Defame those heroes who their yoke refuse,
And blast that honesty they cannot use ;
The ftrength and safety of the crown destroy,
And the king's power against himself employ;
Affront his friends, deprive him of the brave;
Bereft of thefe, he muft become their flave.
Men, like our money, come the most in play,
For being bafe, and of a coarfe allay.
The richest medals, and the pureft gold,
Of native value, and exactest mould,
By worth conceal'd, in private closets shine,
For vulgar ufe too precious and too fine;
Whilft tin and copper with new ftamping bright,
Coin of bafe metal, counterfeit and light,
Do all the business of the nation's turn,
Rais'd in contempt, us'd and employ'd in scorn ;
So fhining virtues are for courts too bright,
Whofe guilty actions fly the searching light :
Rich in themselves, difdaining to afpire,
Great without pomp, they willingly retire;
Give place to fools, whofe rafh misjudging sense
Increases the weak measures of their prince;
They blindly and implicitly run on,
Nor fee thofe dangers which the others fhun:
Who, flow to act, each business duly weigh,
Advife with freedom, and with care obey ;
With wisdom fatal to their intereft, ftrive
To make their monarch lov'd, and nation thrive.
Such have no place where priests and women reign,
Who love fierce drivers, and a loofer rein.
Occafioned by his Majefty's Victory in Ireland.
WHAT! fhall the king the nation's genius raife,
And make us rival our great Edward's days;
Yet not one Mufe, worthy a conqueror's name,
Attend his triumphs, and record his fame ?
Oh, Dorset you alone this fault can mend,
The Mufes' darling, confident, and friend;
The poets are your charge, and, if unfit,
You should be fin'd to furnish abler wit;
Oblig'd to quit your ease, and draw again,
To paint the greatest hero, the best pen.
A hero, who thus early doth out-fhine
The ancient honours of his glorious line;
And, foaring more fublimely to renown,
The memory of their pious triumphs drown;
Whose actions are deliver'd o'er to fame,
As types and figures of his greater name.
When fate fome mighty genius has defign'd,
For the relief and wonder of mankind,
Nature takes time to answer the intent,
And climbs, by flow degrees, the steep afcent:
She toils and labours with the growing weight,
And watches carefully the steps of fate;
Till all the feeds of providence unite,
To fet the hero in a happy light;
Then, in a lucky and propitious hour,
Exerts her force, and calls forth all her power.-
In Naffau's race fhe made this long essay;
Heroes and patriots prepar'd the way,
And promis'd, in their dawn, this brighter day;
A public fpirit diftinguifh'd all the line,
Succeffive virtues in each branch did fhine,
Till this last glory rofe, and crown'd the great design.
Bleft be his name! and peaceful lie his grave,
Who durft his native foil, loft Holland, fave!
But William's genius takes a wider scope,
And gives the injur'd, in all kingdoms, hope;
Born to fubdue infulting tyrants' rage,
The ornament and terror of the age;
The refuge where afflicted nations find
Relief from thofe oppreffors of mankind,
Whom laws restrain not, and no oaths can bind.
Him, their deliverer Europe does confefs,
All tongues extol, and all religions blefs;
The Po, the Danube, Boetis, and the Rhine,
United in his praise, their wonder join ;
While, in the public cause, he takes the field,
And fhelter'd nations fight behind his fhield.
His foes themselves dare not applause refuse :
And fhall fuch actions want a faithful Mufe?
Poets have this to boaft; without their aid,
The fresheft laurels nipp'd by malice, fade,
And virtue to oblivion is betray'd:
The proudest honours have a narrow date,
Unless they vindicate their names from fate.
But who is equal to fuftain the part?
Dryden has numbers, but he wants a heart;
Injoin'd a penance, which is too fevere
For playing once the fool, to perfevere.
Others, who knew the trade, have laid it down;
And, looking round, I find you stand alone.
How, Sir, can you, or any English Mufe,
Our country's fame, our monarch's arms, refufe?
'Tis not my want of gratitude, but skill,
Makes me decline what I can ne'er fulfil.
I cannot fing of conquefts as I ought,
And my breath fails to swell a lofty note.
I know my compass, and my Mufe's size,
She loves to fport and play, but dares not rife ;
Idly affects, in this familiar way,
In eafy numbers loosely to convey,
What mutual friendship would at distance say.
Poets affume another tone and voice,
When victory's their theme, and arms their choice.
To follow heroes in the chace of fame,
Afks force and heat, and fancy wing'd with flame,
What words can paint the royal warrior's face?
What colours can the figure boldly raise,
When, cover'd o'er with comely duft and smoke,
He pierc'd the foe, and thickest squadrons broke?
And with this beauteous lady you may gain
(This lady, that alone
Of greater value is than any throne)
Without that rapine, guilt, and hate,
By a calm and even fate,
That empire, which they did so short a while maintain.
Occafioned by a Poftfcript of Penn's Letter.
OT all the threats or favour of a crown,
A prince's whifper, or a tyrant's frown,
Can awe the fpirit, or allure the mind,
Of him, who to ftrict honour is inclin'd.
Though all the pomp and pleafure that does wait
On public places, and affairs of state,
Should fondly court him to be bafe and great;
With even paffions, and with fettled face,
He would remove the harlot's falfe embrace.
Though all the ftorms and tempefts fhould arife,
That church-magicians in their cells advice,
And from their fettled bafis nations tear,
He would unmov'd the mighty ruin bear;
Secure in innocence contemn them all,
And decently array'd in honours fall.
For this, brave Shrewsbury and Lumley's name
Shall ftand the foremost in the lift of faine;
Who first with steady minds the current broke,
d to the fuppliant monarch boldly fpoke;
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