Gambar halaman
PDF
ePub

XII.

When they have rack'd the politician's breast,
Within thy bofom moft fecurely reft,

And, when reduc'd to thee, are leaft unfafe and beft.

XIII.

But Nothing, why does Something still permit,
That facred monarchs fhould at council fit,
With perfons highly thought at best for nothing fit?
XIV.

Whilft weighty Something modestly abstains
From princes' coffers, and from ftatefmens' brains,
And nothing there like ftately Nothing reigns.

XV.

Nothing, who dwell'ft with fools in grave disguise, For whom they reverend shapes and forms devise, Lawn fleeves, and furs, and gowns, when they like thee look wife.

XVI.

French truth, Dutch prowefs, British policy,
Hibernian learning, Scotch civility,

Spaniards' difpatch, Danes' wit, are mainly feen in thee.

XVII.

The great man's gratitude to his best friend,
Kings' promifes, whores' vows, towards thee they bend,
Flow fwiftly into thee, and in thee ever end.

TRANS

TRANSLATION

O F

SOME LINES IN LUCRETIUS.

THE Gods, by right of nature, must possess
An everlasting age of perfect peace;

Far off remov'd from us and our affairs,
Neither approach'd by dangers or by cares;
Rich in themselves, to whom we cannot add ;
Not pleas'd by good deeds, nor provok'd by bad.

The latter End of the CHORUS of the Second A&t of SENECA'S TROAS, Tranflated.

AFTER Death nothing is, and nothing Death,

The utmost limits of a gafp of breath.

Let the ambitious zealot lay aside

His hope of heaven (whose faith is but his pride);
Let flavish fouls lay by their fear,

Nor be concern'd which way, or where,

After this life they shall be hurl'd :

Dead, we become the lumber of the world,

And to that mass of matter fhall be swept

Where things deftroy'd with things unborn are kept; Devouring Time swallows us whole,

Impartial Death confounds body and soul.

For

For hell, and the foul fiend that rules
The everlafting fiery gaols,
Devis'd by rogues, dreaded by fools,

With his grim grisly dog that keeps the door,
Are fenfelefs ftories, idle tales,
Dreams, whimfies, and no more.

TO HIS SACRED MAJESTY,

ON HIS

RESTORATION in the YEAR 1660.

VI

IRTUE's triumphant fhrine! who doft engage At once three kingdoms in a pilgrimage; Which in extatic duty ftrive to come

Out of themselves, as well as from their home;
Whilft England grows one camp, and London is
Itfelf the nation, not metropolis ;

And loyal Kent renews her arts again,
Fencing her ways with moving groves of men;
Forgive this diftant homage, which does meet
Your bleft approach on fedentary feet;

And though my youth, not patient yet to bear
The weight of arms, denies me to appear
In steel before you; yet, great Sir, approve
My manly wishes, and more vigorous love;
In whom a cold respect were treason to
A father's afhes, greater than to you ;
Whose one ambition 't is for to be known,
By daring loyalty, your Wilmot's fon.

Wadh. Coll.

ROCHESTER.

ΤΟ

то HER

SACRED MAJESTY THE QUEEN-MOTHER,

Ο Ν THE

DEATH of MARY, Princess of Orange.

RESPITE, great queen, your juft and hafty fears:

no infection lodges in our tears.
Though our unhappy air be arm'd with death,
Yet fighs have an untainted guiltless breath.
Oh! stay a while, and teach your equal skill
To understand, and to support our ill.
You that in mighty wrongs an age have spent,
And feem to have out-liv'd ev'n banishment:
Whom traiterous mischief fought its earliest prey,
When to most facred blood it made its way;
And did thereby its black design impart,
To take his head, that wounded first his heart :
You that unmov'd great Charles's ruin ftood,
When three great nations funk beneath the load;
Then a young daughter loft, yet balfam found
To stanch that new and freshly-bleeding wound;
And, after this, with fixt and steady eyes.
Beheld your noble Gloucester's obfequies :
And then sustain'd the royal Princess' fall;
You only can lament her funeral.

But you will hence remove, and leave behind
Our fad complaints loft in the empty wind;

Thofe

Those winds that bid you stay, and loudly roar
Deftruction, and drive back to the firm fhore;
Shipwreck to fafety, and the envy fly

Of sharing in this fcene of tragedy:

While fickness, from whofe rage you post away,
Relents, and only now contrives your stay ;
The lately fatal and infectious ill
Courts the fair princefs, and forgets to kill :
In vain on fevers curfes we difpenfe,
And vent our paffion's angry eloquence :
In vain we blaft the minifters of Fate,
And the forlorn phyficians imprecate ;
Say they to death new poifons add and fire,
Murder fecurely for reward and hire;
Arts bafilifks, that kill whome'er they fee,
And truly write bills of mortality,

Who, left the bleeding corpfe fhould them betray,
Firft drain thofe vital fpeaking ftreams away.
And will you, by your flight, take part with these?
Become yourfelf a third and new disease?

If they have caus'd our lofs, then fo have you,
Who take yourfelf and the fair princess too :
For we, depriv'd, an equal damage have
When France doth ravish hence, as when the grave:
But that your choice th' unkindness doth improve,
And dereliction adds to your remove.

ROCHESTER, of Wadham College.

AN

« SebelumnyaLanjutkan »