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In vain to stop it I essay'd,
Though often, often, I display'd

The turns and doubles women made.
Nay more, when it has home return'd,

By some proud maid ill-us'd and scorn'd,
I still the renegade carest,

And gave it harbour in my breast.
O! then, with indignation fir'd
At what before it so admir'd;
With shame and sorrow overcast,
And sad repentance for the past,
A thousand sacred oaths it swore
Never to wander from me more;
After chimeras ne'er to rove,

Or run the wild-goose chase of Love.
Thus it resolv'd

Till some new face again betray'd
The resolutions it had made:
Then how 'twould flutter up and down,
Eager, impatient, to be gone:
And, though so often it had fail'd,
Though vainless every heart assail'd,
Yet, lur'd by hope of new delight,
It took again its fatal flight.
'Tis thus, malicious deity,

That thou has banter'd wretched me;
Thus made me vainly lose my time,
Thus fool away my youthful prime;
And yet, for all the hours I 've lost,
And sighs, and tears, thy bondage cost,
Ne'er did thy slave thy favours bless,
Or crown his passion with success.
Well-since 'tis doom'd that I must find
No love for love from womankind;
Since I no pleasure must obtain,
Let me at least avoid the pain:
So weary of the chase I 'm grown,
That with content I'd sit me down,
Enjoy my book, my friend, my cell,
And bid all womankind farewell.
Nay, ask for all I felt before,
Only to be disturb'd no more.
Yet thou (to my complainings deaf)
Wilt give my torments no relief;

But now, ev'n now, thou mak'st me die,
And love I know not whom, nor why,
In every part I feel the fire,
And burn with fanciful desire;
From whence can love its magic draw?
I doat on her I never saw:
And who, but lovers, can express
This strange, mysterious tenderness?
And yet methinks 'tis happier so,
Than whom it is I love to know:
Now my unbounded notions rove,
And frame ideas to my love.
I fancy I should something find,
Diviner both in face and mind,
Than ever Nature did bestow
On any creature here below.
I fancy thus Corinna walks,
That thus she sings, she looks, she talks.
Sometimes I sigh, and fancy then,
That, did Corinna know my pain,
Could she my trickling tears but see,
She would be kind and pity me.
Thus thinking I've no cause to grieve,
I pleasingly myself deceive;
And sure am happier far than he
Who knows the very truth can be.

Then, gentle Cupid, let me ne'er

See my imaginary fair:

Lest she should be more heavenly bright
Than can be reach'd by Fancy's height:
Lest (when I on her beauty gaze,
Confounded, lost in an amaze;

My trembling lips and eyes should tell,
"Tis her I dare to love so well)
She, with an angry, scornful eye,
Or some unkind, severe reply,
My hopes of bliss should overcast,
And my presuming passion blast.
If but in this thou kind wilt prove,
And let me not see her I love,
Thy altars prostrate I'll adore,
And call thee tyrant-god no more.

PASTORAL ECLOGUES.

ECLOGUE I.

DAPHNE.

SICILIAN Muse, my humble voice inspire
To sing of Daphne's charms and Damon's fire.
Long had the faithful swain supprest his grief,
And, since he durst not hope, ne'er ask'd relief.
But at th' arrival of the fatal day

That took the nymph and all his joys away,
With dying looks he gaz'd upon the fair,
And what his tongue could not, his eyes declare;
Till with deep sighs, as if his heartstrings broke,
Pressing her hand, these tender things he spoke:

DAMON.

Ah, lovely nymph! behold your lover burn,
And view that passion which you 'll not return.
As no nymph's charms did ever equal thine,
So no swain's love did ever equal mine:
How happy, fair, how happy should I be,
Might I but sacrifice myself for thee!
Could I but please thee with my dying verse,
And make thee shed one tear upon my hearse!

DAPHNE.

Too free an offer of that love you make,
Which now, alas! I have not power to take:
Your wounds I cannot, though I would, relieve;
Phaon has all the love that I can give.
Had you among the rest at first assail'd

My heart, when free, you had, perhaps, prevail'd.
Now if you blame, oh, blame not me, but Fate,
That never brought you 'till 'twas grown too late.

DAMON.

Had the Fates brought me then, too charming fair,
I could not hope, and now I must despair.
Rul'd by your friends, you quit the lover's flame,
For flocks, for pastures, for an empty name.
Yet though the blest possession Fate denies,
Oh, let me gaze for ever on those eyes:
So just, so true, so innocent 's my flame,
That Phaon, did he see it, could not blame.

