Raphael shall teach thee, friend, exalted thoughts
And intellectual bliss. 'Twas Raphael taught
The patriarch of our progeny th' affairs

Of Heaven: (so Milton sings, enlighten'd bard!
Nor miss'd his eyes, when in sublimest strain
The angel's great narration he repeats

To Albion's sons high favour'd.) Thou shalt learn
Celestial lessons from his awful tongue;
And with soft grace and interwoven loves
(Grateful digression) all his words rehearse
To thy Charissa's ear, and charm her soul.
Thus with divine discourse, in shady bowers
Of Eden, our first father entertain'd
Eve, his sole auditress; and deep dispute
With conjugal caresses on her lip
Solv'd easy, and abstrusest thoughts reveal'd.
Now the day wears apace, now Mitio comes
From his bright tutor, and finds out his mate.
Behold the dear associates seated low

On humble turf, with rose and myrtle strew'd;
But high their conference! how self-suffic'd
Lives their eternal Maker, girt around

With glories; arm'd with thunders; and his throne
Mortal access forbids, projecting far
Splendours unsufferable and radiant death.
With reverence and abasement deep they fall
Before his Sovereign Majesty, to pay
Due worship: then his mercy on their souls
Smiles with a gentler ray, but sovereign still;
And leads their meditation and discourse
Long ages backward, and across the seas
To Bethlehem of Judah. There the Son,
The filial Godhead, character express
Of brightness inexpressible, laid by
His beamy robes, and made descent to Earth:
Sprung from the sons of Adam he became
A second father, studious to regain

Lost Paradise for men, and purchase Heaven.
The lovers with endearment mutual thus
Promiscuous talk'd, and questions intricate
His manly judgment still resolv'd, and still
Held her attention fixt: she musing sat
On the sweet mention of Incarnate Love,
Till rapture wak'd her voice to softest strains.
"She sang the Infant God; (mysterious theme!)
How vile his birth-place, and his cradle vile!
The ox and ass his mean companions; there
In habit vile the shepherds flock around,
Saluting the great mother, and adore
Israel's anointed King, the appointed heir
Of the creation. How debas'd he lies
Beneath his regal state; for thee, my Mitio,
Debas'd in servile form; but angels stood
Ministring round their charge with folded wings
Obsequious, though unseen; while lightsome hours
Fulfill'd the day, and the gray evening rose.
Then the fair guardians hovering o'er his head
Wakeful all night, drive the foul spirits far,
And with their fanning pinions purge the air
From busy phantoms, from infectious damps,
And impure taint; while their ambrosial plumes
A dewy slumber on his senses shed.
Alternate hymns the heavenly watchers sung
Melodious, soothing the surrounding shades,
And kept the darkness chaste and holy. Then
Midnight was charm'd, and all her gazing eyes
Wonder'd to see their mighty Maker sleep.
Behold the glooms disperse, the rosy morn
Smiles in the East with eye-lids opening fair,

But not so fair as thine: 0 I could fold thee,
My young Almighty, my Creator-Babe,
For ever in these arms! for ever dwell
Upon thy lovely form with gazing joy,
And every pulse should beat seraphic love!
Around iny seat should crowding cherubs come
With swift ambition, zealous to attend

Their prince, and form a Heaven below the sky."
"Forbear, Charissa, O forbear the thought
Of female fondness, and forgive the man
That interrupts such melting harmony !”
Thus Mitio; and awakes her nobler powers
To pay just worship to the sacred King,
Jesus, the God; nor with devotion pure
Mix the caresses of her softer sex;
(Vain blandishment!) “Come, turn thine eyes aside
From Bethlehem, and climb up the doleful steep
Of bloody Calvary, where naked sculls
Pave the sad road, and fright the traveller.
Can my beloved bear to trace the feet
Of her Redeemer panting up the hill
Hard burthen'd? Can thy heart attend his cross?
Nail'd to the cruel wood, he groans, he dies;
For thee he dies. Beneath thy sins and mine
(Horrible load ') the sinless Saviour groans,
And in fierce anguish of his soul expires.
Adoring angels pry with bending head
Searching the deep contrivance, and admire
This infinite design. Here peace is made
"Twixt God the Sovereign, and the rebel man:
Here Satan, overthrown with all his hosts,
In second ruin rages and despairs;
Malice itself despairs. The captive prey
Long held in slavery hopes a sweet release,
And Adam's ruin'd offspring shall revive,
Thus ransom'd from the greedy jaws of Death,"

