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For, though a firmly settled-peace On either side dwells Safety and Delight; May shortly make your public labour cease, Wealth on the left, and Power upon the right. The grateful nation will with joy consent, T'assure yet my defence on either hand,
That in this sense you should be said, Like mighty forts, in equal distance stand
Man's liberal piety of old did rear;
My neighbours and my guards, watch and com
My warlike guard of ships, which farther lie, ON THE QUEENS REPAIRING
Might be my object too, were not the eye
Stopt by the houses of that wondrous street,
Which rides o'er the broad river like a fleet. When God (the cause to me and men unknown) The stream's eternal siege they fixt abide, Forsook the royal houses, and his own,
And the swoln stream's auxiliary tide, And both abandon`d to the common foe,
Though both their ruin with joint power conspire, How near to ruin **d my glories go!
Both to out-brave, they nothing dread but fire. Nothing remain'd t' adorn this prir.cely place
And here my Thames, though it more gentle Which covetous hands could take, or rude de
Than any flood so strengthen'd by the sea, In all my rooms and galleries I found
Finding by art his natural forces broke, The richest figures torn, and all around
And bearing, captive-like, the arched yoke, Dismember'd statues of great heroes lay;
Does roar, and foam, and rage, at the disgrace, Such Naseby's field seein'd on the fatal day!
But re-composes straight, and calms his face; And me, when nought for robbery was left,
Is into reverence and subinission strook, They starvd to death : the gasping walls were
As soon as from afar he does but look cleft,
Tow'rds the white palace where that king does The pillars sunk, the roofs above me wept,
reign, No sign of spring, or joy, my garden kept ;
Who lays his laws and bridges o'er the main. Nothing was seen which could content the eye,
Amidst these louder honours of my seat; Till dead the impious tyrant here did lie.
And two vast cities, troublesomely great, See how my face is chang'd, and what I am
In a large various plain the country too Since, my true mistress, and now foundress, Opens her gentler blessings to my view: came!
In me the active and the quiet' mind, It does not fill her bounty to restore
By different ways, equat content may find. Me as I was (nor was I small beforej:
If any prouder'virtuoso's sense She imitates the kindness to her showns;
At that part of my prospect take offence, She does, like Heaven, (which the dejected throne By which the meaner cabbins are descryd, At once restores, fixes, and higher rears)
of my imperial river's humbler side • Strengthen, enlarge, exalt, what she repairs.
If they call that a blemish--let them know, And now I dare, (though proud I must not be,
God, and my godlike mistress, think not so; Whilst my great mistress i so humble see
For the distress'd and the afflicted lie In all her various glories) now I dare
Most in their care, and always in their eye. Ev'n with the proudest palaces compare.
And thou, fair River! who still pay'st to me My beauty and convenience will, I'm sure,
Just homage, in thy passage to the sea, So just a boast with modesty endure;
Take here this one instruction as thou go'stAnd all must to me yield, when I shall tell
When thy mix't waves shall visit every coast; How I am plaod, and who does in me dwell.
When round the world their voyage they shall Before my gate a street's broad channel goes,
make, Which still with waves of crowding people flows; And back to thee some secret channels take; And every day there passes by my side,
Ask them what nobler sight they e'er did meet, Up to its western reach, the London tide, Except thy mighty master's sovereign floet, The spring-tides of the term : my front looks Which now triumphant o'er the main does ride, down
The terrour of all lands, the ocean's pride. On all the pride and business of the town;
From hence his kingdoms, happy now at last, My other front (for, as in kings we see
(Happy, if wise by their misfortunes past!) The liveliest image of the Deity,
From hence may omens take of that success We in their houses should Heaven's likeness find, which both their future wars and peace shall Where nothing can be said to be behind)
bless. My other fair and more majestic face
The peaceful mother on mild Thames does build; (Who can the fair to more advantage place ?)
With her son's fabrics the rough sea is fillid.
Beneath a bower for sorrow made,
Th' uncomfortable shade
Mixt with the mourning willow's careful grey, But then, alas ! to thee alone,
For every tree and every herb around
With pearly dew was crown'd, (The Muses oft in lands of vision play)
And upon all the quicken'd ground Body'd, array'd, and seen, by an internal light. The fruitful seed of Heaven did brooding lie, A golden harp with silver strings she bore; And nothing but the Muse's fleece was dry. A wondrous hieroglyphic robe she wore,
It did all other threats surpass, h sbich all colours and all figures were,
When God to his own people said That Nature or that Fancy can create,
(The men whom through long wanderings he had That Art can never imitate;
led) And with loose pride it wanton'd in the air.
