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Or must it be reserv'd to thought alone? Such was the Sacred Tetragrammaton. Things worthy silence must not be reveal'd: Thus the true Name of Rome was kept conceal'd, 199 To shun the Spells, and Sorceries of those Who durst her Infant Majesty oppose. But when his tender strength in time shall rise

To dare ill Tongues, and fascinating eyes; This Isle, which hides the little Thund'rer's Fame,

Shall be too narrow to contain his Name: Th' Artillery of Heav'n shall make him known;

" Crete could not hold the God, when Jove was grown.

x

As Joves Increase, who from his Brain was born,

Whom Arms and Arts did equally adorn, Free of the Breast was bred, whose milky

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Minerva's Name to Venus had debas'd;
So this Imperial Babe rejects the Food
That mixes Monarchs with Plebeian blood:
Food that his inborn Courage might con-
troul,

Extinguish all the Father in his Soul,

And for his Estian Race, and Saxon Strain, Might re-produce some second Richard's Reign.

Mildness he shares from both his Parents blood:

But Kings too tame are despicably good :
Be this the Mixture of this Regal Child, 220
By Nature Manly, but by Virtue Mild.

Thus far the Furious Transport of the
News

Had to Prophetick Madness fir'd the
Muse;

Madness ungovernable, uninspir'd,
Swift to foretel whatever she desir'd ;
Was it for me the dark Abyss to tread,
And read the Book which Angels cannot
read?

Jehovah, or the name of God unlawful to be pronounc'd by the Jews.

Some Authors say, that the true name of Rome was kept a secret; ne hostes incantamentis Deos clicerent.

u Candie where Jupiter was born and bred secretly.

x Pallas, or Minerva; said by the Poets, to have been bred up by hand.

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Thus Mercy stretches out her hand, and

saves

Desponding Peter sinking in the Waves.
As when a sudden Storm of Hail and Rain
Beats to the ground the yet unbearded
Grain.
260
Think not the hopes of Harvest are destroy'd
On the flat Field, and on the naked void;
The light unloaded stem, from tempestfree'd,
Will raise the youthful honours of his head;
And, soon restor❜d by native vigour, bear
The timely product of the bounteous Year.
Nor yet conclude all fiery Trials past,
For Heav'n will exercise us to the last;
Sometimes will check us in our full carreer,
With doubtful blessings, and with mingled
fear;
270

That, still depending on his daily Grace,
His every mercy for an alms may pass ;
With sparing hands will Dyet us to good;
Preventing Surfeits of our pampered blood.
So feeds the Mother-bird her craving young
With little Morsels, and delays 'em long.

True, this last blessing was a Royal Feast, But where's the Wedding Garment on the Guest ?

Our Manners, as Religion were a Dream, Are such as teach the Nations to Blaspheme. In Lusts we wallow, and with Pride we swell, 281

And Injuries, with Injuries repell;
Prompt to Revenge, not daring to forgive,
Our Lives unteach the Doctrine we believe;
Thus Israel Sind, impenitently hard,
And vainly thought the present Ark their
Guard;

But when the haughty Philistims appear,
They fled abandoned to their Foes and

fear;

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From your mild Heav'n to rule our rugged
Sphere,

Beyond the Sunny walks and circling Year.
You, who your Native Clymate have bereft
Of all the Virtues, and the Vices left;
Whom Piety, and Beauty make their boast,
Though Beautiful is well in Pious lost; 310
So lost as Star-light is dissolv'd away,
And melts into the brightness of the day,
Or Gold about the Regal Diadem,
Lost to improve the lustre of the Gem.
What can we add to your Triumphant Day?
Let the Great Gift the beautious Giver pay
For shou'd our thanks awake the rising
Sun,

And lengthen, as his latest shadows run That, tho' the longest day, wou'd soon, too soon, be done.

Let Angels voices with their harps conspire, But keep th' auspicious Infant from the Quire; 321

Late let him sing above, and let us know No sweeter Musick than his Cryes below.

Nor can I wish to you, Great Monarch,

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Of all the Greeks, 'twas but one Hero's due,
And, in him, Plutarch Prophecy'd of you.
A Prince's favours but on few can fall,
But Justice is a Virtue shar'd by all.

Some Kings the name of Conq'rors have assum'd, 339 Some to be Great, some to be Gods presum'd; But boundless pow'r and arbitrary Lust Made Tyrants still abhor the Name of Just; They shun'd the praise this Godlike Virtue gives,

And fear'd a Title that reproach'd their Lives.

The Pow'r from which all Kings derive their state,

Whom they pretend, at least, to imitate,
Is equal both to punish and reward;

d Aristides, see his Life in Plutarch.

For few wou'd love their God, unless they fear'd.

350

Resistless Force and Immortality
Make but a Lame, Imperfect Deity;
Tempests have force unbounded to destroy,
And Deathless Being ev'n the Damn'd enjoy,
And yet Heav'ns Attributes both last and
first,

One without life, and one with life accurst;
But Justice is Heav'ns self, so strictly He
That cou'd it fail, the God-head cou'd not be.
This Virtue is your own; but Life and State
Are One to Fortune subject, One to Fate:
Equal to all, you justly frown or smile,
Nor Hopes, nor Fears your steady Hand
beguile;

360

Your self our Ballance hold, the Worlds our Isle.

