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Godlike his courage seem'd, whom nor delight
Could soften, nor the face of Death affright:
Next to the power of making tempests cease,
Was in that storm to have so calm a peace.
Great Maro could no greater tempest feign,
When the loud winds, usurping on the main
For angry Juno, labour'd to destroy
The hated relics of confounded Troy:
His bold Æneas, on like billows tost
In a tall ship, and all his country lost,
Dissolves with fear; and both his hands upheld,
Proclaims them happy whom the Greeks had quell'd
In honourable fight: our hero set
In a small shallop, Fortune in his debt,
So near a hope of crowns and sceptres, more
Than ever Priam, when he flourish'd, wore;
His loins yet full of ungot princes, all
His glory in the bud, lets nothing fall
That argues fear: if any thought annoys
The gallant youth, 'tis love's untasted joys;
And dear remembrance of that fatal glance,
For which he lately pawn'd his heart in France;
Where he had seen a brighter nymph than she 2,
That sprung out of his present foe, the sea.
That noble ardour, more than mortal fire,
The conquer'd ocean could not make expire;
Nor angry Thetis raise her waves above
Th' heroic prince's courage, or his love:
"Twas indignation, and not fear, he felt,

The shrine should perish where that image dwelt.
Ah, Love forbid! the noblest of thy train
Should not survive to let her know his pain:
Who, nor his peril minding, nor his flame,
Is entertain'd with some less serious game,
Among the bright nymphs of the Gallic court;
All highly born, obsequious to her sport:
They roses seem, which, in their early pride,
But half reveal, and half their beauties hide:
She the glad morning, which her beams does throw
Upon their smiling leaves, and gilds them so:
Like bright Aurora, whose refulgent ray
Foretells the fervour of ensuing day;
And warns the shepherd with his flocks retreat
To leafy shadows, from the threaten'd heat.

From Cupid's string, of many shafts that fled, Wing'd with those plumes which noble Fame had shed,

As through the wond'ring world she flew, and told
Of his adventures, haughty, brave, and bold,
Some had already touch'd the royal maid,
But Love's first summons seldom are obey'd:
Light was the wound, the prince's care unknown,
She might not, would not, yet reveal her own.
His glorious name had so possest her ears,
That with delight those antique tales she hears
Of Jason, Theseus, and such worthies old,
As with his story best resemblance hold.
And now she views, as on the wall it hung,
What old Musæus so divinely sung :
Which art with life and love did so inspire,
That she discerns and favours that desire,
Which there provokes th' adventurous youth to
swim,

And in Leander's danger pities him;
Whose not new love alone, but fortune, seeks
To frame his story like that amorous Greek's.
For from the stern of some good ship appears
A friendly light, which moderates their fears:

2 Venus.

New courage from reviving hope they take,
And, climbing o'er the waves, that taper make,
On which the hope of all their lives depends,
As his on that fair hero's hand extends.
The ship at anchor, like a fixed rock, [knock;
Breaks the proud billows which her large sides
Whose rage, restrained, foaming higher swells;
And from her port the weary barge repels:
Threatening to make her, forced out again,
Repeat the dangers of the troubled main.
Twice was the cable hurl'd in vain; the fates
Would not be moved for our sister states;
For England is the third successful throw,
And then the genius of that land they know,
Whose prince must be (as their own books devise)
Lord of the scene, where now his danger lies.

Well sung the Roman bard; "all human things
Of dearest value hang on slender strings."
O see the then sole hope, and in design
Of Heaven our joy, supported by a line!
Which for that instant was Heaven's care above,
The chain that's fixed to the throne of Jove,
On which the fabric of our world depends;
One link dissolv'd, the whole creation ends.