That he would give them ev'n a heaven of In such a dress, in such a well cloth'd dream,
brass : She us'd, of old, near fair Ismenus' stream, 'They look'd up to that Heaven in vain, Pindar, her Theban favourite, to meet ;
That bounteous Heaven, which God did not reA crown was on her head, and wings were on her strain feet.
Upon the most unjust to shine and rain. She touch'd him with her harp, and rais'd him “The Rachel, for which twice seven years and more from the ground;
Thou didst with faith and labour serve, The shaken strings melodiously resound.
And didst (if faith and labrur can) deserve, * Art thou return'd at last,” said she,
Though she contracted was to thee, " To this forsaken place and me?
Given to another thou didst see; Thou prodigal! who didst so loosely waste
Given to another, who had store of all thy youthful years the good estate ;
Of fairer and of richer wives before, Art thou return'd here, to repent too late,
And not a Leah left, thy recompense to be! And gather husks of learning up at last,
Go on; twice seven years more thy fortune try; Now the rich harvest time of life is past,
Twice seven years more God in his bounty may And Winter marches on so fast?
Give thee, to fling away But, when I meant t'adopt thee for my son,
Into the court's deceitful lottery: And did as learn'd a portion assign,
But think how likely 'tis that thou, As ever any of the mighty Nine
With the dull work of thy unwieldy plough, Had to their dearest children done;
Should'st in a hard and barren season thrive, When I resolv'd t'exalt thy anointed name,
Should'st even able be to live;' Among the spiritual lords of peaceful fame;
Thou, to whose share so little bread did fall, Thou, changeling! thou, bewitch'd with noise and in that miraculous year, when manna rain'd on show,
all.” Would'st into courts and cities from me go; World'st see the world abroad, and have a share Thus spake the Muse, and spake it with a smile, In all the follies and the tumults there:
That seem'd at once to pity and revile. Thou would'st, forsooth, be something in a state, And to her thus, raising his thoughtful head, And business thou would'st find, and would'st The melancholy Cowley saidcreate;
“Ah, wanton foe! dost thou upbraid Business! the frivolous pretence
The ills which thou thyself hast made! Of human lusts, to shake off innocence;
When in the cradle innocent I lay, Business ! the grave impertinence; Thou, wicked spirit! stolest me away, Business! the thing which I of all things hate ; And my abused soul didst bear Business! the contradiction of thy fate.
Into thy pew-found worlds, I know not where, « Go, renegado! cast up thy account,
Thy golden Indies in the air;
And ever since I strive in vain
My ravish'd freedom to regain;
Still I rebel, still thou dost reign; The sale of knowledge, farne, and liberty, Lo! still in verse against thee I complain. "The fruits of thy unlearn'd apostacy.
There is a sort of stubborn weeds, Thou thought'st, if once the public storm were which, if the earth but once, it ever, breeds ; past,
No wholesome herb can near them thrive, All thy remaining life should sunshine be:
No useful plant can keep alive: Behold! the public storm is spent at last,
The foolish sports I did on thee bestow, The sovereign's tost at sea no more,
Make all my art and labour fruitless now; And thon, with all the noble company,
Where once such fairies dance, no grass doth ever Art got at last to shore. But, whilst thy fellow voyagers I see
grow. All mareh'd up to possess the promis'd land,
“ When my new mind had no infusion known, Thon, still alone, alas! dost gaping stand
Thou gav'st so deep a tincture of thine own, L'pon the naked beach, upon the barren sand !
That ever since I vainly try
To wash away th' inherent dye: “ As a fair morning of the blessed spring, Iong work perhaps may spoil thy colours quite, After a tedious stormy night,
But never will reduce the native white: Such was the glorious entry of our king;
To all the ports of honour and of gain, Enriching moisture drop'd on every thing:
I often steer my course in vain ; Plenty he sow'd below, and cast about him light! | Thy gale comes cross, and drives me back again.
ON THE DEATH OF
Thou slack'nest all my nerves of industry,
MRS. KATHARINE PHILIPS,
Thy old and constant spite to exercise
Against the gentlest and the fairest sex,
Which still thy depredations most do vex ?
Where still thy malice most of all
(Thy malice or thy lust) does on the fairest fall ? Thus, with Sapphira and her husband's fate,
And in them most assault the fairest place, (A fault which I, like them, am taught too late) The throne of empress Beauty, ev'n the face? For all that I gave up I nothing gain,
There was enough of that here to assuage, And perish for the part which I retain.
