Sail on, and pay no customs to the grave,
And Death, the King of Terrors boldly brave.

And long he had both Time and Death defied,
If both despairing no false arts had tryed,
From his own table they in secret fed
That Traytor Malady that struck him dead,
Though cautious Temperance faithful centry stood
At his meals, it cou'd not guard his bloud.
The friends of Life he cherisht, life destroy'd,
Oft were his favours to his hurt employ'd,
He Vigour and Digestion did maintain,
And they with secret Death fill'd every vein.
Under Ingratitude none suffered more;

Too oft he rais'd his enemies to power.

Health boast no more, nor promise life and ease,
Your own guards beat you from your palaces,
You assemble dishes to support your crown;
And they too falsely pull your greatness down.
Pay taxes to maintain Intestine War,
One faithful Counsellor were better far

:

Wit from his thoughts, as suddenly did flye As lightning from a fiery southern sky, Whene're god-like he sported with mankind, The ready flash attended on his mind.

Scarce in his royal ear your words cou'd rest,
But the flame met, and melted 'em to jest:
Nay through the sturdy Oak of State affairs
It played, and guided o're the darkest aires.
The world was so much less than his great soul,
It only served him for his sporting fool.
He laugh'd at Fortune, Glory, Pomp and Fame,
And scorn'd to hunt after such childish game:
Who toyles for glory, shews his spirit low,
For honours only from inferiors flow :
He's slave to slaves, and labours to be fed,
With vain applause, as peasants do for bread.
Pomp rather shews a Monarch weak, then great,
And only puts upon himself the cheat,

'Tis base-born greatness that from pomp does spring, Forms almost bastardise a lawful king.

If to his glory outward forms impart,

Being and Life, 'tis the poor Child of Art.
Charles all his greatness in himself did place;
He darted splendour from his awful face.
His brow aright to empire did evince,

His

every look and motion was a prince. No forms e're darken'd him; the expanded sky Bow'd to all earth, and shone on every eye. And had Heavens more bright and high then this, His royal mind where dwelt eternal bliss.

Now let us leave these lower sphears and spring
To brighter visions with extended wing.
Never in men more god-like wisdom shone,
So great it was, that God seem'd jealous grown,
And from his brain a rivalship to fear,

Therefore he struck that potent Minister.

CHARLES SACKVILLE,

EARL OF DORSET.

1637-1705.

A man distinguished for accomplishments, wit, courage, patriotism and beneficence.

SONG.

Written at Sea, in the first Dutch War, 1665, the Night before the Engagement.

To all

I.

you ladies now at land,

We'men, at sea, indite;

But first would have you understand,

How hard it is to write;

The Muses now, and Neptune too,

We must implore to write to you,

For though the Muses should prove kind, And fill our empty brain;

Yet if rough Neptune rouse the wind, To wave the azure main,

Roll

Our paper, pen, and ink, and we, up and down our ships at sea. With a Fa, &c.

III.

Then if we write not by each post,
Think not we are unkind;
Nor yet conclude your ships are lost,
By Dutchmen, or by wind:

Our tears we'll send a speedier way,
The tide shall bring them twice a day.
With a Fa, &c.

IV.

The king with wonder and surprise,

Will swear the seas grow bold; Because the tides will higher rise,

Than e'er they used of old:

But let him know, it is our tears

Bring floods of grief to Whitehall stairs,

With a Fa, &c.