OF HIS MAJESTY'S RECEIVING THE NEWS OF THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM'S DEATH. So earnest with thy God! Can no new care, No sense of danger, interrupt thy prayer? The sacred wrestler, till a blessing given, Quits not his hold, but halting conquers heaven; Nor was the stream of thy devotion stopp'd, When from the body such a limb was lopp'd, As to thy present state was no less maim; Though thy wise choice has since repair'd the same. Bold Homer durst not so great virtue feign In his best pattern 3: of Patroclus slain, With such amazement as weak mothers use, And frantic gesture, he receives the news. Yet fell his darling by th' impartial chance Of war, impos'd by royal Hector's lance: Thine in full peace, and by a vulgar hand Torn from thy bosom, left his high command. The famous painter 4 could allow no place For private sorrow in a prince's face: Yet, that his piece might not exceed belief, He cast a veil upon supposed grief. 'Twas want of such a precedent as this, Made the old heathen frame their gods amiss. Their Phoebus should not act a fonder part For the fair boy, than he did for his hart: Nor blame for Hyacinthus' fate his own, That kept from him wish'd death, hadst thou been He that with thine shall weigh good David's deeds, Shall find his passion, nor his love, exceeds: He curst the mountains where his brave friend dy'd, But let false Ziba with his heir divide: Where thy immortal love to thy blest friends, Like that of heaven, upon their seed descends. Such huge extremes inhabit thy great mind, God-like, unmov'd; and yet, like woman, kind! Which of the ancient poets had not brought Our Charles's pedigree from heaven; and taught How some bright dame, comprest by mighty Jove, Produc'd this mix'd divinity and love?

3 Achilles. • Timanthes.

1

[known.

s Cyparissus.

TO THE

KING ON HIS NAVY.

WHERE'ER thy navy spreads her canvass wings,
Homage to thee, and peace to all, she brings:
The French and Spaniard, when thy flags appear,
Forget their hatred, and consent to fear.
So Jove from Ida did both hosts survey,
And, when he pleas'd to thunder, part the fray.
Ships heretofore in seas like fishes sped,
The mightiest still upon the smallest fed:
Thou on the deep imposest nobler laws;
And by that justice hast remov'd the cause
Of those rude tempests, which, for rapine sent,
Too oft, alas! involv'd the innocent.

Now shall the ocean, as thy Thames, be free
From both those fates, of storms and piracy.
But we most happy, who can fear no force
But winged troops, or Pegasean horse:
'Tis not so hard for greedy foes to spoil
Another nat on, as to touch our soil.
Should Nature's self invade the world again,
And o'er the centre spread the liquid main,
Thy power were safe; and her destructive hand
Would but enlarge the bounds of thy command:
Thy dreadful fleet would style thee lord of all,
And ride in triumph o'er the drowned ball:
Those towers of oak o'er fertile plains might go,
And visit mountains, where they once did grow.

The world's restorer once could not indure,
That finish'd Babel should those men secure,
Whose pride design'd that fabric to have stood
Above the reach of any second flood:
To thee his chosen, more indulgent, he
Dares trust such power with so much piety.

ON THE

TAKING OF SALLEE.

OF Jason, Theseus, and such worthies old,
Light seem the tales antiquity has told:
Such beasts, and mousters, as their force opprest,
Some places only, and some times, infest.
Sallee, that scorn'd all power and laws of men,
Goods with their owners hurrying to their den;
And future ages threatening with a rude
And savage race, successively renew'd:
Their king despising with rebellious pride,
And foes profest to all the world beside:
This pest of mankind gives our hero fame,
And through th' obliged world dilates his name.
The prophet once to cruel Agag said,
As thy fierce sword has mothers childless made,
So shall the sword make thine: and with that word
He hew'd the man in pieces with his sword.
Just Charles like measure has return'd to these,
Whose pagan hands had stain'd the troubled seas:
With ships, they made the spoiled merchants mourn;
With ships, their city and themselves are torn.
One squadron of our winged castles sent
O'erthrew their fort, and all their navy rent:
For, not content the dangers to increase,
And act the part of tempests in the seas;

Like hungry wolves, those pirates from our shore
Whole flocks of sheep, and ravish'd cattle, bore.
Safely they might on other nations prey;
Fools to provoke the sovereign of the sea!

Mad Cacus so, whom like ill fate persuades,
The herd of fair Alcmene's seed invades ;
Who, for revenge, and mortals' glad relief,
Sack'd the dark cave, and crush'd that horrid thief.
Morocco's monarch, wondering at this fact,
Save that his presence his affairs exact,
Had come in person, to have seen and known
The injur'd world's avenger and his own.
Hither he sends the chief among his peers,
Who in his bark proportion'd presents bears,
To the renown'd for piety and force,

Poor captives manumis'd, and matchless horse.

UPON HIS

MAJESTY'S REPAIRING OF ST. PAUL'S.