(One would have thought) either thy lust or “Teach me not then, O thou fallacious Muse!
rage. The court, and better king, t'accuse: Was 't not enough, when thou, prophane Disease! The heaven under which I live is fair,
Didst on this glorious temple seize? The fertile soil will a full harvest bear :
Was 't not enough, like a wild zealot, there, Thine, thine is all the barrenness; if thou
All the rich outward ornaments to tear,
Was 't not enough thus rudely to defile,
But thou must quite destroy, the goodly pile?
And thy unbounded sacrilege commt
On th’inward holiest holy of her wit?
Cruel Disease! there thou mistook'st thy power,
No mine of Death can that devour;
On her embalmed name it will abide
An everlasting pyramid,
In various kinds such equal beauties show,
not know or slow;
On whom the golden apple to bestow;
Women and lovers would appeal from it:
This is the sovereign face.
And some (though these be of a kind that's rare,
So equally renown'd for virtue are,
That it the mother of the gods might pose, As wher
, our kings (lords of the spacious main) When the best woman for her guide she chose. Take in just wars a rich plate-fleet of Spain,
But if Apollo should design
A woman laureat to make,
Without dispute he would Orinda take,
Though Sappho and the famous Nine
Stood by, and did repine.
To be a princess, or a queen,
Is great; but 'tis a greatness always seen : So have you home to us in triumph brought
The world did never but two women know, This cargazon of Spain with treasures fraught,
Who, one by fraud, th' other by wit, did rise
To the two tops of spiritual dignities;
One female pope of old, one female poet now.
Nothing is shown, but only told,
And all we hear of them perhaps may be
The thunder of their voice did longer last,
Though long perhaps, too, that may live
Orinda, on the female coasts of Fame,
And skill in painting, dost bestor, Engrosses all the goods of a poetic name; Upon thy ancient arms, the gaudy heavenly She does no partner with her see;
bow. Does all the business there alone, which we
Swift as light thoughts their empty career run, Àre forc'd to carry on by a whole company.
Thy race is finish'd when begun; But wit's like a luxuriant vine ;
Let a post-angel start with thee, Unless to virtue's prop it join,
And thou the goal of Earth shalt reach as soon as Firm and erect towards Heaven bound;
he. Though it with beauteous leaves and pleasant Thou in the Moon's bright
chariot, proud and gay, fruit be crown'd,
Dost thy bright wood of stars survey; It lies, deform'd and rotting, on the ground.
And all the year dost with thee bring Now shame and blushes on us all,
Of thousand flowery lights thine own nocturnal Who our own sex superior call !
spring. Orinda does our boasting sex out-do, Not in wit only, but in virtue too:
Thou, Scythian-like, dost round thy lands above She does above our best examples rise,
The Sun's gilt tents for ever move, In hate of vice and scorn of vanities.
And still, as thou in pomp dost go, Never did spirit of the manly make,
The shining pageants of the world attend thy Apd dip'd all o'er in Learning's sacred lake,
show. A temper more invulnerable take.
Nor amidst all these triumpbs dost thou scorn No violent passion could an entrance find
The humble glow-worms to adorn, Into the tender goodness of her mind :
And with those living spangles gild Through walls of stone those furious bullets may (O greatness without pride!) the bushes of the Force their impetuous way;
field. When her soft breast they hit, powerless and dead they lay!
Night, and her ugly subjects, thou dost fright, .
And Sleep, the lazy owl of night; The Fame of Friendship, which so long had told Asham'd, and fearful to appear, Of three or four illustrious names of old,
They screen their horrid shapes with the black Til hoarse and weary with the tale she grew,
hemisphere. Rejoices now t' have got a new, A new and more surprizing story,
With them there hastes, and wildly takes th' Of fair Lucasia's and Orinda's glory.
alarm, As when a prudent man does once perceive
Of painted dreams a busy swarm : That in some foreign country he must live,
At the first opening of thine eye The language and the manners he does strive The various clusters break, the antic atoms fly. To understand and practise here,
The guilty serpents, and obscener beasts, That he may come no stranger there :
Creep, conscious, to their secret rests: So well Orinda did herself prepare,
Nature to thee does reverence pay, In this much different clime, for her remove Ill omens and ill sights removes out of thy way. To the glad world of Poetry and Love.
At thy appearance, Grief itself is said
To shake his wings, and rouse his head :
And cloudy Care has often took
A gentle beamy smile, reflected from thy look. HYMN TO LIGHT.
At thy appearance, Fear itself grows bold; First-born of Chaos, who so fair didst come Thy sun shine melts away his cold. From the old Negro's darksome womb!