The fair disciple heard; her passions move
Harmonious to the great discourse, and breathe
Refin'd devotion; while new smiles of love
Repay her teacher. Both with bended knees
Read o'er the covenant of eternal life

Brought down to men; seal'd by the sacred Three
In Heaven; and seal'd on Earth with God's own
Here they unite their names again, and sign [blood.
Those peaceful articles. (Hail, blest co-heirs
Celestial! Ye shall grow to manly age,
And, spite of Earth and Hell, in season due
Possess the fair inheritance above.)
With joyous admiration they survey
The gospel treasures infinite, unseen
By mortal eye, by mortal ear unheard,
And unconceiv'd by thought: riches divine
And honours which the Almighty Father God
Pour'd with immense profusion on his Son,
High treasurer of Heaven. The Son bestows
The life, the love, the blessing, and the joy
On bankrupt mortals who believe and love
His name. "Then, my Charissa, all is thine."
"And thine," my Mitio, the fair saint replies.

Life, death, the world below, and worlds on high,
And place, and time, are ours; and things to come,
And past, and present; for our interest stands
Firm in our mystic head, the title sure.

'F'is for our health and sweet refreshment, (while
We sojourn strangers here) the fruitful Earth
Bears plenteous; and revolving seasons still
Dress her vast globe in various ornament.
For us this cheerful Sun and cheerful light
Diurnal shine, This blue expanse of sky

Hangs a rich canopy above our heads,
Covering our slumbers, all with starry gold
Inwrought, when night alternates her return.
For us Time wears his wings out: Nature keeps
Her wheels in motion: and her fabric stands.
Glories beyond our ken of mortal sight
Are now preparing, and a mansion fair
Awaits us, where the saints unbodied live;
Spirits releas'd from clay, and purg'd from sin:
Thither our hearts with most incessant wish
Panting aspire; when shall that dearest hour
Shine and release us hence, and bear us high,
Bear us at once unsever'd to our better home?"

O blest connubial state! O happy pair,

Envied by yet unsociated souls

Thy kindest thoughts engage:

Those little images of thee,

What pretty toys of youth they be,

And growing props of age!

But short is earthly bliss! The changing wind Blows from the sickly South, and brings Malignant fevers on its sultry wings,

Relentless Death sits close behind: Now gasping infants, and a wife in tears, With piercing groans salute his ears, Through every vein the thrilling torments roll; While sweet and bitter are at strife

In those dear miseries of life,

Those tender pieces of his bleeding soul.

The pleasing sense of love awhile

As summer evenings. The vile sons of Earth,

Grovelling in dust with all their noisy jars
Restless, shall interrupt your joys no more
Than barking animals affright the Moon
Sublime, and riding in her midnight way.
Friendship and Love shall undistinguish'd reign
O'er all your passions with unrival'd sway
Mutual and everlasting. Friendship knows
No property in good, but all things common
That each possesses, as the light or air

In which we breathe and live: there's not one thought
Can lurk in close reserve, no barriers fixt,
But every passage open as the day

To one another's breast, and inmost mind.
Thus by communion your delight shall grow,

Thus streams of mingled bliss swell higher as they flow,

[glow.

Thus angels mix their flames, and more divinely

THE THIRD PART: OR,

THE ACCOUNT BALANCED.
SHOULD Sovereign Love before me stand,
With all his train of pomp and state,
And bid the daring Muse relate

His comforts and his cares;
Mitio, I would not ask the sand
For metaphors t' express their weight,
Nor borrow numbers from the stars.

