For, doubtful reafon few can apprehend;
And war brings ruin, where it should amend:
But beauty, with a bloodlefs conqueft, finds
A welcome fovereignty in rudest minds.

Not aught which Sheba's wondering Queen
beheld

Amongst the works of Solomon, excell'd
His fhips and building; emblems of a heart
Large both in magnanimity and art.

While the propitious heavens this work attend,
The fhowers long wanted they forget to fend:
As if they meant to make it understood
Of more importance than our vital food.
The fun, which rifeth to falute the Quire
Already finish'd, fetting fhall admire
How private bounty cou'd fo far extend:
The King built all; but Charles the western-end;
So proud a fabric to devotion giv'n,
At once it threatens, and obliges, heaven!
Laomedon, that had the Gods in pay,
Neptune, with him that rules the facred day,
Could no fuch structure raife: Troy wall'd fo
high,

Th' Atrides might as well have forc'd the fky.
Glad, though amaz'd, are our neighbour Kings,
To fee fuch power employ'd in peaceful things:
They lift not urge it to the dreadful field;
The talk is easier to destroy, than build.

fight

Presents that beauty, which the dazzling light
Of Royal fplendor hides from weaker eyes:
And all accefs, fave by this art, denies.
Here only we have courage to behold
This beam of glory: here we dare unfold
In numbers thus the wonders we conceive :
The gracious image, feeming to give leave,
Propitious ftands, vouchfafing to be feen;
And by our Mufe faluted, Mighty Queen:
In whom th' extremes of power and beauty move,
The Queen of Britain, and the Queen of Love!

As the bright fun (to which we owe no fight
Of equal glory to your beauty's light)
Is wifely plac'd in fo fublime a feat,

'T' extend his light, and moderate his heat:
So, happy 'tis you move in fuch a sphere,
As your high Majefty with awful fear
In human breasts might qualify that fire,
Which kindled by thofe eyes had flamed higher,
Than when the fcorch'd world like hazard run,
By the approach of the ill-guided fun.

No other nymphs have title to men's hearts,
But as their meannefs larger hope imparts:
Your beauty more the fondeft lover moves
With admiration, than his private loves;

Apollo.

With admiration! for a pitch fo high
(Save facred Charles's) love never durft fly.
Heaven, that prefer'd a fceptre to your hand,
Favour'd our freedom more than your command
Beauty had crown'd you, and you must have been
The whole world's mistress, other than a Queen.
All had been rivals, and you might have fpar'd,
Or kill'd, and tyranniz'd, without a guard.
No power atchiev'd, either by arms or birth,
Equals Love's empire, both in heaven and carth:
Such eyes as yours, on Jove himself have thrown
As bright and fierce a lightning as his own:
Witnefs our Jove, prevented by their flame
In his swift paffage to th' Hefperian Dare:
When, like a lion, finding in his way
To fome intended fpoil, a fairer prey;
The Royal Youth, pursuing the report
Of beauty, found it in the Gallic Court:
There public care with private paffion fought
A doubtful combat in his noble thought:
Should he confefs his greatness and his love,
And the free faith of your † Great Brother prove;
With his Achates, breaking through the cloud
Of that difguife which did their Graces throud;
And mixing with thofe Gallants at the Ball,
Dance with the Ladies, and outfhine them all?
Or on his journey o'er the mountain's ride?-
So, when the fair Leucothoë he efpy'd,
To check his fteeds impatient Phabus yearn'd,
Though all the world was in his course concern’2.
What may hereafter her meridian do,
Whofe dawning beauty warm'd his bofom fo?
Not fo divine a flame, fince deathless Gods
Forbore to vifit the defil'd abodes

Of men, in any mortal breast did burn;
Nor fhall, till Piety and They return.

Or power to climb, fhe made fo low a choice: Singing the mounts, her airy wings are ftretch'd Tow'ards heaven, as if from heaven her note Be fetch'd.

So we, retiring from the bufy throng, Ufe to reftrain the ambition of our fong; But fince the light which now informs our age, Breaks from the Court, indulgent to her rage; Thither my Mufe, like bold Promotheus, fics, To light her torch at Gloriana's eyes.

Thofe fovereign beams, which heal the wounded foul,

And all our cares, but once beheld control! There the poor lover that has long endur'd Some proud nymph's fcorn, of his fond paffion cur'd,

+ Lewis XIII K. of France. D. of Buckingham.

