For from all tempers he could service draw;
The worth of each, with its alloy, he knew,
And, as the confident of Nature, saw

How she complexions did divide and brew.
Or he their single virtues did survey,
By intuition, in his own large breast,
Where all the rich ideas of them lay,

That were the rule and measure to the rest.
When such heroic virtue heaven sets out,
The stars, like commons, sullenly obey;
Because it drains them when it comes about,
And therefore is a tax they seldom pay.

From this high spring our foreign conquests flow,
Which yet more glorious triumphs do portend;
Since their commencement to his arms they owe,
If springs as high as fountains may ascend.
He made us free-men of the continent,

Whom Nature did like captives treat before;

To nobler preys the English lion sent,

And taught him first in Belgian walks to roar.

That old unquestion'd pirate of the land,

Proud Rome, with dread the fate of Dunkirk heard ; And trembling wish'd behind more Alps to stand, Although an Alexander were her guard.

By his command we boldly cross'd the line,

And bravely fought where southern stars arise; We traced the far-fetch'd gold unto the mine,

And that which bribed our fathers made our prize. Such was our prince; yet own'd a soul above The highest acts it could produce to show : Thus poor mechanic arts in public move,

Whilst the deep secrets beyond practice go.
Nor died he when his ebbing fame went less,
But when fresh laurels courted him to live:
He seem'd but to prevent some new success,
As if above what triumphs earth could give.
His latest victories still thickest came,

As near the centre, motion doth increase;
Till he, press'd down by his own weighty name,
Did, like the vestal, under spoils decease.

But first the ocean as a tribute sent

The giant prince of all her watery herd;
And the isle, when her protecting genius went,
Upon his obsequies loud sighs conferr'd.

No civil broils have since his death arose,
But faction now by habit does obey;
And wars have that respect for his repose,
As winds for halcyons when they breed at sea.
His ashes in a peaceful urn shall rest,

His name a great example stands, to show
How strangely high endeavours may be blest,
Where piety and valour jointly.go.

>

ASTRÆA REDUX.

A POEM ON THE HAPPY RESTORATION AND RETURN OF HIS
SACRED MAJESTY CHARLES II. 1660.

Now with a general peace the world was blest,
While ours, a world divided from the rest,

A dreadful quiet felt, and worser far

Than arms, a sullen interval of war:

Thus when black clouds draw down the labouring skies,
Ere yet abroad the winged thunder flies,

An horrid stillness first invades the ear,
And in that silence we the tempest fear.

The ambitious Swede, like restless billows toss'd,
On this hand gaining what on that he lost,
Though in his life he blood and ruin breathed,
To his now guideless kingdom peace bequeath'd.
And Heaven, that seem'd regardless of our fate,
For France and Spain did miracles create;
Such mortal quarrels to compose in peace,
As nature bred, and interest did increase.
We sigh'd to hear the fair Iberian bride
Must grow a lily to the lily's side,

Whilst our cross stars denied us Charles's bed,
Whom our first flames and virgin love did wed.
For his long absence Church and State did groan;
Madness the pulpit, faction seized the throne:
Experienced age in deep despair was lost,
To see the rebel thrive, the loyal cross'd:

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Youth, that with joys had unacquainted been,
Envied gray hairs that once good days had seen:
We thought our sires, not with their own content,
Had, ere we came to age, our portion spent.
Nor could our nobles hope their bold attempt,
Who ruin'd crowns would coronets exempt.
For when, by their designing leaders taught
To strike at power which for themselves they sought,
The vulgar, gull'd into rebellion, arm'd ;

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Their blood to action by the prize was warm'd.
The sacred purple then and scarlet gown,
Like sanguine dye, to elephants was shown.
Thus, when the bold Typhous scaled the sky,
And forced great Jove from his own heaven to fly,
(What king, what crown from treason's reach is free,
If Jove and Heaven can violated be?

The lesser gods, that shared his prosperous state,
All suffer'd in the exiled Thunderer's fate.
The rabble now such freedom did enjoy,
As winds at sea, that use it to destroy:
Blind as the Cyclop, and as wild as he,
They own'd a lawless savage liberty,
Like that our painted ancestors so prized,
Ere empire's arts their breasts had civilised.
How great were then our Charles's woes, who thus
Was forced to suffer for himself and us!
He, toss'd by fate, and hurried up and down,
Heir to his father's sorrows, with his crown,
Could taste no sweets of youth's desired age;
But found his life too true a pilgrimage.
Unconquered yet in that forlorn estate,
His manly courage overcame his fate.

His wounds he took, like Romans, on his breast,
Which, by his virtue, were with laurels dress'd.
As souls reach heaven while yet in bodies pent,
So did he live above his banishment,

That sun, which we beheld with cozen'd eyes
Within the water, moved along the skies.
(How easy 'tis, when destiny proves kind,
With full-spread sails to run before the wind!
But those that 'gainst stiff gales laveering go,
Must be at once resolved, and skilful too.
He would not, like soft Otho, hope prevent,
But stay'd and suffer'd fortune to repent.