Thy cares and comforts, Sovereign Love,
Vastly outweigh the sand below,
And to a larger audit grow
Than all the stars above.
Thy mighty losses and thy gains

Are their own mutual measures;

Only the man that knows thy pains

Can reckon up thy pleasures.

Say, Damon, say, how bright the scene,
Damon is half-divinely blest,

Leaning his head on his Florella's breast,
Without a jealous thought, or busy care between:
Then the sweet passions mix and share;
Florella tells thee all her heart,
Nor can thy soul's remotest part
Conceal a thought or wish from the beloved fair.

Say, what a pitch thy pleasures fly,
When friendship all-sincere grows up to ecstasy,
Nor self contracts the bliss, nor vice pollutes the joy.
While thy dear offspring round thee sit,
Or sporting innocently at thy feet

And make a feeble fight:

Till sorrows like a gloomy deluge rise,

Then every smiling passion dies,

And Hope alone with wakeful eyes

Darkling and solitary waits the slow returning light.

Here, then, let my ambition rest,

May I be moderately blest
When I the laws of Love obey:
Let but my pleasure and my pain
In equal balance ever reign,

Or mount by turns and sink again,

And share just measures of alternate sway.
So Damon lives, and ne'er complains;
Scarce can we hope diviner scenes

On this dull stage of clay:
The tribes beneath the northern Bear
Submit to darkness half the year,

Since half the year is day.'

ON THE

DEATH OF THE DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, JUST AFTER MR. DRYDEN.

AN EPIGRAM.

1700.

DRYDEN is dead: Dryden alone could sing
The full-grown glories of a future king.
Now Glo'ster dies. Thus lesser heroes live
By that immortal breath that poets give,
And scarce survive the Muse: but William stands,
Nor asks his honours from the poet's hands;
William shall shine without a Dryden's praise,
His laurels are not grafted on the bays.

AN EPIGRAM OF MARTIAL TO CIRINUS.
Sic tua, Cirini, promas Epigrammata vulgo
Ut mecum possis, &c.

INSCRIBED TO MR. JOSIAH Horte, LORD BISHOP OF
KILMORE IN IRELAND.

1694.

So smooth your numbers, friend, your verse so sweet,
So sharp the jest, and yet the turn so neat,
That with her Martial Rome would place Cirine,
Rome would prefer your sense and thought to mine.
Yet modest you decline the public stage,

To fix your friend alone amidst th' applauding age.
So Maro did; the mighty Maro sings

'Afterwards archbishop of Tuam.

In vast heroic notes of vast heroic things,
And leaves the ode to dance upon his Flaccus' strings.
He scorn'd to daunt the dear Horatian lyre,
Though his brave genius flash'd Pindaric fire,
And at his will could silence all the Lyric quire.
So to his Varius he resign'd the praise
Of the proud buskin and the tragic bays,
When he could thunder with a loftier vein,
And sing of gods and heroes in a bolder strain.
A handsome treat, a piece of gold, or so,
And compliments will every friend bestow;
Rarely a Virgil, a Cirine we meet,
Who lays his laurels at inferior feet,

And yields the tenderest point of honour,—wit.

EPISTOLA

FRATRI SUO DILECTO R. W. I. W. S. P. D.

RURSUM tuas, amande frater, accepi literas, eodem fortasse momento, quo meæ ad te pervenerunt; idemque qui te scribentem vidit dies, meum ad epistolare munus excitavit calamum ; non inane est inter nos Fraternum Nomen, unicus enim spiritus nos intùs animat, agitque, et concordes in ambobus efficit motus: O utinam crescat indies, et vigescat mutua charitas; faxit Deus, ut amor sui nostra incendat et defacet pectora, tunc etenim et alternis puræ amicitiæ flammis erga nos invicem divinum in modum ardebimus; contemplemur Jesum nostrum, cæleste illud et adorandum exemplar charitatis. Ille est,

