Since time does all things change, thou think'ft not fit
This latter age should see all new, but wit
Thy fancy, like a flame, its way does make,
And leave bright tracks for following pens to take.
Sure 'twas this noble boldness of the Mufe
Did thy defire to seek new worlds [] infufe;
And ne'er did heav'n fo much a voyage blefs,
If thou canst plant but there, with like fuccefs.

******

VIII.

****

On the Death of Mr. CRASHAW.

POET and Saint! to thee alone are given

The two moft facred names of earth and heaven; The hard and rareft union, which can be, Next that of Godhead with humanity. Long did the Mufes banish'd flaves abide, And built vain pyramids to mortal pride;

[e]

new worlds] This alludes to Sir William's pro. ject of a fettlement at Virginia; which, however, had no better fuccefs than the poetical project, which his friend here celebrates.

Like Mofes thou (though fpells and charms withftand)

Haft brought them nobly home back to their Holy
Land.

Ah wretched we, poets of earth! but thou
Wert, living, the fame poet, which thou'rt now.
Whilft angels fing to thee their airs divine,
And joy in an applause so great as thine;
Equal fociety with them to hold,

1

Thou need'ft not make new fongs, but fay the old.
And they (kind fpirits !) shall all rejoice to fee
How little less than they, exalted man may be.
Still the old heathen gods in numbers dwell,
The heavenlieft thing on earth ftill keeps up hell.
Nor have we yet quite purg'd the Chriftian land;
Still idols here, like calves at Bethel, ftand.
And though Pan's death [f] long fince all oracles
broke,

J

Yet still in rhyme the fiend Apollo fpoke:

[f] -Pan's death] Alluding to the famous story in Plutarch's Dialogue concerning the filence of the pagan oracles, and the ufe made of that story by Eufebius and others; whence it became the general opinion of the learned, in our author's days, that, by the death of the GREAT Pan, was meant the crucifixion of our Saviour.

Nay

Nay with the worft of heathen dotage we
(Vain men!) the monster woman deify;
Find ftars, and tie our fates there, in a face,
And Paradife in them, by whom we loft it, place.
What different faults corrupt our Mufes thus!
Wanton as girls; as old wives, fabulous!

Thy spotless Muse, like Mary, did contain
The boundless Godhead; fhe did well disdain
That her eternal verse employ'd should be
On a lefs fubject than eternity;

And for a facred miftrefs fcorn'd to take,

But her, whom God himself scorn'd not his spouse to make.

It (in a kind) her miracle did do;

A fruitful mother was, and virgin too.

How well (bleft fwan) did fate contrive thy
death [g];

And made thee render up thy tuneful breath
In thy great mistress' arms! thou most divine
And richeft offering of Loretto's fhrine!
Where, like fome holy facrifice, t'expire,
A fever burns thee, and love lights the fire.
Angels (they fay) brought the fam'd chapel there,
And bore the facred load in triumph through the air.

[g] Mr. Crafhaw died of a fever at Loretto, being newly chofen canon of that church. COWLEY.

'Tis furer much, they brought thee there; and they,

And thou, their charge, went finging all the

way.

Pardon, my mother church, if I confent That angels led him, when from thee he went; For even in error fure no danger is,

When join'd with fo much piety as his.

Ah, mighty God, with fhame I' fpeak't, and grief,
Ah that our greateft faults were in belief!
And our weak reafon were ev'n weaker yet,
Rather than thus our wills too ftrong for it!
His faith, perhaps, in fome nice tenets might
Be wrong; his life, I'm fure, was in the right [b].
And I myself a catholic will be,

So far at least, great faint, to pray to thee.

Hail, bard triumphant [i]! and fome care bestow On us, the poets militant below!

[b] Hence the famous lines of Mr. Pope, which have given fuch fcandal to fome, and triumph to others, only because both parties have been more in haite to apply than understand them.

"For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight, "His can't be wrong, whofe life is in the right.' [i] Hail, bard triumphant!] Hence the apostrophe of Mr. Pope, but not so happily applied, as here

Hail, bards triumphant, born in happier days!"
Effay on Crit. ver. 189.

Oppos'd

Oppos'd by our old enemy, adverse chance,
Attack'd by envy, and by ignorance, 1967
Enchain'd by beauty, tortur'd by defires,

Expos'd by tyrant-love to favage beafts and fires [k].
Thou from low earth in nobler flames didft rife,
And, like Elijah, mount alive the fkies.
Elifha-like (but with a wifh much lefs,
More fit thy greatnefs, and my littleness)
Lo here I beg (I whom thou once didft prove
So humble to efteem, so good to love)
Not that thy fpirit might on me doubled be,
I ask but half thy mighty spirit for me.

And, when my Mufe foars with fo ftrong a wing,
'Twill learn of things divine, and first of thee, to
fing,

IX.

Imitation of MARTIAL [/], Lib, V. Ep. xxi. "SI tecum mihi, care Martialis,

"Securis liceat frui diebus;

[] Expos'd by tyrant-love to favage beafts and fires.] As the primitive Chriftians were, by the tyrant-hate of their pagan perfecutors. ANON.

[ Ed. Maittaire, Lond. 1716.