Her matchless form made all the English glad,
And foreign beauties less assurance had;
Yet, like the Three on Ida's top, they all
Pretend alike, contesting for the ball;
Which to determine, Love himself declined,
Lest the neglected should become less kind.
Such killing looks! so thick the arrows fly!
That 'tis unsafe to be a stander-by.
Poets, approaching to describe the fight,
Are by their wounds instructed how to write.
They with less hazard might look on, and draw
The ruder combats in Alsatia;

And, with that foil of violence and rage,

Set off the splendour of our golden age;

Where Love gives law, Beauty the sceptre sways,
And, uncompell'd, the happy world obeys.

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40

UPON OUR LATE LOSS OF THE DUKE OF CAMBRIDGE.1

THE failing blossoms which a young plant bears,
Engage our hope for the succeeding years;
And hope is all which art or nature brings,
At the first trial, to accomplish things.
Mankind was first created an essay;

That ruder draught the Deluge wash'd away.
How many ages pass'd, what blood and toil,
Before we made one kingdom of this isle!
How long in vain had nature striven to frame
A perfect princess, ere her Highness came!

1 'Duke of Cambridge': The Duke of York's second son by Mary d'Este. He died when he was only a month old, November 1677.

For joys so great we must with patience wait;
"Tis the set price of happiness complete.

As a first fruit, Heaven claim'd that lovely boy;
The next shall live, and be the nation's joy.

OF THE LADY MARY, PRINCESS OF ORANGE.1

1 As once the lion honey gave,

Out of the strong such sweetness came;

A royal hero, no less brave,

Produced this sweet, this lovely dame.

2 To her the prince, that did oppose
Such mighty armies in the field,
And Holland from prevailing foes
Could so well free, himself does yield.

3 Not Belgia's fleet (his high command) Which triumphs where the sun does rise, Nor all the force he leads by land,

Could guard him from her conqu'ring eyes.

4 Orange, with youth, experience has; In action young, in council old; Orange is, what Augustus was,

Brave, wary, provident, and bold.

5 On that fair tree which bears his name, Blossoms and fruit at once are found;

In him we all admire the same,

His flow'ry youth with wisdom crown'd!

1 'Princess of Orange': The Princess Mary was married to the Prince of Orange at St James's, in November 1677.

6 Empire and freedom reconciled

In Holland are by great Nassau;
Like those he sprung from, just and mild,
To willing people he gives law.

7 Thrice happy pair! so near allied
In royal blood, and virtue too!
Now love has you together tied,
May none this triple knot undo!

8 The church shall be the happy place

Where streams, which from the same source run,
Though divers lands a while they grace,
Unite again, and are made one.

9 A thousand thanks the nation owes
To him that does protect us all;
For while he thus his niece bestows,
About our isle he builds a wall;

10 A wall! like that which Athens had,
By th' oracle's advice, of wood;

Had theirs been such as Charles has made,
That mighty state till now had stood.

UPON BEN JONSON.

MIRROR of poets! mirror of our age!
Which her whole face beholding on thy stage,
Pleased and displeased with her own faults, endures
A remedy like those whom music cures.
Thou hast alone those various inclinations
Which Nature gives to ages, sexes, nations;

G

So traced with thy all-resembling pen,
That whate'er custom has imposed on men,
Or ill-got habit (which deforms them so,
That scarce a brother can his brother know)
Is represented to the wond'ring eyes
Of all that see, or read, thy comedies.
Whoever in those glasses looks, may find
The spots return'd, or graces, of his mind;
And by the help of so divine an art,
At leisure view, and dress, his nobler part.
Narcissus, cozen'd by that flatt'ring well,
Which nothing could but of his beauty tell,
Had here, discov'ring the deform'd estate
Of his fond mind, preserved himself with hate.
But virtue too, as well as vice, is clad

In flesh and blood so well, that Plato had
Beheld, what his high fancy once embraced,
Virtue with colours, speech, and motion graced.
The sundry postures of thy copious Muse
Who would express, a thousand tongues must use;
Whose fate's no less peculiar than thy art;
For as thou couldst all characters impart,

So none could render thine, which still escapes,
Like Proteus, in variety of shapes;

Who was nor this nor that; but all we find,
And all we can imagine, in mankind.

ON MR JOHN FLETCHER'S PLAYS.

FLETCHER! to thee we do not only owe
All these good plays, but those of others too;
Thy wit repeated does support the stage,
Credits the last, and entertains this age.

5

10

No worthies, form'd by any Muse but thine,
Could purchase robes to make themselves so fine.

What brave commander is not proud to see
Thy brave Melantius in his gallantry?
Our greatest ladies love to see their scorn
Outdone by thine, in what themselves have worn ;
Th' impatient widow, ere the year be done,
Sees thy Aspasia weeping in her gown.

I never yet the tragic strain essay'd,
Deterr❜d by that inimitable Maid; 1
And when I venture at the comic style,
Thy Scornful Lady seems to mock my toil.

Thus has thy Muse at once improved and marr'd
Our sport in plays, by rend'ring it too hard!
So when a sort of lusty shepherds throw
The bar by turns, and none the rest outgo
So far, but that the best are measuring casts,
Their emulation and their pastime lasts;
But if some brawny yeoman of the guard
Step in, and toss the axletree a yard,
Or more, beyond the furthest mark, the rest
Despairing stand; their sport is at the best.

UPON THE EARL OF ROSCOMMON'S TRANSLATION OF HORACE,

'DE ARTE POETICA;' AND OF THE USE OF POETRY.

ROME was not better by her Horace taught,
Than we are here to comprehend his thought;

'‘Inimitable Maid': the Maid's Tragedy, the joint production of Beaumont and Fletcher.