Qui quondam æterno delapsus ab æthere vultus
Induit humanos, ut posset corpore nostras
(Heu miseras) sufferre vices; sponsoris obivit
Munia, et in sese Tabulæ maledicta Minacis
Transtulit, et sceleris pœnas hominisque reatum.
Ecce jacet desertus humi, diffusus in herbam
Integer, innocuas versus sua sidera palmas
Et placidum attollens vultum, nec ad oscula Patris
Amplexus solitosve: artus nudatus amictu
Sidereos, et sponte sinum patefactus ad iras
Numinis armati. "Pater, hic infige sagittas 2,
Hæc," ait," iratum sorbebunt pectora ferrum,
Abluat æthereus mortalia crimina sanguis."

Dixit, et horrendum fremuêre tonitrua cœli,
Infensusque Deus (quem jam posuisse paternum
Musa queri vellet nomen, sed et ipsa fragores
Ad tantos pavefacta silet). Jam dissilit æther,
Pandunturque fores, ubi duro carcere regnat,
Ira, et pœnarum thesauros mille coercet,
Inde ruunt gravidi vesano sulphure nimbi,
Centuplicisque volant contorta volumina flammæ
In caput immeritum; diro hic sub pondere pressus
Restat, compressos dumque ardens explicat artus
Purpureo vestes tinctæ 3 sudore madescunt,
Nec tamen infando Vindex Regina labori
Segniùs incumbit, sed lassos increpat ignes
Acriter, et somno languentem suscitat ensem 4;
"Surge, age, divinum pete pectus, et imbue sacro
Flumine mucronem: Vos hinc, mea spicula, latè
Ferrea per totum dispergite tormina Christum,
Immensum tolerare valet; ad pondera pœnæ
Sustentanda hominem suffulciet incola Numen.
Et tu, sacra Decas Legum, violata tabella,
Ebibe vindictam; vastâ satiabere cæde,
Mortalis culpæ pensabit dedecus ingens
Permistus Deitate Cruor."-

2 Job iv. 6. 3 Luke xxii. 44. 4 Zech. xii. 7.

Sic fata, immiti contorquet vulnera dextrâ Dilaniatque sinus; sancti penetralia cordis Panduntur, sævis avidus dolor involat alis, Atque audax mentem scrutator, et ilia mordet; Intereà servator ovat 5, victorque doloris Eminet, illustri 6 perfusus membra cruore, Exultatque miser fieri; nam fortiùs illum Urget Patris honos, et non vincenda voluptas Servandi miseros sontes: O nobilis ardor Pœnarum! O quid non mortalia pectora cogis, Durus amor? quid non cœlestia?

At subsidat phantasia, vanescant imagines; nescio quo me proripuit amens Musa: volui quatuor lineas pedibus astringere, et ecce! numeri crescunt in immensum; dumque concitato genio laxavi fræna, vereor ne juvenilis impetus theologiam læserit, et audax nimis imaginatio. Heri adlata est ad me epistola indicans matrem meliusculè se habere, licet ignis febrilis non prorsus deseruit mortale ejus domicilium. Plura volui, sed turgidi et crescentes versus noluêre plura, et coarctârunt scriptionis limites. Vale, amice frater, et in studio pietatis et artis medica strenuus decurre.

Datum à Museo meo Londini xvto Kalend. Febr. Anno Salutis CCXCIII.

FRATRI E. W. OLIM NAVIGATURO.

I, FELIX, pede prospero
I, frater, trabe pineâ
Sulces æquora cœrula,
Pandas carbasa flatibus
Quæ tutò reditura sint.
Non te monstra natantia
Ponti carnivoræ incolæ
Prædentur rate naufragâ.

Navis, tu tibi creditum Fratrem dimidium mei Salvum fer per inhospita Ponti regna, per avios Tractus, et liquidum chaos. Nec te sorbeat horrida Syrtis, nec scopulus minax Rumpat roboreum latus. Captent mitia flamina Antennæ; et zephyri leves Dent portum placidum tibi.

