HENRY

HENRY VAUGHAN was a Welsh gentleman, born on the banks of the Uske, in Brecknockshire, who was bred to the law, but relinquished it for the profession of physic. He is one of the harshest

even of the inferior order of the school of conceit; but he has some few scattered thoughts that meet our eye amidst his harsh pages, like wild flowers on a barren heath.

WHEN first thy eyes unveil, give thy soul leave
To do the like; our bodies but forerun
The spirit's duty: true hearts spread and heave
Unto their God as flowers do to the sun;
Give him thy first thoughts then, so shalt thou keep
Him company all day, and in him sleep.

Yet never sleep the sun up; prayer should
Dawn with the day: there are set awful hours
"Twixt heaven and us; the manna was not good
After sun-rising; far day sullies flowers:
Rise to prevent the sun; sleep doth sins glut,
And heaven's gate opens when the world's is shut.
Walk with thy fellow-creatures: note the hush
And whisperings amongst them. Not a spring
Or leaf but hath his morning hymn; each bush
And oak doth know I AM.-Canst thou not sing?
O leave thy cares and follies! go this way,
And thou art sure to prosper all the day.

Serve God before the world: let him not go
Until thou hast a blessing; then resign
The whole unto him, and remember who
Prevail'd by wrestling ere the sun did shine:
Pour oil upon the stones, weep for thy sin,
Then journey on, and have an eye to heaven.

Mornings are mysteries: the first, world's youth,
Man's resurrection, and the future's bud,
Shroud in their births; the crown of life, light, truth,
Is styled their star; the stone and hidden food:
Three blessings wait upon them, one of which
Should move-they make us holy, happy, rich.
When the world's up and every swarm abroad,
Keep well thy temper, mix not with each clay;
Despatch necessities; life hath a load

Which must be carried on, and safely may:
Yet keep those cares without thee; let the heart
Be God's alone, and choose the better part.

STILL young and fine, but what is still in view
We slight as old and soil'd, though fresh and new.
How bright wert thou when Shem's admiring eye
Thy burnish'd flaming arch did first descry;
When Zerah, Nahor, Haran, Abram, Lot,
The youthful world's gray fathers, in one knot
Did with intentive looks watch every hour
For thy new light, and trembled at each shower!
When thou dost shine, darkness looks white and fair;
Forms turn to music, clouds to smiles and air;
Rain gently spends his honey-drops, and pours
Balm on the cleft earth, milk on grass and flowers.
Bright pledge of peace and sunshine, the sure tie
Of thy Lord's hand, the object* of his eye!
* Genesis, ch. ix. ver. 16.

When I behold thee, though my light be dim,
Distant and low, I can in thine see him,
Who looks upon thee from his glorious throne,
And minds the covenant betwixt all and One.

THE WREATH. (TO THE REDEEMER.)

FROM THE SAME.

SINCE I in storms most used to be, And seldom yielded flowers, How shall I get a wreath for thee From those rude barren hours?

The softer dressings of the spring, Or summer's later store,

I will not for thy temples bring,

Which thorns, not roses, wore:

But a twined wreath of grief and praise Praise soil'd with tears, and tears again Shining with joy, like dewy days,

This day I bring for all thy pain, Thy causeless pain; and as sad death,

Which sadness breeds in the most vain, O not in vain! now beg thy breath, Thy quick'ning breath, which gladly bears Through saddest clouds to that glad place Where cloudless quires sing without tears, Sing thy just praise, and see thy face.

CHARACTER OF SHAFTESBURY.

Of these the false Achitophel was first,
A name to all succeeding ages curst;
For close designs, and crooked counsels fit ;
Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit;
Restless, unfix'd, in principles and place;
In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace :
A fiery soul, which working out its way,
Fretted the pigmy body to decay,
And o'er inform'd the tenement of clay.
A daring pilot in extremity;

Pleased with the danger when the waves went high,
He sought the storms; but for a calm unfit,
Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit.
Great wits are sure to madness near allied,
And thin partitions do their bounds divide;
Else why should he, with wealth and honour blest,
Refuse his age the needful hours of rest?

Punish a body which he could not please;
Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease?
And all to leave what with his toil he won,
To that unfeather'd two-legg'd thing a son;
Got while his soul did huddled notions try,
And born a shapeless lump, like anarchy.
In friendship false, implacable in hate;
Resolved to ruin, or to rule the state.
To compass this the triple bond he broke,
The pillars of the public safety shook,
And fitted Israel for a foreign yoke;
Then seized with fear, yet still affecting fame,
Usurp'd a patriot's all-atoning name.
So easy still it proves in factious times,
With public zeal to cancel private crimes.
How safe is treason, and how sacred ill,
Where none can sin against the people's will!

