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While peace from hence, and you were gone,
Constant to ENGLAND in your love,
Accusing some malignant star,
But what new Mine this work supplies ?
Frugality, and bounty too,
Let foreign Princes vainly boast
This, by the Queen herself defign'd,
Ent'ring, beneath us we descry ;
She needs no weary steps ascend ;
Of a TREE cut in PAPER.
Yet, from the stain of ink, preserve it white:
you alone can make them bend and shake ;
To a LADY, from whom he received the foregoing Copy, which for many years had been lojt.
OTHING lies hid from radiant eyes ;
Secrets, as choicest jewels, are
The picture of fair Venus, (that, For which Men say, the Goddess fat) Was loft, 'till LELY from your look Again that glorious image took.
If virtue's self were loft, we might
of the Lady MARY, Princess of
S once the lion honey gave,
Out of the strong fuch sweetness came; A royal Hero, no less brave,
Produc'd this sweet, this lovely, dame.
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.
Not Belgia's fleet (his high command)
Nor all the force he leads by land,
Could guard him from her conqu’ring eyes.
ORANGE, with youth, experience has ;
In action young, in council old: ORANGE is, what AUGUSTUS was,
Brave, wary, provident, and bold.
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!
Empire, and freedom, reconcil'd
In HOLLAND are, by great Nassaw: Like those he sprung from, just, and mild,
To willing people he gives law.
Thrice-happy pair! so near ally'd,
In royal blood, and virtue too! Now Love has you together ty'd,
May none this triple knot undo!
The Church shall be the happy place,
Where streams which from the same source run, Tho' divers lands awhile they grace,
Unite again, and are made one.
A thousand thanks the nation owes
To him that does protect us all: For, while he thus his neece bestows,
About our Idle he builds a wall;
A wall! like that which ATHENS had,
By th' oracle's advice, of wood:
That mighty state 'till now had stood.
OF ENGLISH VERS E.
Their work shall with the world remain:
But who can hope his lines should long
When architects have done their part,
Poets that lasting marble feek,
CHAUCER his sense can only boast;