Poems on affairs of state from the time of Oliver Cromwell, to the abdication of K. James the Second. Written by the greatest wits of the age. Viz. Duke of Buckingham, Earl of Rochester, Lord Bu-------st, Sir John Denham, Andrew Marvell, Esq; Mr. Milton, Mr. Dryden, Mr. Sprat, Mr. Waller. Mr. Ayloffe, &c. With some miscellany poems by the same: most whereof never before printed. Now carefully examined with the originals, and published without any castration.

Britannia and Raleigh.

By A. Marvel, Esq

Brit.

AH Raleigh, when thou didst thy Breath resign To trembling James, would I h'd quitted mine▪ Cubs didst thou call them? Hadst thou seen this Brood Of Earls, Dukes, and Princes of the Blood; No more of Scottish Race thou wouldst complain, These would be Blessings in this spurious Reign. Awake, arise from thy long blest repose, Once more with me partake of mortal VVoes.

Ra.

What mighty Pow'r hath forc'd me from my rest? Oh mighty Queen, why so untimely drest?

Brit.

Favour'd by Night, conceal'd in this Disguise, VVhilst the lewd Court in drunken slumber lies, I stole away; and never will return, Till England knows who did her City burn: Till Cavaliers shall Favourites be deem'd, And Loyal Sufferers by the Court esteem'd: Till Leigh and Galloway shall Bribes reject; Thus O—ns Golden Cheat I shall detect: Till Atheist Lauderdale shall leave this Land, And Commons Votes shall Cut-Nose Guards disband: Till Kate a happy Mother shall become, Till Charles loves Parliaments, and James hates Rome.

Ral.

VVhat fatal Crimes make you for ever fly Your once lov'd Court, and Martyr's Progeny?

Brit.

A Colony of French possess the Court; Pimps, Priests, Buffoons, in Privy-Chamber sport. Such slimy Monsters ne'er approacht a Throne Since Pharaoh's Days, nor so defil'd a Crown.

In sacred Ear Tyrannick Arts they croak, Pervert his Mind, and good Intention choak: Tell him of Golden Indies, Fairy Lands, Leviathan, and absolute Commands. Thus Fairy-like the King they steal away, And in his room a Changling Lewis lay. How oft have I him to himself restor'd, In's Left the Scale, in's Right-hand plac'd the Sword? Taught him their use, what Dangers would ensue, To them who strive to separate these two? The bloody Scotish Chronicle read o'er, Shew'd him how many Kings in purple Gore Were hurl'd to Hell by cruel Tyrant Lore. The other day fam'd Spencer I did bring, In lofty Notes, Tudor's blest Race to sing; How Spain's proud Powers her Virgin Arms controul'd, And golden Days in peaceful Order roul'd: How like ripe Fruit she dropt from off her Throne, Full of grey Hairs, good Deeds and great Renown. As the Jessean Hero did appease Saul's stormy Rage, and stopt his black Disease; So the learn'd Bard, with artful Song supprest The swelling Passion of his canker'd Breast: And in his Heart kind Influences shed Of Countrys Love, by Truth and Justice bred: Then to perform the Cure so well begun, To him I shew'd this glorious setting Sun. How by her Peoples Looks pursu'd from far, So mounted on a bright Celestial Car Out-shining Virgo or the Julian Star. Whilst in Truth's Mirrour this good Scene he spy'd, Enter'd a Dame bedeck'd with spotted Pride, Fair Flower-de-Luce within an Azure Field, Her left-hand bears the antient Gallick Shield, By her usurp'd; her Right a bloody Sword, Inscrib'd Leviathan, our Sovereign Lord; Her tow'ry Front a fiery Meteor bears, An Exhalation bred of Blood and Tears;

Around her Jove's lewd rav'nous Curs complain, Pale Death, Lust, Tortures, fill her pompous Train: She from the easie King Truth's Mirrour took, And on the ground in spiteful Fall it broke; Then frowning, thus, with proud Disdain, she spoke: Are thred-bare Virtues Ornaments for Kings? Such poor pedantick Toys teach Underlings! Do Monarchs rise by Virtue, or by Sword? Who e'er grew Great by keeping of his Word? Virtue's a faint Green-sickness to brave Souls, Dastards their Hearts, their active Heat controuls: The Rival God, Monarchs of t'other VVorld, This mortal Poyson among Princes hurl'd; Fearing the mighty Projects of the Great, Shall drive them from their proud Celestial Seat, If not o'er-aw'd: This new found holy Cheat, Those pious Frauds too slight t'insnare the brave, Are proper Arts the long••ear'd Rout t'inslave. Bribe hungry Priests to deifie your Might, To teach your Will's your only Rule to Right, And sound Damnation to all that dare deny't. Thus Heavens designs 'gainst Heaven you shall turn, And make them feel those Powers they once did scorn, When all the gobling Interest of Mankind, By Hirelings sold to you, shall be resign'd; And by Impostures God and Man betray'd, The Church and State you safely may invade: So boundless Lewis in full Glory shines, Whilst your starv'd Power in Legal Fetters pines. Shake off those Baby-Bands from your strong Arms, Henceforth be deaf to that old Witches Charms: Tast the delicious Sweets of Sovereign Power, 'Tis Royal Game whole Kingdoms to deflower. Three spotless Virgins to your Bed I'll bring, A Sacrifice to you their God and King: As these grow stale we'll harrass Human kind, Rack Nature, till new Pleasures you shall find, Strong as your Reign, and beauteous as your Mind.

