Thus vulgar dishes are, by cooks difguis'd,

More for their dreffing, than their substance priz'd.

Your curious notes fo fearch into that age,

When all was fable but the facred

page,

That, fince in that dark night we needs must stray,

We are at least misled in pleasant way.

But what we most admire, your verse no less
The prophet than the poet doth confefs.

Ere our weak eyes difcern'd the doubtful streak
Of light, you faw great Charles his morning break.
So fkilful feamen ken the land from far,
Which shews like mifts to the dull paffenger.
To Charles your muse first pays her duteous love,
As ftill the antients did begin from Jove.
With Monk you end, whofe name preferv'd fhall be,
As Rome recorded Rufus' memory,

Who thought it greater honor to obey

His country's intereft, than the world to sway.

But to write worthy things of worthy men,

Is the peculiar talent of your pen:

Yet let me take your mantle up, and I
Will venture in your right to prophesy.
"This work, by merit first of fame fecure,
"Is likewife happy in its geniture:

"For, fince 'tis born when Charles afcends the

throne,

"It shares at once his fortune and its own."

Learned and Ufeful WORKS; but more particularly his Treatife of STONE-HENGE, by him reftor'd to the true Founder.

TH

HE longeft tyranny that ever sway'd, Was that wherein our ancestors betray'd Their free-born reason to the Stagyrite, And made his torch their universal light. So truth, while only one fupply'd the state, Grew scarce, and dear, and yet fophifticate. Still it was bought, like emp'ric wares, or charms, Hard words feal'd up with Ariftotle's arms. Columbus was the firft that shook his throne; And found a temp'rate in a torrid zone:

The fev'rish air fann'd by a cooling breeze,
The fruitful vales fet round with fhady trees;
And guiltless men, who danc'd away their time,
Fresh as their groves, and happy as their clime.
Had we still paid that homage to a name,
Which only God and nature justly claim
The western seas had been our utmost bound,
Where poets still might dream the fun was drown'd:
And all the stars that shine in fouthern fkies,
Had been admir'd by none but favage eyes.

;

Among th' afferters of free reafon's claim, Our nation's not the leaft in worth or fame. The world to Bacon does not only owe Its prefent knowlege, but its future too. Gilber fhall live, 'till loadstones cease to draw, Or British fleets the boundless ocean awe. And noble Boyle, not lefs in nature seen,

Than his great brother read in states and men. The circling streams, once thought but pools, of blood

(Whether life's fuel, or the body's food)

From dark oblivion Harvey's name shall fave; While Ent keeps all the honor that he gave. Nor are you, learned friend, the least renown'd; Whose fame, not circumfcrib'd with English ground,

A

Flies like the nimble journies of the light;
And is, like that, unfpent too in its flight.
Whatever truths have been, by art or chance,
Redeem'd from error, or from ignorance,
Thin in their authors, like rich veins of ore,
Your works unite, and ftill discover more.
Such is the healing virtue of your pen,

To perfect cures on books, as well as men.
Nor is this work the leaft: you well may give
To men new vigor, who make stones to live.
Thro you, the Danes, their fhort dominion lost,
A longer conqueft than the Saxons boaft.
Stonehenge, once thought a temple, you have found
A throne, where kings, our earthly gods, were
crown'd ;

Where by their wond'ring subjects they were feen'
Joy'd with their ftature, and their princely mien.
Our fovereign here above the reft might stand,
And here be chofe again to rule the land.

Thefe ruins fhelter'd once his facred head,
When he from Wor'fter's fatal battle fled;
Watch'd by the genius of this royal place,
And mighty vifions of the Danish race.
His refuge then was for a temple shown:
But, he reftor'd, 'tis now become a throne.

EPISTLE the THIRD.

LADY

TO THE

CASTLEMA IN,

Upon her encouraging his first PLAY.

A

S feamen, fhipwreck'd on fome happy fhore, Discover wealth in lands unknown before; And, what their art had labor'd long in vain, By their misfortunes happily obtain : So my much-envy'd mufe, by ftorms long toft, Is thrown upon your hofpitable coaft, And finds more favor by her ill fuccefs, Than fhe could hope for by her happiness. Once Cato's virtue did the gods oppose; While they the victor, he the vanquish'd chose : But you have done what Cato could not do, To choose the vanquish'd, and restore him too. Let others ftill triumph, and gain their cause By their deferts, or by the world's applause; Let merit crowns, and justice laurels give, But let me happy by your pity live. True poets empty fame and praise despise, Fame is the trumpet, but your smile the prize.