« EelmineJätka »
He not from Rome alone, but Greece,
Like Jason, brought the golden fleece ;
To him that language (though to none
Of th’ others) as his own was known.
On a stiff gale (as Flaccus sings)
The Theban fwan extends his wings,
When through th’ætherial clouds he flies,
To the same pitch our swan doth rise ;
Old Pindar's fights by him are reachd,
that gale his wings are stretch'd ;) His fancy
and his judgment such,
Each to the other seem'd too much,
His severe judgment (giving law)
His modeft fancy kept in awe :
As rigid husbands jealous are,
When they believe their wives too fair.
His English streams fo pure did flow,
As all that saw and tasted know,
But for his Latin vein, so clear,
Strong, full, and high it doth appear,
That were immortal Virgil here,
Him, for his judge, he would not fear,
Of that great portraiture, so true
A copy, pencil never drew.
My Muse her song had ended here,
But both their Genii straight appear,
Joy and amazement her did strike,
Two twins she never saw so like.
'Twas taught by wife Pythagoras,
One foul might through more bodies pass.
Seeing such transmigration there,
She thought it not a fable here.
Such a resemblance of all parts,
Life, death, age, fortune, nature, arts;
Then lights her torch at theirs, to tell,
And shew the world this parallel :
Fixt and contemplative their looks,
Still turning over Nature's books:
Their works chaste, moral, and divine,
Where profit and delight combine;
They, gilding dirt, in noble verse
Ruitic philofophy rehearse.
When heroes, gods, or god-like kings,
They praise, on their exalted wings
To the celestial orbs they climb,
And with th' harmonious spheres keep time
Nor did their actions fall behind
Their words, but with like candour shin'd;
Each drew fair characters, yet none
Of these they feign'd, excels their own.
Both by two generous princes lov’d,
Who knew, and judg'd what they approy'd.
Yet having each the same desire,
Both from the busy throng retire.
Their bodies, to their minds resign?d,
Card not to propagate their kind :
Yet though both fell before their hour,
Time on their off-spring hath no power,
Nor fire nor fate their bays shall blast,
Nor death's dark veil their day o'ercast.
To the tune of, “ I went from England."
you now to peace incline, And languish in the main design,
And leave us in the lurch ? I would not monarchy destroy, But as the only way t' enjoy
The ruin of the church.
Is not the bishops' bill deny’d,
And we still threaten’d to be try'd ?
You see the king embraces
Those counsels he approv'd before :
Nor doth he promise, which is more,
That we shall have their places.
Did I for this bring in the Scot?
(For 'tis no secret now) the plot
Was Saye's and mine together :
Did I for this return again,
And spend a winter there in vain,
Once more t'invite them hither?
Though more our money than our cause
Their brotherly assistance draws,
My labour was not loft.
At my return I brought you thence
Necessity, their strong pretence,
And these shall quit the cost.
Did I for this my country bring
To help their knight against their king,
And raise the first fedition ?
Though I the business did decline,
Yet I contriv'd the whole design,
And fent them their petition.
So many nights spent in the city
In that Invisible Committee,
The wheel that governs all.
From thence the change in church and state,
And all the mischief bears the date
From Haberdashers' Hall.
Did we force Ireland to despair,
Upon the king to cast the war,
To make the world abhor him,
Because the rebels us'd his name?
Though we ourselves can do the same,
While both alike were for him.
Then the same fire we kindled here
With what was given to quench it there,
And wisely lost that nation :
To do as crafty beggars use,
To maim themselves, thereby t’ abuse
The simple man's compaffion.
Have I so often past between
Windsor and Westminster, unseen,
And did myself divide :
To keep his excellence in awe,
And give the parliament the law ?
For they knew none beside.
Did I for this take pains to teach
Our zealous ignorants to preach,
And did their lungs inspire ;
Gave them their texts, shew'd them their
parts, And taught them all their little arts,
To fing abroad the fire ?
Sometimes to beg, sometimes to threaten,
And say the cavaliers are beaten,
To stroke the people's ears ;
Then straight when victory grows cheap,
And will no more advance the heap,
To raise the price of fears.
And now the books, and now the bells,
And ņow our act the preacher tells,
To edify the people;
All our divinity is news,
And we have made of equal use
The pulpit and the steeple.
And shall we kindle all this fame
Only to put it out again,
And must we now give o'er,