html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }Power, the lov'd Child of Greatness, born from toils
Of virtue, or fond Fortunes prosp'rous smiles;
Yet men in each vicissitude may find,
No long entails of Rule in humane kind.
Thus Infant Empire first has rising state,
Then glor'ous Mediums, next a final fate;
Whence fierce Ambitions storm[errata 1] the world to have,
But space on Earth, to make their wider Grave.
And Rome, that did by Arms so proudly claim
The World to bear from her a vanquish'd Name;
No more possesses of that mighty head,
Than Trophies from her Epitaphs are read.
While Noble Britains first shook oft her yoak,
Before the warring World their Fetters broke;
Which from this glor'ous President was taught,
To conquer Roman Armes, its thraldome brought.
Whose bold Remains to Gaul now wafted o'r.
Thence with repinings view the British Shoar;
Where they perceive their mighty Camps to shroud
Their heads, like mountains, half hid in a cloud.
And next behold the fertile Woods, and Plains,
Their Colonies, and Cities proud Remains;
With Aquæ-ducts, made wondrous for delight,
And Baths could ease, and heal wounds got in Fight.
Recounting their past Ages bloody toyl,
Since mighty Julius did invade this Isle;
Whence now instead of Triumph, they return,
Their Consuls fatal loss, with tears to mourn.
No less the Gauls Alvatrix death bewail'd
Pitty'ng his love, and valour so prevail'd,
That he by Arms on British ground shall fall,
And more incense their antient hate of Gaul.
But e'r these Corps, (dead in the Bed of Fame,)
Have Fun'ral Rites; Apollo's sacred Name
They first invoke, and to his Priestess come,
Rever'd by Gauls, and no less fear'd by Rome,
Who in a Grove, that shades this spacious Shore,
No Axe'r hewd, this God did long implore;
Attending on his Fane of Laurel here,
With Bowry Altars, green throughut the year.
Hither, this Priestess Delphick charms had brought,
Where she Prodig'ous Divinations taught;
And as some tell, here residence did keep,
Within a Cave, her eyes un-clos'd by sleep.
On whom, now Gauls, and Romans mournful wait,
For sacred Comforts, or their future fate;
Carry'ng their Chiefs upon their Purple Beers,
Where Altars reek'd with blood of un-yok'd Steers.
While from her Caves-mouth, dores unbolted flew,
Where they through wond'rous Grates this Priestess view;
Her hair dishevel'd, and her visage fierce,
As when she Fates sad Errands did rehearse:
Who thus begins: In vain these Rites you use,
Nor does Apollo in my soul infuse
An inspiration, Rome can gladly hear,
Or Gaul with Brittains fatally shall warre;
For as Romes Empire, Gaul has vanquish'd held,
So here some Ages hence, shall be beheld,
A Brittish King to wear a Gallick Crown,
Passing through glor'ous Conquests to that Throne.
In whose great Name, five Royal Henries meet,
By valour shall this matchless work compleat;
No more inquire, since Pow'rs above ordain,
No victims here shall ever more be slain.
While their high Rites, Apollo to renown,
Commands this Grove for Piles you streight cut down:
Then all those various forms, that Proteus knew,
Here represents with shapes more wond'rous too;
As soon a Lyon turns, or salvage Bear,
Or furious Tyger seems, her young does fear;
Then on a wave, a Crocodile does weep,
Which done, a Mermaid sings, that charms the deep;
With num'rous Monsters shown, that sport the Flood,
Some ne'r by Mortal seen, or understood:
Next tùrns a flame, that lightning represents;
A Comet then speaks Heav'ns more fierce intents:
With subterranean flames, like those men tell,
Shall be th' eternal Element of Hell.
And here to show her mighty Pow'rs command,
She takes a Throne, on which attending stand
Spirits of Earth and Air, her charms obey,
That with a thought out-fly the Suns swift way.
Her Cave then rends, and out unseen, she flies,
On backs of winds, charm'd with rough gales to rise;
While she through highest Regions wings the Air,
And thus 'tis said, to Delphos did repair.
Which fatal wonder having deeply weigh'd;
Conclude, this Priestess words must be obey'd;
And thus this Grove hew down with restless toyles,
Fitting the choicest for vast Fun'ral Pyles.