Fares like the man who first upon the ground A glow-worm 'py'd; fuppofing he had found A moving diamond, a breathing stone; For life it had, and like thofe jewels fhone: He held it dear, till, by the fpringing day Inform'd, he threw the worthless worm away. She faves the lover, as we gangrenes stay, By cutting hope, like a lopt limb, away: This makes her bleeding patients to accufe High Heaven, and these expoftulations use. "Could nature then no private woman grace, "Whom we might dare to love, with fuch a face, "Such a complexion, and fo radiant eyes, "Such lovely motion, and fuch fharp replies? "Beyond our reach, and yet within our fight, "What envious Power has plac'd this glorious light?"

Thus, in a starry night fond children cry
For the rich fpangles that adorn the sky;
Which, though they fhine for ever fixed there,
With light and influence relieve us here.
All her affections are to one inclin'd;
Her bounty and compaffion, to mankind :
To whom, while fhe fo far extends her grace,
She makes but good the promife of her face:
For mercy has, could mercy's felf be seen,
No fweeter look than this propitious Queen.
Such guard, and comfort, the diftreffed find
From her large power, and from her larger mind,
That whom ill fate would ruin, it prefers;
For all the miferable are made her's.
So the fair tree, whereon the eagle builds,
Poor fheep from tempefts, and their fhepherds,
fhields:

The royal bird poffeffes all the boughs,
But fhade and fhelter to the flock allows.

Joy of our age, and safety of the next!
Far which so oft thy fertile womb is vext:
Nobly contented, for the public good,
To wafte thy fpirits, and diffuse thy blood:
What vaft hopes may these islands entertain,
Where Monarchs, thus defcended, are to reign!
Led by commanders of fo fair a line,
Our feas no longer fhall our power confine.

A brave romance who would exactly frame First brings his knight from fome immortal dame: And then a weapon, and a flaming shield, Bright as his mother's eyes, he makes him wield; None might the mother of Achilles be, But the fair pearl, and glory of the sea: The man to whom great Maro gives fuch fame, From the high bed of heavenly Venus came: And our next Charles, whom all the stars design Like wonders to accomplish, spring from thine.

Reft to the limbs, and quiet, I confer

On troubled minds: but nought can add to her, Whom Heaven, and her tranfcendant thoughts, have plac'd

Above thofe ills which wretched mortals taste.
Bright as the deathlefs Gods, and happy, she
From all that may infringe delight is free:
Love at her royal feet his quiver lays,
And not his mother with more hafte obeys.
Such real pleasures, fuch true joys fufpenfe,
What dream can I prefent to recompenfe?
Should I with lightning fill her awful hand,
And make the clouds feem all at her command:
Or place her in Olympus' top, a guest
Among th' Immortals, who with Nectar feaft:
That power would feem, that entertainment,
fhort

Of the true fplendor of her prefent court:
Where all the joys, and all the glories, are
Of three great kingdoms, fever'd from the care.
I, that of fumes and humid vapors made,
Afcending do the feat of fenfe invade,
No cloud in fo ferene a manfion find,
To over-caft her ever-fhining mind:
Which holds resemblance with thofe fpotlefs fkies,
Where flowing Nilus want of rain fupplies;
That crystal heaven, where Phoebus never shrouds
His golden beams, nor wraps his face in clouds.
But what fo hard which Numbers cannot force?
So ftoops the moon, and rivers change their courfe.
The bold Maonian made me dare to steep
Jove's dreadful temples in the dew of fleep.
And, fince the Mufes do invoke my power,
I fhall no more decline that facred bower,
Where Gloriana their great mistress lies:
But, gently taming thofe victorious eyes,
Charm all her fenfes; till the joyful fun
Without a rival half his course has run :
Who, while my hand that fairer light confines,
May boast himself the brightest thing that shines,

PUERPERIUM.

YE Gods, that have the power

To trouble and compofe

All that's beneath your bower,
Calm filence on the feas, on earth, impose.

Fair Venus, in thy soft arms

The God of Rage confine;
For thy whispers are the charms
Which only can divert his fierce defign.

What though he frown, and to tumult do incline?
Thou the flame

Kindled in his breast canft tame,
With that fnow which unmelted lies on thine.

Great Goddefs, give this thy facred Mland reft,
Make heaven fmile,

That no ftorm disturb us, while
Thy chief care, our Halcyon, builds her neft.