DAPHNE.

Such generous ends I know you still pursue,
What I can do, be sure I will for you.
If on esteem or pity you can live,
Or hopes of more, if I had more to give,

Those you may have, but cannot have my heart:
And since we now perhaps for ever part,
Such noble thoughts through all your life express,
May make the value more, the pity less.

DAMON.

Can you then go? Can you for ever part,
(Ye gods! what shivering pains surround my heart!)
And have one thought to make your pity less?
Ah, Daphne! could I half my pangs express,
You could not think, though hard as rocks you were,
Your pity ever could too great appear.
I ne'er shall be one moment free from pain,
Till I behold those charming eyes again.
When gay diversions do your thoughts employ,
I would not come to interrupt the joy;
But when from them you some spare moment find,
Think then, oh think, on whom you leave behind!
Think with what heart I shall behold the green,
Where I so oft those charming eyes have seen !
Think with what grief I walk the groves alone,
When you, the glory of them all, are gone!
Yet, oh! that little time you have to stay,
Let me still speak, and gaze my soul away!
But see my passion that small aid denies;
Grief stops my tongue, and tears o'erflow my eyes.

ECLOGUE II.

GALATEA.

THYRSIS, the gayest one of all the swains,
Who fed their flocks upon th' Arcadian plains,
While love's mad passion quite devour'd his heart,
And the coy nymph that caus'd, neglects his smart,
Strives in low numbers, such as shepherds use,
If not to move her breast, his own amuse.
You, Chloris, who with scorn refuse to see
The mighty wounds that you have made on me;
Yet cannot sure with equal pride disdain,
To hear an humble hind of his complain.

Now while the flocks and herds to shades retire,
While the fierce Sun sets all the world on fire;
Through burning fields, through rugged brakes I rove,
And to the hills and woods declare my love.
How small 's the heat! how easy is the pain
I feel without, to that I feel within!

Yet scornful Galatea will not hear,

But from my songs and pipe still turns her ear:
Not so the sage Corisca, nor the fair
Climena, nor rich Egon's only care;
From them my songs a just compassion drew;
And they shall have them, since contemn'd by you.
Why name I them, when ev n chaste Cynthia stays,
And Pan himself, to listen to my lays?
Pan, whose sweet pipe has been admir'd so long,
Has not disdain'd sometimes to hear my song:
Yet Galatea scorns whate'er I say,
And Galatea's wiser sure than they.

Relentless nymph! can nothing move your mind?
Must you be deaf, because you are unkind?
Though you dislike the subject of my lays,
Yet sure the sweetness of my voice might please.
It is not thus that you dull Mopsus use;
His songs divert you, though you mine refuse:
Yet I could tell you, fair-one, if I would,
(And since you treat me thus, methinks I should)
What the wise Lycon said, when in yon plain
He saw him court in hope, and me in vain;
"Forbear, fond youth, to chase a heedless fair,
Nor think with well-tun'd verse to please her ear;

Seek out some other nymph, nor e'er repine
That one who likes his songs, should fly from thine."
Ah, Lycon! ah! your rage false dangers forms;
'Tis not his songs, but 'tis his fortune charms:
Yet, scornful maid, in time you'll find those toys
Can yield no real, no substantial joys;
In vain his wealth, his titles gain esteem,
If for all that you are asham'd of him.

Ah, Galatea, would'st thou turn those eyes,
Would'st thou but once vouchsafe to hear my cries;
In such soft notes I would my pains impart,
As could not fail to move thy rocky heart;
With such sweet songs I would thy fame make known,
As Pan himself might not disdain to own.
Oh could'st thou, fair-one, but contented be
To tend the sheep, and chase the hares, with me;
To have thy praises echo'd through the groves,
And pass thy days with one who truly loves:
Nor let those gaudy toys thy heart surprise,
Which the fools envy, and the sage despise.

But Galatea scorns my humble flame, And neither asks my fortune, nor my name, Of the best cheese my well-stor'd dairy 's full, And my soft sheep produce the finest wool; The richest wines of Greece my vineyards yield, And smiling crops of grain adorn my field.

Ah, foolish youth! in vain thou boast'st thy store, Have what thou wilt, if Mopsus still has more. See, whilst thou sing'st, behold her haughty pride, With what disdain she turns her head aside! Oh, why would Nature, to our ruin, place A tiger's heart, with such an angel's face?

