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rings more Confirm'd the cause for which he sought before, Rests here, rewarded by an heavenly prince, For what his earthly could not recompense. Pray, reader, that such times no more appear: Or, if they happen, learn true honour here. Ask of this age's faith and loyalty, Which, to preserve them, Heaven confined in thee. Few subjects could a king like thine deserve; And fewer such a king so well could serve. Blest king, blest subject, whose exalted state By sufferings rose, and gave the law to fate! Such souls are rare, but mighty patterns given To earth, and meant for ornaments to heaven. * * * * * FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 40: Winchester, a staunch royalist, besieged two years in his castle of Basing, died in 1674.] * * * * * SONGS, ODES, AND A MASQUE I. THE FAIR STRANGER.[41] A SONG. 1 Happy and free, securely blest, No beauty could disturb my rest; My amorous heart was in despair, To find a new victorious fair. 2 Till you descending on our plains, With foreign force renew my chains: Where now you rule without control The mighty sovereign of my soul. 3 Your smiles have more of conquering charms, Than all your native country arms; Their troops we can expel with ease, Who vanquish only when we please. 4 But in your eyes, oh! there's the spell, Who can see them, and not rebel? You make us captives by your stay, Yet kill us if you go away. * * * * * FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 41: This song is a compliment to the Duchess of Portsmouth, Charles's mistress, on her first coming to England.] * * * * * II ON THE YOUNG STATESMEN. WRITTEN IN 1680. 1 CLARENDON had law and sense, Clifford was fierce and brave; Bennet's grave look was a pretence, And Danby's matchless impudence Help'd to support the knave. 2 But Sunderland, Godolphin, Lory[42], These will appear such chits in story, 'Twill turn all politics to jests, To be repeated like John Dory, When fiddlers sing at feasts. 3 Protect us, mighty Providence! What would these madmen have? First, they would bribe us without pence, Deceive us without common sense, And without power enslave. 4 Shall free-torn men, in humble awe,
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