Sail on, and pay no customs to the grave, And long he had both Time and Death defied, Too oft he rais'd his enemies to power. Health boast no more, nor promise life and ease, : Wit from his thoughts, as suddenly did flye As lightning from a fiery southern sky, Whene're god-like he sported with mankind, The ready flash attended on his mind. Scarce in his royal ear your words cou'd rest, 'Tis base-born greatness that from pomp does spring, Forms almost bastardise a lawful king. If to his glory outward forms impart, Being and Life, 'tis the poor Child of Art. His every look and motion was a prince. No forms e're darken'd him; the expanded sky Bow'd to all earth, and shone on every eye. And had Heavens more bright and high then this, His royal mind where dwelt eternal bliss. Now let us leave these lower sphears and spring Therefore he struck that potent Minister. CHARLES SACKVILLE, EARL OF DORSET. 1637-1705. A man distinguished for accomplishments, wit, courage, patriotism and beneficence. SONG. Written at Sea, in the first Dutch War, 1665, the Night before the Engagement. To all I. you ladies now at land, We'men, at sea, indite; But first would have you understand, How hard it is to write; The Muses now, and Neptune too, We must implore to write to you, For though the Muses should prove kind, And fill our empty brain; Yet if rough Neptune rouse the wind, To wave the azure main, Roll Our paper, pen, and ink, and we, up and down our ships at sea. With a Fa, &c. III. Then if we write not by each post, Our tears we'll send a speedier way, IV. The king with wonder and surprise, Will swear the seas grow bold; Because the tides will higher rise, Than e'er they used of old: But let him know, it is our tears Bring floods of grief to Whitehall stairs, With a Fa, &c. |