SPOKEN UPON

WHEN

SPOKEN TO

ON II ER

EPILOGUE,

Send all your wishes with him, let the air
With gentle breezes waft it safely there,
The seas, like what they'll carry, calm and fair

Let the illustrious niother touch our land
HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUKE OF

Mildly, as hercafter may her son command;
YORK

While our glad monarch welcumes her to shore,

With kind assurance shc shall part no more. Coming to the Tbeatre, Friday, April 21, 1682.

Be the majeltic babe then smiling born,

And all good tigns of fate his birth adorn,
THEN too much plenty, luxury, and case,

So live and grow, a constant pledge to stand
Had surfeited this ifle to a difeafe;

Of Cacfar's love to an obedient land.
When noisome blains did its best parts o’crfpread,
Anion the rest their dire infection fhed;
Our great Physician, who the nature knew
of the distemper, and from whence it grew,
Fir'd, for three kingdoms' quiet, Sir, on you:
He cast his fearching eyes o'er all the frame,
And finding whence before one sickness came,

HER ROYAL HIGHNESS,
How once before our mischiefs fofter'd were,
Krew well your virtne, and arrly'r yna there :
Where so your goodness, fo your justice fway'd,

RETURN FROM SCOTLAND,
You but appear’d, and the wild plagie was Itay'd.
When, from the filthy dunghill-faction bred,

2

IV THE YEAR 1632.
New-form'd rebellion durft rear up its head,
Answer me all : Who ftruck the norster dicais All ,

and See, sce, the injur'd prince, and bless his name,

every loyal Muse's loyal friend, Thirk va the martyr from whole loins he canic;

That come to treat your longing wishes here, Think on the blood was shed for you before,

Turn your defiring eyes, and feast them there. Ard curse the parricides that thirit for more.

Thus falling on your knces with me implore, Flives are yours, then of their wiles beware: May this poor land ne'er lose that presence mort! 12}, lay him in your hearts, and guard him

But if there any in this circle be, there',

That come so curft to envy what they fee, teet luis wrongs your real for him improve; From the vain fool that would be great too foon, F. wear a sword will justify your love.

To the dull knave that writ the last lampoon ! With blood ftill ready for your good i' expend,

Let such, as victims to that beauty's fame, And has a hivart that nc'er forgot his friend.

Hang their vile blafted heads, and dic with shame. His duteous loyalty before you lay,

Our mighty bleffing is at last return'd, And learn of him, unmurniuring to obey,

The joy arriv'd for which so long we mourn'd: Tin's what he'as borne, your quiet to restore;

From whom our present peace we expect etzRepent your m. dacfs, and rebel no murre.

creasid, No more let Boutefcus hope to lead petitions,

And all our future generations blest. Scriveners tu be treafurers; pedlars, politicians ;

Time, have care : bring safe the hour of joy, Nor every fool, whofe wife has tript at court,

When some bleft tongue proclaims a royal boy: Puck up a spirit, and turn rebel fort.

And when 'tis born, let nature's hand be strong; in lands where cuckolds niultiply like ours,

Bless him with days of strength, and make them What prince can be too jealous cf their powers,

long; Or can too often think himself alarm'd?

Till charg'd with honours we behold him stand,? They're mal-contents that every where go krmid: Three kingdoms banners waiting his command, And when the horn'd herd's together gre,

His father's conquering sword within his hand : Nothing portends a common-wealti like that. Then th' English lions in the air advance, Cal, cast your idols off, your gods of wood,

And with them roaring nunsic to the dance,
Ere yet Philistines fattén with your blood :

Carry a Quo Warranto into France.
Renounce your priests of Baal with anien faces,
Your Wapping fealls, and your Milc-end high

places.
Nail all your medals on the gallows post,

PROLOGUE
In recompence th' original was lost :
At these, illustrious repentance pay,
In his kind hands your humble offerings lay :

TO MRS. BEHR's
Let royal pardon be by him implor'd,

CITY HEIRESS, 1682. Th' atoning brother of your anger'd lord: He only brings a niedicine fit t' assuage

COW vain have prov'd the labours of the Atage, A people's folly, and rouz'd monarch's rage.