When she had spoke a confus'd Murmur rose, Of French, Scotch, Irish, all my mortal Foes: Some English too, O shame! disguis'd I spy'd, Led all by the wise Son in Law of Hide: With Fury drunk, like Bachanals, they roar, Down with that common Magna Charta Whore. With joynt Consent, on helpless me they flew, And from my Charles to a base Goal me drew: My reverend Age expos'd to Scorn and Shame, To Prigs, Bawds, Whores, was made the publick Game. Frequent Addresses to my Charles I send, And my sad State did to his Care commend: But his fair Soul transform'd by that French Dame, Had lost a Sense of Honour, Justice, Fame. Like a tame Spinster in's Seraigl' he sits, Besieg'd by Whores, Buffoons, and Bastards Chits; Lull'd in Security, rowling in Lust, Resigns his Crown to Angel Carwell's Trust. Her Creature O— the Revenue steals, False F—h, Knave Ang—esy, misguide the Seals: Mac-James the Irish Biggots does adore; His French and Teague commands on Sea and Shore: The Scotch-Scalado of our Court two Isles, False Lauderdale with Ordure all defiles. Thus the States Night marr'd by this hellish Rout, And no one left these Furies to cast out. Ah! Vindex come, and purge the poyson'd State; Descend, descend, e'er the Cure's desperate.

Ral.

Once more great Queen thy Darling strive to save, Snatch him again from Scandal and the Grave: Present to's Thoughts his long scorn'd Parliament, The Basis of his Throne and Government. In his deaf Ears sound his dead Father's Name; Perhaps that Spell may's erring Soul reclaim. Who knows what good Effects from thence may spring? 'Tis God-like good to save a falling King.

Brit.

Rawleigh, no more; for long in vain I've try'd, The Stewart from the Tyrant to divide;

As easily learn'd Vertuoso's may With the Dog's Blood his gentle Kind convey Into the Wolf, and make him Guardian turn, To the bleating Flock, by him so lately torn. If this Imperial Juice once taint his Blood, 'Tis by no potent Antidote withstood. Tyrants, like Lep'rous Kings, for publick Weal Should be immur'd, lest the Contagion steal Over the whole. Th' Elect of the Jessean Line, To this firm Law their Scepter did resign. And shall this base Tyrannick Brood evade Eternal Laws, by God for Mankind made. To the serene Venetian State I'll go, From her sage Mouth fam'd Principles to know: With her the Prudence of the Ancients read, To teach my People in their steps to tread. By their great Pattern such a State I'll frame, Shall eternize a glorious lasting Name. Till then, my Raleigh, teach our noble Youth To love Sobriety, and holy Truth. Watch and preside over their tender Age, Lest Court-Corruption should their Soul engage. Teach them how Arts and Arms in thy young Days Employ'd our Youth, not Taverns, Stews and Plays. Tell them the generous Scorn their rise does owe To Flattery, Pimping, and a Gawdy Show. Teach them to scorn the Carwells, Portsmouths, Nells, The Clevelands, O—Berties, Lauderdales, Poppea, Tegoline, and Arteria's Name, Who yield to these in Lewdness, Lust and Fame. Make 'em admire the Talbots, Sidneys, Veres, Drake, Cav'ndish, Blake; Men void of slavish Fears, True Sons of Glory, Pillars of the State, On whose fam'd Deeds all Tongues and Writers wait: When with fierce Ardour their bright Souls do burn, Back to my dearest Country I'll return. Tarquin's just Judg, and Caesar's equals Peers, With them I'll bring to dry my Peoples Tears.

Publicola with healing Hands shall pour Balm in their Wounds, and shall their Life restore: Greek Arts, and Roman Arms, in her conjoyn'd Shall England raise, relieve opprest Mankind. As Jove's great Son th' infested Globe did free From noxious Monsters, hell-born Tyranny: So shall my England, in a Holy War, In Triumph lead chain'd Tyrants from a far: Her true Crusado shall at last pull down The Turkish Crescent, and the Persian Sun. Freed by thy Labours, Fortunate, Blest Isle, The Earth shall rest, the Heaven shall on thee smile; And this kind Secret for Reward shall give, No poyson'd Tyrants on thy Earth shall live.