$ [C] 2

+ Homer.

Great Gloriana! fair Gloriana! Bright as high heaven is, and fertile as earth; Whofe beauty relieves us, Whose royal bed gives us Both glory and peace:

Our prefent joy, and all our hopes increase.

A rural judge † difpos'd of beauty's prize;

A fimple shepherd was preferv'd to Jove: Down to the mountains from the partial skies

Came Juno, Pallas, and the Queen of Love, To plead for that, which was fo juftly given To the bright Carlisle of the Court of Heaven. Carlile a name which all our woods are taught, Loud as their Amarillis, to refound:

UPON HER LANDING.

GREAT

fpring wears

All the chief crowns; where Princes are thy heirs;
As welcome thou to fea-girt Britain's fhore,
As erft Latona (who fair Cynthia bore)
To Delos was here fhines a Nymph as bright,
By thee difclos'd, with like increase of light.
Why was her joy in Belgia confin'd?
Or why did you fo much regard the wind?
Scarce could the ocean (though inrag'd) have toft
Thy fovereign bark, but where th' obfequious

coaft

Pays tribute to thy bed: Rome's conquering hand
More vanquifh'd nations under her command
Never reduc'd: here Berecynthia fo
Among her deathlefs progeny did go:
A wreath of towers adorn'd her reverend head,
Mother of all that on Ambrofia fed.
Thy god-like race muft fway the age to come;
As the Olympus peopled with her womb.

Would thofe commanders of mankind obey
Their honour'd parent; all pretences lay
Down at her royal feet; compose their jars,
And on the growing Turk difcharge these wars:
The Chriftian knights that facred tomb fhould
wreft

From pagan hands, and triumph o'er the Eaft:
Our England's Prince and Gallia's Dolphin might
Like young Rinaldo and Tancredi fight:
In fingle combat by their fwords again
The proud Argantes, and fierce Soldan, flain:
Again might we their valiant deeds recite,
And with your⚫ Tuscan Muse exalt the fight.

THE COUNTRY TO MY LADY OF CARLISLE.

MA

ADAM, of all the facred Mufe infpir'd Orpheus alone could with the woods comply; Their rude inhabitants his fong admir'd,

And nature's felf, in thofe that could not lye : Your beauty next our folitude invades, And warms us, fhining through the thickeft fhades. Nor ought the tribute, which the wondering court Pays your fair eyes, prevail with you to fcorn The anfwer, and confent, to that report,

Which echo-like, the country does return: Mirrors are taught to flatter, but our springs Prefent th' impartial images of things.

Taffo.

THE COUNTESS OF CARLISLE IN MOURNING.

WHEN

HEN from black clouds no part of ky i
clear,

But juft fo much as lets the fun appear;
Heaven then would feem thy image, and refice
Those sable vestments, and that bright afpect.
A fpark of virtue by the deepest fhade
Of fad adverfity, is fairer made;
Nor lefs advantage doth thy beauty get:
A Venus rifing from a fea of jet!
Such was th' appearance of new-form'd light,
While yet it struggled with eternal night.
Then mourn no more, left thou admit increase
Of glory, by thy noble Lord's decease.
We find not that the laughter-loving dame
Mourn'd for Anchifes; 'twas enough the came
To grace the mortal with her deathlefs bed,
And that his living eyes fuch beauty fed:
Had she been there, untimely joy through all
Men's hearts diffus'd had marr'd the funeral
Thofe eyes were made to banish grief; as well
Bright Phœbus might affect in fhades to dwell,
As they to put on forrow: nothing stands,
But power to grieve exempt from thy commá
If thou lament, thou must do fo alone;
Grief in thy prefence can lay hold of none.
Yet ftill perfift the memory to love

Of that great Mercury of our mighty Jove:
Who, by the power of his inchanting tongue,
Swords from the hands of threatening Monarda

rung.

War he prevented, or foon made it ceafe;
Inftructing Princes in the arts of peace;
Such as made Sheba's curious Queen refert
To the § large-hearted Hebrew's famous Court
Had Homer fat amongst his wondering guchs,
He might have learn'd at thofe ftupendous int
With greater bounty, and more facred ftate,
The banquets of the Gods to celebrate.
But oh! what elocution might he use,
What potent charms, that could fo foon infuit
His abfent Mafter's love into the heart
Of Henrietta! forcing her to part
From her lov'd brother, country, and the fi;
And, like Camilla, o'er the waves to run
Into his arms; while the Parifian dames
Mourn for the ravish'd glory; at her flames
Venus.
§ Solomon

† Paris.

