

To the LORD CHANCELLOR HYDE.
Prefented on New-Year's Day, 1662.

MY LORD,

WHILE flattering crouds officiously appear

To give themselves, not you, an happy year ;
And by the greatness of their presents prove
How much they hope, but not how well they love;
The Muses, who your early courtship boast,

Though now your flames are with their beauty loft,
Yet watch their time, that, if you have forgot
They were your mistreffes, the world may not:
Decay'd by time and wars, they only prove
Their former beauty by your former love;
And now prefent, as ancient ladies do,

That courted long, at length are forc'd to woo.
For ftill they look on you with fuch kind eyes,
As those that see the church's fovereign rife;
From their own order chofe, in whose high state,
They think themselves the fecond choice of fate.
When our great monarch into exile went,

Wit and religion fuffer'd banishment.

Thus once, when Troy was wrap'd in fire and smoke, The helpless gods their burning fhrines forfook;

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They with the vanquish'd prince and party go,
And leave their temples empty to the foe.
At length the Muses stand, restor'd again
To that great charge which nature did ordain;
And their lov'd Druids seem reviv'd by fate,
While you dispense the laws, and guide the state.
The nation's foul, our monarch, does difpenfe,
Through you, to us, his vital influence;
You are the channel, where those spirits flow,
And work them higher, as to us they go.

In open prospect nothing bounds our eye,
Untill the earth feems join'd unto the sky:
So in this hemifphere our utmost view
Is only bounded by our king and you :
Our fight is limited where you are join'd,
And beyond that no farther heaven can find.
So well your virtues do with his agree,
That, though your orbs of different greatness be,
Yet both are for each other's ufe difpos'd,
His to inclofe, and yours to be inclos'd.
Nor could another in your room have been,
Except an emptinefs had come between.
Well may
he then to you
his cares impart,
And share his burden where he fhares his heart.
In you his fleep ftill wakes; his pleasures find
Their fhare of business in your laboring mind.
So when the weary fun his place refigns,
He leaves his light, and by reflection fhines.
Juftice, that fits and frowns where public laws
Exclude foft mercy from a private cause,

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In your tribunal most herself does please;
There only fmiles becaufe fhe lives at ease;

And, like young David, finds her strength the more,
When difincumber'd from thofe arms fhe wore.
Heaven would our royal master should exceed
Moft in that virtue, which we moft did need;

And his mild father (who too late did find
All mercy vain but what with power was join'd)
His fatal goodness left to fitter times,

Not to increase, but to abfolve, our crimes :

But when the heir of this vaft treasure knew

How large a legacy was left to you

(Too great for any fubject to retain),

He wifely ty'd it to the crown again :

Yet, paffing through your hands, it gathers more,
As ftreams, through mines, bear tincture of their ore.
While empiric politicians ufe deceit,

Hide what they give, and cure but by a cheat;
You boldly fhew that skill which they pretend,
And work by means as noble as your end:
Which should you veil, we might unwind the clue,
As men do nature, till we came to you.
And as the Indies were not found, before
Thofe rich perfumes, which, from the happy fhore,
The winds upon their balmy wings convey'd,
Whose guilty sweetness firft their world betray'd;
So by your counfels we are brought to view
A rich and undiscover'd world in you.
By you our monarch does that fame affure,
Which kings must have, or cannot live fecure :

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For profperous princes gain their fubjects heart,
Who love that praise in which themselves have part.
By you he fits those subjects to obey,

As heaven's eternal monarch does convey
His power unfeen, and man to his designs,
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 fufferer in his fubjects crimes :
Thus thofe first favours you receiv'd, were fent,
Like heaven's rewards in earthly punishment.
Yet fortune, confcious of your destiny,
Ev'n 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 furprize:
When, fpringing forth from Jove's new-clofing wound,
She struck the warlike fpear into the ground;
Which sprouting leaves did fuddenly inclose,
And peaceful olives fhaded as they rofe.

How ftrangely active are the arts of peace,
Whofe reftlefs motions lefs than wars do cease!
Peace is not freed from labour but from noife;
And war more force, but not more pains employs :
Such is the mighty fwiftnefs of your mind,
That, like the earth, it leaves our fenfe behind,

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