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Her Looks were foft, fmiles on her Cheeks did lye,
No cloudy frowns obfcur'd the pleasing Sky:
Nor could I think that e'er the time would come
When conftant Love fhould prove the Lover's doom:
The Flowers I pluckt, the Garlands which I wove
She took, and wore as Badges of my Love :
She heard my Songs, nor did my Art contemn,
And fometimes fhe would ftoop to be my Theme :
Damatas envy'd, Colin tun'd my Lays,

Whilft the fate by, and gladly heard her praise :
Sooner fhall Dolphins o'er the Mountains fwim,
Does graze on Floods, and Bees forget their Thime,
Than I that day, when with a smile she led
The joyful Egon to her promis'd Bed.

With what a high difdain he marcht along,
And proudly lookt on the despairing Throng!
Yet he ne'er fed the Flocks, ne'ei pent the Fold,
Nor bore the Summer's Heat, nor Winter's cold;
But he had Wealth, and that alone betray'd
The heedlefs Mind of the unthinking Maid.
Curft be the wretch that firft did Gold difpenfe,
And robb'd the happy Plains of Innocence!
Am I refus'd because my Suit was plain,
The artless Courtship of an humble Swain?
You know me not, nor yet the Pains I took,
Whilft Egon flept, to feed the weary Flock;
How often have the Nymphs beheld me fweat
Beneath the Fury of the Summer's Heat,
How often seen the Froft bind up my Hair,
And cry'd, Ah Daphnis, worn with too much Care!
But what avails my Care, what boots my Pain,
But only yields a larger fubject to complain.

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ASTRE A REDUX.

A Poem on the happy Restoration and Return of His Sacred Majefty CHARLES the Second, 1660.

By JOHN DRYDEN.

Jam redit & Virgo, redeunt Saturnia Regna. Virg.

N

OW with a general Peace the World was bleft, While Ours, a World divided from the reft, A dreadful Quiet felt, and worfer far

Than Arms, a fullen Interval of War:

[Skies,

Thus when black Clouds draw down the lab'ring
E'er yet abroad the winged Thunder flies,
An horrid Stillness firft invades the Ear,
And in that filence we the Tempeft fear.
Th' Ambitious Swede like reftlefs Billows toft,
On this hand gaining what on that he loft,
Though in his life he Blood and Ruin breath'd,
To his now guideless Kingdom Peace bequeath'd.
And Heaven that feem'd regardless of our Fate,
For France and Spain did Miracles create,
Such mortal Quarrels to compofe in Peace
As Nature bred and Int'reft did encrease.
We figh'd to hear the fair Iberian Bride
Muft grow a Lilie to the Lilies fide,

While our crofs Stars deny'd us Charles his Bed,
Whom our firft Flames and Virgin Love did wed.
For his long abfence Church and State did groan;
Madness the Pulpit, Faction feiz'd the Thrones
Experienc'd Age in deep despair was loft
To fee the Rebel thrive, the Loyal croft:
Youth that with Joys had unacquainted been,
Envy'd Gray hairs that once good Days had feen:
VOL. I

M

We thought our Sires, not with their own content,
Had e'er we came to age our Portion spent.
Nor could our Nobles hope, their bold Attempt
Who ruin'd Crowns, would Coronets exempt:
For when by their designing Leaders taught
To ftrike at Pow'r which for themselves they fought,
The Vulgar gull'd into Rebellion, arm'd,
Their blood to action by the Prize was warm'd.
The Sacred Purple then and Scarlet Gown,
Like fanguine Dye, to Elephants was shown.
Thus when the bold Typhoeus fcal'd the Sky,
And forc'd. Great Jove from his own Heaven to fly,
(What King, what Crown from Treafon's reach is free,
If Jove and Heaven can violated be:)

The leffer Gods that fhar'd his profp'rous State,
All fuffer'd in the Exil'd Thund'rer's Fate.
The Rabble now fuch Freedom did enjoy,
As Winds at Sea, that use it to deftroy:
Blind as the Cyclops, and as wild as he,
They own'd a lawlefs favage Liberty,
Like that our painted Ancestors fo priz'd
E'er Empires Arts their Breafts had civiliz'd.
How Great were then our Charles his Woes, who thus
Was forc'd to fuffer for Himfelf and us!

