Here Hyacinth, his fate writ in his looks,
And thou, Narciffus, loving ftill the brooks,
Once lovely boys! and Acis, now a flower,
Are nourish'd with that rarer herb, whose power
Created thee, War's potent God! here grows
The spotless lily and the blushing rofe;
And all thofe divers ornaments abound,
That variously may paint the gaudy ground.
No willow, forrow's garland, there hath room,
Nor cyprefs, fad attendant of a tomb.
None but Apollo's tree, and th' ivy twine
Embracing the ftout oak, the fruitful vine,
And trees with golden apples loaded down,
On whofe fair tops fweet Philomel alone,
Unmindful of her former mifery,
Tunes with her voice a ravishing harmony;
Whilst all the murmuring brooks that glide along,
Make up a burthen to her pleafing fong.
No screech-owl, fad companion of the night;
No hideous raven with prodigious flight,
Prefaging future ill; nor, Progne, thee,
Yet spotted with young Itis' tragedy,
Those facred bowers receive. There's nothing there
That is not pure; all innocent and rare.
Turning my greedy fight another way,
Under a row of storm-contemning bay,
I faw the Thracian finger with his lyre
Teach the deaf ftones to hear him and admire.
Him the whole Poets' chorus compass'd round,
All whom the oak, all whom the laurel crown'd.
There banish'd Ovid had a lafting home,
Better than thou could'st give, ungrateful Rome!
And Lucan (fpite of Nero) in each vein
Had every drop of his spilt blood again :
Homer, Sol's first-born, was not poor or blind,
But faw as well in body as in mind.
Tully, grave Cato, Solon, and the rest
Of Greece's admir'd wife-men, here poffeft
A large reward for their past deeds, and gain
A life as everlasting as their fame.
By these the valiant heroes take their place ;
All who stern death and perils did embrace
For virtue's caufe. Great Alexander there
Laughs at the earth's fmall empire, and did wear
A nobler crown than the whole world could give:
There did Horatius, Cocles, Sceva, live,
And valiant Decius; who now freely ceafe
From war, and purchase an eternal peace.
Next them, beneath a myrtle bower, where doves
And gall-lefs pigeon's build their nefts, all Love's
True faithful fervants, with an amorous kifs
And foft embrace, enjoy their greediest wish.
Leander with his beauteous hero plays,
Nor are they parted with dividing feas
Porcia enjoys her Brutus ; death no more
Can now divorce their wedding, as before:
Thibe her Pyramus kifs'd, his Thisbe he
Embrac'd, each bless'd with t' other's company :
And every couple, always dancing, fing
Eternal pleafures to Elyfium's king.
But fee how foon these pleasures fade away!
How near to evening is delight's short day!
The watching bird, true Nunciùs of the light,
Strait crowd; and all these vanish'd from my fight:
My very Mufe herself forfook me too.
Me grief and wonder wak'd: what should I do?
Oh! let me follow thee (faid I) and go
From life, that I may dream for ever so.
With that my flying Muse I thought to clafp
Within my arms, but did a shadow grasp.
Thus chiefest joys glide with the swiftest stream,
And all our greatest pleasure 's but a dream.
RETURN OUT OF SCOTLAND.
Reat Charles !-there ftop, ye trumpeters of fame!
(For he who speaks his titles, his great name, Must have a breathing-time) our king :-stay there; Speak by degrees; let the inquifitive ear
Be held in doubt, and, ere you fay "is come,"
Let every heart prepare a spacious room
For ample joys; then Io fing, as loud
As thunder fhot from the divided cloud!
Let Cygnus pluck from the Arabian waves
The ruby of the rock, the pearl that paves
Great Neptune's court: let every sparrow bear
From the Three Sifters' weeping bark a tear :
Let spotted lynxes their sharp, talons fill
With cryftal fetch'd from the Promethean hill
Let Cytherea's birds fresh wreaths compofe,
Knitting the pale-fac'd lily with the rofe:
Let the felf-gotten phoenix rob his nest,
Spoil his own funeral pile, and all his beft
Of myrrh, of frankincenfe, of caffia, bring,
To ftrew the way for our returned king!
Let every poft a panegyric wear,
Each wall, each pillar, gratulations bear :
And yet, let no man invocate a Mufe;
The very matter will itself infuse
A facred fury: let the merry bells
(For unknown joys work unknown miracles)
Ring without help of fexton, and prefage
A new-made holy-day for future age!
And, if the ancients us'd to dedicate
A golden temple to propitious Fate,
At the return of any noble men,
Of heroes, or of emperors, we must then
Raise up a double trophy; for their fame
Was but the fhadow of our Charles's name.
Who is there where all virtues mingled flow,
Where no defects or imperfections grow?
Whose head is always crown'd with victory,
Snatch'd from Bellona's hand; him luxury
In peace debilitates: whofe tongue can win
Tully's own garland, pride to him creeps in.
On whom (like Atlas' fhoulders) the
propt ftate
(As he were primum mobile of Fate)
Solely relies; him blind ambition moves;
His tyranny the bridled subject proves,
F 4
But all those virtues, which they all poffeft
Divided, are collected in thy breast,
Great Charles! Let Cæfar boast Pharfalia's fighty,
Honorius praife the Parthian's unfeign'd flight:
Let Alexander call himfelf Jove's peer,
And place his image near the thunderer;
Yet while our Charles with equal balance reigns -
'Twixt Mercy and Aftrea, and maintains
A noble peace, 'tis he, 'tis only he,
Who is most near, most like, the Deity.
SONG, ON THE SAME.
ENCE, clouded looks; hence, briny tears,
Hence, eye that forrow's livery wears !
What though awhile Apollo please
To vifit the Antipodes ?
Yet he returns, and with his light
Expels what he hath caus'd-the night.
What though the fpring vanish away,
And with it the earth's form decay?
Yet his new-birth will foon restore
What its departure took before.
What though we miss'd our abfent king
Awhile? Great Charles is come again;
And with his prefence makes us know
The gratitude to Heaven we owe.
So doth a crui storm impart
And teach us Palinurus' art:
So from falt floods, wept by our eyes,
A joyful Venus doth arise.
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