Cease, shepherd, cease, at last thy fruitless moan; Nor hope to gain a heart already gone. While rocks and caves thy tuneful notes resound, See how thy corn lies wither'd on the ground! The hungry wolves devour thy fatten'd lambs; And bleating for the young makes lean the dams. Take, shepherd, take thy hook, thy flocks pursue, And when one nymph proves cruel, find a new.

ECLOGUE III.

DAMON.

TAKEN FROM THE EIGHTH ECLOGUE OF VIRGIL.

ARISE, O Phosphorus! and bring the day,
While I in sighs and tears consume away;
Deceiv'd with flattering hopes of Nisa's love;
And to the gods my vain petitions move:
Though they 've done nothing to prevent my death,
I'll yet invoke them with my dying breath.
Begin, my Muse, begin th' Arcadian strains.

Arcadia 's famous for its spacious plains,
Its whistling pine-trees, and its shady groves,
And often hears the swains lament their loves.
Great Pan upon its mountains feeds his goats,
Who first taught reeds to warble rural notes.
Begin, my Muse, begin th' Arcadian strains.

Mopsus weds Nisa! oh, well-suited pair;
When he succeeds, what lover can despair?
After this match, let mares and griffins breed;
And hounds with hares in friendly consort feed.
Go, Mopsus, go; provide the bridal cake,
And to thy bed the blooming virgin take:
In her soft arms thou shalt securely rest,
Behold, the evening comes to make thee blest!
Begin, my Muse, begin th' Arcadian strains.
Oh, Nisa, happy in a lovely choice!
While you with scorn neglect my pipe and voice;

While you despise my humble songs, my herd, 1 My shaggy eyebrows, and my rugged beard;

While through the plains disdainfully you move,
And think no shepherd can deserve your love;
Mopsus alone can the nice virgin win,
With charming person, and with graceful mien.
Begin, my Muse, begin th' Arcadian strains.

When first I saw you on those fatal plains,
I reach'd you fruit; your mother too was there;
Scarce had you seen the thirteenth spring appear:
Yet beauty's buds were opening in your face;
I gaz'd, and blushes did your charms increase.
'Tis love, thought I, that's rising in her breast;
Alas, your passion, by my own, I guest;
Then upon trust I fed the raging pains.
Begin, my Muse, begin th' Arcadian strains.

Oh, Love! I know thee now: thou ow'st thy birth
To rocks; some craggy mountain brought thee forth:
Nor is it human blood that fills thy veins,
Begin, my Muse, begin th' Arcadian strains.

Relentless Love to bold Medea show'd,
To stain her guilty hands in children's blood.
Was she more cruel, or more wicked he?
He was a wicked counsellor, a cruel mother she.
Begin, my Muse, begin th' Arcadian strains.

Now let the screech-owls vie with warbling swans;
Upon hard oaks let blushing peaches grow,
And from the brambles liquid amber flow.
The harmless wolves the ravenous sheep shall shun;
And valiant deer at fearful greyhounds run:
Let the sea rise, and overflow the plains.
Begin, my Muse, begin th' Arcadian strains.
Adieu, ye flocks; no more shall I pursue1
Adieu, ye groves; a long, a long adieu!
And you, coy nymph, who all my vows disdain,
Take this last present from a dying swain.
Since you dislike whate'er in life I said,
You may be pleas'd, perhaps, to hear I'm dead:
This leap shall put an end to all my pains.
Now cease, my Muse, now cease th' Arcadian strains.
Thus Damon sung while on the cliff he stood,
Then headlong plupg'd into the raging flood.
All with united grief the loss bemoan,
Except the authoress of his fate alone,
Who hears it with an unrelenting breast.

Ah, cruel nymph! forbear your scorns at least.
How much soe'er you may the love despise,
'Tis barbarous to insult on one that dies.

ECLOGUE IV. LYCON.

STREPHON and Damon's flocks together fed,
Two charming swains as e'er Arcadia bred;
Both fam'd for wit, and fam'd for beauty both;
Both in the lustre of their blooming youth:
No sullen cares their tender thoughts remove,
No passions discompose their souls, but love.
Once, and but once alone, as story goes,
Between the youths a fierce dispute arose ;
Not for the merit of their tuneful lays,
(Though both deserv'd, yet both despis'd, that praise)
But for a cause of greater moment far,
That merited a lover's utmost care.
Each swain the prize of beauty strove to gain,
For the bright shepherdess that caus'd his pain.
Lycon they chose, the difference to decide,
Lycon, for prudence and sage counsel try'd;
Who Love's mysterious arts had study'd long,
And taught, when old, what he had practis'd young.