Here Elms long marry'd to the lusty Vine,
Fall to the Earth, and last embraces twine;
With Ash, and Firr, that doe so quickly flame,
And Pines, bold Navigators chiefly fame.
As thick fall Willows, mournful Lovers shew,
The Fun'ral Cypress, and the dismal Yew;
With Palms th' Olimpicks prize, and spreading Oak,
And Cedars (Monarch-like,) the rest o'r-look.
Then wreaths of Cypress on their heads they wear,
Lictors supporting the dead Consuls Bier;
On which the Heralds Art had nobly blaz'd
His high Descent, e'r Antient Rome was rais'd;
With Rods and Axes born, display the state
Of Romes Republick, first made Consulate:
No less by wond'rous art, and cost does shine
His Imag'd Predecessors warlike Line.
Having by these Mater'als vastly made
A Pile, on which his Corps in Purple's lay'd;
By sacred Flammins gumm'd, and 'nointed o'r,
Cover'd with Robes, in Romes past Triumphs wore.
Who in their Priestly Vestures myter'd stand,
To flame this Pile, each with a hollow'd Brand;
And having in loud Hymns his valour prais'd,
This glorious Fuel's from their hands, first blaz'd:
Where flames ascend, as if they would aspire
Above the place of Elemental fire,
Unquench'd dissolving clouds, streams downwards pour
And thus this Pile's beheld from Brittains Shoar.
Which be'ng consum'd, an Eagle with seel'd eyes,
These Priests let wing, and feign to heav'n he flyes;
Their pious Embleme, that his soul was there
On nimbler wings, than this swift Bird did bear.
Thus Man, indulgent to a holy cheat,
Makes Reason on Faiths trifling grandeur wait;
Forgetting Nature in deaths homely Tire,
In hope her Act does breath, not life expire.
His glor'ous Corps now with this Pile consum'd;
In Urns (Deaths narrow Clossets) 'tis intomb'd;
Saving Death labour, that has here assign'd
Contracted Mansions for all humane kind,
But Gauls, who diff'rent Celebration taught
(In sacred Rites, and Obsequies) now brought
Their Great Alvatrix on a stately Hearse,
Singing in mournful strains his Fun'ral verse,
The Muses (from their Priests besought) inspir'd,
In mystick Grecian words, (Gauls then admir'd:)
Blessing the Fuel, must to ashes bring
This Princely Corps; they place it in a Ring,
Circl'd with Vines, whose Juice their Country fames,
And Orange-trees, sweet Odors give these flames.
On which (to appease the immortal Pow'rs,)
They sprinkle morning tears, distill'd from flowers.
And now from Custom, (a curst Stepdame made,
When by her rigid duties, heav'ns are pay'd;)
A grievous zeal, the mournful Gauls incites,
To mingle horrors with these Fun'ral Rites:
Who here without remorse, do fill vast Biers
With living Bodies, must dye by these fires,
As Friends, and Servants, held in life most dear,
Lest he in th'other world should need their care.
And here soft Beauties, his past flames did mourn,
In am'rous glory, with his ashes burn;
Supposing Souls in th'other world scarce find
Delightful rest, Loves objects left behind.
While from this flaming tomb their skrieks, and cries,
Through air, and clouds pierce to the Starry skies;
That in their orbs lament, man should create
A means to death, by them not made his fate.
But oh! vain man, when Superstitions fool!
Whose bold deceits impose on heav'n a rule;
And by Faiths Homicides, her Martyrs stakes,
Whose dust for thriving Altars best seed makes.
And now the Gauls, and Romans vastly raise
High Tow'rs of earth, where their Chief's Piles did blaze;
Like mountain-Monuments, times hand defie,
Should it attempt to rase their Memory.
Which done, in scatter'd Troops this vanquish'd hoast,
(As some great Flock had Guides, and Pastors lost,)
Disorder'd, wander to their native homes,
Bearing sad Reliques of Gauls loss, and Romes.
Thus Brittain's freed from these her mighty Foes,
That with five Ages Blood she did oppose;
Till Fortune, who deny'd her Arms success,
Blush'd longer to resist her happiness.
