LAOMEDON, that had the Gods in pay, NEPTUNE, with him * that rules the sacred day, Cou'd 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 pow'rs employ'd in peaceful things: They list, not urge it to the dreadful field; The task is easier to destroy, than build. Of my Lady Isabella playing on the Flute. SUCH moving sounds, from such a careless touch! Small force there needs to make them tremble so; ear, Empties his quiver on the list'ning deer: * Sic gratia Regum Pieriis tentata modis *** HORAT. Music so softens, and disarms the mind, Upon the Death of the Lord Protector. WE must resign! heav'n his great soul does claim In storms, as loud as his immortal fame: His dying groans, his last breath shakes our isle; About his palace their broad roots are tost Ravish'd whole towns; and forts from Spaniards reft, As his last legacy to BRITAIN left. The ocean, which so long our hopes confined, Ungrateful then! if we no tears allow And, sighing, swell'd the sea with such a breath, To the King, upon His Majesty's Happy Return. THE rising sun complies with our weak sight, He knew what harm his hasty beams would do. But your full majesty at once breaks forth In the meridian of your reign. Your worth, Your youth, and all the splendor of your state, (Wrap'd up, till now, in clouds of adverse Fate!). With such a flood of light invade our eyes, And our spread hearts with so great joy surprize; That, if your grace incline that we should live, You must not, Sir! too hastily forgive. Our guilt preserves us from th' excess of joy, Which scatters spirits, and would life destroy. All are obnoxious! and this faulty land, Like fainting ESTHER, does before you stand,. Watching your sceptre: the revolted sea Trembles to think she did your foes obey. GREAT BRITAIN, the blind POLYPHEME, of late, In a wild rage, became the scorn, and hate, Of her proud neighbours; who began to think, She, with the weight of her own force, would sink. But you are come, and all their hopes are vain; This giant-isle has got her eye again. Now, she might spare the ocean; and oppose Your conduct to the fiercest of her foes. Naked, the GRACES guarded you from all Dangers abroad; and now, your thunder shall. Princes that saw you different passions prove; For now they dread the object of their love; Nor without envy can behold his height, This seat of yours (from th' other world remov'd) Had ARCHIMEDES known, he might have prov'd 'd His engin's force, fix'd here: your pow'r and skill, Makes the world's motion wait upon your will. Much-suff'ring Monarch! the first ENGLISHborn, That has the crown of these three nations worn! |