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She to thy triumph led one captive king*,
And brought that son whichdid the second bring
Then didst thou found that Order (whether love
Or victory thy royal thoughts did move:)
Each was a noble cause, and nothing less 85
Than the design has been the great success,
Which foreign kings and emperors esteem
The second honour to their diadem.
Had thy great Destiny but given thee skill
To know, as well as pow'r to act her will, 90
That from those kings who then thy captives were,
In after-times should spring a royal pair,
Who should possess all that thy mighty pow'r,
Or thy desires more mig!ity, did devour;
To whom their better fate reserves whate'er 95
The victor hopes for, or the vanquish'd fear:
That blood which thou and thy great grandsire shed,
And all that since these sister nations bled,
Had been unspilt, and happy Edward known
That all the blood he spilt had been his own. 100
When he that patron chose to whom are join'd
Soldier and martyr, and his arms confiu'd
Within the azure circles, he did seem
But to foretel and prophesy of him,
Who to his realins that azure round hath join'd, 103,
Which Nature for their bound at first design'd;
That bound which to the world's extremest ends;
Endless itself, its liquid arins extends.
• The kings of France and Scotland.
Nor deth lie need those emblems which we paint, But is himself the soldier and the saint.
110 Here should my wonder dwell, and here my praise, But my fix'd thoughts my wand'ring cye betrays, Viewing a neighb'ring hill, whose top of late A chapel crown'd, till in the common fate Th' adjoining abbey fell. (May no such stormy 115 Fall on our times, where ruiu must reform!) Tell me, my Muse! what inonstrous dire offence, What crime, could any Christian king incense To such a rage? Was't luxury or lust? Was he so temperate, so chaste, so just ? 120 Were these their crimes! they were his own much
more; But wealth is crime enough to him that's poor, Who having spent the treasures of his crown, Condemns their luxury to feed his own; And yet this act, to varnish o'er the shame 125 Of sacrilege, must bear Devotion's name. No crime so bold but would be understood A real, or at least, a seeming good. Who fears not to do ill yet fears the name, And, free from conscience, is a slave to fame. 130 Thus he the church at once protects and spoils; But princes' swords are sharper than their styles : Aud thus to th' ages past he inakes amends, Their charity destroys, their faith defends. Then did Religion in a lazy cell,
135 In empty airy contemplations dwell,
And like the block unmoved lay; but ours,
As much too active, like the stork devours.
Is there no temp'rate region can be known
Betwixt their Frigid and our Torrid zone? 140
Could we not wake from that lethargic dream,
But to be restless in a worse extreme?
And for that lethargy was there no cure
But to be cast into a calenture?
Can knowledge have no bound, but must advance
So far, to make us wish for ignorance, 146
And rather in the dark to grope our way,
Than, led by a false guide, to err by day?
Who sees these dismal heaps but would demand
What barbarous invader sack'd the land? 150
But when he hears no Goth, no Turk, did bring
This desolation, but a Christian king;
When nothing but the name of zeal appears
'Twixt our best actions and the worst of theirs;
What does he think our sacrilege would spare, 155
When such th' effects of our devotions are?
Parting from thence 'twixt anger, shame, and fear,
Those for what's past, and this for what's too near,
My eye descending from the Hill, surveys
Where Thames among the wanton vallies strays
Thames ! the most lov'd of all the Ocean's sons 161,
By his old sire, to his embraces runs,
Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea,
Like mortal life to meet eternity;
Tho' with those streams he no resemblance hold
Whose foain is amber, and their gravel gold: 166,
His genuine and less guilty wealth to explore,
Search not his bottom, but survey his shore,
O'er which he kindly spreads his spacious wing,
And hatches plenty for th' ensuing spring; 170
Nor then destroys it with too fond a stay,
Like mothers which their infants overlay;
Nor with a sudden and impetuous wave,
Like profuse kings, resumes the wealth he gave.
No unexpected inundations spoil
The mower's hopes, nor mock the ploughman's toil;
But godlike his unweary'd bounty flows;
First loves to do, then loves the good he does.
Nor are his blessings to his banks confin'd,
But free and common as the sea or wind; 180
When he, to boast or to disperse his stores,
Full of the tributes of his grateful shores,
Visits the world, and in his flying tow'rs
Brings home to us, and makes both Indies ours;
Finds wealth where 'tis, bestows it where it wants,
Cities in deserts, woods in cities plants. 186
So that to us no thing, no place is strange,
While his fair bosom is the world's exchange.
O could I flow like thee! and make thy stream
My great example, as it is my theme; 190
Tho' deep yet clear, tho' gentle yet not dull;
Strong without rage, without o'erflowing full;
Heav'n her Eridanus no more shall boast,
Whose fame is thine, like lesser current, 's lost:
Thy nobler streams shall visit Jove's abodes, 195
To shine among the stars *, and bathe the gods.
Here Nature, whether more intent to please
Us for herself with strange varieties,
(For things of wonder give no less delight
To the wise Maker's than beholder's sight; 200
Tho' these delights from sev'ral causes move,
For so our children, thus our friends, we love ;)
Wisely she knew the harmony of things,
As well as that of sounds, from discord springs.
Such was the discord which did first disperse 205
Form, order, beauty, thro' the universe;
While dryness moisture, coldness heat resists,
All that we have, and that we are, subsists;
While the steep horrid roughness of the wood
Strives with the gentle calmness of the food. 210
Such huge extremes when Nature doth unite,
Wonder from thence results, from thence delight.
The stream is so transparent, pure, and clear,
That had the self-enamour*d* youth gaz'd here,
So fatally deceiv'd he had not been,
While he the bottom, not his face, had seen.
But his proud head the airy mountain hides
Among the clouds; his shoulders and his sides
A shady mantle clothes ; his curled brows
219 Frown on the gentle stream, which calmly flows, While winds and storms his lofty forehead beat; The common fate of all that's high or great. Low at his foot a spacious plain is plac'd, Between the mountain and the stream embrac'd,