No tumults can my close apartment find,

Calm as thofe feats above, which know no ftorm

nor wind.

IV.

Let plots and news embroil the ftate,

Pray what's that to my books and me? Whatever be the kingdom's fate,

Here I am fure t'enjoy a monarchy.

Lord of myself, accountable to none,
Like the first man in paradice, alone.

V.

While the ambitious vainly fue,
And of the partial stars complain,
I ftand upon the fhore, and view

The mighty labours of the diftant main :
I'm flush'd with filent joy, and smile to see
The shafts of fortune ftill drop short of me.

VI.

Th' uneafie pageantry of state,

And all the plagues to thought and sense,
Are far remov'd; I'm plac'd by fate
Out of the road of all impertinence.
Thus, tho my fleeting life runs fwiftly on,
'Twill not be short, because 'tis all my own.

20

25

39

35

SONG.

BY CHARLES SACKVILLE, EARL OF DORSET

DORINDA's fparkling wit and eyes,

United, caft too fierce a light,

Which blazes high, but quickly dies; Pains not the heart, but hurts the fight;

Love is a calmer, gentler joy,

Smooth are his looks, and soft his pace;

Her Cupid is a black-guard boy,

That runs his link full in your

face.

*Born 1657; dyed 1706.

5

WRITTEN AT ALTHROP, IN A BLANK LEAF OF WALLER'S POEMS, UPON SEEING VANDYKE'S PICTURE OF THE

OLD LADY SUNDERLAND.

BY CHARLES MONTAGUE, EARL
OF HALIFAX.*

VANDYKE had colours, foftnefs, fire, and art,
When the fair Sunderland inflam'd his heart.
Waller had numbers, fancy, wit, and fire,
And Sachariffa was his fond defire.

Why then at Althrop feems her charms to faint, 5
In these sweet numbers, and that glowing paint?
This happy feat a fairer mistress warms;
This fhining offspring has eclips'd her charms :
The different beauties in one face we find;

Soft Amoret with bright' Sacharissa join'd.
As high as Nature reach'd, their art could foar;
But fhe ne'er made a finish'd piece before.

Born 1661; dyed 1715.

V. 10. brightest.

10

HORACE, Book IV. ODE III. IMITATED.

BY FRANCIS ATTERBURY, BISHOP
OF ROCHESTER.*

TO HIS MUSE, BY WHOSE FAVOUR HI ACQUIRES IMMORTAL FAME.

HE, on whofe birth the lyric queen
Of numbers fmil'd, shall never grace
The Ifthmian gauntlet, nor be seen
First in the fam'd Olympic race:
He shall not, after toils of war,

And taming haughty monarchs pride,
With laurell'd brows, confpicuous far,

To Jove's Tarpeian temple ride.
But him the streams that warbling flow
Rich Tyber's flowery meads along,
And fhady groves (his haunts) fhall know
The master of th' Æolian fong.
The fons of Rome, majestic Rome!
Have fix'd me in the poets choir,
And, envy now, or dead or dumb,
Forbear to blame what they admire.

5

10

15

Goddess of the fweet-founding lüte,
Which thy harmonious touch obeys,
Who canft the finny race, tho' mute,

To cygnets dying accents raife;
Thy gift it is, that all with ease

My new unrival'd honours own; That I ftill live, and living please, O goddefs, is thy gift alone.

20

EPIGRAM,

WRITTEN ON A WHITE FAN BORROWED FROM MISS OSBORNE, AFTER

WARDS HIS WIFE.

BY THE SAME.

FLAVIA the least and slightest toy
Can, with refiftlefs art, employ:
This Fan, in meaner hands, would prove
An engine of small force in love;
Yet fhe, with graceful air and mien, 5
Not to be told, or fafely feen,

Directs its wanton motions fo,

That it wounds more than Cupid's bow:
Gives coolness to the matchless dame,
To every other breast a flame.

10