For the dispute alternate verse they choose, Alternate verse delights the rural Muse.

STREP. To Flavia, Love, thou justly ow'st the prize,
She owns thy power, nor does thy laws reprove.
DAM. Though Sylvia, for herself, Love's power defies,
What crowds of vassals has she made to love!
STREP. When Flavia comes attir'd for rural games,
Each curl, each flower she wears, a charm express.
DAM. Sylvia, without a foreign aid, inflames;
Charm'd with her eyes, we never mind her dress.
STREP. Have you seen Flavia with her flaxen hair?
She seems an image of the queen of Love!
DAM. Sylvia's dark hair like Leda's locks appear,
And yet, like her, has charms to conquer Jove.
STREP. Flavia by crowds of lovers is admir'd;

Happy that youth who shall the fair enjoy!
DAM. Sylvia neglects her lovers, lives retir'd;
Happy, that could her lonely thoughts employ !
STREP. Flavia, where'er she comes, the swains sub-
dues,

And every smile she gives conveys a dart. DAM. Sylvia the swains with native coldness views, And yet what shepherd can defend his heart? STREP. Flavia's bright beauties in an instant strike; Gazers, before they think of it, adore.

DAM. Sylvia's soft charms, as soon as seen, we like; But still the more we think, we love the more. STREP. Who is so stupid, that has Flavia seen,

As not to view the nymph with vast delight? DAM. Who has seen Sylvia, and so stupid been, As to remember any other sight?

STREP. What thoughts has Flavia, when with care she views

Her charming graces in the crystal lakes? DAM. To see hers, Sylvia need no mirrors use;

She sees them by the conquests that she makes. STREP. With what assurance Flavia walks the plains! She knows the nymphs must all their lovers yield. DAM. Sylvia with blushes wounds the gazing swains, And while she strives to fly, she wins the field. STREP. Flavia at first young Melibœus lov'd;

For me she did that charming youth forsake. DAM. Sylvia's relentless heart was never mov'd; Gods that I might the first impression make! STREP. Should Flavia hear that Sylvia vy'd with her;

What indignation would the charmer show! DAM. Sylvia would Flavia to herself prefer: There we alone her judgment disallow. STREF. If Sylvia's charms with Flavia's can com

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DELIA.

LAMENTING THE DEATH OF MRS. TEMPEST, WHO DIED UPON
THE DAY OF THE GREAT STORM.

YE gentle swains, who pass your days and nights
In Love's sincere and innocent delights!
Ye tender virgins, who with pride display
Your beauty's splendour, and extend your sway!
Lament with me! with me your sorrows join!
And mingle your united tears with mine!
Delia, the queen of love, let all deplore!
Delia, the queen of beauty, now no more!

Begin, my Muse! begin your mournful strains!
Tell the sad tale through all the hills and plains!
Tell it through every lawn and every grove!
Where flocks can wander, or where shepherds rove!
Bid neighbouring rivers tell the distant sea,
And winds from pole to pole the news convey!
Delia, the queen of love, let all deplore!
Delia, the queen of beauty, now no more!

'Tis done, and all obey the mournful Muse! See, hills, and plains, and winds, have heard the news!

The foaming sea o'erwhelms the frighten'd shore,
The vallies tremble, and the mountains roar.
See lofty oaks from firm foundations torn,
And stately towers in heaps of ruin mourn!
The gentle Thames, that rarely passion knows,
Swells with this sorrow, and her banks o'erflows:
What shrieks are heard! what groans! what dying
Ev'n Nature's self in dire convulsions lies! [cries!
Delia, the queen of love, they all deplore!
Delia, the queen of beauty, now no more!

O! why did I survive the fatal day,
That snatch'd the joys of all my life away?
Why was not I beneath some ruin lost?
Sunk in the seas, or shipwreck'd on the coast?
Why did the Fates spare this devoted head?
Why did I live to hear that thou wert dead?
By thee my griefs were calm'd, my torments eas'd;
Nor knew I pleasure but as thou wert pleas'd.
Where shall I wander now, distress'd, alone?
What use have I of life, now thou art gone?
I have no use, alas! but to deplore
Delia, the pride of beauty, now no more!