Where crowds can wink, and no offence be known,
Since in another's guilt they find their own!
Yet fame deserved no enemy can grudge ;
The statesman we abhor, but praise the judge.
In Israel's courts ne'er sat an Abethdin
With more discerning eyes, or hands more clean,
Unbribed, unsought, the wretched to redress;
Swift of despatch, and easy of access.

Oh! had he been content to serve the crown,
With virtues only proper to the gown ;
Or had the rankness of the soil been freed
From cockle, that oppress'd the noble seed;
David for him his tuneful harp had strung,
And heaven had wanted one immortal song.
But wild ambition loves to slide, not stand,
And fortune's ice prefers to virtue's land *.
Achitophel, grown weary to possess
A lawful fame, and lazy happiness,
Disdain'd the golden fruit to gather free,
And lent the crowd his arm to shake the tree.

CHARACTER OF GEORGE VILLIERS, THE SECOND DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.

FROM THE SAME.

SOME of their chiefs were princes of the land;
In the first rank of these did Zimri stand:
A man so various, that he seem'd to be
Not one, but all mankind's epitome :
Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong;
Was everything by starts, and nothing long;
But, in the course of one revolving moon,
Was chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon:
Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking,
Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.
Blest madman, who could every hour employ
With something new to wish, or to enjoy!
Railing and praising were his usual themes,
And both, to show his judgment, in extremes;
So over violent, or over civil,

That every man with him was God or Devil.
In squandering wealth was his peculiar art ;
Nothing went unrewarded but desert.
Beggar'd by fools, whom still he found too late ;
He had his jest, and they had his estate.
He laugh'd himself from court, then sought relief
By forming parties, but could ne'er be chief;
For spite of him the weight of business fell
On Absalom and wise Achitophel :
Thus, wicked but in will, of means bereft,
He left not faction, but of that was left †.

[* This last couplet is borrowed from some lines under a portrait of the Sultan Mustapha I., before Knolles' History of the Turks:

Greatnesse on goodnesse loves to slide, not stand, And fortune's ice prefers to virtue's land.] [The character of Zimri in my Absalom is in my opinion worth the whole poem: it is not bloody, but it is ridiculous enough: and he for whom it was intended was too witty to resent it as an injury. If I had railed, I might have suffered for it justly: but I managed my own work more happily, perhaps more dexterously. I avoided

CHARACTER OF DOEG, OR ELKANAH SETTLE.

FROM THE SAME.

DOEG, though without knowing how or why,
Made still a blundering kind of melody;
Spurr'd boldly on, and dash'd through thick and thin,
Through sense and nonsense, never out nor in ;
Free from all meaning, whether good or bad,
And, in one word, heroically mad :

He was too warm on picking-work to dwell,
But fagoted his notions as they fell,
And if they rhymed and rattled, all was well.
Spiteful he is not, though he wrote a satire,
For still there goes some thinking to ill nature:
He needs no more than birds and beasts to think,
All his occasions are to eat and drink.

If he call rogue and rascal from a garret,
He means you no more mischief than a parrot:
The words for friend and foe alike were made,
To fetter them in verse is all his trade.
For almonds he'll cry whore to his own mother,
And call young Absalom king David's brother.
Let him be gallows-free by my consent,
And nothing suffer, since he nothing meant ;
Hanging supposes human soul and reason,
This animal's below committing treason:
Shall he be hang'd who never could rebel?
That's a preferment for Achitophel.

CHARACTER OF OG, OR SHADWELL‡. FROM THE SAME.

Og from a treason-tavern rolling home,
Round as a globe, and liquor'd every chink,
Goodly and great he sails behind his link ;
With all this bulk there's nothing lost in Og,
For every inch that is not fool is rogue :
A monstrous mass of foul corrupted matter,
As all the devils had spew'd to make the batter.
When wine has given him courage to blaspheme,
He curses God-but God before cursed him;
And, if man could have reason, none has more,
That made his paunch so rich, and him so poor.
With wealth he was not trusted, for Heaven knew
What 'twas of old to pamper up a Jew;

To what would he on quail and pheasant swell,
That e'en on tripe and carrion could rebel?
But though Heaven made him poor, with reverence

speaking,

He never was a poet of God's making; The midwife laid her hand on his thick skull, With this prophetic blessing-Be thou dull: the mention of great crimes, and applied myself to the representing of blind-sides and little extravagancies; to which the wittier a man is, he is generally the more obnoxious. It succeeded as I wished; the jest went round, and he was laughed at in his turn, who began the frolic.-DRYDEN.]

[Shadwell was very fat-" more fat than bard beseems;" and hence the ludicrous propriety of the name. Og is the Scripture King that ruled over the fat bulls of Basan.]

