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THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY

ASTOR. LENOX AND TILDEN FOUNDATIONS

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EPISTLES.

TO THE KING,

ON HIS NAVY.

WHERE'ER thy Navy spreads her canvass wings,
Homage to thee, and peace to all she brings:
The French and Spaniard, when thy flags appear,
Forget their hatred, and consent to fear.

So Jove from Ida did both hosts survey,
And, when he pleas'd to thunder, part the fray.
Ships heretofore in seas like fishes sped,
The mightiest still upon the smallest fed:
Thou on the deep imposest nobler laws,
And by that justice hast remov'd the cause
Of those rude tempests, which for rapine sent,
Too oft, alas! involv'd the innocent.

Now shall the Ocean, as thy Thames, be free
From both those fates, of storms and piracy;
But we most happy, who can fear no force
But winged troops, or Pegasean horse.
'Tis not so hard for greedy foes to spoil
Another nation as to touch our soil.

Should Nature's self invade the world again,
And o'er the centre spread the liquid main,
Thy pow'r were safe, and her destructive hand
Would but enlarge the bounds of thy command:

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Thy dreadful fleet would style thee Lord of All,
And ride in triumph o'er the drowned ball;
Those towers of oak o'er fertile plains might go,
And visit mountains where they once did grow.
The world's Restorer once could not endure
That finish'd Babel should those men secure
Whose pride design'd that fabric to have stood
Above the reach of any second flood;
To thee, his chosen, more indulgent, he
Dares trust such pow'r with so much piety.

TO THE QUEEN,

OCCASIONED UPON SIGHT OF HER MAJESTY'S
PICTURE.

WELL fare the hand which to our humble sight
Presents that beauty which the dazzling light
Of royal splendour hides from weaker eyes,
And all access, save by this art, denies.
Here only we have courage to behold
This beam of glory, here we dare unfold
In numbers thus the wonders we conceive:
The gracious image, seeming to give leave,
Propitious stands, vouchsafing to be seen,
And by our Muse saluted mighty Queen,
In whom the' extremes of pow'r and beauty move,
The Queen of Britain, and the Queen of Love!
As the bright sun (to which we owe no sight

Of equal glory to your beauty's light)

Is wisely plac'd in so sublime a seat,
To' extend his light and moderate his heat;

So, happy 'tis you move in such a sphere,
As your high Majesty with awful fear
In human breasts might qualify that fire,
Which kindled by those eyes had flamed higher
Than when the scorched world like hazard run
By the approach of the ill-guided sun.

No other nymphs have title to men's hearts,
But as their meanness larger hope imparts:
Your beauty more the fondest lover moves
With admiration than his private loves;
With admiration! for a pitch so high
(Save sacred Charles his) never love durst fly.
Heav'n that preferr'd a sceptre to your hand,
Favour'd our freedom more than your command:
Beauty had crown'd you, and you must have been
The whole world's mistress, other than a Queen.
All had been rivals, and you might have spar'd,
Or kill'd and tyranniz'd without a guard.
No pow'r achiev'd, either by arms or birth,
Equals Love's empire both in Heav'n and earth.
Such eyes as yours on Jove himself have thrown
As bright and fierce a lightning as his own:
Witness our Jove, prevented by their flame
In his swift passage to the' Hesperian dame:
When, like a lion, finding in his way
To some intended spoil a fairer prey,
The royal youth pursuing the report
Of beauty, found it in the Gallic court:
There public care with private passion, fought
A doubtful combat in his noble thought:
Should he confess his greatness and his love,
And the free faith of your great brother' prove;

1 Lewis XIII. King of France.

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