Part must be left, a fund when foes invade;
And part employ'd to roll the watry trade:
Ev'n Canaan's happy land, when worn with toil,
Requir'd a fabbath-year to mend the meagre foil.
Good fenators (and such as you) so give,
That kings may be supply'd, the people thrive.
And he, when want requires, is truly wife, -
Who flights not foreign aids, nor over-buys;
But on our native strength, in time of need, relies.
Munster was bought, we boast not the success;
Who fights for gain, for greater makes his peace.
Our foes, compell'd by need, have peace
The peace both parties want, is like to last:
Which if secure, securely we may trade;
Or, not fecure, should never have been made.
Safe in ourselves, while on ourselves we stand,
The fea is ours, and that defends the land.
Be, then, the naval stores the nation's care,
New ships to build, and batter'd to repair.
Observe the war, in ev'ry annual course; What has been done, was done with British force: Namur subdu'd, is England's palm alone; The rest besieg'd; but we constrain'd the town: We saw th'event that follow'd our fuccess; France, tho pretending arms, pursu'd the peace;
Oblig'd, by one sole treaty, to restore
What twenty years of war had won before.
Enough for Europe has our Albion fought:
Let us enjoy the peace our blood has bought.
When once the Persian king was put to flight,
The weary Macedons refus'd to fight:
Themselves their own mortality confess'd;
And left the fon of Jove, to quarrel for the rest.
Ev'n victors are by victories undone; Thus Hannibal, with foreign laurels won,
To Carthage was recall'd, too late to keep his own.
While fore of battle, while our wounds are green,
Why should we tempt the doubtful dye agen?
In wars renew'd, uncertain of success;
Sure of a share, as umpires of the peace.
A patriot both the king and country serves :
Prerogative, and privilege, preserves:
Of each our laws the certain limit show;
One must not ebb, nor t'other overflow:
Betwixt the prince and parliament we stand;
The barriers of the state on either hand:
May neither overflow, for then they drown the
land.
When both are full, they feed our bless'd abode;
Like those that water'd once the paradife of God.
Some
Some overpoise of sway, by turns, they share; In peace the people, and the prince in war: Confuls of mod'rate power in calms were made; When the Gauls came, one sole dictator sway'd. Patriots, in peace, affert the people's right; With noble stubborness refifting might: No lawless mandates from the court receive, Nor lend by force, but in a body give. Such was your gen'rous grandfire; free to grant In parliaments, that weigh'd their prince's want : But so tenacious of the common cause,
As not to lend the king against his laws.
And, in a loathsome dungeon doom'd to lie,
In bonds retain'd his birthright liberty,
And sham'd oppreffion, till it set him free.
O true defcendent of a patriot line, Who, while thou shar'st their lustre, lend'st them
Vouchsafe this picture of thy foul to fee;
'Tis so far good, as it resembles thee :
The beauties to th' original I owe ;
Which when I miss, my own defects I show :
Nor think the kindred muses thy disgrace:
A poet is not born in ev'ry race.
VOL. II.
Two of a house few ages can afford;
One to perform, another to record.
Praise-worthy actions are by thee embrac'd;
And 'tis my praise, to make thy praises last.
For ev'n when death dissolves our human frame, The foul returns to heaven from whence it came
Earth keeps the body, verse preserves the fame.
Sir GODFREY KNELLER, Principal PAINTER to his MAJESTY.
NCE I beheld the fairest of her kind,
And still the sweet idea charms my mind:
True, she was dumb; for nature gaz'd fo long,
Pleas'd with her work, that she forgot her tongue;
But, smiling, said, She still shall gain the prize;
I only have transferr'd it to her eyes.
Such are thy pictures, Kneller: such thy skill,
That nature seems obedient to thy will;
Comes out, and meets thy pencil in the draught; Lives there, and wants but words to speak her
At least thy pictures look a voice; and we
Imagine sounds, deceiv'd to that degree,
We think 'tis somewhat more than just to fee.
Shadows are but privations of the light;
Yet, when we walk, they shoot before the fight;
With us approach, retire, arife, and fall;
Nothing themselves, and yet expressing all.
Such are thy pieces, imitating life
So near, they almost conquer in the strife;
And from their animated canvass came,
Demanding fouls, and loosen'd from the frame.
Prometheus, were he here, would cast away
His Adam, and refuse a foul to clay;
And either would thy noble work inspire,
Or think it warm enough, without his fire.
But vulgar hands may vulgar likeness raise;
This is the least attendant on thy praise :
From hence the rudiments of art began;
A coal, or chalk, first imitated man :
Perhaps the shadow, taken on a wall,
Gave outlines to the rude original;
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