The sun, which riseth to salute the quire
Already finish'd, setting shall admire
How private bounty could so far extend:
The King built all, but Charles the western end.
So proud a fabric to devotion giv'n,
At once it threatens and obliges Heav'n!
Laomedon, that had the gods in pay,
Neptune, with him that rules the sacred day',
Could no such structure raise: Troy wall'd so high,
The' Atrides might as well have forc'd the sky.
Glad, though amazed, are our neighbour kings,
To see such pow'r employ'd in peaceful things:
They list not urge it to the dreadful field;
The task is easier to destroy than build.
Sic gratia regum
Pieriis tentata modis
THE lark, that shuns on lofty boughs to build
Her humble nest, lies silent in the field;
But if (the promise of a cloudless day)
Aurora smiling bids her rise and play,
Then strait she shows 'twas not for want of voice,
Or pow'r to climb, she made so low a choice;
Singing she mounts; her airy wings are stretch'd
Tow'rd Heav'n, as if from Heav'n her note she
So we, retiring from the busy throng, [fetch'd.
Use to restrain the' ambition of our song;
But since the light which now informs our age
Breaks from the court, indulgent to her rage,
Thither my Muse, like bold Prometheus, flies,
To light her torch at Gloriana's eyes.
[soul,
Those sovereign beams which heal the wounded
And all our cares, but once beheld, control!
There the poor lover, that has long endur'd
Some proud nymph's scorn, of his fond passion curd,
Fares like the man who first upon the ground
A glow-worm spy'd, supposing he had found
A moving diamond, a breathing stone;
For life it had, and like those jewels shone;
He held it dear, 'till by the springing day
Inform'd, he threw the worthless worm away.
She saves the lover, as we gangrenes stay,
By cutting hope, like a lopp'd limb, away:
This makes her bleeding patients to accuse
High Heav'n, and these expostulations use :
Could Nature then no private woman grace,
Whom we might dare to love, with such a face,
Such a complexion, and so radiant eyes,
Such lovely motion, and such sharp replies?
Beyond our reach, and yet within our sight,
What envious pow'r has plac'd this glorious light?'
Thus in a starry night fond children cry
For the rich spangles that adorn the sky,
Which, though they shine for ever fixed there,
With light and influence relieve us here.
All her affections are to one inclin'd;
Her bounty and compassion to mankind;
To whom, while she so far extends her grace,
She makes but good the promise of her face:
For Mercy has, could Mercy's self be seen,
No sweeter look than this propitious queen.
Such guard and comfort the distressed find
From her large pow'r, and from her larger mind,
That whom ill Fate would ruin it prefers,
For all the miserable are made her's.
So the fair tree whereon the eagle builds, [shields:
Poor sheep from tempests, and their shepherds,
The royal bird possesses all the boughs,
But shade and shelter to the flock allows.
Joy of our age, and safety of the next!
For which so oft thy fertile womb is vext
Nobly contented, for the public good,
To waste thy spirits and diffuse thy blood,
What vast hopes may these islands entertain,
Where monarchs, thus descended, are to reign!
Led by commanders of so fair a line,
Our seas no longer shall our pow'r confine.
A brave romance who would exactly frame, First brings his knight from some immortal dame, And then a weapon and a flaming shield, Bright as his mother's eyes, he makes him wield. None might the mother of Achilles be, But the fair pearl and glory of the sea': The man to whom great Maro gives such fame, From the high bed of heavenly Venus came; And our next Charles, whom all the stars design Like wonders to accomplish, springs from thine.
FOR NOT APPROACHING THE LADY WHO CAN DO ANY THING BUT SLEEP WHEN SHE PLEASETH.
My charge it is those breaches to repair
Which Nature takes from sorrow, toil, and care:
Rest to the limbs, and quiet I confer
On troubled minds; but nought can add to her Whom Heav'n, and her transcendent thoughts have plac'd
Above those ills which wretched mortals taste.
Bright as the deathless gods, and happy, she
From all that may infringe delight is free :
Love at her royal feet his quiver lays,
And not his mother with more haste obeys.
Such real pleasure, such true joys dispense,
What dream can I present to recompense?
Should I with lightning fill her awful hand, And make the clouds seem all at her command; Or place her in Olympus' top, a guest
Among the' immortals, who with nectar feast,
That pow'r would seem, that entertainment, short
Of the true splendour of her present court,
Where all the joys, and all the glories, are
Of three great kingdoms, sever'd from the care.
I, that of fumes, and humid vapours made,
Ascending, do the seat of sense invade,
No cloud in so serene a mansion find,
To overcast her ever-shining mind,
Which holds resemblance with those spotless skies
Where flowing Nilus want of rain supplies;
That crystal heav'n, where Phoebus never shrouds
His golden beams, nor wraps his face in clouds.
But what so hard which numbers cannot force?
So stoops the moon, and rivers change their course.
The bold Mæonian made me dare to steep
Jove's dreadful temples in the dew of sleep;
And since the Muses do invoke my pow'r,
I shall no more decline that sacred bow'r
Where Gloriana their great mistress lies,
'But gently taming those victorious eyes,
Charm all her senses, till the joyful sun
Without a rival half his course has run;
Who, while my hand that fairer light confines,
May boast himself the brightest thing that shines.
PUERPERIUM.
You gods that have the pow'r
To trouble and compose
All that's beneath your bow'r,
Calm silence on the seas, on earth impose.
Fair Venus! in thy soft arms
The God of Rage confine;
For thy whispers are the charms
Which only can divert his fierce design.
What though he frown, and to tumult do incline? Thou the flame
Kindled in his breast canst tame
With that snow which unmelted lies on thine.
Great goddess! give this thy sacred island rest; Make Heav'n smile,
That no storm disturb us while
Thy chief care, our halcyon, builds her nest.
Great Gloriana! fair Gloriana!
Bright as high Heaven is, and fertile as earth,
Whose beauty relieves us,
Whose royal bed gives us
Both glory and peace,
Our present joy, and all our hopes increase.
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