THAT Shipwreck'd vessel, which th' apostle bore,
Scarce suffer'd more upon Melita's shore,
Than did his temple in the sea of time;
Our nation's glory, and our nation's crime.
When the first monarch of this happy isle,
Mov'd with the ruin of so brave a pile,
This work of cost and piety begun,
To be accomplish'd by his glorious son:
Who all that came within the ample thought
Of his wise sire has to perfection brought.
He, like Amphion, makes those quarries leap
Into fair figures from a confus'd heap:
For in his art of regiment is found

A power, like that of harmony in sound

Those antique minstrels sure were Charles-like

kings,

Cities their lutes, and subjects' hearts their strings,
On which with so divine a hand they strook,
Consent of motion from their breath they took:
So, all our minds with his conspire to grace
The Gentiles' great apostle; and deface
Those state-obscuring sheds, that, like a chain,
Seem'd to confine and fetter him again:
Which the glad saint shakes off at his command,
As once the viper from his sacred hand.
So joys the aged oak, when we divide
The creeping ivy from his injur'd side.

Ambition rather would affect the fame

Of some new structure to have borne her name:
Two distant virtues in one act we find,
The modesty, and greatness, of his mind:
Which, not content to be above the rage
And injury of all-impairing age,

In its own worth secure, doth higher climb,
And things half swallow'd, from the jaws of time
Reduce: an earnest of his grand design,
To frame no new church, but the old refine:
Which, spouse-like, may with comely grace com-
More than by force of argument or hand. [mane
For, doubtful reason few can apprehend:
And war brings ruin, where it should amend:
But beauty, with a bloodless conquest, finds
A welcome sovereignty in rudest minds.

Not aught, which Sheba's wondering queen beheld
Amongst the works of Solomon, excell'd
His ships and building; emblems of a heart,
Large both in magnanimity and art.

While the propitious heavens this work attend, The showers long wanted they forget to send

❝ King James I.

As if they meant to make it understood
Of more importance than our vital food.
The sun, which riseth to salute the quire
Already finish'd, setting shall admire
How private bounty cou'd so far extend:
The king built all; but Charles the western-end ;
So proud a fabric to devotion giv'n,
At once it threatens, and obliges, heaven!
Laomedon, that had the gods in pay,
Neptune, with him 7 that rules the sacred day,
Could no such structure raise: Troy wall'd so high,
Th' Atrides might as well have forc'd the sky,

Glad, though amazed, are our neighbour kings,
To see such power employ'd in peaceful things:
They list not urge it to the dreadful field;
The task is easier to destroy, than build.

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OCCASIONED UPON SIGHT OF HER MAJESTY'S PICture. WELL fare the hand! which to our humble sight Presents that beauty, which the dazzling light Of royal splendour hides from weaker eyes, And all access, save by this art, denies. Here only we have courage to behold This beam of glory: here we dare unfold In numbers thus the wonders we conceive: The gracious image, seeming to give leave, Propitious stands, vouchsafing to be seen; And by our muse saluted, mighty queen: In whom th' extremes of power and beauty move, The queen of Britain, and the queen of Love!

As the bright Sun (to which we owe no sight Of equal glory to your beauty's light) Is wisely plac'd in so sublime a seat, T'extend his light, and moderate his heat: So, happy 'tis you move in such a sphere, As your high majesty with awful fear In human breasts might qualify that fire, Which, kindled by those eyes, had flamed higher, Than when the scorched world like hazard run, By the approach of the ill-guided sun.

No other nymphs have title to men's hearts, But as their meanness larger hope imparts: Your beauty more the fondest lover moves With admiration, than his private loves; With admiration! for a pitch so high (Save sacred Charles's) never love durst fly. Heaven, that preferr'd a sceptre to your hand, Favour'd our freedom more than your command: Beauty had crown'd you, and you must have been The whole world's mistress, other than a queen. All had been rivals, and you might have spar'd, Or kill'd, and tyranniz'd, without a guard. No power achiev'd, either by arms or birth, Equals Love's empire, both in heaven and earth: Such eyes as your's, on Jove himself have thrown As bright and fierce a lightning as his own: Witness our Jove, prevented by their flame In his swift passage to th' Hesperian dame: When, like a lion, finding, in his way To some intended spoil, a fairer prey; The royal youth, pursuing the report Of beauty, found it in the Gallic court:

