50

On his each hand his royal brothers shone,
Like two fupporters of Great Britain's throne:
The first, for deeds of arms, renown'd as far
As Fame e'er flew to tell great tales of war;
Of nature generous, and of stedfast mind,
To flattery deaf, but ne'er to merit blind,
Referv'd in pleasures, but in dangers bold,
Youthful in actions, and in conduct old,
True to his friends, as watchful o'er his foes,
And a juft value upon each bestows;
Slow to condemn, nor partial to commend,
The brave man's patron, and the wrong'd man's
friend.

55

60

Great Charles saw this, yet hufh'd his rising breast,
Though much the lion in his bofom prest:
But he for fway feem'd fo by nature made,
That his own paffions knew him, and obey'd: 90
Matter of them, he foften'd his command,
The fword of rule fcarce threaten'd in his hand :
Stern majefty upon his brow might fit,

95

But fmiles, ftill playing round it, made it sweet:
So finely mix'd, had Nature dar'd t' afford
One leaft perfection more, h' had been ador'd.
Merciful, juft, good-natur'd, liberal, brave,
Witty, and pleafure's friend, yet not her flave:
The paths of life by noblest methods trod;
Of mortal mold, but in his mind a god.
Though now (alas!) in the fad grave he lies,
Yet fhall his praise for ever live, and laurels from
it rife.

100

And pay their tribute in of warmth and rain :
Cool fhades and ftreams, rich fertile lands abound,
And Nature's bounty flows the seasons round.
But we, a wretched race of men, thus bleft,
Of fo much happiness (if known, poffeft)
Miftaking every nobleft ufe of life,
Left beauteous Quiet, that kind, tender wife,
For the unwholesome, brawling harlot, Strife.
The man in power, by wild ambition led,
Envy'd all honours on another's head;
And, to fupplant fome rival, by his pride
Embroil'd that ftate his wifdom ought to guide.
The priests, who humble temperance should pro-

fefs,

}

120

Sought filken robes and fat voluptuous cafe;
So, with fmall labours in the vineyard fhown, 125
Forfook God's harvest to improve their own.
That dark ænigma (yet unriddled) Law,
Inftead of doing right and giving awe,
Kept open lifts, and at the noify bar,
Four times a year proclaim'd a civil war,
Where daily kinfman, father, fon, and brother,
Might damn their fouls to ruin one another.
Hence cavils rofe 'gainst Heaven's and Cæfar's
cause,

75

From falfe religions and corrupted laws; Till fo at laft rebellion's bafe was laid, And God or king no longer were obey'd.

130

135

But that good angel whofe furmounting power Waited great Charles in each emergent hour,

Then ftretch his healing hands to neighbouring fhores,

Where flaughter rages, and wild rapine roars; 150
To cool their ferments with the charms of peace,
Who, fo their madness and their rage might ceafe,
Grow a'l (embracing what fuch friendship brings)
Like us the people, and like him their kings.
But now (alas) in the fad grave he lies, 155
Yet fhall his praife for ever live, and laurels from
it rife.

160

For this affurance pious thanks he paid; Then in his mind the beauteous model laid Of that majestic pile, where oft, his care A-while forgot, he might for ease repair: A feat for sweet retirement, health, and love, Britain's Olympus, where, like awful Jove, He pleas'd could fit, and his regards bestow On the vain, bufy, fwarming world below. E'en I, the meanest of those humble fwains, Who fang his praises through the fertile plains, Once in a happy hour was thither led, Curious to fee what Fame fo far had spread. There tell, my Mufe, what wonders thou didst find,

Worthy thy fong, and his celeftial mind.

165

170

'Twas at that joyful hallow'd day's return, On which that man of miracles was born, At whofe great birth appear'd a noon-day star, Which prodigy foretold yet many more; Did ftrange efcapes from dreadful Fate declare, 175 Nor fhin'd, but for one greater king before. Though now (alas!) in the fad grave he lies, Yet fhall his praise for ever live, and laurels from it rife.

For this great day were equal joys prepar'd, The voice of triumph on the hills was heard; 180 Redoubled fhoutings wak'd the echo's round, And cheerful bowls with loyal vows were crown'd. But, above all, within thofe lofty towers, Where glorious Charles then spent his happy hours,

200

Within this dome a fhining † chapel's rais'd, Too noble to be well defcrib'd or prais'd. Before the door, fix'd in an awe profound, I stood, and gaz'd with pleafing wonder round, When one approach'd who bore much fober grace,

Order and ceremony in his face;

205

110

A threatening rod did his dread right hand poize,
A badge of rule and terror o'er the boys:
His left a maffy bunch of keys did fway,
Ready to open all to all that pay.
This courteous fquire, obferving how amaz'd
My eyes betray'd me as they wildly gaz'd,
Thus gently fpoke: "Thofe banners rais'de
high

Betoken noble vows of chivalry: "Which here their heroes with religion make, 11 "When they the enfigns of this order take" Then in due method made me understand What honour fam'd St. George had done our lands What toils he vanquif'd, with what money Rrove;

Whofe champions fince for virtue, truth, and love,

220

Hang here their trophies, while their generous

arms

Keep wrong fuppreft, and innocence from harmi
At this m' amazement yet did greater grow,
For I had been told all virtue was but fhow;
That oft bold villainy had beft fuccefs,
As if its ufe were more, nor merit less.
But here I faw how it rewarded fhin'd.
Tell on, my Muse, what wonders thou did
find

Worthy thy fong and Charles's mighty mind.