Drink, swear and roar, forbear no lewd delight
Fit for thy bulk, do anything but write :
Thou art of lasting make, like thoughtless men,
A strong nativity-but for the pen !
Eat opium, mingle arsenic in thy drink,
Still thou mayst live, avoiding pen and ink.
I see, I see, 'tis counsel given in vain,

For treason botch'd in rhyme will be thy bane;
Rhyme is the rock on which thou art to wreck,
'Tis fatal to thy fame and to thy neck:
Why should thy metre good king David blast?
A psalm of his will surely be thy last.

ODE TO THE MEMORY OF MRS. ANNE KILLIGREW *.

THOU youngest virgin-daughter of the skies,
Made in the last promotion of the blest;
Whose palms, new pluck'd from paradise,
In spreading branches more sublimely rise,
Rich with immortal green, above the rest :
Whether, adopted to some neighbouring star,
Thou roll'st above us, in thy wand'ring race,
Or, in procession fix'd and regular,
Mov'st with the heaven's majestic pace;
Or, call'd to more superior bliss,
Thou tread'st, with seraphims, the vast abyss:
Whatever happy region is thy place,
Cease thy celestial song a little space;
Thou wilt have time enough for hymns divine,
Since heaven's eternal year is thine.
Hear then a mortal Muse thy praise rehearse,
In no ignoble verse;

But such as thy own voice did practise here,
When thy first fruits of poesy were given;
To make thyself a welcome inmate there :
While yet a young probationer,
And candidate of heaven.

If by traduction came thy mind,
Our wonder is the less to find

A soul so charming from a stock so good;
Thy father was transfused into thy blood:
So wert thou born into a tuneful strain,
An early, rich, and inexhausted vein.
But if thy pre-existing soul

Was form'd, at first, with myriads more,
It did through all the mighty poets roll,

Who Greek or Latin laurels wore,

And was that Sappho last, which once it was before. If so, then cease thy flight, O heaven-born mind! Thou hast no dross to purge from thy rich ore : Nor can thy soul a fairer mansion find,

Than was the beauteous frame she left behind : Return to fill or mend the choir of thy celestial kind.

[* When Dryden wrote, the word Miss was applied to ladies of loose character: at a later time Sir Joshua Reynolds' sister, though unmarried, was Mrs. Reynolds; and Parnell's virgin-bride is called, by Dr. Johnson, Mrs. Anne Minchin.]

O gracious God! how far have we
Profaned thy heavenly gift of poesy?
Made prostitute and profligate the Muse,
Debased to each obscene and impious use,
Whose harmony was first ordain'd above
For tongues of angels, and for hymns of love?
O wretched we! why were we hurried down
This lubrique and adulterate age,

(Nay added fat pollutions of our own)

T' increase the streaming ordures of the stage *? What can we say t' excuse our second fall? Let this thy vestal, Heaven, atone for all : Her Arethusian stream remains unsoil'd, Unmix'd with foreign filth, and undefiled ; Her wit was more than man, her innocence a child.

When in mid-air the golden trump shall sound,
To raise the nations under ground;
When in the valley of Jehoshaphat,
The judging God shall close the book of fate;
And there the last assizes keep,

For those who wake, and those who sleep :
The sacred poets first shall hear the sound,

And foremost from the tomb shall bound, For they are cover'd with the lightest ground; And straight, with in-born vigour, on the wing, Like mounting larks, to the new morning sing. There thou, sweet Saint, before the quire shall go, As harbinger of heaven, the way to show, The way which thou so well hast learnt below.

DESCRIPTION OF LYCURGUS KING OF THRACE,
AND OF EMETRIUS KING OF INDE.
FROM THE FABLE OF "PALAMON AND ARCITE."

A HUNDRED knights with Palamon there came,
Approved in fight, and men of mighty name;
Their arms were several, as their nations were,
But furnish'd all alike with sword and spear.
Some wore coat armour, imitating scale;
And next their skins were stubborn shirts of mail.
Some wore a breast-plate and a light juppon,
Their horses clothed with rich caparison:
Some for defence would leathern bucklers use,
Of folded hides; and other shields of pruce.
One hung a pole-axe at his saddle-bow,
And one a heavy mace to shun the foe;
One for his legs and knees provided well,
With jambeux arm'd, and double plates of steel:
This on his helmet wore a lady's glove,
And that a sleeve embroider'd by his love.
With Palamon above the rest in place,
Lycurgus came, the surly king of Thrace;
Black was his beard, and manly was his face;

[* "I know not," says Southey in his Life of Cowper, "that Dryden ever regarded the licentiousness of his Dramatic Works as a sin to be repented of." This beautiful passage, which was written before Collier exposed the obscenities of the stage, has been unnoticed by the poet's biographers; he expresses his regret too fervently to be insincere.]