In striving to reclaim a vicious age! An infant prince, yet labouring in the womb, Poets may write, the mischief to impcach;

2 Fated with wondrous harpiness to come,

You care as little what the poets teach, He goes to fetch the mighty bleflings home : As you regard at church what parsons preach,

H Н

}

}

But where such follies and such vices reign, No base defires corrupt his head,
What honest pen has patience to refrain

No fears disturb him in his bed.
At church, in pews, ye most devoutly snore, What then in life, which foon most end,
And here, gut dully drunk, ye come to roar; Can all our rain designs intend!
Ye go to church, to glout and ogle there,

From shore to shore why should we run, And come to meet more lewd convenient here : When none his tiresome self can fhun? With equal zeal ye honour either place,

For baneful care will ftill prevail, And run fo very evenly your race,

And overtake us under fail, Y' improve in wit just as ye do in grace.

'Twill dodge the great man's train behind, It mult be so; some dæmon has pofsest

Out-run the roe, out-fly the wind. Our land, and we have never since been bleft. If then thy soul rejoice to-day, Y' have seen it all, and heard of its renown, Drive far to-morrow's cares away. In reverend shape it Italk'd about the town, In laughter let them all be drown'd: Six yeomen tall attending on its frown.

No perfect good is to be found. Sometimes, with humble note and zealous lore, One mortal feels Fate's sudden blow, 'Twould play the apostolic function o'er :

Another's lingering death comes flow; But heaven have mercy on us when it swore ! And what of life they take from thee, Whene'er it swore, to prove the oaths were true, The gods may give to punish me. Out of his mouth at random halters few

Thy portion is a wealthy stock, Round some unwary neck, by magic thrown, A fertile glebe, a fruitful flock, Though still the cunning devil sav'd its own: Horses and chariots for thy case, For when th' enchantment could no longer last, Rich robes to deck and make thce please, 'The subtlc Pug, most dextrously uncast,

For mc, a little cell I chuse, 1.eft awful form for one more seeming pious, Fit for my mind, fit for my Muse, And in a moment vary'd to defy us ;

Which soft content does best adora, From filken doctor, home-spun Ananias : S Shunning the knaves and fools I scora. Left the lewd court, and did in city fix, Where still by its old arts it plays new tricks, And fills the heads of fools with politicks. This dæmon lately drew in many a guest, To part with zealous guinea for-no feast.

THE COMPLAINT: Who, but the most incorrigible fops, For ever doom'd in dismal cells, call'd shops, To cheat and damn themselves to get their livings,

To a Scotcb Tune. Would lay sweet money out in iham thanksgivings?

I pain, Sham plots you may have paid for o'er and o'er ; No quiet's in my mind, But who e'er paid for a sham trcat before? Though ne'er could be a happier swain, Had you not better sent your offerings all

Were Sylvia less unkind. Hither to us, than Sequestrators' Hall?

For when, as long her chains I've wors,
I being your steward, justice had been done ye ; I ask relief from smart,
I could have entertain'd you worth your money. She only gives nie looks of scorn;

Alas! 'twill break my heart!
My rivals, rich in worldly store,

May offer heaps of gold,
THE SIXTEENTH O DE But surely I a heaven adore,

Too precious to be sold;
Can Sylvia such a coxcomb prize,

For wealth, and not defert;
SECOND BOOK OF HORACE. And my poor fighs and tears despise?

Alas, 'twill break my heart! N storms when clouds the moon do hide,

When, like some panting, hovering dore, Shew me at sea the boldest there,

I for my bliss contend, Who does not wish for quiet here.

And plead the cause of cager love, For quiet, friend, the foldier fights,

She coldly calls me friend. Bears weary marches, sleepless nights,

Ah, Sylvia! thus in vain you strive
For this feeds hard, and lodges cold;

To ad a healer's part,
Which can't be bought with hills of gold. 'Twill keep but lingering pain alive,
Since wealth and power too weak we find,

Alas! and break my heart.
To quell the tumults of the mind;
Or from the monarch's roofs of state

When, on my lonely, pensive bed
Drive thence the cares that round him wait:

I lay me down to rest, Happy the man with little blett,

In hope to calm my raging head, of what his father left poffeft;

And cool my barning breaft,

A SONG.

OF THE

WHAT think ye meant wise Providence, WHAT

wife

Page

A Dialogue between Strephon and Daphne

9 10 II 13 14 ib.

ib.

15

ib. ib.

16 17

ib.

18 ib.

ROSCOMMON'S POEMS.

Page

28

ib. 29

ib. ib.