Poetical Works of Edmund Waller and Sir John Denham Part 17

She needs no weary steps ascend; All seems before her feet to bend; And here, as she was born, she lies; High, without taking pains to rise.

[1] 'Somerset House': Henrietta, Queen-mother, who returned to England in 1660, and lived in Somerset House, which she greatly improved.

[2] 'Ever here': she left, however, in 1665.

OF A TREE CUT IN PAPER.

Fair hand! that can on virgin paper write, Yet from the stain of ink preserve it white; Whose travel o'er that silver field does show Like track of leverets in morning snow.

Love's image thus in purest minds is wrought, Without a spot or blemish to the thought.

Strange, that your fingers should the pencil foil, Without the help of colours or of oil!

For though a painter boughs and leaves can make, 'Tis you alone can make them bend and shake; Whose breath salutes your new-created grove, Like southern winds, and makes it gently move.

Orpheus could make the forest dance; but you Can make the motion and the forest too.

VERSES TO DR GEORGE ROGERS, ON HIS TAKING THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHYSIC AT PADUA, IN THE YEAR 1664.

When as of old the earth's bold children strove, With hills on hills, to scale the throne of Jove, Pallas and Mars stood by their sovereign's side, And their bright arms in his defence employ'd; While the wise Phoebus, Hermes, and the rest, Who joy in peace, and love the Muses best, Descending from their so distemper'd seat, Our groves and meadows chose for their retreat.

There first Apollo tried the various use 9 Of herbs, and learn'd the virtues of their juice, And framed that art, to which who can pretend A juster t.i.tle than our n.o.ble friend, Whom the like tempest drives from his abode, And like employment entertains abroad?

This crowns him here, and in the bays so earn'd, His country's honour is no less concern'd, Since it appears not all the English rave, To ruin bent; some study how to save; And as Hippocrates did once extend His sacred art, whole cities to amend; 20 So we, great friend! suppose that thy great skill, Thy gentle mind, and fair example will, At thy return, reclaim our frantic isle, Their spirits calm, and peace again shall smile.

INSTRUCTIONS TO A PAINTER, FOR THE DRAWING OF THE POSTURE AND PROGRESS OF HIS MAJESTY'S FORCES AT SEA, UNDER THE COMMAND OF HIS HIGHNESS-ROYAL; TOGETHER WITH THE BATTLE AND VICTORY OBTAINED OVER THE DUTCH, JUNE 3, 1665.[1]

First draw the sea, that portion which between The greater world and this of ours is seen; Here place the British, there the Holland fleet, Vast floating armies! both prepared to meet.

Draw the whole world, expecting who should reign, After this combat, o'er the conquer'd main.

Make Heaven concern'd, and an unusual star 7 Declare th'importance of th'approaching war.

Make the sea shine with gallantry, and all The English youth flock to their Admiral, The valiant Duke! whose early deeds abroad, Such rage in fight, and art in conduct show'd.

His bright sword now a dearer int'rest draws, His brother's glory, and his country's cause.

Let thy bold pencil hope and courage spread, Through the whole navy, by that hero led; Make all appear, where such a Prince is by, Resolved to conquer, or resolved to die.

With his extraction, and his glorious mind, Make the proud sails swell more than with the wind; 20 Preventing cannon, make his louder fame Check the Batavians, and their fury tame.

So hungry wolves, though greedy of their prey, Stop when they find a lion in their way.

Make him bestride the ocean, and mankind Ask his consent to use the sea and wind; While his tall ships in the barr'd channel stand, He grasps the Indies in his armed hand.

Paint an east wind, and make it blow away Th' excuse of Holland for their navy's stay; 30 Make them look pale, and, the bold Prince to shun, Through the cold north and rocky regions run.

To find the coast where morning first appears, By the dark pole the wary Belgian steers; Confessing now he dreads the English more Than all the dangers of a frozen sh.o.r.e; While from our arms security to find, They fly so far, they leave the day behind.

Describe their fleet abandoning the sea, And all their merchants left a wealthy prey; 40

Our first success in war make Bacchus crown, And half the vintage of the year our own.

The Dutch their wine, and all their brandy lose, Disarm'd of that from which their courage grows; While the glad English, to relieve their toil, In healths to their great leader drink the spoil.

His high command to Afric's coast extend, And make the Moors before the English bend; Those barb'rous pirates willingly receive Conditions, such as we are pleased to give. 50 Deserted by the Dutch, let nations know We can our own and their great business do; False friends chastise, and common foes restrain, Which, worse than tempests, did infest the main.

Within those Straits, make Holland's Smyrna fleet With a small squadron of the English meet; Like falcons these, those like a numerous flock Of fowl, which scatter to avoid the shock.

There paint confusion in a various shape; Some sink, some yield; and, flying, some escape. 60 Europe and Africa, from either sh.o.r.e, Spectators are, and hear our cannon roar; While the divided world in this agree, Men that fight so, deserve to rule the sea.

But, nearer home, thy pencil use once more, And place our navy by the Holland sh.o.r.e; The world they compa.s.s'd, while they fought with Spain, But here already they resign the main; Those greedy mariners, out of whose way Diffusive Nature could no region lay, 70 At home, preserved from rocks and tempests, lie, Compell'd, like others, in their beds to die.

Their single towns th'Iberian armies press'd; We all their provinces at once invest; And, in a month, ruin their traffic more Than that long war could in an age before.

