And, if it seem'd ridiculous to grieve

Because our friends are newly come from sea,
Though ne'er so fair and calm it be;
What would all sober men believe,
If they should hear us sighing say,
"Balcarres, who but th’other day

"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

A life exempt from fortune and the grave;
Whether you look upon his birth

And ancestors, whose fame 's so widely spread-
But ancestors, alas! who long ago are dead-
Or whether you consider more

The vast increase, as sure you ought,
Of honour by his labour bought,

And added to the former store:

All I can answer, is, That I allow
The privilege you plead for; and avow
That, as he well deserv'd, he doth enjoy it now.

Though God, for great and righteous ends,"
Which his unerring Providence intends
Erroneous mankind should not understand,
Would not permit Balcarres' hand
(That once with so much industry and art

Had clos'd the gaping wounds of every part)

f

}

To perfect his distracted nation's cure,
Or stop the fatal bondage 't was t' endure;
Yet for his pains he soon did him remove,
From all th'oppression and the woe
Of his frail body's native soil below,
To his soul's true and peaceful country above:
So Godlike kings, for secret causes, known
Sometimes but to themselves alone,

One of their ablest ministers elect,

And send abroad to treaties which they' intend Shall never take effect;

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
To save his country, and restore his king;
And, whilst the manly half of him (which those
Who know not Love, to be the whole suppose)
Perform'd all parts of virtue's vigorous life;
The beauteous half, his lovely wife,
Did all his labours and his cares divide;
Nor was a lame nor paralytic side:

In all the turns of human state,
And all th' unjust attacks of Fate,
She bore her share and portion still,
And would not suffer any to be ill.
Unfortunate for ever let me be,
If I believe that such was he,

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
That nothing could his temper change.
His own and country's union had not weight
Enough to crush his mighty mind!

He saw around the hurricanes of state,

Fixt as an island 'gainst the waves and wind.
Thus far the greedy sea may reach ;

All outward things are but the beach;
A great man's soul it doth assault in vain!
Their God himself the ocean doth restrain
With an imperceptible chain,

And bid it to go back again.

His wisdom, justice, and his piety,
His courage both to suffer and to die,

His virtues, and his lady too,
Were things celestial. And we see,

In spite of quarrelling philosophy,

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,
Began to tremble and to flee;

Took sanctuary, like Daphne, in a tree:

There Daphne's lover stopp'd, and thought it much
The very leaves of her to touch:

But Harvey, our Apollo, stopp'd not so;
Into the bark and root he after her did go!
No smallest fibres of a plant,

For which the eye-beams' point doth sharpness want,
His passage after her withstood.

What should she do? Through all the moving wood Of lives endow'd with sense she took her flight; Harvey pursues, and keeps her still in sight.

But, as the deer, long-hunted, takes a flood,

She leap'd at last into the winding streams of blood;
Of man's mæander all the purple reaches made,
Till at the heart she stay'd;

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

"This my retreat, but only He
"Who made both it and me.

"The heart of man what art can e'er reveal ?

"A wall impervious between

"Divides the very parts within,

[ceal."

"And doth the heart of man ev'n from itself con-
She spoke but, ere she was aware,
Harvey was with her there;

And held this slippery Proteus in a chain,
Till all her mighty mysteries he descry'd ;
Which from his wit th' attempt before to hide
Was the first thing that Nature did in vain.

He the young practice of new life did see,
Whilst, to conceal its toilsome poverty,
It for a living wrought, both hard and privately.
Before the liver understood

The noble scarlet dye of blood;

Before one drop was by it made,
Or brought into it, to set up the trade;
Before the untaught heart began to beat
The tuneful march to vital heat;

From all the souls that living buildings rear,
Whether imply'd for earth, or sea, or air;
Whether it in the womb or egg be wrought;
A strict account to him is hourly brought
How the great fabrick does proceed,

What time, and what materials, it does need:

He so exactly does the work survey,

As if he hir'd the workers by the day.