I turn'd around my eyes, and, lo, a § cell, 23
Where melancholy ruin feem'd to dwell,
The door unhing'd, without or bolt or ward,
Seem'd as what lodg’d within found small regard.
Like fome old den, fcarce vifited by day,
Where dark oblivion lurk'd and watch'd for
prey.

Here, in a heap of confus'd waste, I found
Neglected hatchments tumbled on the ground;
The Spoils of Time, and triumph of that fate
Which equally on all mankind does wait:
The hero, level'd in his humble grave,
With other men, was now nor great nor brave;
While here his trophies, like their mafter, lay,
To darknefs, worms, and rottennefs, a prey.
Urg'd by fuch thoughts as guide the truly great,
Perhaps his fate he did in battle meet;

+ St. George's Chapel.

Of the Knights of the Garter.

235

240

245

An old ifle in the church, where the banner of a dead knight is carried, when another fucereds

The wrongs of fate, nor think them worth his 255

care;

Whofe mind no difappointment here can shake, Who a true estimate of life does make, Knows 'tis uncertain, frail, and will have end, So to that profpect still his thoughts does bend, Who, though his right a ftronger power invade, Though fate opprefs, and no man give him aid, 261 Cheer'd with th' affurance that he there fhall find Reft from all toils, and no remorfe of mind; Can Fortune's fmiles defpife, her frowns out-brave, For who's a prince or beggar in the grave? But if immortal any thing remain, Rejoice, my Mufe, and strive that end to gain. Thou kind diffolver of encroaching care, And cafe of every bitter weight I bear, Keep from my foul repining, while I fing The praife and honour of this glorious king; And farther tell what wonders thou didst find Worthy thy fong and his celestial mind.

265

270

Beyond the Dome a lofty tower appears, Beauteous in ftrength, the work of long-paft

285

But now appears the beauteous feat of Peace, Large of extent, and fit for goodly ease; Where noble order ftrikes the greedy fight With wonder, as it fills it with delight; The mafly walls seem, as the womb of earth, Shrunk when fuch mighty quarries thence had birth;

Or by the Theban founder they'd been rais'd, 290 And in his powerful numbers should be prais'd: Such ftrength without does every where abound, Within fuch glory and fuch splendor's found, As man's united kill had there combin'd T'exprefs what one great genius had defign'd. 295 Thus, when the happy world Auguftus fway'd, Knowledge was cherish'd, and improvement made; Learning and arts his empire did adorn, Nor did there one neglected virtue mourn;

*The Cafle.

The Duke of Norfolk, Conftable of Windfor Caftle.

The House.

VOL. H.

But, at his call, from fattheft nations came, 300 While the immortal Mufes gave him fame. Though when her far-ftretch'd empire flourish'd

moft,

305

Rome never yet a work like this could boast:
No Cæfar e'er like Charles his pomp express'd,
Nor ever were his nations half fo bleft:
Though now (alas!) in the fad grave he lies,
Yet fhall his praise for ever live, and laurels from
it rife.

315

Here, as all Nature's wealth to court him preft, Seem'd to attend him Plenty, Peace, and Reft. Through all the lofty roofs § defcrib'd we find 310 The toils and triumphs of his god-like mind: A theme that might the noblest fancy warm, And only fit for his who did perform. The walls adorn'd with richest woven gold, Equal to what in temples fhin'd of old, Grac'd well the luftre of his royal ease, Whofe empire reach'd throughout the wealthy feas; Eafe which he wifely chofe, when raging arnis Kept neighbouring nations waking with alarms: For when wars troubled her foft fountains there, She fwell'd her ftreams, and flow'd-in fafter here; With her came Plenty, till our ifle feem'd blefs'd As Canaan's fhore, where Ifrael's fons found reft. Therefore, when cruel fpoilers, who have hurl'd Waste and confufion through the wretched world, To after-times leave a great hated name, 326 The praise of Peace fhall wait on Charles's fame; His country's father, through whose tender care, Like a lull'd babe fhe flept, and knew no fear; Who, when fh' offended, oft would hide his eyes, Nor fee, because it griev'd him to chastize. But if fubmiflion brought her to his feet, With what true joy the penitent he'd meet! How would his love ftill with his juftice ftrive! How parent-like, how fondly he'd forgive! But now (alas!) in the fad grave he lies, Yet fhall his praise for ever live, and laurels from it rife.