No lefs amaz'd, than the amazed ftars,
When the bold charmer of Theffalia wars
With Heaven itfelf; and Numbers does repeat,
Which call defcending Cynthia from her feat.

IN ANSWER TO ONE WHO WRIT A LIBEL AGAINST THE COUNTESS OF CARLISLE.

WHAT

THAT fury has provok'd thy wit to dare
With Diomede, to wound the Queen of
love?

Thy mistress' envy, or thine own despair?
Not the juft Pallas in thy breaft did move
So blind a rage, with fuch a different fate:
He honor won, where thou haft purchas'd hate.
gave
affiftance to his Trojan foe;
Thou, that without a rival thou may'st love,
Doft to the beauty of this Lady owe;

She

While after her the gazing world does move. Canft thou not be content to love alone? Or, is thy miftrefs not content with one? Haft thou not read of Fairy Arthur's fhield, Which but difclos'd, amaz'd the weaker eyes Of proudest foes, and won the doubtful field? So fhall thy rebel wit become her prize. Should thy Iambics fwell into a book, All were confuted with one radiant look. Heaven he oblig'd that plac'd her in the skies; Rewarding Phoebus for infpiring fo His noble brain, by likening to those eyes His joyful beams: but Phœbus is thy foe; And neither aids thy fancy nor thy fight; jo ill thou rhym'ft against so fair a light.

TO PHYLLIS.

Pnd on that rock your Thyrfis threw,
HYLLIS, 'twas Love that injur'd you,

Who for proud Cælia could have dy'd,
While you no lefs accus'd his pride.

Fond Love his darts at random throws,
And nothing springs from what he fows:
From foes discharg'd as often meet
The fhining points of arrows fleet,
In the wide air creating fire;
As fouls that join in one defire.

Love made the lovely Venus burni In vain, and for the + cold youth mourn, Who the purfuit of churlish beafts Prefer'd, to fleeping on her breafts.

Love makes fo many hearts the prize Of the bright Carliffe's conquering eyes; Which the regards no more, than they The tears of leffer Beauties weigh. So have I feen the loft clouds pour Into the fea an ufelefs fhower; And the vex'd failors curfe the rain, For which poor fhepherds pray'd in vain. Then, Phyllis, fince our paffions are Govern'd by chance; and not the care, But fport of Heaven, which takes delight To look upon this Parthian fight Of Love, ftill flying, or in chafe, Never encountering face to face; No more to Love we 'll facrifice, But to the best of Deities:

And let our hearts, which Love disjoin'd By his kind mother be combin'd,

THEY of death; that death alive.

HEY tafte of death that do at heaven arrive;

nstead of Death, the dart of Love does ftrike; And renders all within these walls alike: The high in titles, and the shepherd, here orgets his greatness, and forgets his fear. All stand amaz'd, and gazing on the Fair, ofe thought of what themfelves or others are: Ambition lofe; and have no other scope, ave Carlifle's favour to employ their hope. he Thracian could (though all thofe tales

were true

* Orpheus.

ΤΟ

MY LORD OF NORTHUMBERLAND,

UPON THE DEATH OF HIS LADY.

The whole debt not to be paid by you.

"O this great lofs a fea of tears is due:

Charge not yourself with all, nor render vain
Thofe fhowers, the eyes of us your fervants rain.
Shall grief contract the largeness of that heart,
In which nor fear, nor anger, has a part?
Virtue would blush, if time fhould boast (which
dries,

Her fole child dead, the tender mother's eyes)
Your mind's relief; where reafon triumph's fo
Over all paffions, that they ne'er could grow,
Beyond their limits in your noble breast,
To harm another, or impeach your rest.
This we obferv'd, delighting to obey
One, who did never from his great self stray:
Whofe mild example feem'd to engage
Th' obfequious feas, and teach them not to rage.
The brave Æmilius, his great charge laid down,
(The force of Rome, and fate of Macedon)
In his loft fons did feel the cruel ftroke
Of changing Fortune; and thus highly spoke

† Adonis.

