Friendship's Mystery, To My Dearest Lucasia

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COme, my Lucasia, since we see
That Miracles Mens faith do move,
By wonder and by prodigy
To the dull angry world let's prove
There's a Religion in our Love.

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For though we were design'd t' agree,
That Fate no liberty destroyes,
But our Election is as free
As Angels, who with greedy choice
Are yet determin'd to their joyes.

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Our hearts are doubled by the loss,
Here Mixture is Addition grown ;
We both diffuse, and both ingross :
And we whose minds are so much one,
Never, yet ever are alone.

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We court our own Captivity
Than Thrones more great and innocent :
'Twere banishment to be set free,
Since we wear fetters whose intent
Not Bondage is, but Ornament.

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Divided joyes are tedious found,
And griefs united easier grow :
We are our selves but by rebound,
And all our Titles shuffled so,
Both Princes, and both Subjects too.

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Our Hearts are mutual Victims laid,
While they (such power in Friendship lies)
Are Altars, Priests, and Off'rings made :
And each Heart which thus kindly dies,
Grows deathless by the Sacrifice.

Arion To A Dolphin, On His Majesty's Passage Into England.

Whom does this stately Navy bring?
O! ‘tis Great Britain's Glorious King,
Convey him then, ye Winds and Seas,
Swift as Desire and calm as Peace.
In your Respect let him survey
What all his other Subjects pay;
And prophesie to them again
The splendid smoothness of his Reign.
Charles and his mighty hopes you bear:
A greater now then Cæsar's here;
Whose Veins a richer Purple boast
Then ever Hero's yet engrost;
Sprung from a Father so august,
He triumphs in his very dust.
In him two Miracles we view,
His Vertue and his Safety too:
For when compell'd by Traitors crimes
To breathe and bow in forein Climes,
Expos'd to all the rigid fate
That does on wither'd Greatness wait,
Had plots for Life and Conscience laid,
By Foes pursu'd, by Friends betray'd;
Then Heaven, his secret potent friend,
Did him from Drugs and Stabs defend;
And, what's more yet, kept him upright
‘Midst flattering Hope and bloudy Fight.
Cromwell his whole Right never gain'd,
Defender of the Faith remain'd,
For which his Predecessors fought
And writ, but none so dearly bought.
Never was Prince so much beseiged,
At home provok'd, abroad obliged;
Nor ever Man resisted thus,
No not great Athanasius.
No help of Friends could, or Foes spight,
To fierce Invasion him invite.
Revenge to him no pleasure is,
He spar'd their bloud who gap'd for his;
Blush'd any hands the English Crown
Should fasten on him but their own.
As Peace and Freedom with him went,
With him they came from Banishment.
That he might his Dominions win,
He with himself did first begin:
And that best victory obtain'd,
His Kingdom quickly he regain'd.
Th' illustrious suff'rings of this Prince
Did all reduce and all convince.
He onely liv'd with such success,
That the whole world would fight with less.
Assistant Kings could but subdue
Those Foes which he can pardon too.
He thinks no Slaughter-trophees good,
Nor Laurels dipt in Subjects blood;
But with a sweet resistless art
Disarms the hand, and wins the heart;
And like a God doth rescue those
Who did themselves and him oppose.
Go, wondrous Prince, adorn that Throne
Which Birth and Merit make your own;
And in your Mercy brighter shine
Then in the Glories of your Line:
Find Love at home, and abroad Fear,
And Veneration every where.
Th' united world will you allow
Their Chief, to whom the English bow:
And Monarchs shall to yours resort,
As Sheba's Queen to Judah's Court;
Returning thence constrained more
To wonder, envy, and adore.
Disgusted Rome will hate your Crown,
But she shall tremble at your Frown.
For England shall (rul'd and restor'd by You)
The suppliant world protect, or else subdue.

