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That goodly nymph, the taller of the two,
Careless and fearless to the field does go.
Becoming blushes on the other wait,
And her young look excuses want of height.
Beanty gives courage ; for she knows the day
Must not be won the Amazonian way.
Legions of Cupids to the battle come,
For Little Britain these, and those for Rome.
Dress’d to advantage, this illustrious pair
Arriv’d, for combat in the list appear.
What may the Fates design ! for never yet
From distant regions two such beauties met,
Venus had been an equal friend to both,
And Victory to declare herself seems loth :
Over the camp, with doubtful wings, she flies,
Till Chloris shining in the field she spies.
The lovely Chloris well-attended came,
A thousand Graces waited on the dame :
Her matchless form made all the English glad,
And foreign beauties less assurance had :
Yet, like the Three on Ida's top, they all
Pretend alike, contesting for the ball:
Which to determine Love himself declin’d,
Lest the neglected should become less kind.
Such killing looks! so thick the arrows fly!
That 'tis unsafe to be a stander-by.
Poets, approaching to describe the fight,
Are by their wounds instructed how to write:
They with less hazard might look on, and draw
The ruder combats in Alsatia ;
And with that foil of violence and rage,
Set off the splendor of our Golden Age:
Where Love gives Law, Beauty the sceptre sways,
And, uncompellid, the happy world obeys.
ELEGY MADE BY MRS. WIIARTON',
ON THE EARL OF ROCHESTER.
Thus mourn the Muses, on the hearse
Not strowing tears, but lasting verse,
Which so preserve the hero's name,
They make him live again in fame.
Chloris, in lines so like his own,
Gives bim so just and high renown,
That she the' afflicted world relieves,
And shows that still in her he lives :
Her wit as graceful, great, and good ;
Ally'd in genius as in blood.
His loss supplied, now all our fears
Are, that the nymph should melt in tears.
Then, fairest Chloris ! comfort take,
For his, your own, and for our sake,
Lest his fair soul, that lives in you,
Should from the world for ever go.
LOSS OF THE DUKE OF CAMBRIDGE.
The failing blossoños which a young plant bears,
Engage our hope for the succeeding years ;
And hope is all which Art or Nature brings,
At the first trial, to accomplish things.
Mankind was first created an essay ;
That ruder draught the deluge wash'd away.
How many ages pass’d, what blood and toil,
Before we made one kingdom of this isle!
How long in vain had Nature striv'd to frame
A perfect princess ere her Highness came?
For joys so great we must with patience wait;
'Tis the set price of happiness complete.
As a first fruit Heav'n claim'd that lovely boy;
The next shall live, and be the nation's joy.
INSTRUCTIONS TO A PAINTER,
FOR THE DRAWING OF THE POSTURE AND PRO
GRESS OF HIS MAJESTY'S FORCES AT SEA, UNDER
THE COMMAND OF HIS HIGHNESS-ROYAL; TOGE-
THER WITH THE BATTLE AND VICTORY OBTAIN-
ED OVER THE DUTCH, JUNE S, 1665.
First draw the sea, that portion which between
The greater world and this of ours is seen :
Here place the British, there the Holland fleet,
Vast floating armies! both prepard to meet.
Draw the whole world, expecting wlio should reign,
After this combat, o'er the conquer'd main.
Make Heav'n concern’d, and an unusual star
Declare the importance of the' approaching war.
Make the sea shine with gallantry, and all
The English youth flock to their Admiral,
The valiant Duke! whose early deeds abroad,
Such rage in fight, and art in conduct show'd :
His bright sword now a dearer interest draws,
His brother's glory, and his country's cause.
Let thy bold pencil hope and courage spread
Through the whole navy, by that hero led :
Make all appear where such a Prince is by,
Resolv'd to conquer, or resolv'd to die.
With his extraction and his glorions mind,
Make the proud sails swell more than with the wind:
Preventing cannon, make his londer fame
Check the Batavians, and their fury tame.
So hnngry wolves, though greedy of their prey,
Stop when they find a lion in their way.
Make him bestride the ocean, and mankind
Ask his consent to use the sea and wind.
While his tall ships in the barr'd Channel stand,
He grasps the Indies in his armed hand.
Paint an East-wind, and make it blow away The' excuse of Holland for their navy's stay : Make them look pale, and, the bold Prince to shun, Through the cold north and rocky regions run. To find the coast where morning first appears, By the dark pole the wary Belgian steers ; Confessing now, he dreads the English more Than all the dangers of a frozen shore; While from our arms, security to find, They fly so far, they leave the day behind. Describe their fleet abandoning the sea, And all their merchants left a wealthy prey : Our first success in war make Bacchus crown, And half the vintage of the year our own. The Dutch their wine, and all their brandy Jose, Disarm’d of that from which their courage grows; While the glad English, to relieve their toil, In healths to their great leader drink the spoil.
His high command to Afric's coast extend, And make the Moors before the English bend : Those barbarous pirates willingly receive Conditions such as we are pleas’d to give. Deserted by the Dutch, let nations know We can our own and their great business do ; False friends chastise, and common foes restrain, Which worse than tempests did infest the main. Within those Streights make Holland's Smyrpa fleet With a small squadron of the English meet;. Like falcons these, those like a numerous flock Of fowl, which scatter to avoid the shock. There paint Confusion in a various shape; Some sink, some yield; and, flying, some escape, Europe and Africa, from either shore, Spectators are, and hear our cannon roar; While the divided world in this agree, Men that fight sọ deserve to rule the sea.
But, nearer home, thy pencil use once more, And place our navy by the Holland shore : The world they compass'd while they fonght with But here already they resign the main; [Spain, Those greedy mariners, out of whose way Diffusive Nature could no region lay, At home, preserv'd from rocks and tempests, lie, Compell’d, like others, in their beds to die. Their single towns the Iberian armies prest; We all their provinces at once invest; And in a month ruin their traffic more Than that long war could in an age before.
But who can always on the billows lie? The wat'ry wilderness yields no supply. Spreading our sails, to Harwich we resort, And meet the beauties of the British court.