The royal bird poffeffes all the boughs,
But shade and fhelter to the flock allows.
Joy of our age, and fafety of the next!
For which fo oft thy fertile womb is vext:
Nobly contented, for the public good,
To waste thy spirits, and diffuse thy blood :
What vast hopes may these islands entertain,
Where Monarchs, thus defcended, are to reign!
Led by commanders of so fair a line,
Our feas no longer shall our power confine.
A brave romance who would exactly frame
First brings his knight from some immortal dame :
And then a weapon, and a flaming shield,
Bright as his mother's eyes, he makes him wield;
None might the mother of Achilles be,
But the fair pearl, and glory of the fea :
The man † to whom great Maro gives fuch fame,
From the high bed of heavenly Venus came :
And our next Charles, whom all the stars design
Like wonders to accomplish, spring from thine.
THE APOLOGY OF SLEEP,
For not approaching the Lady, who can do any thing but fleep when the pleaseth.
Y charge it is thofe breaches to repair,
Which nature takes from forrow, toil, and care:
Reft to the limbs, and quiet, I confer
On troubled minds: but nought can add to her,
Whom Heaven, and her transcendent thoughts, have
Above thofe ills which wretched mortals tafte. [plac'd
Bright as the deathless Gods, and happy, she
From all that may infringe delight is free:
Love at her royal feet his quiver lays,
And not his mother with more hafte obeys.
Such real pleasures, fuch true joys suspense,
What dream can I prefent to recompenfe ?
Should I with lightning fill her awful hand,
And make the clouds feem all at her command:
Or place her in Olympus' top, a guest
Among th' Immortals, who with Nectar feast:
That power would feem, that entertainment, short
Of the true fplendor of her present court:
Where all the joys, and all the glories, are
Of three great kingdoms, sever'd from the care.
I, that of fumes and humid vapors made,
Afcending do the feat of sense invade,
No cloud in fo ferene a manfion find,
To over-cast her ever-fhining mind :
Which holds resemblance with thofe fpotless skies,
Where flowing Nilus want of rain fupplies ;.
That crystal heaven, where Phoebus never shrouds
His golden beams, nor wraps his face in clouds.
But what fo hard which Numbers cannot force?
So ftoops the moon, and rivers change their course.
The bold Mæonian made me dare to steep
Jove's dreadful temples in the dew of fleep.
And, fince the Mufes do invoke my power,
I shall no more decline that facred bower,
Where Gloriana their great mistress lies:
But, gently taming those victorious eyes,
Charm all her senses; till the joyful sun
Without a rival half his courfe has run :
Who, while my hand that fairer light confines,
May boast himself the brightest thing that shines.
WE Gods, that have the power
To trouble and compose
All that's beneath your bower,
Calm filence on the feas, on earth, impose.
Fair Venus, in thy soft arms
The God of Rage confine; For thy whispers are the charms
Which only can divert his fierce defign.
What though he frown, and to tumult do incline?
Kindled in his breast canft tame,
With that fnow which unmelted lies on thine.
Great Goddefs, give this thy facred island reft,
Make heaven smile,
That no ftorm disturb us, while
Thy chief care, our Halcyon, builds her neft.
Great Gloriana! fair Gloriana!
Bright as high heaven is, and fertile as earth;
Whose beauty relieves us,
Whose royal bed gives us
Both glory and peace :
Our present joy, and all our hopes increase.
To the QUEEN-MOTHER of FRANCE, upon her Landing.
GREAT Queen of Europe! whence thy offspring
All the chief crowns; where Princes are thy heirs :
As welcome thou to fea-girt Britain's shore,
As erft Latona (who fair Cynthia bore)
To Delos was here fhines a Nymph as bright,
By thee difclos'd, with like increase of light.
Why was her joy in Belgia confin'd?
Or why did you so much regard the wind?
Scarce could the ocean (though inrag'd) have tost
Thy fovereign bark, but where th' obfequious coaft
Pays tribute to thy bed: Rome's conquering hand
More vanquish'd nations under her command
Never reduc'd: here Berecynthia fo
Among her deathlefs progeny did go :
A wreath of towers adorn'd her reverend head,
Mother of all that on Ambrofia fed.
Thy god-like race muft fway the age to come;
As the Olympus peopled with her womb.
Would thofe commanders of mankind obey
Their honor'd parent; all pretences lay
Down at her royal feet; compose their jars,
And on the growing Turk discharge thefe wars:
The Christian knights that facred tomb fhould wreft
From pagan hands, and triumph o'er the East:
Our England's Prince and Gallia's Dolphin might
Like young Rinaldo and Tancredi fight:
In fingle combat by their swords again
The proud Argantes, and fierce Soldan, flain :
Again might we their valiant deeds recite,
And with your * Tuscan Muse exalt the fight.
The COUNTRY to my Lady of CARLISLE.
MADAM, of all the facred Mufe infpir'd
Orpheus alone could with the woods comply;
Their rude inhabitants his song admir'd,
And nature's felf, in those that could not lye : Your beauty next our folitude invades, And warms us, fhining through the thickest shades.
Nor ought the tribute, which the wondering court
Pays your fair eyes, prevail with you to fcorn
The answer, and confent, to that report,
Which echo-like, the country does return:
Mirrors are taught to flatter, but our springs
Prefent th' impartial images of things.
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