Poems, &c. written upon several occasions, and to several persons by Edmond Waller.
Waller, Edmund, 1606-1687.
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To my Lady Morton on New-years-day, 16•0. at the Louvre in Paris.
NEW-years may well expect to find
Welcome from you, to whom they are 〈◊〉
Still as they pass, they court, and smile on you,
And make your Beauty as themselves seem new.
Page 179 To the fair Villars we Dalkith prefer;
And fairest Morton now as much to her;
So like the Sun's advance your Titles show;
Which, as he rises, does the warmer grow.
But thus to stile you fair, your Sexes praise;
Gives you but Mirtle, who may challenge Bay•▪
From armed Foes to bring a Royal prize,
Shews your brave Heart victorious, as your Eyes;
〈◊〉Iudeth marching with the General's head,
〈◊〉 give us passion when her Story's read,
What may the living do which brought away;
Though a less bloudy, yet a Nobler prey?
Who from our flaming Troy, with a bold hand
〈◊〉 her fair Charge, the Princess, like a brand,
•brand preserv'd to warm some Princes heart
〈◊〉 make whole Kingdoms take her Brother's part
〈◊〉Venus from prevailing Greeks did shrowd
〈◊〉 hope of Rome, and sav'd him in a cloud;
Page 180 This gallant act may cancel all our rage,
Begin a better, and absolve this age.
Dark shades become the Portraict of our time,
Here weeps Misfortune, and there triumphs Cri••
Let him that draws it hide the rest in night,
This portion only may endure the light,
Where the kind Nym•h changing her •aultless shap•
Becomes unhandsome, handsomly to s••pe,
When through the Guards, the River, and the S••
Faith, Beauty, Wit and Courage, made their 〈◊〉
As the brave Eagle does with sorrow see
The Forest wasted, and that lofty Tree
Which holds her Nest about to be O'•e thrown
Before the feathers of her young are grown,
She will not leave them, nor she cannot stay,
•ut bears them boldly on her wings away;
So fled the Dame, and O're the Ocean bore
Her Princely burthen to the Gallick shoar.
Page 181 Born in the storms of 〈◊〉 this Royal fair,
Though now she flies her native Isle, less kind,
•ess safe for her, than either Sea or Wind,
Shall, when the Blossom of her Beauty's blown,
See her great Brother on the British Throne,
Where Peace shall smile, and no dispute arise,
But which Rules most, his Scepter, or her Eyes.