Tu, qui flumina, qui vagos Fluctus oceani regis, Et sævum boream domas, Da fratri faciles vias, Et fratrem reducem suis.

AD REVERENDUM VIRUM

Sept. 30, 1691.

Vobis, magna trias! clarissima nomina semper
Scrinia nostra patent, et pectora nostra patebunt,
Quum mihi cunque levem concesserit otia et horam
Divina Mosis pagina,

Flaccus ad hanc triadem ponatur, at ipsa pudendas
Deponat veneres: venias sed "purus et insons 7
Ut te collaudem, dum sordes et mala lustra"
Ablutus, Venusine, canis ridesve. Recisæ
Hâc lege accedunt satiræ Juvenalis, amari
Terrores vitiorum. At longè cæcus abesset
Persius, obscurus vates, nisi lumina circum-
fusa forent, sphingisque ænigmata, Bonde, scidisses.
Grande sonans Senecæ fulmen, grandisque cothurni
Pompa Sophoclei celso ponantur eodem

Ordine, et ambabus simul hos amplectar in ulnis.
Tutò, Poëtæ, tutò habitabitis
Pictos abacos: improba tinea
Obiit, nec audat sæva castas
Attingere blatta camœnas.
At tu renidens foeda epigrammatum
Farrago inertûm, stercoris impii
Sentina fætens, Martialis,

In barathrum relegandus imum

Aufuge, et hinc tecum rapias Catullum
Insulsè mollem, naribus, auribus
Ingrata castis carmina, et improbi

Spurcos Nasonis amores.

Nobilis extremâ gradiens Caledonis ab orâ
En Buchananus adest. Divini psaltis imago
Jessiadæ, salveto; potens seu numinis iras
Fulminibus miscere, sacro vel lumine mentis
Fugare noctes, vel citharæ sono

Sedare fluctus pectoris.

Tu mihi hærebis comes ambulanti,
Tu domi astabis socius perennis,
Seu levi mensæ simul assidere
Dignabere, seu lecticæ.

Mox recumbentis vigilans ad aurem
Aureos suadebis inire somnos

Sacra sopitis superinferens ob

-livia curis,

Stet juxtà Casimirus 8, huic nec parciùs ignem Natura indulsit nec Musa armavit alumnum

Sarbivium rudiore lyrâ.

Quanta Polonum levat aura cygnum!
Humana linquens 9 (en sibi devii
Montes recedunt) luxuriantibus

Spatiatur in aëre pennis.

Seu tu fortè virum tollis ad æthera,
Cognatosve thronos et patrium polum
Visurus consurgis ovans,

Visum fa igas, aciemque fallis,

Dum tuum à longè stupeo volatum,
O non imitabilis ales.

Sarbivii ad nomen gelida incalet
Musa, simul totus fervescere
Sentio, stellatas levis induor
Alas et tollor in altum.

Jam juga Zionis radens pede
Elato inter sidera radens vertice
Longè despecto mortalia.

Quam juvat altisonis volitare per æthera pennis,
Et ridere procul fallacia gaudia sécli
Terrellæ grandia inania,

Quæ mortale genus (heu malè) deperit !
O curas hominum miseras! Cano
Et miseras nugas diademata,
Ventosa sortis ludibrium.

En mihi subsidunt terrenæ à pectore fæces,
Gestit et effrænis divinum effundere carmen
Mens afflata Deo-

at vos heroes et arma
Et procul este Dii, ludicra numina.
Quid mihi cum vestræ pondere lanceæ,
Pallas! aut vestris, Dyonyse, thyrsis?
Et Clava, et Anguis, et Leo, et Hercules,
Et brutum tonitru fictitii Patris,

Abstate à carmine nostro.