7 Apollo.

There public care with private passion fought
A doubtful combat in his noble thought:
Should he confess his greatness and his love,
And the free faith of your great brother 8 prove;
With his Achates 9, breaking through the cloud
Of that disguise, which did their graces shroud;
And mixing with those gallants at the ball,
Dance with the ladies, and outshine them all?
Or on his journey o'er the mountains ride?—
So, when the fair Leucothoë he espy'd,
To check his steeds impatient Phoebus yearn'd,
Though all the world was in his course concern'd.
What may hereafter her meridian do,
Whose dawning beauty warm'd his bosom so?
Not so divine a flame, since deathless gods
Forbore to visit the defil'd abodes

Of men, in any mortal breast did burn;
Nor shall, till piety and they return.

OF THE QUEEN.

THE lark, that shuns on lofty boughs to build
Her humble nest, lies silent in the field:
But if (the promise of a cloudless day)
Aurora smiling bids her rise and play;
Then strait she shows, 'twas not for want of voice,
Or power to climb, she made so low a choice:
Singing she mounts, her airy wings are stretch'd
Tow'rds heaven, as if from heaven her note she
So we, retiring from the busy throng, [fetch'd.
Use to restrain th' ambition of our song;
But since the light, which now informs our age,
Breaks from the court, indulgent to her rage;
Thither my muse, like bold Prometheus, flies,
To light her torch at Gloriana's eyes.

[soul,

Those sovereign beams, which heal the wounded And all our cares, but once beheld, control! There the poor lover, that has long endur'd Some proud nymph's scorn, of his fond passion cur'd, Fares like the man, who first upon the ground A glowworm spy'd; supposing he had found A moving diamond, a breathing stone; For life it had, and like those jewels shone: He held it dear, till, by the springing day Inform'd, he threw the worthless worm away.

She saves the lover, as we gangrenes stay,
By cutting hope, like a lopt limb, away:
This makes her bleeding patients to accuse
High Heaven, and these expostulations use.
"Could Nature then no private woman grace,
Whom we might dare to love, with such a face,
Such a complexion, and so radiant eyes,
Such lovely motion, and such sharp replies?
Beyond our reach, and yet within our sight,
What envious power has plac'd this glorious light?”
Thus, in a starry night fond children cry
For the rich spangles, that adorn the sky;
Which, though they shine for ever fixed there,
With light and influence relieve us here.
All her affections are to one inclin'd;
Her bounty and compassion, to mankind:
To whom, while she so far extends her grace,
She makes but good the promise of her face:
For mercy has, could mercy's self be seen,
No sweeter look than this propitious queen.
Such guard, and comfort, the distressed find
From her large power, and from her larger mind,

8 Louis XIII, king of France.
9 Duke of Buckingham.

That whom ill fate would ruin, it prefers;
For all the miserable are made her's.
So the fair tree, whereon the eagle builds,
Poor sheep from tempests, and their shepherds,
The royal bird possesses all the boughs, [shields:
But shade and shelter to the flock allows.
Joy of our age, and safety of the next!
For which so oft thy fertile womb is vext:
Nobly contented, for the public good,
To waste thy spirits, and diffuse thy blood:
What vast hopes may these islands entertain,
Where monarchs, thus descended, are to reign!
Led by commanders of so fair a line,
Our seas no longer shall our power confine.

A brave romance, who would exactly frame,
First brings his knight from some immortal dame :
And then a weapon, and a flaming shield,
Bright as his mother's eyes, he makes him wield;
None might the mother of Achilles be,
But the fair pearl', and glory of the sea:
The man to whom great Maro gives such fame,
From the high bed of heavenly Venus came:
And our next Charles, whom all the stars design
Like wonders to accomplish, spring from thine.

THE APOLOGY OF SLEEP,

FOR NOT APPROACHING THE LADY, WHO CAN DO ANY
THING BUT SLEEP WHEN SHE PLEASETH.

My charge it is those breaches to repair,
Which nature takes from sorrow, toil, and care:
Rest to the limbs, and quiet, I confer

On troubled minds: but nought can add to her,
Whom Heaven, and her transcendent thoughts, have

plac'd

Above those ills which wretched mortals taste.

Bright as the deathless gods, and happy, she
From all that may infringe delight is free:
Love at her royal feet his quiver lays,
And not his mother with more haste obeys.
Such real pleasures, such true joys suspense,
What dream can I present to recompense?

