Tanta decent Carolum rerum miracula? Tecum,
Si pelago redeas, Infula navis eat,

Si terra, veftri comitentur plaustra Bootæ ;
Sed rota tarda gelu, fed nimis ipfe piger.
Compofitam placidè jam lætus defpicit Arcton, 15
Horrentéfque novo lumine adornat equos.
Ah! nunquam rubeat civili fanguine Tueda,
Nec petat attonitum decolor unda mare!
Callifto in vetitum potiùs defcenderet æquor,
Quàm vellet tantum mæsta videre nefas.
Conveniffe feris inter te noverat Urfis,
Et generi ingenium mitius effe fuo.

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Nos gens una fumus; De Scoti nomine et Angli
Grammatici foli prælia rauca gerant.

Tam bene cognatos compefcit Carolus enfes,
Et pacem populis fundit ab ore fuis.

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Hæc illi laudem virtus immenfa minorem
Eripuit; nunquam bella videre poteft.
Sic gladios folvit vaginis fulgur in ipfis;
Effectùque poteft vix priùs ire fuo.
Sic vigil æterno regnator Phœbus Olympo
Circumfert fubitam, quà, volat ipfe, diem.
Nil illi prodeft ftellarum exercitus ingens;
Ut poffit tenebras pellere, folus adest.

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34

EPISTLES.

TO THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM,
upon his marriage with

THE LORD FAIRFAX HIS DAUGHTER.

I.

BEAUTY and Strength together came,
Ev'n from the birth, with Buckingham;
The little active feeds which fince are grown

So fair, fo large, and high,

With life itself were in him fown:

Honour and Wealth stood like the midwives by,
To take the birth into their happy hands,

10

And wrapt him warm in their rich swaddling bands.
To the great stock the thriving infant soon
Made greater acquifitions of his own:
With beauty generous goodness he combin'd,
Courage to ftrength, judgment to wit he join'd:
He pair'd and match'd his native virtues right,
Both to improve their use and their delight.

II.

O blefs'd conjunction of the fairest stars
That shine in human nature's fphere!

But, O! what envious cloud your influence bars!
Ill Fortune! what doft thou do there?
Hadft thou the least of modesty,

Thou'dst be asham'd that we should fee

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20

Thy deform'd looks, and drefs, in fuch a company.

Thou wert deceiv'd, rash Goddess! in thy hate,
If thou didst foolishly believe

That thou couldft him of ought deprive

But, what men hold of thee, a great estate.

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And here, indeed, thou to the full didft fhow
All that thy tyrant deity could do:

In all his shapes they always kept their own;

Nay, with the foil of darkness brighter shone,
And might unwillingly have done,

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But that just Heav'n thy wicked will abhorr'd,

What virtues most deteft, might have betray'd their

Ah! flothful Love! couldst thou with patience fee
Fortune ufurp that flow'ry fpring from thee,
And nip thy rofy feafon with a cold,

That comes too foon when life's fhort year grows old?
Love his grofs error faw at laft,

And promis'd large amends for what was past ;

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He promis'd, and has done it, which is more
Than I, who knew him long, e'er knew him do before.
He 'as done it nobly, and we must confess

Could do no more, tho' he ought to do no less. 50
What has he done? he has repaid

The ruins which a luckless war did make:

And added to it a reward

Greater than Conqueft for its fhare could take :
His whole estate could not fuch gain produce,
Had it laid out a hundred years at use.

Now bleffings to thy noble choice betide,
Happy, and happy-making Bride!
Tho' thou art born of a victorious race,
And all their rougher victory doft grace

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60

With gentle triumphs of thy face,
Permit us, in this milder war, to prize

No lefs thy yielding heart than thy victorious eyes; Nor doubt the honour of that field

Where thou didst first o'ercome ere thou didfl yield.

And tho' thy father's martial name

Has fill'd the trumpets and the drums of Fame,
Thy husband triumphs now no less than he,..

And it may justly question'd be

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Which was the happiest conqu'ror of the three. 70

V.

There is in Fate (which none but poets fee)

There is in Fate the noblest poetry,

[thee;

And she has shown, Great Duke! her utmost art in

For after all the troubles of thy fcene,

Which fo confus'd and intricate have been,

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She 'as ended with this match thy tragi-comedy:

We all admire it, for, the truth to tell,

Our poet, Fate, ends not all plays fo well;

But this the as her masterpicce does boaft,

And fo indeed she may;

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For in the middle acts and turnings of the play,

Alas! we gave our hero-up for loft. Sol

All men, I fee, this with applaufe receive;
And now let me have leave,

A fervant of the perfon and the art,
To speak this prologue to the fecond part.

TO THE DUCHESS OF BUCKINGHAM,
Ir I should say that in your face were feen
Nature's best picture of the Cyprian queen ;
If I should fwear, under Minerva's name,
Poets (who prophets are) foretold your fame,
The future age would think it flattery,
But to the present, which can witness be,
'Twould feem beneath your high deserts as far
As you above the rest of women are.

When Mannor's name with Villiers join'd I fee, How do I rev'rence your nobility!

But when the virtues of your ftock I view,
(Envy'd in your dead lord, admir'd in you)
I half adore them for what woman can,
Befides yourself, (nay, I might say, what man)

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