331

335

340

Since after all those toils through which he strove By every art of moft endearing love, For his reward he had his Britain found, The awe and envy of the nations round. Mufe, then speak more what wonders thou didst find

370

Follow'd by ipoils, and ufher'd in by Fame.
In golden chains he their quell'd monarch led.
Oh, for fuch laurels on another head!
Unfoil'd with floth, nor yet o'ercloy'd with peace,
We had not then learn'd the loofe arts of cafe, 366
In our own climes our vigorous youth were nurs'd,
And with no foreign education curs'd.
Their northern metal was preferv'd with care,
Nor fent for foftening into hotter air.
Nor did they 'as now from fruitless travels come
With follies, vices, and difcafes home;
But in full purity of health and mind
Kept up the noble virtues of their kind.
Had not falfe fenates to thofe ills difpos'd
Which long had England's happiness oppos'd
With stubborn faction and rebellious pride,
All means to fuch a noble end deny'd,
To Britain, Charles this glory had restor'd,
And those revolted nations own'd their lord.
But now (alas!) in the fad grave he lies;
Yet fhall his praife for ever live, and laurels from
it rife.

375

380

And now furvey what's open to our view, But down all heads, and pay devotion due, The temple by this hero built behold, Adorn'd with carvings, and o'erlaid with gold; Whofe radiant roof fuch glory does display, We think we fee the heaven to which we pray ; So well the artift's hand has there declin'd The merciful redemption of mankind; The bright afcenfion of the Son of God, When back through yielding fkies to heaven he rode,

385

390

With lightning round his head, and thunder where he trod.

Thus when to Charles, as Solomon, was given
Widom, the greateft gift of bounteous heaven;
A houfe like his he built, and temple rais'd; 396
Where his Creator might be fitly prais'd;
With riches too and honours was he crown'd,
Nor, whilft he liv'd, was there one like him
found.

Therefore what once to Ifrael's lord was faid 400
When Sheba's queen his glorious court furvey'd,
To Charles's fame for ever fhall remain,
Who did as wond'rous things, who did as greatly
reign.

Happy were they who could before him stand,
"And faw the wifdom of his dread command;"
For heaven refolv’d, that much above the reft 406
Of other nations Britain fhould be bleft.
Found him when banish'd from his facred right,
Try'd his great foul, and in it took delight.

Edward III.

The Black Prince.

The Chapel at the end of the hall.

Then to his throne in triumph him did bring, 410
Where never rul'd a wifer, juster king.
But now (alas!) in the fad grave he lies,
Yet fhall his praife for ever live, and laurels from
it rife.

415

Thus far the painter's hand did guide the Muie,
Now let her lead, nor will he fure refufe.
Two kindred arts they are, fo near ally'd,
They oft have by each other been supply'd.
Therefore, great man! when next thy thoughts
incline

The works of Fame, let this be the defign:
As thou could beft great Charles's glory how, 410
Shew how he fell, and whence the fatal blow.
In a large scene, may give beholders awe,
The meeting of a numerous fenate draw!
Over their heads a black diftemper'd sky,
And through the air let grinning Furies fly. 433
Charg'd with commiffions of infernal date,
To raife fell difcord and inteftine hate;
From their foul heads let them by handfuls tear
The ugliest fnakes, and best-lov'd favourites there,
Then whirl them (spouting venom as they fall)
'Mongft the affembled numbers of the hall; 431
There into murmuring bofoms let them gɔ,
Till their infection to confufion grow;
Till fuch bold tumults and disorders rife,
As when the impious fons of earth affail'd the
threaten'd fkies.
435

But then let mighty Charles at diftance ftand,
His crown upon his head, and feeptre in his hand;
To fend abroad his word, or with a frown
Repel, and dafh th' afpiring rebels down:
Unable to behold his dreaded ray,

Let them grow blind, difperfe, and reel away. Let the dark fiends the troubled air forfake, And all new peaceful order feem to take.

44

455

But, oh, imagine Fate t' have waited long An hour like this, and mingled in the throng, 443 Rous'd with thofe furies from her feat below, I' have watch'd her only time to give the blow: When cruel cares, by faithlefs fubjects bred, Too clofely prefs'd his facred peaceful head; With them t' have pointed her deftroying dart, 40 And through the brain found paffage to the hear | Deep-wounding plagues avenging heaven bufhow On thofe curs'd heads to whom this lofs we owe! On all who Charles's heart affliction gave, And fent him to the forrows of the grave! Now, painter, (if thy griefs can let thee) draw The faddett fcenes that weeping eyes e'er faw; How on his royal bed that woeful day The much lamented mighty monarch lay; Great in his fate, and ev'n o'er that a king, fe No terror could the Lord of Terrors bring. Through many steady and well-manag'd years He'd arm'd his mind 'gainst all thofe little fears, Which common mortals want the power to hide, When their mean fouls and valued clay divide. 45 He'd study'd well the worth of life, and knew Its troubles many, and its bleffings few: Therefore unmov'd did Death's approaches fee, And grew familiar with his deftiny; Like an acquaintance entertain'd his fate, Who, as it knew him, seem'd content to wat, 4

476