Encourag'd at the sight of thee, Which, when it saw the lovely child, To the cheek colour comes, and firmness to the The melancholy mass put on kind looks and knee. smil'd;
Evin Lust, the master of a harden'd face, Thou tide of glory, which no rest dost know, Blushes, if thou best in the place, But ever ebb and ever flow!
To Darkness' curtains he retires; Thou golden shower of a true Jove! In sympathizing night he rolls his smoky fires. Who does in thee deseend, and Heaven to Earth When, goddess ! thou lift'st up thy waken'd make love!
head, Hail, active Nature's watchful life and health! Out of the morning's purple bed, Her joy, ber ornament, and wealth!
Thy quire of birds about thee play Hail to thy husband, Heat, and thee! And all the joyful world salutes the rising day. Thou the world's beauteous bride, the lusty The ghosts, and monster-spirits, that did presume bridegroom he!
A body's privilege to assume, Say from what golden quivers of the sky
Vanish again invisibly, Do all thy winged arrows fly?
And bodies gain again their visibility. Swiftness and Power by birth are thine : All the world's bravery, that delights our eyes, From thy great sire they came, thy sire, the Word Divine,
Is but thy several liveries;
Thou the rich dye on them bestow'st, "Tas, I believe, this archery to show,
Thy nimble pencil paints this landscape as thou That so much cost in colours thou,
A criinson garment in the rose thou wear'st; Instead of carrying him to see
A crown of studded gold thou bear'st; The riches wbich do hoarded for him lie
In Nature's endless treasury,
(His curious but not covetous eye) The violet, Spring's little infant, stands
With painted scenes and pageants of the brain. Girt in thy purple swaddling-bands
Some few exalted spirits this latter age has On the fair tulip thou dost doat;
shown, Thou cloth'st it in a gay and party-colour'd coat. That labourd to assert the liberty With flame condens'd thou do'st thy jewels fix, (From guardians who were now usurpers grown) And solid colours in it mix:
Of this old minor still, captiv'd Philosophy; Flora herself envies to see
But 'twas rebellion call'd, to fight Flowers fairer than her own, and durable as she. For such a long-oppressed right.
Bacon at last, a mighty man, arose, Ah, goddess ! would thou could'st thy hand with
(Whom a wise king, and Nature, chose,
Lord chancellor of both their laws)
And boldly undertook the injur'd pupil's cause.
Authority-which did a body boast, relieve !
Though 'twas but air condens'd, and stalk'd
about, To me the Sun is more delightful far,
Like some old giant's more gigantic ghost,
To terrify the learned rout
With the plain magic of true Reason's lightWho do not guld prefer, O goddess ! ev'n to thee.
He chas'd out of our sight;
By the vain shadows of the dead :
To graves, from whence it rose, the conquer'd And with thy living stream through the close phantom fled. channels slide.
He broke that monstrous god which stood But, where firm bodies thy free course oppose,
In midst of th' orchard, and the whole did claim;
Which with a useless scythe of wood,
And something else not worth a name,
(Both vast for show, yet neither fit
Or to defend, or to beget; lake.
Ridiculous and senseless terrours !) made But the vast ocean of unbounded day,
Children and superstitious men afraid.
The orchard's open pow, and free,
Bacon has broke the scare-crow deity :
Behold the ripen'd fruit, come gather now your
Yet still, methinks, wę fain would be
Catching at the forbidden tree-
We would be like the DeityOf all that human knowledge which has been When truth and falsehood, good and evil, we, Unforfeited by man's rebellious sin,
Without the senses' aid, within ourselves would Though full of years he do appear,
see; (Philosophy, I say, and call it he,
For 'lis God only who can find
All Nature in his mind.
From words, which are but pictures of the
thought, Nor manag'd or enjoy'd his vast estate. . Three or four thousand years, one would have
| (Though we our thoughts from them perverseiy
To things, the mind's right object, he it brought: To ripeness and perfection, might have brought
Like foolish birds, to painted grapes we flew; A science so well bred and nurst, And of such hopeful parts too at the first:
He sought and gather'd for our use the true;
And, when on heaps the chosen bunches lay, But, oh! the guardians and the tutors, then
He prest them wisely the mechanic way, (Some negligent and some ambitious men)
Till all their juice did in one vessel join,
Ferment into a nourishment divine,
The thirsty soul's refreshing wine.
Who to the life an exact piece would make,
Much less content himself to make it like
In his own fancy or his memory.
· The natural and living face;