What living nymph is blest with equal grace?
All may dispute, but who can fill thy place?
What lover in his mistress hopes to find
A form so lovely, with so bright a mind?
Doris may boast a face divinely fair,
But wants thy shape, thy motions, and thy air.
Lucinda has thy shape, but not those eyes,
That, while they did th' admiring world surprise,
Disclos'd the secret lustre of the mind,

And seem'd each lover's inmost thoughts to find.
Others, whose beauty yielding swains confess,
By indiscretion make their conquest less,
And want thy conduct and obliging wit
To fix those slaves who to their chains submit.
As some rich tyrant hoards an useless store,
That would, well plac'd, enrich a thousand more;
So didst thou keep a crowd of charms retir'd
Would make a thousand other nymphs admir'd.
Gay, modest, artless, beautiful, and young,
Slow to resolve; in resolution strong;
To all obliging, yet reserv'd to all;
None could himself the favour'd lover call:
That which alone could make his hopes endure,
Was, that he saw no other swain secure.

VOL VIIL

Whither, ah! whither are those graces fled?
Down to the dark, the melancholy shade?
Now, shepherds, now lament! and now deplore!
Delia is dead, and beauty is no more!

For thee each tuneful swain prepar'd his lays,
His fame exalting while he sung thy praise.
Thyrsis, in gay and easy measures, strove
To charm thy ears, and tune thy soul to love:
Menalcas, in his numbers more sublime,
Extoll'd thy virtues in immortal rhyme.
Glycon whose satire kept the world in awe,
Soften'd his strain, when first thy charms he saw,
Confess'd the goddess who new-form'd his mind,
Proclaim'd thy beauties, and forgot mankind.
Cease, shepherd, cease; the charms you sung are fled,
The glory of our blasted isle is dead.
Now join your griefs with mine! and now deplore
Delia, the pride of beauty, now no more!

Behold where now she lies depriv'd of breath!
Charining though pale, and beautiful in death!
A troop of weeping virgins by her side;
With all the pomp of woe and sorrow's pride!
O, early lost! O, fitter to be led

In cheerful splendour to the bridal bed,
Than thus conducted to th' untimely tomb,
A spotless virgin in her beauty's bloom!
Whatever hopes superior merit gave,
Let me, at least, embrace thee in the grave;
On thy cold lips imprint a dying kiss:
O that thy coyness could refuse me this!
Such melting tears upon thy limbs I'll pour,
Shall thaw their numbness, and thy warmth restore;
Clasp'd to my glowing breast, thou may'st revive,
I'll breathe such tender sighs shall make thee live;
Or, if severer fates that aid deny,

If thou canst not revive, yet I may die.
In one cold grave together may be laid
The truest lover and the loveliest maid.
Then shall I cease to grieve, and not before;
Then shall I cease fair Delia to deplore.

But see, those dreadful objects disappear!
The Sun shines out, and all the heavens are clear
The warring winds are hush'd, the sea serene;
And Nature, soften'd, shifts her angry scene.
What means this sudden change? methinks I hear
Melodious music from the heavenly sphere!
Listen, ye shepherds, and devour the sound!
Listen: the saint, the lovely saint, is crown'd!
While we, mistaken in our joy and grief,
Bewail her fate, who wants not our relief:
From the pleas'd orbs she views us here below,
And with kind pity wonders at our woe.

Ah, charming saint! since thou art bless'd above, Indulge thy lovers, and forgive their love. Forgive their tears, who, press'd with grief and care, Feel not thy joys, but feel their own despa.r.

HORACE. ODE III. BOOK III.

IMITATED, 1705.

THE man that 's resolute and just, Firm to his principles and trust;

Nor hopes nor fears can blind; No passions his designs controul, Not Love, that tyrant of the soul, Can shake his steady mind. E e

Not parties for revenge engag'd, Nor threatenings of a court enrag'd, Nor storms where fleets despair; Not thunder pointed at his head;

The shatter'd world may strike him dead,
Not touch his soul with fear.

From this the Grecian glory rose,
By this the Romans aw'd their foes:
Of this their poets sing.

These were the paths their heroes trod,
These acts made Hercules a god;

And great Nassau a king.

