On the Birth-day of Queen Katherine

While yet it was the Empire of the Night,And Stars still check'r'd Darkness with their Light,From Temples round the cheerful Bells did ring,But with the Peales a churlish Storm did sing.I slumbr'd; and the Heavens like things did show,Like things which I had seen and heard below.Playing on Harps Angels did singing fly,But through a cloudy and a troubl'd Sky,Some fixt a Throne, and Royal Robes display'd,And then a Massie Cross upon it laid.I wept: and earnestly implor'd to know,Why Royal Ensigns were disposed so.An Angel said, The Emblem thou hast seen,Denotes the Birth-Day of a Saint and Queen.Ah, Glorious Minister, I then reply'd,Goodness and Bliss together do resideIn Heaven and thee, why then on Earth belowThese two combin'd so rarely do we know?He said, Heaven so decrees: and such a Sable MorneWas that, in which the Son of God was borne.Then Mortal wipe thine Eyes, and cease to rave,God darkn'd Heaven, when He the World did save.

TOMy Lord Colrane,

In Answer to his Complemental Verses sent me under the Name of

Long my dull Muse in heavy slumbers lay,Indulging Sloth, and to soft Ease gave way,Her Fill of Rest resolving to enjoy,Or fancying little worthy her employ.When Noble Cleanors obliging StrainsHer, the neglected Lyre to tune, constrains.Confus'd at first, she rais'd her drowsie Head,Ponder'd a while, then pleas'd, forsook her Bed.Survey'd each Line with Fancy richly fraught,Re-read, and then revolv'd them in her Thought.

And can it be? She said, and can it be?That 'mong the Great Ones I a Poet see?The Great Ones? who their Ill-spent time devide,'Twixt dang'rous Politicks, and formal Pride,Destructive Vice, expensive Vanity,In worse Ways yet, if Worse there any be:Leave to Inferiours the despised Arts,Let their Retainers be the Men of Parts.But here with Wonder and with Joy I find,I'th' Noble Born, a no less Noble Mind;One, who on Ancestors, does not relyFor Fame, in Merit, as in Title, high!

The Severe Godess thus approv'd the Laies:Yet too much pleas'd, alas, with her own Praise.But to vain Pride, My Muse, cease to give place,Virgils immortal Numbers once did graceA Smother'd Gnat: by high Applause is shown,If undeserv'd, the Praisers worth alone:Nor that you should believ't, is't always meant,'Tis often for Instruction only sent,To praise men to Amendment, and display,By its Perfection, where their Weakness lay.This Use of these Applauding Numbers makeThem for Example, not Encomium, take.