And warns the shepherd with his flocks retreatTo leafy shadows from the threaten'd heat.
From Cupid's string, of many shafts that fled
Wing'd with those plumes which noble Fame had shed,
As through the wond'ring world she flew, and told
Of his adventures, haughty, brave, and bold,
Some had already touch'd the royal maid,
But Love's first summons seldom are obey'd; 130
Light was the wound, the Prince's care unknown,
She might not, would not, yet reveal her own.
His glorious name had so possess'd her ears,
That with delight those antique tales she hears
Of Jason, Theseus, and such worthies old,
As with his story best resemblance hold.
And now she views, as on the wall it hung,
What old Musæus so divinely sung;
Which art with life and love did so inspire,
That she discerns and favours that desire, 140
Which there provokes th'advent'rous youth to swim,
And in Leander's danger pities him;
Whose not new love alone, but fortune, seeks
To frame his story like that amorous Greek's.
For from the stern of some good ship appears
A friendly light, which moderates their fears;
New courage from reviving hope they take,
And climbing o'er the waves that taper make,
On which the hope of all their lives depends,
As his on that fair Hero's hand extends. 150
The ship at anchor, like a fixed rock,
Breaks the proud billows which her large sides knock;
Whose rage restrainèd, foaming higher swells,
And from her port the weary barge repels,
Threat'ning to make her, forcèd out again,
Repeat the dangers of the troubled main.
Twice was the cable hurl'd in vain; the Fates
Would not be movèd for our sister states;
For England is the third successful throw,
And then the genius of that land they know, 160
Whose prince must be (as their own books devise)
Lord of the scene where now his danger lies.
Well sung the Roman bard, 'All human things
Of dearest value hang on slender strings.'
Oh, see the then sole hope, and, in design
Of Heaven, our joy, supported by a line!
Which for that instant was Heaven's care above
The chain that's fixèd to the throne of Jove,
On which the fabric of our world depends;
One link dissolved, the whole creation ends. 170
[1] 'St. Andero': St. Andrews. He had newly abandoned his suit for the Infanta.— [2] 'Arion sings': Alluding to the deliverance of Charles I., on his return from Spain, from a violent storm in the Bay of Biscay, October 1623. [3] 'Sort': a company. [4] 'Adventurous son': Phaeton. [5] Henrietta, afterwards Queen. [6] Venus.
OF HIS MAJESTY'S RECEIVING THE NEWS OF THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM'S
So earnest with thy God! can no new care,
No sense of danger, interrupt thy prayer?
The sacred wrestler, till a blessing given,
Quits not his hold, but halting conquers Heaven;
Nor was the stream of thy devotion stopp'd,
When from the body such a limb was lopp'd,
As to thy present state was no less maim,
Though thy wise choice has since repair'd the same.
Bold Homer durst not so great virtue feign
In his best pattern:[2] of Patroclus slain, 10
With such amazement as weak mothers use,
And frantic gesture, he receives the news.
Yet fell his darling by th'impartial chance
Of war, imposed by royal Hector's lance;
Thine, in full peace, and by a vulgar hand
Torn from thy bosom, left his high command.
The famous painter[3] could allow no place
For private sorrow in a prince's face:
Yet, that his piece might not exceed belief,
He cast a veil upon supposed grief. 20
'Twas want of such a precedent as this
Made the old heathen frame their gods amiss.
Their Phoebus should not act a fonder part
For the fair boy,[4] than he did for his heart;
Nor blame for Hyacinthus' fate his own,
That kept from him wish'd death, hadst thou been known.
He that with thine shall weigh good David's deeds,
Shall find his passion, nor his love, exceeds: 28
He cursed the mountains where his brave friend died,
But let false Ziba with his heir divide;
Where thy immortal love to thy bless'd friends,
Like that of Heaven, upon their seed descends.
Such huge extremes inhabit thy great mind,
Godlike, unmoved, and yet, like woman, kind!
