——Salve æternum mihi maxime Palla!
Æternumque vale!——
TO MY LEARNED FRIEND, MR. T. POWELL,
UPON HIS TRANSLATION OF
MALVEZZI'S CHRISTIAN POLITICIAN.
We thank you, worthy Sir, that now we see
Malvezzi languag'd like our infancy,
And can without suspicion entertain
This foreign statesman to our breast or brain;
You have enlarg'd his praise, and from your store
By this edition made his worth the more.
Thus by your learnèd hand—amidst the coil—
Outlandish plants thrive in our thankless soil,
And wise men after death, by a strange fate,
Lie leiger here, and beg to serve our State.
Italy now, though mistress of the bays,
Waits on this wreath, proud of a foreign praise;
For, wise Malvezzi, thou didst lie before
Confin'd within the language of one shore,
And like those stars which near the poles do steer
Were't but in one part of the globe seen clear.
Provence and Naples were the best and most
Thou couldst shine in; fix'd to that single coast,
Perhaps some cardinal, to be thought wise,
And honest too, would ask, what was thy price?
Then thou must pack to Rome, where thou mightst lie
Ere thou shouldst have new clothes eternally,
For though so near the sev'n hills, ne'ertheless
Thou cam'st to Antwerp for thy Roman dress.
But now thou art come hither, thou mayst run
Through any clime as well known as the sun,
And in thy sev'ral dresses, like the year,
Challenge acquaintance with each peopled sphere.
Come then, rare politicians of the time,
Brains of some standing, elders in our clime,
See here the method. A wise, solid State
Is quick in acting, friendly in debate,
Joint in advice, in resolutions just,
Mild in success, true to the common trust.
It cements ruptures, and by gentle hand
Allays the heat and burnings of a land;
Religion guides it, and in all the tract
Designs so twist, that Heav'n confirms the act.
If from these lists you wander as you steer,
Look back, and catechize your actions here.
These are the marks to which true statesmen tend,
And greatness here with goodness hath one end.
TO MY WORTHY FRIEND, MASTER T. LEWES.
Sees not my friend, what a deep snow
Candies our country's woody brow?
The yielding branch his load scarce bears,
Oppress'd with snow and frozen tears;
While the dumb rivers slowly float,
All bound up in an icy coat.
Let us meet then! and while this world
In wild eccentrics now is hurl'd,
Keep we, like nature, the same key,
And walk in our forefathers' way.
Why any more cast we an eye
On what may come, not what is nigh?
Why vex ourselves with fear, or hope
And cares beyond our horoscope?
Who into future times would peer,
Looks oft beyond his term set here,
And cannot go into those grounds
But through a churchyard, which them bounds.
Sorrows and sighs and searches spend
And draw our bottom to an end,
But discreet joys lengthen the lease,
Without which life were a disease;
And who this age a mourner goes,
Doth with his tears but feed his foes