He not from Rome alone, but Greece,
Like Jafon, brought the golden fleece;
To him that language (though to none
Of th' others) as his own was known.
On a ftiff gale (as Flaccus fings)
The Theban fwan extends his wings,
When through th' ætherial clouds he flies,
To the fame pitch our swan doth rife;
Old Pindar's flights by him are reach'd,
When on that gale his wings are stretch'd;}
His fancy and his judgment fuch,
Each to the other feem'd too much,
His fevere judgment (giving law)
His modeft fancy kept in awe :
As rigid husbands jealous are,
When they believe their wives too fair.
His English streams so pure did flow,
As all that faw and tafted know.
But for his Latin vein, fo clear,
Strong, full, and high it doth appear,
That were immortal Virgil here,
Him, for his judge, he would not fear;
Of that great portraiture, so true
A copy, pencil never drew.
My Muse her fong had ended here,
But both their Genii ftraight appear,
Joy and amazement her did strike,
Two twins fhe never faw fo like.
'Twas taught by wife Pythagoras,
One foul might through more bodies pass.
Seeing fuch tranfmigration there,
She thought it not a fable here.
Such a resemblance of all parts,
Life, death, age, fortune, nature, arts;
Then lights her torch at theirs, to tell,
And fhew the world this parallel:
Fixt and contemplative their looks,
Still turning over Nature's books:
Their works chafte, moral, and divine,
Where profit and delight combine;
They, gilding dirt, in noble verfe
Rustic philofophy rehearse.
When heroes, gods, or god-like kings,
They praise, on their exalted wings
To the celestial orbs they climb,
And with th' harmonious spheres keep time:
Nor did their actions fall behind
Their words, but with like candour shin'd;
Each drew fair characters, yet none
Of these they feign'd, excels their own.
Both by two generous princes lov'd,
Who knew, and judg'd what they approv❜d.
Yet having each the fame defire,
Both from the busy throng retire.
Their bodies, to their minds refign'd,
Car'd not to propagate their kind :
Yet though both fell before their hour,
Time on their off-spring hath no power,
Nor fire nor fate their bays fhall blast,
Nor death's dark veil their day o'ercast.
A SPEECH
To the tune of, "I went from England.”
UT will you now to peace incline,
And languish in the main design,
And leave us in the lurch?
I would not monarchy destroy,
But as the only way t' enjoy
The ruin of the church.
Is not the bishops' bill deny'd,
And we still threaten'd to be try'd?
You fee the king embraces
Those counfels he approv'd before:
Nor doth he promife, which is more,
That we fhall have their places.
Did I for this bring in the Scot? (For 'tis no fecret now) the plot
Was Saye's and mine together:
Did I for this return again,
And spend a winter there in vain,
Once more t' invite them hither?
Though more our money than our caufe
Their brotherly affistance draws,
My labour was not loft.
At my return I brought you thence
Neceffity, their strong pretence,
And these shall quit the coft.
Did I for this my country bring
To help their knight against their king,
And raise the firft fedition ?
Though I the business did decline,
Yet I contriv'd the whole design,
And fent them their petition.
So many nights spent in the city
In that Invifible Committee,
The wheel that governs all.
From thence the change in church and state, And all the mischief bears the date
From Haberdashers' Hall.
Did we force Ireland to despair,
Upon the king to cast the war,
To make the world abhor him,
Because the rebels us'd his name?
Though we ourselves can do the fame,
While both alike were for him.
Then the fame fire we kindled here
With what was given to quench it there,
And wifely loft that nation :
To do as crafty beggars ufe,
To maim themselves, thereby t' abufe
The fimple man's compaffion.
Have I so often past between
Windfor and Westminster, unseen,
And did myself divide :
To keep his excellence in awe,
And give the parliament the law?
For they knew none befide.
Did I for this take pains to teach
Our zealous ignorants to preach,
And did their lungs infpire;
Gave them their texts, fhew'd them their parts,
And taught them all their little arts,
To fling abroad the fire?
Sometimes to beg, fometimes to threaten,
And fay the cavaliers are beaten,
To ftroke the people's cars;
Then ftraight when victory grows cheap,
And will no more advance the heap,
To raise the price of fears.
And now the books, and now the bells,
And now our act the preacher tells,
To edify the people;
All our divinity is news,
And we have made of equal use
The pulpit and the steeple.
And fhall we kindle all this flame
Only to put it out again,
And must we now give o'er,
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