The Second, fourth, and seventh satyrs of Monsieur Boileau imitated with some other poems and translations, written upon several occasions.

TO THE SEVEN Lords Justices.

May it please Your LORDSHIPS.

WHen Ancient Greece the famous SEVEN obey'd To her the admiring world their homage Paid; Wond'ring to See diff'rent professions joyn'd, And Arts with Arms successfully combin'd: Her friends with pleasure saw her grandure rais'd, Praising the state, and envying while they prais'd; Her Foes beheld her rise, and thence with fear Presag'd their tottering Empire's fall was near.

With like amazement Forreign Nations view This happy Isle Govern'd (My Lords) by You. The glad Confederates hence foretell afar, The prosperous exit of a doubtfull War; And rich in mighty Hopes of future Spoils, Already reap the fruit of all their toils. While our Great Hero amidst dangers brave, Resolves to lose his Life, or Europe save; You manage all things with that prudent care, That Gallick courage now submits to fear; And haughty Lewis droops, enrag'd to find The Prince abroad, such virtue left behind. In vain He there attempts the Monarchs doom: In vain base Villains do the same at home. Since should His aim (forbid it Heav'n) succeed, Or Caesar by conspiring Traytors bleed: Your Councels would oppose th' invading tide, And widdow'd Albion to safe harbour guide: This your past lives assure: Each Noble Soul That knows how to obey, knows how to Rule.