Near this my Mufe, what most delights her, fees
A living gallery of aged trees;
Bold fons of Earth, that thrust their arms so high,
As if once more they would invade the fky.
In fuch green palaces the first kings reign'd,
Slept in their fhades, and angels entertain'd;
With fuch old counsellors they did advise,
And by frequenting sacred groves grew wife.
Free from th' impediments of light and noise,
Man, thus retir'd, his nobler thoughts employs.
Here Charles contrives th' ord'ring of his states,
Here he refolves his neighb'ring princes' fates;
What nation fhall have peace, where war be made,
Determin'd is in this orac'lous fhade;
The world, from India to the frozen North,
Concern'd in what this folitude brings forth.
His fancy objects from his view receives;
The profpect thought and contemplation gives.
That feat of empire here falutes his eye,
To which three kingdoms do themselves apply;
The structure by a prelate * rais'd, Whitehall,
Built with the fortune of Rome's Capitol:
Both, difproportion'd to the present state
Of their proud founders, were approv'd by Fate. 90 From hence he does that antique pilet behold,
Where royal heads receive the facred gold;
It gives them crowns, and does their ashes keep;
There made like gods, like mortals there they fleep:
Making the circle of their reign complete,
Thofe funs of Empire! where they rife they fet.
When others fell, this ftanding did prefage
The crown fhould triumph over pop'lar rage:
Hard by that Houfe where all our ills were thap'å
Th' aufpicious temple stood, and yet escap'd.
So fnow on Etna does unmelted lie,
Whence rolling flames and scatter'd cinders fly;
The diftant country in the ruin shares;
What fails from heav'n the burning mountain spares
Next that capacious Hall † he fees, the room
Where the whole nation does for juftice come;
Under whofe large roof flourishes the gown,
And judges grave on high tribunals frown.
Here, like the people's paftor, he does go,
His flock fubjected to his view below;
On which reflecting in his mighty mind,
No private paffion does indulgence find:
The pleasures of his youth fufpended are,
And made a facrifice to publick care.
Here free from court compliances, he walks,
And with himself, his best adviser, talks,
How peaceful olives may his temples shade,
For mending laws, and for reftoring trade:
+ Westminster-Hall.
Or how his brows may be with laurel tharg'd,
For nations conquer'd and our bounds enlarg'd. 120
Of ancient prudence here he ruminates,
Of rifing kingdoms and of falling ftates:
What ruling arts gave great Auguftus fame,
And how Alcides purchas'd fuch a name.
His eyes, upon his native palace * bent,
Close by, fuggest a greater argument.
His thoughts rife higher, when he does reflect
On what the world may from that ftar expect
Which at his birth appear'd, to let us fee
Day, for his fake, could with the night agree: 130 A prince on whom such diff'rent lights did fmile,
Born the divided world to reconcile !
Whatever Heav'n, or high extracted blood
Could promife, or foretel, he will make good;
Reform thefe nations, and improve them more
Than this fair Park, from what it was before.
Of the invafion and defeat
OF THE TURKS,
THE modern Nimrod, with a safe delight
Pursuing beafts, that fave themselves by flight,
Grown proud, and weary of his wonted game,
Would Chriftians chase, and sacrifice to fame.
A prince with eunuchs and the softer sex
Shut up fo long, would warlike nations vex,
Provoke the German, and, neglecting Heav'n,
Forget the truce for which his oath was giv’n.
His Grand Vifier, prefuming to invest
The chief imperial city of the West *,
With the first charge compell'd in hafte to rife,
His treasure, tents, and cannon, left a prize:
The standard loft, and janizaries flain,
Render the hopes he gave his master vain.
The flying Turks, that bring the tidings home, 15
Renew the mem'ry of his father's doom;
And his guard murmurs, that so often brings
Down from the throne their unsuccessful kings.
The trembling Sultan 's forc'd to expiate
His own ill conduct by another's fate :
The Grand Vifier, a tyrant, tho' a slave,
A fair example to his master gave;
He Baffas' heads, to fave his own, made fly,
And now, the Sultan to preserve, must die.
The fatal bowftring was not in his thought,
When, breaking truce, he so unjustly fought;
Made the world tremble with a num'rous hoft,
And of undoubted victory did boast.
Strangled he lies! yet feems to cry aloud,
To warn the mighty, and instruct the proud,
That of the great, neglecting to be just,
Heav'n in a moment makes an heap of duft.
The Turks fo low, why fhould the Chriftians lofe Such an advantage of their barb'rous foes?
Neglect their prefent ruin to complete,
Before another Solyman they get?
Too late they would with shame, repenting, dread
That num'rous herd, by fuch a lion led:
He Rhodes and Buda from the Christians tore,
Which timely union might again restore.
But, fparing Turks, as if with rage poffeft,
The Chriftians perish, by themselves oppreft:
Cities and provinces fo dearly won,
That the victorious people are undone!
What angel fhall defcend to reconcile
The Christian states, and end their guilty toil?
A prince more fit from Heav'n we cannot afk
Than Britain's king, for such a glorious task;
His dreadful navy, and his lovely mind,
Gives him the fear and favour of mankind:
His warrant does the Chriftian faith defend;
On that relying, all their quarrels end.
The peace is fign'd, and Britain does obtain
What Rome had fought from her fierce fons in vain.
In battles won Fortune a part doth claim,
And foldiers have their portion in the fame;
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