He tofs'd by Fate, and hurried up and down,
Heir to his Father's Sorrows, with his Crown,
Could tafte no fweets of Youth's defired Age,
But found his Life too true a Pilgrimage.
Unconquer'd yet in that forlorn Eftate
His Manly Courage overcame his Fate.
His Wounds he took like Romans on his Breaft,
Which by his Virtue were with Laurels dreft:
As Souls reach Heav'n while yet in Bodies pent,
So did he live above his Banishment.

That Sun, which we beheld with couz'ned eyes,
Within the Water, mov'd along the Skies.
How eafie 'tis when Destiny proves kind,
With full spread Sails, to run before the Wind!

But thofe that 'gainst stiff Gales laveering go,
Must be at once refolv'd and skilful too.
He would not like foft Otho Hope prevent,
But ftay'd and fuffer'd Fortune to repent.
Thefe Virtues Galba in a Stranger fought;
And Piso to Adopted Empire brought.

How fhall I then my doubtful Thoughts exprefs,
That must his Suff'rings both regret and bless!
For when his early Valour Heav'n had croft,
And all at Worc'fter but the Honour loft,
Forc'd into Exile from his rightful Throne,
He made all Countries where he came his own.
And viewing Monarchs fecret Arts of sway
A Royal Factor for their Kingdoms lay.
Thus banish'd David spent abroad his time,
When to be God's Anointed was his Crime,
And when reftor'd made his proud Neighbours rue
Those choice Remarks he from his Travels drew :
Nor is he only by Afflictions shown

To conquer others Realms, but rule his own:
Recov'ring hardly what he loft before,

His Right indears it much, his Purchase more.
Inur'd to fuffer e'er he came to reign,
No rafh procedure will his Actions ftain.
To bus'nefs ripen'd by digeftive thought,
His future rule is into Method brought:
As they who first Proportion understand,
With easie Practice reach a Mafter's hand.
Well might the Ancient Poets then confer
On Night, the honour'd name of Counsellor,
Since ftruck with rayes of profp'rous Fortune blind,
We Light alone in dark Afflictions find.

In fuch adverfities to Scepters train'd,

The name of Great his famous Grandfire gain'd: Who yet a King alone in Name and Right, With hunger, cold and angry Jove did fight; Shock'd by a Covenanting League's vaft Pow'rs, As holy and as Catholick as ours:

’Till Fortune's fruitless spight had made it known, Her blows not shook but riveted his Throne. Some lazy Ages, loft in Sleep and Ease, No action leave to busie Chronicles; Such whofe fupine felicity but makes • In ftory Chafmes, in Epocha's mistakes ; O'er whom Time gently shakes his wings of Down, 'Till with his filent Sickle they are mown: Such is not Charles his too too active age, Which govern'd by the wild diftemper'd rage Of fome black Star infecting all the Skies, Made him at his own coft like Adam wise. Tremble, ye Nations, who secure before, Laught at thofe Arms that 'gainst our felves webore; Rouz'd by the lash of his own stubborn Tail, Our Lion now will foreign Foes affail. With Alga who the facred Altar ftrows? To all the sea-Gods Charles an Offering owes: A Bull to thee, Portunus, shall be slain, A Lamb to you the Tempests of the Main: For those loud Storms that did against him rore, Have caft his shipwrack'd Vessel on the Shore. Yet as wife Artists mix their Colours fo, That by degrees they from each other go, Black fteals unheeded from the neighb'ring white, Without offending the well couz'ned fight, So on us ftole our blessed change; while we Th' effect did feel, but fcarce the manner fee. Frofts that conftrain the ground, and birth deny To Flow'rs, that in its womb expecting lie, Do feldom their ufurping Pow'r withdraw, But raging Floods purfue their hafty Thaw: Our Thaw was mild, the Cold not chas'd away, But loft in kindly heat of lengthned day. Heav'n would no bargain for its Bleffings drive, But what we could not pay for, freely give. The Prince of Peace would, like himfelf, confer A Gift unhop'd without the price of war.

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