And I myself, who now love quiet too, An old wheel of that chariot to see, Which Phaeton so rashly brake: [Drake? Yet what could that say more than these remains of (The great trade-wind which ne'er does fail) Shall drive thee round the world, and thou shalt run As long around it as the sun. The streights of Time too narrow are for thee; And steer the endless course of vast Eternity! UPON THE DEATH OF THE EARL OF BARCARRES. "TIS folly all that can be said By living mortals of th' immortal dead, And I'm afraid they laugh at the vain tears we shed.. "T is as if we, who stay behind In expectation of the wind, Should pity those who pass'd this streight before, And touch the universal shore. Ah, happy man! who art to sail no more! And, if it seem'd ridiculous to grieve Because our friends are newly come from sea, "Did all our love and our respect command; "At whose great parts we all amaz'd did stand; "Is from a storm, alas! cast suddenly on land?" If you will say- -Few persons upon earth Did, more than he, deserve to have his birth And ancestors, whose fame 's so widely spreadBut ancestors, alas! who long ago are dead Or whether you consider more The vast increase, as sure you ought, All I can answer, is, That I allow The privilege you plead for; and avow Though God, for great and righteous ends, } To perfect his distracted nation's cure, And send abroad to treaties which they' intend But, though the treaty wants a happy end, The happy agent wants not the reward, For which he labour'd faithfully and hard; His just and righteous master calls him home, And gives him, near himself, some honourable room. Noble and great endeavours did he bring In all the turns of human state, Whom, in the storms of bad success, And all that Error calls unhappiness, His virtue and his virtuous wife did still accompany! With these companions 't was not strange He saw around the hurricanes of state, All outward things are but the beach; And bid it to go back again. His wisdom, justice, and his piety, How in this case 't is certain found, That Heav'n stands still, and only earth goes round. ODE. UPON DR. HARVEY. COY Nature (which remain'd, though aged grown, A beauteous virgin still, enjoy'd by none, Nor seen unveil'd by any one), When Harvey's violent passion she did see, Took sanctuary, like Daphne, in a tree: There Daphne's lover stopp'd, and thought it much But Harvey, our Apollo, stopp'd not so; For which the eye-beams' point doth sharpness want, What should she do? Through all the moving wood She leap'd at last into the winding streams of blood; Where turning head, and at a bay, Thus by well-purged ears was she o'erheard to say: "Here sure shall I be safe" (said she), "None will be able sure to see |