The foolish sports I did on thee bestow,

Make all my art and labour fruitless now ;

Where once fuch Fairies dance, no grass [i] doth

ever grow.

7.

When my new mind had do infufion known,
Thou gav'ft fo deep a tincture of thine own,
That ever fince I vainly try

To wash away th' inherent dye :
Long work perhaps may spoil thy colours quite,
But never will reduce the native white:

To all the ports of honour and of gain

I often steer my course in vain,
Thy gale comes crofs, and drives me back again.
Thou flack'neft all my nerves of industry,
By making them fo oft to be
The tinkling ftrings of thy loofe minstrelfy.
Whoever this world's happinefs would fee,
Muft as entirely caft off thee,
As they, who only heaven defire,
Do from the world retire.

no grafs] i. e. no grafs which turns to profit. The poet alludes, in this verfe, to the four ringlets, which are fometimes found in pafturegrounds, and, according to the philofophy of the country-people, are occafioned by fairies dancing upon them. He had probably his eye on that fine paffage of Shakespear

-"ye demy-puppets, that "By moon-shine do the green four ringlets make, "Whereof the ewe not bites"

Tempeft, A. v. S. ii.

This

This was my error, this my gross mistake,
Myself a demy-votary to make.

Thus, with Sapphira and her husband's fate,

(A fault which I, like them, am taught too late) For all that I gave up, I nothing gain,

And perish for the part which I retain.

8.

Teach me not, then, O thou fallacious Muse,
The court, and better king [k], t' accuse;

The heaven, under which I live, is fair;
The fertile foil will a full harvest bear;

Thine, thine, is all the barrenness; if thou

Mak'ft me fit still and fing, when I should plough:
When I but think, how many a tedious year
Our patient fovereign did attend

His long misfortunes' fatal end!

How chearfully, and how exempt from fear,
On the great Sovereign's will he did depend;
I ought to be accurs'd, if I refuse

To wait on his, O thou fallacious Muse!

Kings have long hands (they fay); and though I be So diftant, they may reach at length to me.

[k] better king] i. e. better in his own nature, than the court [his minifters,] would allow him to be. The fuppofition was decent, but not true.

The minifter of that time was just, nay generous, to our poet. [See Lord Clarendon's Life, Part i. 16.] but, unluckily, the poet's patrons were the minifter's moft determined enemies. In the mean time, the better king cared neither for the minifter, nor the poet.

However,

However, of all princes, thou

Should'ft not reproach rewards, for being small or

flow;

Thou, who rewardeft but with popular breath,

And that too, after death.

XVIII.

On the Death of Mrs. CATHARINE

C

PHILIPS [1].

RUEL disease! ah, could it not fuffice
Thy old and constant spite to exercise
Againft the gentleft and the faireft fex,
Which ftill thy depredations most do vex ?

Where ftill thy malice most of all
(Thy malice or thy luft) does on the fairest fall?
And in them most affault the fairest place,
The throne of emprefs beauty, ev'n the face?
There was enough of that here to afswage
(One would have thought) either thy luft or rage;
Was't not enough, when thou, prophane disease,
Didft on this glorious temple seize ;

Was't not enough, like a wild zealot, there,
All the rich outward ornaments to tear,
Deface the innocent pride of beauteous images?
Was't not enough thus rudely to defile,
But thou must quite deftroy, the goodly pile?
And thy unbounded facrilege commit
On th' inward holiest holy [m] of her wit?

[] This poem is preferved, in honour of the lady, here celebrated, who had the fortune to be equally efteemed by the best poet and best divine of her age. [m] bolieft holy] I wish the poet had forborn this allufion.

Cruel

Cruel difeafe! There thou mistook'st thy power;

No mine of death can that devour,

On her embalmed name it will abide

An everlasting pyramide,

As high as heav'n the top, as earth the basis wide.

2.

All ages paft record, all countries now,
In various kinds, fuch equal beauties fhew,
That ev'n judge Paris [n] would not know
On whom the golden apple to beftow;
Though goddeffes to his fentence did fubmit,
Women and lovers would appeal from it:
Nor durft he say, of all the female race,
This is the fovereign face.

And fome (though these be of a kind that's rare,
That's much, ah, much less frequent, than the fair.)
So equally renown'd for virtue are,

That if the mother of the gods might pofe,

When the best woman for her guide fhe chofe [o].
But, if Apollo fhould defign

A woman laureat to make,

Without dispute he would Orinda take,

Though Sappho and the famous Nine

Stood by, and did repine.

To be a princess or a queen,

Is great; but 'tis a greatness always feen;

The

[n]-judge Paris] Familiar, again, or rather burlefque; quite out of season.

[] Alluding to the introduction of the ftatue of Cybele into Rome: Liv. 1. xxix. The goddess, indeed, had a long train of Roman matrons for her

attendants.