And now my Muse, to London gladly wings,
Her Scene of Joyes, while Conquest thither brings,
The Princes trophy'd from this vanquish'd Foe,
But more renown'd, since by their valours too
The Beauteous Queen's preserv'd, from whose bright charms
Love claim'd to act some wonders by their Arms.
Where by a glorious respite, they receive
Cure to their wounds, this bloody War did give;
Which she to expedite, omits no care,
Giving for balm, to each, a Lovers Tear.
While her great Court, (this triple[errata 2] Greatness joyns,)
In such magnifick Pomp, and Order shines;
As there my Muse a glad Attendance payes,
And Theams of Glory to her Verse conveys.
Though here she seems, like unexperienc'd eyes,
That come to view fam'd Curiosities;
But know not which excel above the rest,
And so think all, and every one the best.
Thus who this Courts high virtues would define,
Must judge all equal in their Glories shine;
Though, as great Lamps, for Lights best order plac'd,
Each has its lustre, by another grac'd.
Hence Subjects oft on Princes fix their eyes,
Less for obedience, than discoveries;
As bold observers on Heav'ns Frame do pry,
More to note spots, than splendors of the Sky.
Who, though but humane, must not frailties own,
Lest Vice should claim a Patron in the Throne;
How hard is't then for Mortals here to raign
And Subjects neither Vice, or Power complain?
But, if my Muse to Fame can credit give,
The Brittish Courts, and Princes, then did live
Renown'd in Graces best of Monarchs speak,
That Subjects from their Rule might pattern take.
While temp'rat thoughts their minds high vigors sway,
As Passions find in them their just allay;
Liberal, as Royal dignifi'd should be,
Yet spare their People by frugality.
To whom they Justice in pure streams preserve,
That no corruptions ministerials swerve;
Oft Champions to the rich oppressors might,
While Law protects all here by equal right,
This to the People must respective be,
Who dearly love a just Propriety,
And envy Greatness chiefly for its sake,
Lest thence oppression priviledge should take:
Though nobly born, are next their Persons plac'd,
(Like Gems, that in their Crowns are worn, and grac'd;)
By whom they favours to the rest dispence,
As Stars convey Heav'ns glor'ous influence.
Such, envious vulgars, (scarce repining) sway,
Since 'tis but antient Honour they obey;
While new-rais'd Blood they seldom will allow,
A Rev'rence mixt with a propitious Brow.
Next these, the Gen'rous due reception have,
Before their merit's forc'd reward to crave;
Who to this grace, by well-known virtues rise,
Which make their Courts, the Patterns of the wise.
To Letter'd men exup'rant grace they give,
Since from their works the Fame of Kings must live;
Nor did each worthy Science then deplore,
It rais'd great Artists, and maintain'd them poor.
No Parasites tongue durst poyson virtue here,
Whose antidote did in their beams appear;
Which sov'raign spells these Serpents drive away,
Though for their charms Kings oft, too dearly pay.
And now, while all these Magnitudes thus meer,
Love does design his Empire to compleat;
Who such Heroick hearts selects to be,
The mighty Regions of his Monarchy.
And in the Queens soft breast had kindled fire,
Purer, than e'r Prometheus did inspire;
Though said to rifle Heav'ns Celestial Flame,
Whence life, and love, to humane Bodies came.
Yet as this Master-piece, Love does compleat,
The Princes in her flames must Rivals meet;
Who like their great Originals, design'd,
Copies, as bright, in her illustrious mind.
While they from her divided Graces, know
Her Souls high value, in their virtues too;
As if Love glor'ous Anarchy must use,
Of these[errata 3] Monarchs, she'l one Sov'raign chuse.
And these great Souls, that no ambitious warr,
Could e'r make Foes, though they did Empire share
Of this Rich Isle, such mighty Nations sought,
Whose Arms they had as dear Associates fought.
Yet Loves Dominion must possess alone,
To which Heav'n gives (most absolute) a Crown;
And though in hearts, his Courts seem narrow spac'd,
Oft has his Thrones by Kings on Foot-stools grac'd.
The End of the Fourth Canto.