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The Chriftian knights that facred tomb should 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 fwords again

The proud Argantes and fierce Soldan flain:
Again might we their valiant deeds recite,
And with your Tuscan Muse * exalt the fight.

IV.

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 fong admir'd,
And Nature's self, in those that could not lie:
Your beauty next our folitude invades,
And warms us fhining thro' the thickest shades.

Nor ought the tribute which the wond'ring court
Pays your fair eyes, prevail with you to fcorn
The anfwer 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.

A rural judge + difpos'd of beauty's prize;
A fimple shepherd† was preferr'd to Jove;
+Paris.

* Taffo.

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Down to the mountains from the partial skies,
Came Juno, Pallas, and the Queen of Love,
To plead for that which was so justly giv'n
To the bright Carlisle of the court of heav'n.

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Carlisle! a name which all our woods are taught
Loud as their Amaryllis to refound:
Carlifie! a name which on the bark is wrought
Of ev'ry tree that's worthy of the wound.
From Phoebus' rage our fhadows and our ftreams
May guard us better than from Carlifle's beams. 24

V.

TO PHYLLIS.

PHYLLIS! 't was love that injur'd you,
And on that rock your Thyrfis threw,
Who for proud Cælia could have dy'd,
While you no less accus'd his pride.

Fond Love his darts at random throws,
And nothing fprings from what he fows:
From foes discharg'd as often meet
The shining points of arrows fleet,

In the wide air creating fire,

As fouls that join in one defire.

Love made the lovely Venus burn

In vain, and for the cold youth † mourn, † Adonis.

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Who the pursuit of churlish beafts
Preferr'd to fleeping on her breasts.

Love makes fo many hearts the prize
Of the bright Carlisle's conqu'ring eyes,
Which she regards no more than they
The tears of leffer beauties weigh.
So have I feen the loft clouds pour
Into the sea an useless show'r,

And the vex'd failors curfe the rain,

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For which poor fhepherds pray'd in vain.
Then Phyllis, fince our passions are
Govern'd by chance, and not the care,
But fport of Heav'n, which takes delight

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UPON THE DEATH OF HIS LADY.

To this great lofs a sea of tears is due,

But the whole debt not to be paid by you:

Charge not yourself with all, nor render vain
Thofe fhow'rs the eyes of us your servants rain.
Shall grief contra&t the largeness of that heart
In which nor fear nor anger has a part?

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Virtue would blush if time should boaft (which dries
Her fole child dead, the tender mother's eyes)
Your mind's relief, where reason triumphs fo
Over all paffions, that they ne'er could grow
Beyond their limits in your noble breast,
To harm another, or impeach your rest.
This we obferv'd, delighting to obey

ΤΟ

One who did never from his great self stray;
Whofe mild example feemed to engage

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Th' obfequious feas, and teach them not to rage.

The brave Æmilius, his great charge laid down, (The force of Rome, and fate of Macedon) In his loft fons did feel the cruel stroke Of changing fortune, and thus highly spoke Before Rome's people; "We did oft' implore, "That if the Heav'ns had any bad in store "For your Æmilius, they would pour that ill "On his own houfe, and let you flourish still.” You on the barren feas, my Lord, have spent Whole fprings and fummers to the publick lent; Sufpended all the pleasures of your life, And shorten'd the fhort joy of fuch a wife; For which your country's more obliged than For many lives of old less happy men.

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You that have facrific'd so great a part
Of youth, and private bliss, ought to impart
Your forrow too, and give your friends a right
As well in your affliction as delight.

Then with Æmilian courage bear this cross,
Since publick perfons only publick lofs
Ought to affect. And tho' her form and youth,
Her application to your will and truth,

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That noble sweetnefs, and that humble state,
(All fnatch'd away by fuch a hafty fate!)
Might give excufe to any common breast,
With the huge weight of fo juft grief oppreft;
Yet let no portion of your life be stain'd
With paffion, but your character maintain'd
To the last act. It is enough her stone
May honour'd be with fuperfcription
Of the fole lady who had pow'r to move
The great Northumberland to grieve and love. 48

VII.

TO MY LORD ADMIRAL,

OF HIS LATE SICKNESS AND RECOVERY.

WITH joy like ours the Thracian youth invades
Orpheus, returning from th' Elyfian fhades;
Embrace the hero, and his stay implore;
Make it their publick fuit, he would no more

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