But fee how foon these pleasures fade away!
How near to evening is delight's short day!
The watching bird, true Nuncius of the light,
Strait crowd; and all these vanish'd from my sight =
My very Muse herself forfook me too.

Me grief and wonder wak'd: what should I do?
Oh let me follow thee (faid I) and go

From life, that I may dream for ever so.
With that my flying Mufe I thought to clafp
Within my arms, but did a shadow grasp.
Thus chiefeft joys glide with the swiftest stream,
And all our greatest pleasure 's but a dream.

ON

GR

HIS

MAJESTY'S

RETURN OUT OF SCOTLAND.

Reat Charles !-there ftop, ye trumpeters of fame! (For he who speaks his titles, his great name, Must have a breathing-time) our king :-stay there; Speak by degrees; let the inquifitive ear

Be held in doubt, and, ere you fay "is come,"
Let every heart prepare a spacious room

For ample joys: then Io fing, as loud
As thunder fhot from the divided cloud!
Let Cygnus pluck from the Arabian waves
The ruby of the rock, the pearl that paves

Great Neptune's court: let every sparrow bear
From the Three Sifters' weeping bark a tear :
Let fpotted lynxes their sharp talons fill

With crystal fetch'd from the Promethean hill :

Let

"

Let Cytherea's birds fresh wreaths compofe,
Knitting the pale-fac'd lily with the rofe:
Let the felf-gotten phoenix rob his neft,
Spoil his own funeral pile, and all his best
Of myrrh, of frankincenfe, of caffia, bring,
To ftrew the way for our returned king!
Let every poft a panegyric wear,
Each wall, each pillar, gratulations bear:
And yet, let no man invocate a Muse ;
The very matter will itfelf infufe

A facred fury: let the merry bells

(For unknown joys work unknown miracles)
Ring without help of sexton, and prefage
A new-made holy-day for future age!
And, if the ancients us'd to dedicate
A golden temple to propitious Fate,
At the return of any noble men,
Of heroes, or of emperors, we must then
Raise up a double trophy; for their fame
Was but the fhadow of our Charles's name,
Who is there where all virtues mingled flow,
Where no defects or imperfections grow?
Whofe head is always crown'd with victory,
Snatch'd from Bellona's hand; him luxury
In peace debilitates whofe tongue can win
Tully's own garland, pride to him creeps in.
On whom (like Atlas' shoulders) the propt state
(As he were primum mobile of Fate)

Solely relies ;-him blind ambition moves ;

His tyranny the bridled fubject proves.

But all thofe virtues, which they all possest.
Divided, are collected in thy breast,

Great Charles Let Cæfar boaft Pharfalia's fight,
Honorius praise the Parthian's unfeign'd flight:
Let Alexander call himfelf Jove's peer,

And place his image near the thunderer;
Yet while our Charles with equal balance reigns
"Twixt Mercy, and Aftrea, and maintains

A noble peace, 'tis he, 'tis only he,
Who is most near, moft like, the Deity.

H

SONG, ON THE SAME.

ENCE, clouded looks; hence, briny tearsy Hence, eye that forrow's livery wears !What though awhile Apollo please

To vifit the Antipodes ?

Yet he returns, and with his light
Expels what he hath caus'd-the night.
What though the fpring vanish away,
And with it the earth's form decay?
Yet his new-birth will foon restore
What its departure took before.
What though we miss'd our absent king
Awhile? Great Charles is come again ;
And with his prefence makes us know
The gratitude to Heaven we owe.
So doth a cruel storm impart
And teach us Palinurus' art :

So from falt floods, wept by our eyes,

A joyful Venus doth arife,

A VOTE.

EST the mif-judging world should chance to fay,
I durft not but in fecret murmurs pray;

And future times in my foul's picture fee
What I abhor, what I defire to be..

I would not be à Puritan, though he
Can preach two hours, and yet his fermon be
But half a quarter long;

Though, from his old mechanic trade,
By vision he's a pastor made,

His faith was grown so strong;

Nay, though he think to gain falvation
By calling th' Pope the Whore of Babylon

I would not be a School-mafter, though he
His rods no lefs than Fafces deems to be;
Though he in many a place
Turns Lilly oftener than his gowns,
Till at the last he make the nouns.

Fight with the verbs apace;

Nay, though he can, in a poetic heat,

Figures, born fince, out of poor Virgil beat.

I would

I would not be Jüftice of peace, though he
Can with equality divide the fee,

F

And ftakes with his clerk draw;

Nay, though he fits upon the place
Of judgment with a learned face
Intricate as the law;

And, whilft he mulets enormities demurely,
Breaks Prifcian's head with fentences securely.

I would not be a Courtier, though he
Makes his whole life the truest comedy;
Although he be a man

In whom the taylor's forming art,
And nimble barber, claim more part
Than Nature herself can ;

Though, as he ufes men, 'tis his intent
To put off death too with a compliment.

From Lawyers' tongues, though they can spin with eafe The shortest cause into a paraphrase;

From Ufurers' confcience

(For fwallowing up young heirs so fast, Without all doubt, they 'll choäk'd at last) Make me all innocence,

Good Heaven! and from thy eyes, O Juftice! keep; For though they be not blind, they 're oft asleep.

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