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For prosperous princes gain their subjects heart,
Who love that praise in which themselves have part.
By you he fits those subjects to obey,
As heaven's eternal monarch does convey
His power unseen, and man to his designs,
By his bright ministers the stars, inclines.

Our setting fun, from his declining seat,
Shot beams of kindness on you, not of heat :
And, when his love was bounded in a few,
That were un'appy that they might be true,
Made

you

the favourite of his last sad times, That is a sufferer in his subjects crimes : Thus those first favours you receiv'd, were sent, Like heaven's rewards in earthly punishment. Yet fortune, conscious of your destiny, Ev’n then took care to lay you foftly by ; And wrap'd your fate among her precious things, Kept fresh to be unfolded with your king's. Shewn all at once you dazzled so our eyes, As new-born Pallas did the gods surprize : When, springing forth from Jove’s new-closing wound, She struck the warlike spear into the ground; Which sprouting leaves did suddenly inclose, And peaceful olives shaded as they rose.

How strangely active are the arts of peace, Whose restless motions less than wars do cease ! Peace is not freed from labour but from noise ; And war more force, but not more pains employs : Such is the mighty fiviftness of your mind, That, like the earth, it Icaves our sense behind,

While you so smoothly turn and rowl our sphere,
That rapid motion does but rest appear.
For, as in nature's swiftness, with the throng
Of flying orbs while ours is borne along,
All seems at rest to the deluded eye,
Mov'd by the soul of the same harmony,
So, carried on by your unwearied care,
We rest in peace, and yet in motion share.
Let envy then those crimes within you see,
From which the happy never must be free;
Envy, that does with misery reside,
The joy and the revenge of ruin'd pride.
Think it not hard, if at fo cheap a rate
You can secure the constancy of fate,
Whose kindness sent what does their malice seem,
By leffer ills the greater to redeem.
Nor can we this weak shower a tempest call,
But drops of heat, that in the sun-fhine fall.
You have already wearied fortune so,
She cannot farther be your friend or foe;
But fits all breathless, and admires to feel
A fate so weighty,' that it stops her wheel.
In all things else above our humble fate,
Your equal mind yet swells not into state,
But, like some mountain in those happy isles,
Where in perpetual spring young nature smiles,
Your greatness thews : no horror to affright,
But trees for shade, and flowers to court the sight:
Soinetimes the hill submits itself a while
In small descents, which do its height beguile ;

And sometimes mounts, but so as billows play,
Whose rise not hinders, but makes short our way.
Your brow, which does no fear of thunder know,
Sees rowling tempests vainly beat below;
And, like Olympus' top, th' impression wears
Of love and friendship writ in former years.
Yet, unimpair'd with labours, or with time,
Your

age but seems to a new youth to climb.
Thus heavenly bodies do our time beget,
And measure change, but share no part of it.
And till it shall without a weight increase,
Like this new-year, whose motions never cease.
For since the glorious course you have begun
Is led by Charles, as that is by the sun,
It must both weightless and immortal prove,
Because the centre of it is above.

A

SATIRE on the DUTCH,

Written in the Year 1662.
S needy gallants, in the scrivener's hands,
Court the rich knaves that gripe their mortgag'd

lands;
The first fat buck of all the season's sent,
And keeper takes no fee in compliment;
The dotage of some Englishmen is such,
To fawn on those, who ruin them, the Dutch.
They shall have all, rather than make a war
With those, who of the same religion are.
The Straits, the Guiney-trade, the herrings too ;
Nay, to keep friendfhip, they shall pickle you.

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Some are resolv'd not to find out the cheat,
But, cuckold-like, love them that do the feat.
What injuries foe’er upon us fall,
Yet still the same religion answers all.
Religion wheedled us to civil war,
Drew English blood, and Dutchinen’s now would spare.
Be gull’d no longer ; for you'll find it true,
They have no more religion, faith! than you.
Interest’s the god they worship in their state,
And we, I take it, have not much of that.
Well monarchies may own religion's name,
But states are atheists in their very frame.
They share a fin; and such proportions fall,
That, like a stink, 'tis nothing to them all.
Think on their rapine, falfhood, cruelty,
And that what once they were, they still would be.
To one well-born th' affront is worse and more,
When he's abus’d and baffled by a boor.
With an ill grace the Dutch their mischiefs do;
They ’ve both ill nature and ill manners too.
Well may they boast themselves an ancient nation
For they were bred ere manners were in fashion :
And their new commonwealth has set them free
Only from honour and civility.
Venetians do not more uncouthly ride,
Than did their lubber state mankind bestride.
Their sway became them with as ill a mien,
As their own paunches swell above their chin.
Yet is their empire no true growth but humour,
And only two kings' touch can cure the tumour.

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As Cato, fruits of Afric did display ;
Let us before our eyes their Indies lay :
All loyal English will like him conclude;
Let Cæsar live, and Carthage be subdued.

To her Royal Highness the Dutchess of York,

on the memorable Victory gained by the Duke over the HOLLANDERS, June the 3d, 1665. and on her Journey afterwards into the North.

MADAM, W!

HEN, for our fakes, your hero you resign'd

To swelling seas, and every faithless wind;
When you releas'd his courage, and set free
A valour fatal to the enemy;
You lodg'd your country's cares within your

breast
(The mansion where soft love should only rel:
And, ere our foes abroad were overcome,
The noblest conquest you had gain’d at home.
Ah, what concerns did both your souls divide !
Your honour gave us what your love denied :
And 'twas for him much easier to fubdue
Those foes he fought with, than to part

from

you. That glorious day, which two such navies faw, As each unmatch'd might to the world give law. Neptune, yet doubtful whom he should obey, Held to them both the trident of the sea : The winds were huni'd, the waves in ranks were cast, As a:vfully as when God's people past:

Thore,

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