In Memory Of That Excellent Person Mrs. Mary Lloyd Of Bodidrist In Denbigh-Shire,

I CANNOT hold, for though to write were rude,
Yet to be silent were Ingratitude,
And Folly too; for if Posterity
Should never hear of such a one as thee,
And onely know this Age's brutish fame,
They would think Vertue nothing but a Name.
And though far abler Pens must her define,
Yet her Adoption hath engaged mine:
And I must own where Merit shines so clear,
'Tis hard to write, but harder to forbear.
Sprung from an ancient and an honour'd Stem,
Who lent her lustre, and she paid it them;
Who still in great and noble things appeared,
Whom all their Country lov'd, and yet they feared.
Match'd to another good and great as they,
Who did their Country both oblige and sway.
Behold herself, who had without dispute
More then both Families could contribute.
What early Beauty Grief and Age had broke,
Her lovely Reliques and her Off-spring spoke.
She was by nature and her Parents care
A Woman long before most others are.
But yet that antedated2 season she
Improv'd to Vertue, not to Liberty.
For she was still in either state of life
Meek as a Virgin, Prudent as a Wife
And she well knew, although so young and fair,
Justly to mix Obedience Love and Care;
Whil'st to her Children she did still appear
So wisely kind, so tenderly severe,
That they from her Rule and Example brought
A native Honour, which she stampt and taught.
Nor can a single Pen enough commend
So kind a Sister and so clear a Friend.
A Wisdom from above did her secure,
Which as 'twas peaceable, was ever pure.
And if well-order'd Commonwealths must be
Patterns for every private Family,
Her House, rul'd by her hand and by her eye,
Might be a Pattern for a Monarchy.
Solomon's wisest Woman less could do;
She built her house, but this preserv'd hers too.
She was so pious that when she did die,
She scarce chang'd Place, I'm sure not Company.
Her Zeal was primitive and practick too;
She did believe, and pray, and read, and do.
A firm and equal Soul she had engrost,
Just ev'n to those that disoblig'd her most.
She grew to love those wrongs she did receive
For giving her the power to Forgive.
Her Alms I may admire, but not relate;
But her own works shall praise her in the gate.
Her Life was checquer'd with afflictive years,
And even her Comfort season'd in her Tears.
Scarce for a Husband's loss her eyes were dried,
And that loss by her Children half supplied,
When Heav'n was pleas'd not these dear Propes' afford,
But tore most off by sickness or by sword.
She, who in them could still their Father boast,
Was a fresh Widow every Son she lost.
Litigious hands did her of Right deprive,
That after all 'twas Penance to survive.
She still these Griefs hath nobly undergone,
Which few support at all, but better none.
Such a submissive Greatness who can find?
A tender Heart with so resolv'd a Mind?
But she, though sensible, was still the same,
Of a resigned Soul, untainted Fame,
Nor were her Vertues coarsly set, for she
Out-did Example in Civility.
To bestow blessings, to oblige, relieve,
Was all for which she could endure to live.
She had a joy higher in doing good,
Than they to whom the benefit accru'd.
Though none of Honour had a quicker sense,
Never had Woman more of complacence;
Yet lost it not in empty forms, but still
Her Nature noble was, her Soul gentile.
And as in Youth she did attract, (for she
The Verdure had without the Vanity)
So she in Age was mild and grave to all,
Was not morose, but was majestical.
Thus from all other Women she had skill
To draw their good, but nothing of their ill.
And since she knew the mad tumultuous World,
Saw Crowns revers'd, Temples to ruine hurl'd;
She in Retirement chose to shine and burn,
As a bright Lamp shut in some Roman Urn.
At last, when spent with sickness, grief and age,
Her Guardian Angel did her death presage:
(So that by strong impulse she chearfully
Dispensed blessings, and went home to die;
That so she might, when to that place removed,
Marry his Ashes whom she ever loved)
She dy'd, gain'd a reward, and paid a debt.
The Sun himself did never brighter set.
Happy were they that knew her and her end,
More happy they that did from her descend:
A double blessing they may hope to have,
One she convey'd to them, and one she gave.
All that are hers are therefore sure to be
Blest by Inheritance and Legacy.
A Royal Birth had less advantage been.
'Tis more to die a Saint than live a Queen.