361 Worlds] Worlds, 1688.

EPISTLES AND

COMPLIMENTARY ADDRESSES.

TO JOHN HODDESDON,

ON HIS DIVINE EPIGRAMS.

grace

To look the sunne of righteousnesse ith' face.
What may we hope, if thou go'st on thus fast!
Scriptures at first, Enthusiasmes at last!
Thou hast commenc'd, betimes, a saint: go

THou hast inspired me with thy soul, and I, ¦ And, making heaven thy aim, hast had the
Who ne're before could ken of poetry,
Am grown so good proficient I can lend
A line in commendation of my friend;
Yet 'tis but of the second hand; if ought
There be in this, 'tis from thy fancy brought.
Good thief who dar'st Prometheus-like
aspire,

And fill thy poems with Celestiall fire, Enliven'd by these sparks divine, their rayes

Adde a bright lustre to thy crown of bayes.
Young eaglet, who thy nest thus soon for-
sook,

So lofty and divine a course hast took
As all admire, before the down begin
To peep, as yet, upon thy smoother Chin;

II

on,

Mingling Diviner streams with Helicon, 20
That they who view what Epigrams here be,
May learn to make like, in just praise of thee.
Reader, I've done, nor longer will withhold
Thy greedy eyes; looking on this pure gold
Thou'lt know adult'rate copper, which, like
this,

Will onely serve to be a foil to his.

J. DRYDEN, of Trin. C.

To my Honored Friend SIR ROBERT HOWARD
On his Excellent Poems.

As there is Musick uninform'd by Art
In those wild Notes, which with a merry heart
The Birds in unfrequented shades expresse,
Who better taught at home, yet please us
lesse :

So in your Verse, a native sweetnesse dwells,
Which shames Composure, and its Art excells.
Singing no more can your soft numbers grace,
Then Paint adds charms unto a beauteous
Face.

Yet as when mighty Rivers gently creep,
Their even calmnesse does suppose them
deep,

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Such is your Muse: no Metaphor swell'd high
With dangerous boldnesse lifts her to the sky;
Those mounting Fancies, when they fall again,
Shew sand and dirt at bottom do remain.
So firm a strength and yet withall so sweet,
Did never but in Sampson's Riddle meet.

TO JOHN HODDESDON. Text from the original prefixt to Hoddesdon's Sion and Parnassus, 1650. 16 ith'] Editors wrongly give i' the or in the

'Tis strange each line so great a weight
should bear,

And yet no signe of toil, no sweat appear.
Either your Art hides Art, as Stoicks feign
Then least to feel, when most they suffer pain;
And we, dull souls, admire but cannot see 21
What hidden springs within the Engine be
Or 'tis some happiness that still pursues
Each act and motion of your gracefull Muse.
Or is it Fortune's work, that in your head
The curious Net that is for
fancies spread,
Lets through its Meshes every
meaner thought

* Rele Mirabile.

While rich Idea's there are only caught?
Sure that's not all; this is a piece too fair
To be the child of Chance, and not of Care.

TO SIR ROBERT HOWARD. Text from the original of 1661.

8 Then] The editors change the spelling to Than
27 Lets] Let's 1661.
28 caught?] caught. 1661.

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Your easier odes, which for delight were penn'd,

Yet our instruction make their second end; We're both enrich'd and pleas'd, like them that woo

At once a Beauty and a Fortune too.
Of Morall Knowledge Poesie was Queen,
And still she might, had wanton wits not
been;

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Page,

tions on Statius,

That, since in that dark night we needs must stray,

Who like ill Guardians liv'd themselves at We are at least misled in pleasant way.

large,

And, not content with that, debauch'd their charge.

Like some brave Captain, your successful Pen
Restores the Exil'd to her Crown again; 50
And gives us hope that having seen the days
When nothing flourish'd but Fanatique Bays,
All will at length in this opinion rest,
"A sober Prince's Government is best.
This is not all; your Art the way has found
To make improvement of the richest ground,
Thatsoil which those immortal Lawrells bore,
That once the sacred Maro's temples wore.
Elisa's griefs, are so expresst by you,
They are too eloquent to have been true. 60
Had she so spoke, Æneas had obey'd
What Dido rather then what Jove had said.
If funerall Rites can give a Ghost repose,
Your Muse so justly had discharged those,
Elisa's shade may now its wandring cease,
And claim a title to the fields of peace.
But if Æneas be oblig'd, no lesse
Your kindnesse great Achilles doth confesse,
Who, dress'd by Statius in too bold a look,
Did ill become those Virgin's Robes he took.

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"This Work, by merit first of Fame secure, 'Is likewise happy in its Geniture: "For, since 'tis born when Charls ascends th' Throne,

"It shares at once his Fortune and its own.

JOHN DRIDEN.

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