O si daretur stamina proprii Tractare fusi pollice proprio,

Atque meum mihi fingere fatum;
Candidus vitæ color innocentis
Fila nativo decoraret albo

Non Tyria vitiata conchâ.

Non aurum, non gemma nitens, nec purpura telæ
Intertexta forent invidiosa meæ.
Longè à triumphis, et sonitu tubæ
Longè remotos transigerem dies:
Abstate faces (splendida vanitas)

Et vos abstate, coronæ.

Pro meo tecto casa sit, salubres
Captet Auroras, proeul urbis atro
Distet à fumo, fugiatque longè

Dura phthisis mala, dura tussis.
Displicet Byrsa et fremitu molesto
Turba mercantûm; gratiùs alvear
Demulcet aures murmure, gratiùs
Fons salientis aquæ.

Litigiosa fori me terrent jurgia, lenes

Ad sylvas properans rixosas execror artes Eminus in tuto a linguis

Blandimenta artis simul æquus odi. Valete, cives, et amœna fraudis Verba; proh mores! et inane sacri Nomen amici !

Tuque quæ nostris inimica musis
Felle sacratum vitias amorem,
Absis æternùm, diva libidinis

Et pharetrate puer !
Hinc, hine, Cupido, longiùs avola!
Nil mihi cum fœdis, puer, ignibus;
Æthereâ fervent face pectora,
Sacra mihi Venus est Urania,
Et juvenis Jessæus amor mihi.
Cœleste carmen (nec taceat lyra
Jessæa) lætis auribus insonet,
Nec Watsianis è medullis

Ulla dies rapiet vel hora.
Sacri libelli, deliciæ meæ,
Et vos, sodales, semper amabiles,
Nunc simul adsitis, nunc vicissim,
Et fallite tædia vitæ.

ΤΟ

MRS. SINGER, AFTERWARDS MRS. ROWE,

ON THE SIGHT OF SOME OF HER DIVINE POEMS, NEVER

PRINTED.

July 19, 1706.

On the fair banks of gentle Thames I tun'd my harp; nor did celestial themes Refuse to dance upon my strings:

There beneath the evening sky

I sung my cares asleep, and rais'd my wishes high To everlasting things.

Sudden from Albion's western coast Harmonious notes come gliding by, The neighbouring shepherds knew the silver sound; "Tis Philomela's voice," the neighbouring shepAt once my strings all silent lie, [herds cry. At once my fainting Muse was lost, In the superior sweetness drown'd. In vain I bid my tuneful powers unite; My soul retir'd, and left my tongue; I was all ear, and Philomela's song Was all divine delight.

Now be my heart for ever dumb, My Muse, attempt no more.

I bid adieu to mortal things,

'Twas long ago

To Grecian tales, and wars of Rome,

'Twas long ago I broke all but th' immortal strings: Now those immortal strings have no employ,

Since a fair angel dwells below,

To tune the notes of Heaven, and propagate the joy. Let all my powers with awe profound,

While Philomela sings,

Attend the rapture of the sound,

And my devotion rise on her seraphic wings.

STANZAS TO

LADY SUNDERLAND,

AT TUNBRIDGE WELLS.

FAIR Nymph, ascend to Beauty's throne,

And rule that radiant world alone:
Let favourites take thy lower sphere,
Not monarchs are thy rivals here.
The court of Beauty, built sublime,
Defies all powers but thine and Time:
Envy, that clouds the hero's sky,
Aims but in vain her flight so high.
Not Blenheim's field, nor Ister's flood,
Nor standards dyed in Gallic blood,
Torn from the foe, add nobler grace
To Churchill's house, than Spencer's face.
The warlike thunder of his arms

Is less commanding than her charms;
His lightning strikes with less surprise
Than sudden glances from her eyes.
His captives feel their limbs confin'd
In iron; she enslaves the mind:
We follow with a pleasing pain,
And bless the conqueror and the chain.
The Muse, that dares in numbers do
What paint and pencil never knew,
Faints at her presence in despair,
And owns th' inimitable fair.

1712.