Should I with lightning fill her awful hand,
And make the clouds seem all at ber command:
Or place her in Olympus' top, a guest
Among th' immortals, who with nectar feast:
That power would seem, that entertainment, short
Of the true splendour of her present court:
Where all the joys, and all the glories, are,
Of three great kingdoms, sever'd from the care.
I, that of fumes and humid vapours made,
Ascending do the seat of sense invade,
No cloud in so serene a mansion find,
To overcast her ever-shining mind:
Which holds resemblance with those spotless skies,
Where flowing Nilus want of rain supplies;
That crystal heaven, where Phoebus never shrouds
His golden beams, nor wraps his face in clouds.
But what so hard which numbers cannot force?
So stoops the moon, and rivers change their course.
The bold Mæonian 3 made me dare to steep
Jove's dreadful temples in the dew of sleep.
And, since the muses do invoke my power,
I shall no more decline that sacred bower,
Where Gloriana, their great mistress, lies:
But, gently taming those victorious eyes,

1 Thetis. 2 Æneas.. 3 Homer.

Charm all her senses; till the joyful Sun
Without a rival half his course has run:
Who, while my hand that fairer light confines,
May boast himself the brightest thing that shines.

PUERPERIUM.

YE gods, that have the power
To trouble and compose
All that's beneath your bower,

Calm silence on the seas, on earth, impose.
Fair Venus, in thy soft arms

The god of Rage confine;

For thy whispers are the charms

Which only can divert his fierce design.

What though he frown, and to tumult do incline? Thou the flame,

Kindled in his breast, canst tame,

With that snow, which, unmelted, lies on thine. Great goddess, give this thy sacred island rest, Make heaven smile,

That no storm disturb us, while

Thy chief care, our halcyon, builds her nest.
Great Gloriana! fair Gloriana!.

Bright as high heaven is, and fertile as earth;
Whose beauty relieves us,
Whose royal bed gives us
Both glory and peace:

Our present joy, and all our hopes increase,

TO THE

QUEEN-MOTHER OF FRANCE,

UPON HER LANDING.

GREAT queen of Europe! whence thy offspring wears
All the chief crowns; where princes are thy heirs;
As welcome thou to sea-girt Britain's shore,
As erst Latona (who fair Cynthia bore)
To Delos was: here shines a nymph as bright,
By thee disclos'd, with like increase of light.
Why was her joy in Belgia confin'd?

Or why did you so much regard the wind?
Scarce could the ocean (though inrag'd) have tost
Thy sovereign bark, but where th' obsequious coast
Pays tribute to thy bed: Rome's conquering hand
More vanquish'd nations under her command
Never reduc'd: here Berecynthia so
Among her deathless progeny did go:
A wreath of towers adorn'd her reverend head,
Mother of all that on ambrosia fed.
Thy godlike race must sway the age to come;
As she Olympus peopled with her womb.

Would those commanders of mankind obey
Their honour'd parent; all pretences lay
Down at her royal feet; compose their jars,
And on the growing Turk discharge these wars:
The Christian knights that sacred tomb should wrest
From pagan hands, and triumph o'er the east:
Our England's prince and Gallia's dolphin might
Like young Rinaldo and Tancredi fight:
In single combat by their swords again
The proud Argantes, and fierce Soldan, slain :
Again might we their valiant deeds recite,
And with your Tuscan Muse 4 exalt the fight.

4 Tasso.

THE COUNTRY TO

MY LADY OF CARLISLE.

MADAM, of all the sacred muse inspir'd
Orpheus alone could with the woods comply;
Their rude inhabitants his song admir'd,

And nature's self, in those that could not lie:
Your beauty next our solitude invades,
And warms us, shining through the thickest shades.
Nor ought the tribute, which the wondering court
Pays your fair eyes, prevail with you to scorn
The answer, and consent, to that report,

Which echo-like, the country does return:
Mirrors are taught to flatter, but our springs
Present th' impartial images of things.
A rural judges dispos'd of beauty's prize;

A simple shepherd was prefer'd to Jove:
Down to the mountains from the partial skies
Came Juno, Pallas, and the queen of Love,
To plead for that, which was so justly given
To the bright Carlisle of the court of Heaven.
Carlisle a name which all our woods are taught,
Loud as their Amarillis, to resound:
Carlisle a name which on the bark is wrought
Of every tree, that's worthy of the wound:
From Phœbus' rage, our shadows, and our streams,
May guard us better, than from Carlisle's beams.

