The Seamen feem'd t'have loft their Arts. Their Ships at Anchor now, of which w'had heard them boaft, [Billow roft, With ill-furl'd Sails, and Kattlings loofe, by every Lay like neglected Harps, untun'd, unftrung; 'Till at the laft, provok'd with Shame, Forth from their Dens the baited Foxes came: Foxes in Council, and in Fight too Grave: Seldom true, and now not brave. They blufter'd out the day with fhew of Fight, A bloody Battel next was fought, And then in Triumph home a welcome Fleet he With Spoils of Victory, and Glory fraught. No difcontented Vermin of ill Times Durft then affront him but in fhow; Nor Libel dafh him with his dirty Rhymes: Nor may he live in peace that does it now. And whofe Heart would not wish so too That had but feen When his tumultuous mif-led Foes Against Him rofe, With what Heroick grace He chofe the weight of wrong to undergo? But when the Meffengers did Mandates bring Since fent from the relenting hand Of the most Loving BROTHER, Kindest KING; If in his heart Regret did rife, It never fcapt his Tongue or Eyes: It was a dark and gloomy Day, The Court, where Pleafures us'd to flow, Defolate was every Room, Where men for News and Bus'nefs ufe to come. With folded Arms and down-caft Eyes men walk'd, In corners and with caution talk'd. All things prepar'd, the Hour grew near When he muft part: his laft fhort time was spent In leaving Bleffings on his Children dear. To them with eager Hafte and Love he went : The Eldeft firft embrac'd, As new-born Day in Beauty bright, But fad in Mind as deepest Night. What tendreft Hearts could fay, betwixt them paft; 'Till Grief too close upon them crept: So fighing he withdrew, She turn'd away and wept. Much of the Father in his Breast did rife, When on the next he fixt his Eyes, A tender Infant in the Nurfe's Arms, Full of kind play, and pretty Charms. But the great pomp of Grief was yet to come. Th' impatient Tides knock'd at the Shore, and bid The Summons he refolv'd t' obey; Difdaining of his Suffering to complain, Though every step feem'd trod with pain; So forth he came, attended on his way By a fad lamenting Throng, That bleft him and about him hung. The cordial that can mortal Pains remove, Where, to convey Them, did two Royal Barges tide, [heart, And there fo tenderly embrac'd, All griev'd by fympathy to see them part, And their kind Pains touch'd each By-stander's Then hand in hand the pity'd Pair Turn'd round, to face their Fate: She ev'n amidft Afflictions Fair; He, though oppreft, ftill Great. Into th' expecting Boat with hafte they went ; Where, as the troubled Fair one to the Shore fome wishes fent, For that dear Pledge sh'ad left behind, And as her Paffion grew too mighty for her Mind, She of fome Tears her Eyes beguil'd; Which, as upon her Cheek they lay, The happy Hero kift away. And, as the wept, blufht with Difdain, and smil'd. Straight forth they launch into the high-fwoln Thames: The well-ftruck Oars lave up the yielding Streams, All fixt their longing Eyes, and wishing stood, On Mr. W ALLER.. By Mr. T. RYMER. W Aller is dead; and lofty Number's loft. Now English Verfe (with nothing left to boast), May hobble on, and vex good Pindar's Ghoft. That fcarce he knew, in any kind, to die. Yet thence no borrow'd Heat, or Luftre got, For all the Court, for all the Mufes Snares; From James to James, they count him o'er and o'er, On him, amidst the legislative Throng, Their Eyes, and Ears, and every Heart they hung. Within thofe Walls if we Apollo knew, Lefs could he warm, nor throw a Shaft fo true. What Life,what Lightning blanch'd around the Chair? And in his Verfe, fo ev'ry where display An Air of something Great, and fomething Gay? Watch home, and Harbour; nay, shut up the Sea: It must no Rack (that foreign Engine) feel; Thus would he play, and many a pointed Jeft Tracing a Life of one who never dies. ww How he the Orbs of Courts and Councils mov'd: } } |