Clievelandi Vindiciæ, or, Clieveland's genuine poems, orations, epistles, &c. purged from the many false and spurious ones which had usurped his name, and from innumerable errours and corruptions in the true copies : to which are added many never printed before, with an account of the author's life.

1.

HAil venerable Reliques! unto whom Old and new Idolatrous Rome Might pay devotion Free from superstition. Your sacred Oracles found the Sibyl's fate, Equally divine, alike unfortunate. Injurious time did both disperse, Like Pompey's Ruines, through an Vniverse. Whose leaves (like these) scattered were, The burthen of the swelling Air, Though faln, yet like their Laurels flourishing and fair. Those sacrific'd to Tarquin's Fame, Deriv'd their splendour from their flame. These from Charls his name Illustrious became.

2.

Hail Mercury's and Apollo's Son! If not by Nature, sure by Adoption. By whose joint gift thou dost inherit Cicero's tongue, and Virgil's spirit.

Worthy thou enshrin'd to rest In a sacred Vatican, Or learned Tusculan, Worthy of Mecoenas breast. Iustly the Muses stil'd, and Caesar's Laureate▪ Since in the State Thy pen did the sword's business anticipate. Thy quill the Roman Eagles did outfly, And conquering taught the Rebell Scot fidelity; The noblest triumph, and the happiest victory. The Caledonian Satyre scarce thine withstood; Vnto thy Laurel stoop'd the glory of his wood, From thee Montross had learn'd to write in wounds and blood.

3.

Thou Caesar like, for sword and book renown'd, Both in the Muses camp, and Martial crown'd; (As if thy sacred wreath was meant Both wits and lightnings fl••shes to prevent, Both for security and ornament) Thy no less flourishing praise Deserves Minerva's double bayes Who sang so sweet in troublesom, and Halcyon days; Trent's dying Swans we see o'rcome with thy Mantum lays.

Both ready to resign that breath With which you sing your own, and Countreys death. Of Newark's, and your own sad story, The equal grief and glory.

4.

Hail coelestial Vrn! Whose ashes like the neighbouring stars do shine & burn' And liberally dispense To the Poetick world wit's benevolence; Whose greater Orb the less doth influence. Hail Reverend Bard! whose name in British story Shall raise new Monuments of glory, Whereon thou sublim'd shalt sit The Genius of wit. The winged Pegasus mounts so high, As if to the wind the Gennet ow'd his Progeny. The lofty Pindar stops his flight, Avd only gazeth at, not emulates thy height. Whom at that distance plac'd we see, There's no parallel for thy Degree, But thine own Climax, or Hyperbole, Which out soars Dedalus his pitch, without his destiny.

L. T.