THE COUNTESS OF CARLISLE

IN MOURNING.

WHEN from black clouds no part of sky is clear,
But just so much as lets the sun appear;
Heaven then would seem thy image, and reflect
Those sable vestments, and that bright aspect.
A spark of virtue by the deepest shade
Of sad adversity is fairer made;
Nor less advantage doth thy beauty get:
A Venus rising from a sea of jet!
Such was th' appearance of new-formed light,
While yet it struggled with eternal night.
Then mourn no more, lest thou admit increase
Of glory, by thy noble lord's decease.
We find not, that the laughter-loving dame 6
Mourn'd for Anchises; 'twas enough she came
To grace the mortal with her deathless bed,
And that his living eyes such beauty fed:
Had she been there, untimely joy, through all
Men's hearts diffus'd, had marr'd' the funeral.
Those eyes were made to banish grief: as well
Bright Phoebus might affect in shades to dwell,
As they to put on sorrow: nothing stands,
But power to grieve, exempt from thy commands.
If thou lament, thou must do so alone;
Grief in thy presence can lay hold of none.
Yet still persist the memory to love
Of that great Mercury of our mighty Jove:
Who, by the power of his inchanting tongue,
Swords from the hands of threatening monarchs
War he prevented, or soon made it cease; [wrung.
Instructing princes in the arts of peace;
Such as made Sheba's curious queen resort
To the large-hearted Hebrew's 7 famous court.
Had Homer sat amongst his wondering guests,
He might have learn'd at those stupendous feasts,
6 Venus. 7 Solomon.

$ Paris.

With greater bounty, and more sacred state,
The banquets of the gods to celebrate.
But oh! what elocution might he use,
What potent charms, that could so soon infuse
His absent master's love into the heart
Of Henrietta! forcing her to part
From her lov'd brother, country, and the sun;
And, like Camilla, o'er the waves to run
Into his arms; while the Parisian dames
Mourn'd for the ravish'd glory; at her flames
No less amaz'd, than the amaz'd stars,
When the bold charmer of Thessalia wars
With heaven itself; and numbers does repeat,
Which call descending Cynthia from her seat.

IN ANSWER TO ONE WHO WRIT A LIBEL AGAINST THE

COUNTESS OF CARLISLE.

WHAT fury has provok'd thy wit to dare
With Diomede, to wound the queen of Love?
Thy mistress' envy, or thine own despair?

Not the just Pallas in thy breast did move
So blind a rage, with such a different fate :
He honour won, where thou hast purchas'd hate.
She gave assistance to his Trojan foe;

Thou, that without a rival thou may'st love, Dost to the beauty of this lady owe;

While after her the gazing world does move. Canst thou not be content to love alone? Or, is thy mistress not content with one? Hast thou not read of fairy Arthur's shield, Which, but disclos'd, amaz'd the weaker eyes Of proudest foes, and won the doubtful field? So shall thy rebel wit become her prize. Should thy iambics swell into a book, All were confuted with one radiant look. Heaven he oblig'd that plac'd her in the skies; Rewarding Phoebus for inspiring so

His noble brain, by likening to those eyes

His joyful beams: but Phoebus is thy foe;
And neither aids thy fancy nor thy sight;
So ill thou rhym'st against so fair a light.

OF HER CHAMBER.

THEY taste of death, that do at heaven arrive;
But we this paradise approach alive.
Instead of Death, the dart of Love does strike;
And renders all within these walls alike:
The high in titles, and the shepherd, here
Forgets his greatness, and forgets his fear.
All stand amaz'd, and, gazing on the fair,
Lose thought of what themselves or others are:
Ambition lose; and have no other scope,
Save Carlisle's favour to employ their hope. [true
The Thracian could (though all those tales were
The bold Greeks tell) no greater wonders do:
Before his feet so sheep and lions lay,
Fearless, and wrathless, while they heard him play.
The gay, the wise, the gallant, and the grave,
Subdued alike, all but one passion have:
No worthy mind, but finds in her's there is
Something proportion'd to the rule of his :
While she with cheerful, but impartial grace,
(Born for no one, but to delight the race
Of men) like Phœbus, so divides her light,
And warms us, that she stoops not from her height.

• Orpheus.

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