No atoms cafually together hurl'd
Could e'er produce so beautiful a world.
Nor dare I fuch a doctrine here admit,
As would destroy the providence of wit.
'Tis your strong genius then which does not feel
Those weights, would make a weaker spirit reel.
To carry weight, and run so lightly too,
Is what alone your Pegafus can do.
Great Hercules himself could ne'er do more,
Than not to feel those heavens and gods he bore.
Your eafier odes, which for delight were penn'd,
Yet our instruction make their second end:
We're both enrich'd and pleas'd, like them that woe
At once a beauty, and a fortune too.
Of moral knowlege poesy was queen,
And still she might, had wanton wits not been;
Who, like ill guardians, liv'd themselves at large,
And, not content with that, debauch'd their
Like some brave captain, your fuccefsful pen
Restores the exil'd to her crown again :
And gives us hope, that having seen the days
When nothing flourish'd but fanatic bays,
All will at length in this opinion rest,
" A fober prince's government is best."
This is not all; your art the way has found
To make th'improvement of the richest ground,
That foil which those immortal laurels bore,
That once the sacred Maro's temples wore.
Elisa's griefs are so express'd by you,
They are too eloquent to have been true.
Had she so spoke, Æneas had obey'd
What Dido, rather than what Jove had said.
If funeral rites can give a ghost repose,
Your muse so justly has discharged those,
Elisa's shade may now its wandring cease,
And claim a title to the fields of peace.
But if Æneas be oblig'd, no less
Your kindness great Achilles doth confess ;
Who, dress'd by Statius in too bold a look,
Did ill become those virgin robes he took.
To understand how much we owe to you,
We must your numbers, with your author's, view:
Then we shall fee his work was lamely rough,
Each figure stiff, as if design'd in buff:
His colors laid so thick on every place,
As only shew'd the paint, but hid the face.
But as in perspective we beauties see,
Which in the glass, not in the picture, be;
So here our fight obligingly mistakes
That wealth, which his your bounty only makes.
Thus vulgar dishes are, by cooks disguis'd,
More for their dreffing, than their substance
Your curious notes so search into that age,
When all was fable but the sacred page,
That, fince in that dark night we needs must stray,
We are at least misled in pleasant way.
But what we most admire, your verse no less
The prophet than the poet doth confefs.
Ere our weak eyes difcern'd the doubtful streak
Of light, you faw great Charles his morning break.
So skilful feamen ken the land from far,
Which shews like mists to the dull passenger.
To Charles your muse first pays her duteous love,
As still the antients did begin from Jove.
With Monk you end, whose name preserv'dshall be,
As Rome recorded Rufus' memory,
Who thought it greater honor to obey
His country's interest, than the world to sway.
But to write worthy things of worthy men,
Is the peculiar talent of your pen :
Yet let me take your mantle up, and I
Will venture in your right to prophesy.
" This work, by merit first of fame secure,
" Is likewife happy in its geniture:
" For, fince 'tis born when Charles afcends the
"It shares at once his fortune and its own."
TO MY HONORED FRIEND
CHARLETON,
Learned and Useful WORKS; but more particularly his Treatise of STONE-HENGE, by him reftor'd to the true Founder.
THE longeft tyranny that ever sway'd,
Was that wherein our ancestors betray'd
Their free-born reason to the Stagyrite,
And made his torch their universal light.
So truth, while only one supply'd the state,
Grew scarce, and dear, and yet sophisticate.
Still it was bought, like emp'ric wares, or charms,
Hard words feal'd up with Ariftotle's arms.
Columbus was the first that shook his throne;
And found a temp'rate in a torrid zone :
The fev'rish air fann'd by a cooling breeze,
The fruitful vales fet round with shady trees;
And guiltless men, who danc'd away their time,
Fresh as their groves, and happy as their clime.
Had we still paid that homage to a name,
Which only God and nature justly claim;
The western seas had been our utmoft bound,
Where poets still might dream the fun was drown'd:
And all the stars that shine in fouthern skies,
Had been admir'd by none but favage eyes.
Among th' afferters of free reafon's claim,
Our nation's not the least in worth or fame.
The world to Bacon does not only owe
Its present knowlege, but its future too.
Gilber shall live, 'till loadstones cease to draw,
Or British fleets the boundless ocean awe.
And noble Boyle, not less in nature feen,
Than his great brother read in states and men.
The circling streams, once thought but pools, of
(Whether life's fuel, or the body's food)
From dark oblivion Harvey's name shall save;
While Ent keeps all the honor that he gave,
Nor are you, learned friend, the leaft renown'd;
Whose fame, not circumfcrib'd with English
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