The balls of his broad eyes roll'd in his head,
And glared betwixt a yellow and a red :
He look'd a lion, with a gloomy stare,
And o'er his eye-brows hung his matted hair :
Big-boned, and large of limbs, with sinews strong,
Broad-shoulder'd,and his arms were round and long.
Four milk-white bulls (the Thracian use of old)
Were yoked to draw his car of burnish'd gold.
Upright he stood, and bore aloft his shield,
Conspicuous from afar, and overlook'd the field.
His surcoat was a bear-skin on his back;

His hair hung long behind, and glossy raven black.
His ample forehead bore a coronet

With sparkling diamonds, and with rubies set: Ten brace, and more, of greyhounds, snowy fair, And tall as stags, ran loose, and coursed around his chair,

A match for pards in flight, in grappling for the bear: With golden muzzles all their mouths were bound, And collars of the same their necks surround. Thus through the fields Lycurgus took his way; His hundred knights attend in pomp and proud

array.

To match this monarch, with strong Arcite came
Emetrius king of Inde, a mighty name,
On a bay courser, goodly to behold,

[gold.

The trappings of his horse adorn'd with barbarous
Not Mars bestrode a steed with greater grace;
His surcoat o'er his arms was cloth of Thrace,
Adorn'd with pearls, all orient, round, and great;
His saddle was of gold, with emerald set.
His shoulders large a mantle did attire,
With rubies thick, and sparkling as the fire:
His amber-colour'd locks in ringlets run,
With graceful negligence, and shone against the sun:
His nose was aquiline, his eyes were blue,
Ruddy his lips, and fresh and fair his hue :
Some sprinkled freckles on his face were seen,
Whose dusk set off the whiteness of the skin :
His awful presence did the crowd surprise,
Nor durst the rash spectator meet his eyes,
Eyes that confess'd him born for kingly sway,
So fierce, they flash'd intolerable day.
His age in nature's youthful prime appear'd,
And just began to bloom his yellow beard.
Whene'er he spoke, his voice was heard around,
Loud as a trumpet, with a silver sound.

A laurel wreathed his temples, fresh and green;
And myrtle sprigs, the marks of love, were mix'd
Upon his fist he bore, for his delight, [between.
An eagle well reclaim'd, and lily-white.

His hundred knights attend him to the war, All arm'd for battle; save their heads were bare. Words and devices blazed on every shield, And pleasing was the terror of the field. For kings, and dukes, and barons, you might see, Like sparkling stars, though different in degree, All for th' increase of arms, and love of chivalry. Before the king tame leopards led the way, And troops of lions innocently play.

So Bacchus through the conquer'd Indies rode, And beasts in gambols frisk'd before the honest god.

PREPARATIONS FOR THE TOURNAMENT. IN "PALAMON AND ARCITE."

IN Athens all was pleasure, mirth, and play,
All proper to the spring, and sprightly May:
Which every soul inspired with such delight,
"Twas jesting all the day, and love at night.
Heaven smiled, and gladded was the heart of man;
And Venus had the world as when it first began.
At length in sleep their bodies they compose,
And dreamt the future fight, and early rose.

Now scarce the dawning day began to spring,
Asat a signal given, the streets with clamours ring:
At once the crowd arose; confused and high
Even from the heaven was heard a shouting cry,
For Mars was early up, and roused the sky.
The gods came downward to behold the wars,
Sharpening their sights, and leaning from their stars.
The neighing of the generous horse was heard,
For battle by the busy groom prepared,
Rustling of harness, rattling of the shield,
Clattering of armour, furbish'd for the field,
Crowds to the castle mounted up the street,
Battering the pavement with their coursers' feet:
The greedy sight might there devour the gold
Of glittering arms, too dazzling to behold:
And polish'd steel that cast the view aside,
And crested morions, with their plumy pride.
Knights, with a long retinue of their squires,
In gaudy liveries march, and quaint attires.
One laced the helm, another held the lance:
A third the shining buckler did advance.
The courser paw'd the ground with restless feet,
And snorting foam'd, and champ'd the golden bit.
The smiths and armourers on palfreys ride,
Files in their hands, and hammers at their side,
And nails for loosen'd spears, and thongs for shields
provide.

The yeomen guard the streets, in seemly bands: And clowns come crowding on with cudgels in their hands.

The trumpets, next the gate, in order placed, Attend the sign to sound the martial blast; The palace-yard is fill'd with floating tides, And the last comers bear the former to the sides. The throng is in the midst the common crew Shut out, the hall admits the better few ; In knots they stand, or in a rank they walk, Serious in aspect, earnest in their talk: Factious, and favouring this or t' other side, As their strong fancy or weak reason guide: Their wagers back their wishes; numbers hold With the fair freckled king, and beard of gold, So vigorous are his eyes, such rays they cast, So prominent his eagle's beak is placed. But most their looks on the black monarch bend, His rising muscles and his brawn commend ; His double-biting axe and beamy spear, Each asking a gigantic force to rear. All spoke as partial favour moved the mind: And, safe themselves, at other's cost divined.