For profperous princes gain their subjects 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 power unseen, and man to his designs,
By his bright minifters the ftars, inclines.

Our fetting fun, from his declining seat,
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 sufferer in his subjects 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-closing wound,
She ftruck the warlike spear into the ground;
Which sprouting leaves did fuddenly inclose,
And peaceful olives shaded as they rose.

How ftrangely active are the arts of peace, Whofe reftlefs motions lefs than wars do cease! Peace is not freed from labour but from noise; And war more force, but not more pains employs : Such is the mighty fwiftnefs of your mind,

at, like the earth, it leaves our fenfe behind,

While you so smoothly turn and rowl our sphere,
That rapid motion does but reft appear.
For, as in nature's swiftness, with the throng
Of flying orbs while ours is borne along,
All feems at reft to the deluded eye,
Mov'd by the foul of the fame harmony,
So, carried on by your unwearied care,
We reft in peace, and yet in motion share.
Let envy then thofe 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 kindness fent what does their malice feem,
By leffer ills the greater to redeem.

Nor can we this weak fhower a tempeft call,
But drops of heat, that in the fun-shine fall.
You have already wearied fortune fo,
She cannot farther be your friend or foe;
But fits all breathlefs, and admires to feel
A fate fo weighty, that it stops her wheel.
In all things elfe above our humble fate,
Your equal mind yet fwells not into state,
But, like fome mountain in thofe happy ifles,
Where in perpetual spring young nature smiles,
Your greatnefs 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,
Whofe rife not hinders, but makes fhort our way.
Your brow, which does no fear of thunder know,
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 labours, or with time,
Your age but feems to a new youth to climb.
Thus heavenly bodies do our time beget,
And measure change, but share no part of it.
And still it shall 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 muft both weightless and immortal prove,
Because the centre of it is above.

A

SATIRE on the DUTCH,
Written in the Year 1662.

S needy gallants, in the scrivener's hands,

Court the rich knaves that gripe their mortgag'd
lands;

The first 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.

Straits, the Guiney-trade, the herrings too;
, to keep friendship, they fhall 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 anfwers all.

Religion wheedled us to civil war,

Drew English blood, and Dutchmen's now would fpare.
Be gull'd no longer; for you'll find it true,
They have no more religion, faith! than you.
Intereft's the god they worthip 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 fhare 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.
To one well-born th' affront is worfe and more,
When he's abus'd and baffled 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 do not more uncouthly ride,

Than did their lubber ftate mankind beftride.
Their fway became them with as ill a mien,
As their own paunches (well above their chin.
Yet is their empire no true growth but humour,
And only two kings' touch can cure the tumour.

As

As Cato, 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 subdued.

To her Royal Highness the DUTCHESS of YORK, on the memorable Victory gained by the DUKE over the HOLLANDERS, June the 3d, 1665. and on her Journey afterwards into the North.

MADAM,

WHEN, 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 mansion where foft love fhould only reft:
And, ere our foes abroad were overcome,

The noblest conquest you had gain'd at home.
Ah, what concerns did both your fouls divide!
Your honour gave us what your love denied :
And 'twas for him much easier to fubdue
Those foes he fought with, than to part from you.
That glorious day, which two fuch navies saw,
As each unmatch'd might to the world give law.
Neptune, yet doubtful whom he should obey,
Held to them both the trident of the sea :

The winds were hufh'd, the waves in ranks were caft,
As awfully as when God's people paft:

Thofe,