UPON THE DEATH OF

THE EARL OF BALCARRES.

"T

IS folly all, that can be faid,

By living mortals, of th' immortal dead,

And I'm afraid they laugh at the vain tears we shed. 'Tis as if we, who stay behind

In expectation of the wind,

Should pity those who pafs'd this ftreight before,
And touch the univerfal fhore.

Ah, happy man! who art to fail no more!
And, if it feem ridiculous to grieve

Because our friends are newly come from fea,
Though ne'er fo fair and calm it be ;
What would all fober men believe,
If they should hear us fighing say,
"Balcarres, who but th' other day

"Did all our love and our respect command;
"At whofe great parts we all amaz'd did stand;
" Is from a storm, alas! caft fuddenly on land?"

If you will fay-Few perfons upon earth
Did, more than he, deferve to have

A life exempt from fortune and the grave;
Whether you look upon his birth

And ancestors, whofe fame 's fo widely fpread-
But ancestors, alas! who long ago are dead—-

}

Or

Or whether you confider more

The vast increase, as fure you ought,
Of honour by his labour bought,

And added to the former ftore :
All I can answer, is, That I allow

The privilege you plead for; and avow
That, as he well deferv'd, he doth enjoy it now.

Though God, for great and righteous ends, -
Which his unerring Providence intends
Erroneous mankind should not understand,
Would not permit Balcarres' hand

(That once with so much industry and art
Had clos'd the gaping wounds of every part)
To perfect his distracted nation's cure,
Or stop the fatal bondage 'twas t' endure;
Yet for his pains he foon did him remove,
From all th' oppreffion and the woe

Of his frail body's native foil below,
To his foul's true and peaceful country above:
So Godlike kings, for fecret causes, known
Sometimes, but to themselves alone,

One of their ableft minifters elect,

And send abroad to treaties, which they' intend
Shall never take effect;

But, though the treaty wants a happy end, The happy agent wants not the reward, For which he labour'd faithfully and hard; His juft and righteous mafter calls him home, And gives him, near himself, fome honourable room.

Noble

Noble and great endeavours did he bring To fave his country, and restore his king; And, whilst the manly half of him (which those Who know not Love, to be the whole fuppofe) Perform'd all parts of virtue's vigorous life; The beauteous half, his lovely wife, Did all his labours and his cares divide ; Nor was a lame nor paralytic fide : In all the turns of human state, And all th' unjust attacks of Fate, She bore her share and portion still, And would not fuffer any to be ill. Unfortunate for ever let me be,

If I believe that fuch was he,

Whom, in the ftorms of bad fuccefs, And all that Error calls unhappiness, His virtue and his virtuous wife did ftill accompany !

With these companions 'twas not strange
That nothing could his temper change.
His own and country's union had not weight
Enough to crush his mighty mind!

He faw around the hurricanes of state,
Fixt as an ifland 'gainst the waves and wind.
Thus far the greedy fea may reach;
All outward things are but the beach;
A great man's foul it doth affault in vain!
Their God himself the ocean doth restrain

With an imperceptible chain,

And bid it to go back again.

His wisdom, juftice, and his piety,

His courage both to fuffer and to die,
His virtues, and his lady too,
Were things celeftial. And we see,
In fpite of quarrelling philofophy,

How in this cafe 'tis certain found,
That Heav'n ftands still, and only earth goes round.

O D E.

UPON DR. HARVEY.

OY Nature (which remain'd, though aged grown,
A beauteous virgin ftill, enjoy'd by none,

Nor feen unveil'd by any one)

When Harvey's violent paffion fhe did fee,
Began to tremble and to flee;

Took fanctuary, like Daphne, in a tree :
There Daphne's lover stop'd, and thought it much
The very leaves of her to touch:

But Harvey, our Apollo, ftop'd not fo;

Into the bark and root he after her did go !
No smallest fibres of a plant,

For which the eye-beams' point doth sharpness want,
His paffage after her withfood.

What should the do? through all the moving wood Of lives endow'd with sense she took her flight; Harvey pursues, and keeps her still in fight.

But

But, as the deer, long-hunted, takes a flood,

She leap'd at laft into the winding streams of blood;
Of man's mæander all the purple reaches made,
Till at the heart she stay'd;

Where turning head, and at a bay,

Thus by well-purged ears was fhe o'erheard to say:

"Here fure fhall I be fafe" (said she)

None will be able fure to fee

"This my retreat, but only He

"Who made both it and me.

The heart of man what art can e'er reveal?

"A wall impervious between

"Divides the very parts within,

And doth the heart of man ev'n from itself conceal."
She fpoke: but, ere she was aware,
Harvey was with her there;

And held this flippery Proteus in a chain,
Till all her mighty myfteries he defcry'd;

Which from his wit th' attempt before to hide
Was the first thing that Nature did in vain.

He the young practice of new life did see,
Whilft, to conceal its toilfome poverty,
It for a living wrought, both hard and privately.
Before the liver understood

The noble fcarlet dye of blood;

Before one drop was by it made,

Or brought into it, to set up the trade;
Before the untaught heart began to beat
The tuneful march to vital heat;

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