That, here, his conqu'ring ancestors were nurst,
And Ireland but translated England first.
By this reprisal we regain our right,
Else must the two contending nations fight;
A nobler quarrel for his native earth,
Than what divided Greece for Homer's birth.
To what perfection will our tongue arrive;
How will invention and translation thrive;
When, authors, nobly born, will bear their part,
And not disdain th' inglorious praise of art!
Great gen'rals thus, descending from command,
With their own toil, provoke the soldiers' hand.
How will sweet Ovid's ghost be pleas'd to hear
His fame augmented by an English peer!
How he embellishes his Helen's loves,
Outdoes his softness and his sense improves !
When these translate, and teach translators too,~
Nor firstling kid, nor any vulgar vow,
Should at Apollo's grateful altar stand.
Roscommon writes! To that auspicious hand,
Muse! feed the bull that spurns the yellow sand.
Roscommon; whom both court and campscommend,
True to his prince, and faithful to his friend;
Roscommon; first in fields of honor known, 70
First in the peaceful triumphs of the gown;
Who both Minervas justly makes his own.
Now let the few belov'd by Jove-and they
Whom infus'd Titan form'd of better clay-
On equal terms, with ancient wit engage;
Nor mighty Homer fear, nor sacred Virgil's page:
Our English palace opens wide, in state,
And, without stooping, they may pass the gate.
To her Royal Highness the DUCHESS of YORK, on the memorable Victory gained by the DUKE over the Hollanders, June 3, 1665, and on her Journey afterwards into the North.
HEN, for cur sakes, your hero you resign'd
To swelling seas, and ev'ry faithless wind;
When you releas'd his courage, and set free
A valor fatal to the enemy;
You lodg'd your country's cares within your breast,
(The mansion where soft love should only rest ;)
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 honor gave us what your love denied;
And 'twas for him much easier to subdue
Those foes he fought with, than to part from
That glorious day, which two such navies saw,
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 hush'd, the waves in ranks were cast,
As awfully as when God's people past;
Those yet uncertain to whose sails to blow,
These, where the wealth of nations ought to flow.
Then, with the Duke, your Highness rul'd the day;
While all the brave did his command obey,
The fair and pious under you did pray.
How pow'rful are chaste vows! the wind and tide
You brib'd to combat on the English side.
Thus to your much-lov'd lord you did convey
An unknown succour, sent the nearest way:
New vigour to his wearied arms you brought,
(So Moses was upheld while Israel fought)
While, from afar, we heard the cannon play, 30
Like distant thunder on a shiny day.
For absent friends we were asham❜d to fear,
When we consider'd what you ventur❜d there.
Ships, men, and arms, our country might restore,
But such a leader could supply no more.
With gen'rous thoughts of conquest he did burn,
Yet fought not more to vanquish than return.
Fortune and victory he did pursue,
To bring them, as his slaves, to wait on you.
Thus beauty ravish'd the rewards of fame,
And the fair triumph'd when the brave o'ercame.
Then, as you meant to spread another way—
By land-your conquests, far as his by sea,
Leaving our southern clime, you march'd along
The stubborn North ten thousand Cupids strong,
Like commons the nobility resort,
In crowding heaps, to fill your moving court:
To welcome your approach the vulgar run,
Like some new envoy from the distant sun;
And country beauties by their lovers go,
Blessing themselves, aud wond'ring at the show,
So when the new-born phoenix first is seen,
Her feather'd subjects all adore their queen,
And while she makes her progress through the East,
From ev'ry grove her num'rous train's increas'd;
Each poet of the air her glory sings,
And round him the pleas'd audience clap their wings.
A letter to Sir GEORGE ETHEREGE,
To you who live in chill degree,
As map informs of fifty-three,
And do not, much, for cold atone,
By bringing thither fifty-one ;
Methinks all climes should be alike,
From Tropic e'en to pole Arctique,—
Since you
have such a constitution
As no where suffers diminution.
You can be old-in grave debate,
And young-in love-affairs of state;
And, both to wives and husbands, show
The vigour of a Plenipo.
Like mighty missioner, you come
Ad Partes Infidelium.
A work of wondrous merits sure,
So far to go, so much t'endure;
And all to preach to German dame,
Where sound of Cupid never came.
Less had you done, had you been sent
As far as Drake or Pinto went,
For cloves or nutmegs to the Line-a,
Or c'en for oranges to China:
That had indeed been charity;
Where love-sick ladies helpless lie,
Chapt, and for want of liquor dry.
But you have made your zeal appear
Within the circle of the Bear.
What region of the earth, so dull,
That is not of your labours full ?
Triptolemus (so sung the Nine)
Strew'd plenty from his cart divine,
But, spite of all these fable-makers,
He never sow'd on Almain acres:
No, that was left, by Fate's decree,
To be perform'd and sung by thee.
Thou break'st thro' forms with as much ease
As the French king thro' articles.
In grand affairs thy days are spent
In waging weighty compliment
With such as monarchs represent.
They whom such vast fatigues attend,
Want some soft minutes to unbend,
To shew the world that, now and then,
Great ministers are mortal men.
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