But who can always on the billows lie?

The wat'ry wilderness yields no supply.

Spreading our sails, to Harwich we resort, And meet the beauties of the British Court. 80 Th' ill.u.s.trious d.u.c.h.ess, and her glorious train (Like Thetis with her nymphs), adorn the main.

The gazing sea-G.o.ds, since the Paphian Queen Sprung from among them, no such sight had seen.

Charm'd with the graces of a troop so fair, Those deathless powers for us themselves declare, Resolved the aid of Neptune's court to bring, And help the nation where such beauties spring; The soldier here his wasted store supplies, And takes new valour from the ladies' eyes. 90

Meanwhile, like bees, when stormy winter's gone, The Dutch (as if the sea were all their own) Desert their ports, and, falling in their way, Our Hamburg merchants are become their prey.

Thus flourish they, before th'approaching fight; As dying tapers give a blazing light.

To check their pride, our fleet half-victuall'd goes, Enough to serve us till we reach our foes; Who now appear so numerous and bold, The action worthy of our arms we hold. 100 A greater force than that which here we find, Ne'er press'd the ocean, nor employ'd the wind.

Restrain'd a while by the unwelcome night, Th' impatient English scarce attend the light.

But now the morning (heaven severely clear!) To the fierce work indulgent does appear; And Phoebus lifts above the waves his light, That he might see, and thus record, the fight.

As when loud winds from diff'rent quarters rush, 109 Vast clouds encount'ring one another crush; With swelling sails so, from their sev'ral coasts, Join the Batavian and the British hosts.

For a less prize, with less concern and rage, The Roman fleets at Actium did engage; They, for the empire of the world they knew, These, for the Old contend, and for the New.

At the first shock, with blood and powder stain'd, Nor heaven, nor sea, their former face retain'd; Fury and art produce effects so strange, They trouble Nature, and her visage change. 120 Where burning ships the banish'd sun supply, And no light shines, but that by which men die, There York appears! so prodigal is he Of royal blood, as ancient as the sea, Which down to him, so many ages told, Has through the veins of mighty monarchs roll'd!

The great Achilles march'd not to the field Till Vulcan that impenetrable shield, And arms, had wrought; yet there no bullets flew, But shafts and darts which the weak Phrygians threw, 130 Our bolder hero on the deck does stand Exposed, the bulwark of his native land; Defensive arms laid by as useless here, Where ma.s.sy b.a.l.l.s the neighb'ring rocks do tear.

Some power unseen those princes does protect, Who for their country thus themselves neglect.

Against him first Opdam his squadron leads, Proud of his late success against the Swedes; Made by that action, and his high command, Worthy to perish by a prince's hand. 140 The tall Batavian in a vast ship rides, Bearing an army in her hollow sides;

Yet, not inclined the English ship to board, More on his guns relies than on his sword; From whence a fatal volley we received; It miss'd the Duke, but his great heart it grieved; Three worthy persons from his side it tore, And dyed his garment with their scatter'd gore.

Happy! to whom this glorious death arrives, More to be valued than a thousand lives! 150 On such a theatre as this to die, For such a cause, and such a witness by!

Who would not thus a sacrifice be made, To have his blood on such an altar laid?

The rest about him struck with horror stood, To see their leader cover'd o'er with blood.

So trembled Jacob, when he thought the stains Of his son's coat had issued from his veins.

He feels no wound but in his troubled thought; Before, for honour, now, revenge he fought; 160 His friends in pieces torn (the bitter news Not brought by Fame), with his own eyes he views.

His mind at once reflecting on their youth, Their worth, their love, their valour, and their truth, The joys of court, their mothers, and their wives, To follow him abandon'd--and their lives!

He storms and shoots, but flying bullets now, To execute his rage, appear too slow; They miss, or sweep but common souls away; For such a loss Opdam his life must pay. 170 Encouraging his men, he gives the word, With fierce intent that hated ship to board, And make the guilty Dutch, with his own arm, Wait on his friends, while yet their blood is warm.

His winged vessel like an eagle shows, When through the clouds to truss a swan she goes;

The Belgian ship unmoved, like some huge rock 177 Inhabiting the sea, expects the shock.

From both the fleets men's eyes are bent this way, Neglecting all the business of the day; Bullets their flight, and guns their noise suspend; The silent ocean does th'event attend, Which leader shall the doubtful victory bless, And give an earnest of the war's success; When Heaven itself, for England to declare, Turns ship, and men, and tackle, into air.

Their new commander from his charge is toss'd, Which that young prince[2] had so unjustly lost, Whose great progenitors, with better fate, And better conduct, sway'd their infant state. 190 His flight t'wards heaven th'aspiring Belgian took, But fell, like Phaeton, with thunder strook; From vaster hopes than his he seemed to fall, That durst attempt the British Admiral; From her broad sides a ruder flame is thrown Than from the fiery chariot of the sun; That bears the radiant ensign of the day, And she the flag that governs in the sea.

The Duke (ill pleased that fire should thus prevent The work which for his brighter sword he meant), 200 Anger still burning in his valiant breast, Goes to complete revenge upon the rest.

So on the guardless herd, their keeper slain, Rushes a tiger in the Libyan plain.

The Dutch, accustom'd to the raging sea, And in black storms the frowns of heaven to see, Never met tempest which more urged' their fears.

Than that which in the Prince's look appears.