The brave Æmilius, his great charge laid down, (The force of Rome, and fate of Macedon) In his loft fons did feel the cruel ftroke
Of changing Fortune; and thus highly spoke
Before Rome's people; "We did oft implore,
"That if the heavens had any bad in ore
"For your Æmilius, they would pour that ill
"On his own house, and let you flourish still."
You on the barren feas, my Lord, have spent
Whole fprings; and summers to the public lent:
Sufpended all the pleafures of your life,
And shorten'd the fhort joy of such a wife :
For which your country's more obliged, than
For many lives of old, less happy, men.
You, that have facrific'd fo great a part
Of youth, and private blifs, ought to impart
Your forrow too; and give your friends a right
As well in your affliction, as delight.
Then with Æmilian-courage bear this cross,
Since public perfons only public loss
Ought to affect. And though her form, and youth,
Her application to your will, and truth;
That noble sweetness, and that humble state,
(All fnatch'd away by such a hafty fate!)
Might give excufe to any common breast,
With the huge weight of fo juft grief oppreft:
Yet let no portion of your life be stain'd
With paffion, but your character maintain'd
To the last act: it is enough her stone
May honour'd be with fuperfcription
Of the fole Lady, who had power to move
The great Northumberland to grieve, and love.
Το my LORD ADMIRAL, of his late Sickness and Recovery.
joy like ours, the Thracian youth invades Orpheus, returning from th' Elyfian fhades;
Embrace the Hero, and his ftay implore;
Make it their public fuit, he would no more
Defert them fo; and for his fpoufe's fake,
His vanish'd love, tempt the Lethean lake:
The Ladies too, the brightest of that time,
(Ambitious all his lofty bed to climb)
Their doubtful hopes with expectation feed,
Who fhall the fair Eurydice fucceed:
Eurydice! for whom his numerous moan
Makes listening trees and favage mountains groan :
Through all the air his founding ftrings dilate
Sorrow, like that which touch'd our hearts of late.
Your pining fickness, and your restless pain,
At once the land affecting, and the Main :
When the glad news that you were Admiral
Scarce through the nation spread, 'twas fear'd by all
That our great Charles, whose wisdom fhines in you,
Would be perplexed how to chufe a new.
So more than private was the joy, and grief,
That at the worst it gave our souls relief,
That in our age such sense of virtue liv'd;
They joy'd fo justly, and so justly griev'd.
Nature (her faireft lights eclipfed) feems
Herself to fuffer in those sharp extremes :
While not from thine alone thy blood retires,
But from thofe cheeks which all the world admires.
The ftem thus threaten'd, and the fap in thee,
Droop all the branches of that noble tree!
Their beauty they, and we our love suspend,
Nought can our wishes, fave thy health, intend.
As lilies over-charg'd with rain, they bend
Their beauteous heads, and with high Heaven contend:
Fold thee within their fnowy arms, and cry
He is too faultlefs, and too young, to die.
So like Immortals round about thee they
Sit, that they fright approaching Death away.
Who would not languish, by fo fair a train
To be lamented, and reftor'd again?
Or thus with-held, what hafty foul would go,
Though to the Bleft? O'er her Adonis fo
Fair Venus mourn'd, and with the precious fhower
Of her warm tears cherish'd the springing flower.
The next support, fair hope of your great name,
And fecond pillar of that noble frame,
By lofs of thee would no advantage have,
But step by step pursue thee to the grave.
And now, relentless Fate about to end
The line, which backwards does fo far extend
That antique stock, which still the world supplies
With braveft spirits, and with brightest eyes;
Kind Phoebus interpofing, bid me fay
Such ftorms no more shall shake that house; but they
Like Neptune, and his * sea-born Niece, shall be
The fhining glories of the land and fea :
With courage guard, and beauty warm, our age;
And lovers fill with like poetic rage.
The world to which you fly so fast,
Conveying day
From us to them, can pay your hafte
With no fuch object, nor falute your
With no fuch wonder, as De Mornay's eyes.
The error of those antique books,
Which made you move
About the world: her charming looks Would fix your beams, and make it ever day, Did not the rolling earth fnatch her away.
On my Lady DOROTHY SIDNEY'S Picture.
UCH was Philoclea, and fuch † Dorus' flame
The matchlefs Sidney, that immortal frame
Of perfect beauty, on two pillars plac'd :
Not his high fancy could one pattern, grac'd
With fuch extremes of excellence, compofe;
Wonders fo diftant in one face difclofe!
Such chearful modefty, fuch humble state,
Moves certain love; but with as doubtful fate,
As when, beyond our greedy reach, we fee
Inviting fruit on too fublime a tree.
All the rich flowers through his Arcadia found,
Amaz'd we fee in this one garland bound.
Had but this copy (which the artist took
From the fair picture of that noble book)
Stood at Kalander's, the brave friends * had jarr'd ;
And, rivals made, th' enfuing ftory marr'd.
Juft nature, firft inftructed by his thought,
In his own house thus practis'd what he taught:
This glorious piece transcends what he could think;
So much his blood is nobler than his ink!
TO VAN DYCK.
ARE Artifan, whofe pencil moves
From thy fhop of beauty we
Slaves return, that enter'd free.
The heedlefs lover does not know
Whofe eyes they are that wound him fo
But, confounded with thy art,
Inquires her name that has his heart.
Another, who did long refrain,
Feels his old wound bleed fresh again,
With dear remembrance of that face,
Where now he reads new hope of grace:
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