Before Rome's people; " We did oft implore
"That if the heavens had any bad in store
"For your Æmilius, they would pour that ill
"On his own house, and let you flourish still."
You on the barren feas, my Lord, have spent
Whole fprings; and fummers to the public lent:
Suspended all the pleasures of your life,
And shorten'd the short joy of fuch a wife:
For which your country's more obliged, than
For many lives of old, lefs happy, men.
You, that have facrific'd fo great a part
Of youth, and private bliss, ought to impart
Your forrow too; and give your friends a right
As well in your affliction, as delight.
Then with Emilian-courage bear this cross,
Since public perfons only public lofs
Ought to affect. And though her form, and youth,
Her application to your will, and truth;
That noble sweetness, and that humble state,
(All fnatch'd away by such a hafty fate!)
Might give excufe to any common breast,
With the huge weight of so just grief oppreft:
Yet let no portion of your life be ftain'd
With paffion, but your character maintain'd
To the last act: it is enough her stone
May honour'd be with fuperfcription
Of the fole Lady, who had power to move
The great Northumberland to grieve and love.

TO MY LORD ADMIRAL, ar BIS LATE SICKNESS AND RECOVERY.

WITH

ITH joy like ours, the Thracian youth
invades

Orpheus, returning from th' Elyfian shades;
Embrace the Hero, and his ftay implore;
Make it their public fuit, he would no more
Defert them fo; and for his spouse's fake,
His vanish'd love tempt the Lethean lake:
The Ladies too, the brightest of that time,
(Ambitious all his lofty bed to climb)
Their doubtful hopes with expectation feed,
Who fhall the fair Eurydice fucceed:
Eurydice! for whom his numerous moan
Makes liftening trees and favage mountains groan:
Through all the air his founding ftrings dilate
Sorrow, like that which touch'd our hearts of late.
Your pining ficknefs, and your reitless pain,
At once the land affecting, and the Main:
When the glad news that you were Admiral
Scarce through the nation spread, 'twas fear'd by

all

That our great Charles, whofe wisdom fhines in you,

Would be perplexed how to chufe a new.
So more than private was the joy, and grief,
That at the worft it gave our fouls relief,
That in our age such sense of virtue liv'd;
They joy'd fo justly, and fo juftly griev'd.
Nature (her faireft lights eclipfed) feems
Herself to fuffer in thofe fharp extremes :
While not from time alone thy blood retires,
But from thofe cheeks, which all the world
admires.

The ftem thus threaten'd, and the fap in thee,
Droop all the branches of that noble tree!
Their beauty they, and we our love fufpend,
Nought can our wifhes, fave thy health, intend
As lilies over-charg'd with rain, they bend
Their beauteous heads, and with high Hear
contend:

Fold thee within thy fnowy arms, and cry
He is too faultlefs, and too young, to die."
So like Immortals round about thee they
Sit, that they fright approaching Death away.
Who would not languish, by fo fair a train
To be lamented, and restor'd again?
Or thus with-held, what hafty foul would ge,
Though to the Bleft? O'er her Adonis fo
Fair Venus mourn'd, and with the precious bower
Of her warm tears cherish'd the fpringing fewer

The next fupport, fair hope of your great

name,

And fecond pillar of that noble frame,
By lofs of thee would no advantage have,
But step by step purfue thee to the grave.

And now, relentless Fate about to end The line, which backward does so far extend That antique ftock, which ftill the world fupple With braveft fpirits, and with brightest eyes; Kind Phoebus interpofing, bid me fay

Such ftorms no more fhall shake that houfe; b they

Like Neptune, and his fea-born Niece, fall The fhining glories of the land and Ica: With courage guard, and beauty warm, our And lovers fill with like poetic rage.

SON G.

TAY, Phœbus, stay!
The world to which you fly fo faft,
Conveying day

From us to them, can pay your hafte With no fuch object, nor falute your rife With no fuch wonder, as De Mornay's eyes

Well does this prove
The error of thofe antique books,

Which made you move

About the world: her charming looks Would fix your beams, and make it ever day, Did not the rolling earth fnatch her away.

ON MY LADY DOROTHY SIDNEY'S PICTURE.

UCH was Philoclea, and fuch + Dorus' fame The watches, and, that inmortal inma Of perfect beauty, on two pillars plac'd: Not his high fancy could one pattern, grac'd With fuch extremes of excellence, compofe; Wonders fo diftant in one face difclofe! Such chearful modefty, fuch humble ftate, Moves certain love; but with as doubtful fate, Sir Philip Sidney

* Venus. + Pamela.