Firm on the rolling deck he stood,
Unmov'd, beheld the breaking flood,

With blackening storms combin'd.
"Virtue," he cry'd, "will force its way;
The wind may for a while delay,

Not alter our design.

"The men whom selfish hopes inflame, Or vanity allures to fame,

May be to fears betray'd:

But here a Church for succour flies,
Insulted Law expiring lies,

And loudly calls for aid.

"Yes, Britons, yes, with ardent zeal,
I come, the wounded heart to heal,
The wounding hand to bind :
See tools of arbitrary sway,
And priests, like locusts, scout away
Before the western wind.

"Law shall again her force resume;
Religion, clear'd from clouds of Rome,
With brighter rays advance.
The British fleet shall rule the deep,
The British youth, as rous'd from sleep,
Strike terrour into France.

"Nor shall these promises of Fate
Be limited to my short date:

When I from cares withdraw,
Still shall the British sceptre stand,
Still flourish in a female hand,
And to mankind give law.
"She shall domestic foes unite,
Monarchs beneath her flags shall fight,
Whole armies drag her chain:
She shall lost Italy restore,
Shall make th' imperial eagle soar,

And give a king to Spain.

"But know, these promises are given,
These great rewards impartial Heaven
Does on these terms decree;
That, strictly punishing mens' faults,
You let their consciences and thoughts.
Rest absolutely free.

"Let no false politics confine,

In narrow bounds, your vast design,
To make mankind unite;
Nor think it a sufficient cause
To punish man by penal laws,
For not believing right.

"Rome, whose blind zeal destroys mankind,
Rome's sons shall your compassion find,
Who ne'er compassion knew.
By nobler actions theirs condemn :
For what has been reproach'd in them,
Can ne'er be prais'd in you."

These subjects suit not with the lyre; Muse! to what height dost thou aspire, Pretending to rehearse

The thoughts of gods, and godlike kings? Cease, cease to lessen lofty things

By mean ignoble verse.

THE GOLDEN AGE RESTORED, 1703

AN IMITATION OF.

THE FOURTH ECLOGUE OF VIRGIL:

SUPPOSED TO HAVE BEEN TAKEN FROM A SIBYLLINE PROPHECY.

Paulò majora canamus.

SICILIAN Muse, begin a loftier flight;
Not all in trees and lowly shrubs delight:
Or if your rural shades you still pursue,
Make your shades fit for able statesmens' view.
The time is come, by ancient bards foretold,
Restoring the Saturnian age of gold;

The vile, degenerate, whiggish offspring ends,
A high-church progeny from Heaven descends.

O learned Oxford, spare no sacred pains [reigns.
To nurse the glorious breed, now thy own Bromley
And thou, great Scarsdale, darling of this land,
Dost foremost in that fam'd commission stand;
Whose deep remarks the listening world admires,
By whose auspicious care old Ranelagh expires.
Your mighty genius no strict rules can bind;
You punish men for crimes, which you want time to
Senates shall now like holy synods be, [Gind.
And holy synods senate-like agree.
Monmouth and Mostyn here instruct the youth,
There Bincks and Kimberley maintain the sacred
Powis and Hamlin here, with equal claim, [truth.
Through wide West-Saxon realms extend their fame;
There Birch and Hooper right divine convey,
Nor treat their bishops in a human way.

[rail:

Now all our factions, all our fears shall cease,
And Tories rule the promis'd land in peace.
Malice shall die, and noxious poisons fail,
Harley shall cease to trick, and Seymour cease to
The lambs shall with the lions walk unhurt,
And Halifax and Howe meet civilly at court.
Viceroys, like Providence, with distant care,
Shall govern kingdoms where they ne'er appear:
Pacific admirals, to save the fleet,

Shall fly from conquest, and shall conquest meet e
Commanders shall be prais'd at William's cost,
And honour be retriev'd before 'tis lost.
Brereton and Burnaby the court shall grace,
And Howe shall not disdain to share a place.
Forgotten Molyneux and Mason now
Revive and shine again in Fox and Howe.

But as they stronger grow and mend their strain,
By choice examples of king Charles's reign,
Bold Bellasis and patriot D'Avenant then,
One shall employ the sword, and one the pen:
Troops shall be led to plunder, not to fight,
The tool of Faction shall to peace invite, [unite
And foes to union be employ'd the kingdoms to
Yet still some Whigs among the peers are found,
Like brambles flourishing in barren ground.
Somers maliciously employs his care

To make the lords the legislature share.

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