They ply their feet, and still the restless ball,
Toft to and fro, is urged by them all :

So fares the doubtful barge 'twixt tide and winds;
And like effect of their contention finds.
Yet the bold Britons ftill fecurely row'd;
Charles and his virtue was their facred load:
Than which a greater pledge Heaven could not give,
That the good boat this tempest should out-live.
But ftorms increase! and now no hope of grace
Among them fhines, fave in the Prince's face;
The reft refign their courage, skill, and fight,
To danger, horror, and unwelcome night.
The gentle veffel (wont with state and pride
On the smooth back of filver Thames to ride)
Wanders astonish'd in the angry Main,
As Titan's car did, while the golden rein
Fill'd the young hand of his adventurous fon
When the whole world an equal hazard run
To this of ours, the light of whose defire,
Waves threaten now, as that was scar'd by fire.
Th' impatient fea grows impotent, and raves
That, night affifting, his impetuous waves
Should find refiftance from fo light a thing;
These surges ruin, those our safety bring.
Th' oppreffed veffel doth the charge abide,
Only because affail'd on every fide:
So men with rage and paffion fet on fire,
Trembling for hafte, impeach their mad defire.

The pale Iberians had expir'd with fear,
But that their wonder did divert their care;
To fee the Prince with danger mov'd no more,
Than with the pleasures of their Court before:
Godlike his courage feem'd, whom nor delight
Could soften, nor the face of Death affright:
Next to the power of making tempests cease,
Was in that ftorm to have fo calm a peace.
Great Maro could no greater tempeft feign,
When the loud winds ufurping on the Main
For angry Juno, labor'd to deftroy
The hated reliques of confounded Troy:
His bold Æneas, on like billows toft

In a tall ship, and all his country lost,

Diffolves with fear; and both his hands upheld,
Proclaims them happy whom the Greeks had quell'd
In honourable fight: our Hero fet

In a fmall shallop, Fortune in his debt,

So near a hope of crowns and fceptres, 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 feen a brighter Nymph, than * fhe
That fprung out of his prefent foe, the sea.

* Venusa

That

That noble ardour, more than mortal fire,
The conquer'd ocean could not make expire;
Nor angry Thetis raise her waves above
Th' heroic's 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 fome lefs ferious game,
Among the bright nymphs of the Gallic Court;
All highly born, obfequious to her sport:
They roses feem, which, in their carly pride,
But half reveal, and half their beauties hide:
She the glad morning, which her beams does throw
Upon their fmiling leaves, and gilds them fo:
Like bright Aurora, whofe refulgent ray
Foretels the fervour of enfuing day;

And warns the shepherd with his flocks retreat.
To leafy fhadows, from the threaten'd heat.

From Cupid's ftring of many shafts that fled, Wing'd with thofe plumes which noble Fame had shed, As through the wondering world the flew, and told Of his adventures, haughty, brave, and bold; Some had already touch'd the Royal Maid, But Love's first fummons feldom 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 fo poffeft her ears, That with delight thofe antique tales fhe hears

Of Jafon, Thefeus, and fuch Worthies old,
As with his story best resemblance hold.
And now the views, as on the wall it hung,
What old Mufæus fo divinely fung:

Which art with life and love did so inspire,
That the difcerns and favours that defire
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:
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,

Breaks the proud billows which her large fides knock;
Whofe rage, reftrained, foaming higher fwells,

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 fifter States;
For England is the third fuccessful throw,
And then the Genius of that land they know,
Whose Prince must be (as their own books devise)
Lord of the fcene, where now his danger lies.

Well fung the Roman bard; "all human things "Of dearest value hang on flender strings."

O fee

O fee the then fole hope, and in defign
Of Heaven our joy, supported by a line!
Which for that inftant 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 diffolv'd, the whole creation ends.

Of his MAJESTY's receiving the News of the Duke of BUCKINGHAM's Death.

S

O earnest with thy God! Can no new care,
No fenfe of danger, interrupt thy prayer?
The facred wrestler, till a bleffing given,

Quits not his hold, but halting conquers Heaven:
Nor was the stream of thy devotion stop'd,
When from the body such a limb was lop'd,
As to thy present state was no less maim;
Though thy wife choice has fince repair'd the fame.
Bold Homer durft not so great virtue feign
In his best pattern of Patroclus flain,
With fuch amazement as weak mothers use,
And frantic gefture, 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 † could allow no place
For private forrow in a Prince's face:

* Achilles.

+ Timanthes.

Yet,

C 3