Or whether you consider more

The vast increase, as sure you ought, Of honour by his labour bought, And added to the former store: All I can answer, is, That I allow The privilege you plead for; and avow That, as he well deserved, he doth enjoy it now.

Though God, for great and righteous ends, Which his unerring Providence intends Erroneous mankind should not understand, Would not permit Balcarres' hand

(That once with so much industry and art
Had closed the gaping wounds of every part)
To perfect his distracted nation's cure,
Or stop the fatal bondage 'twas to' endure;
Yet for his pains he soon did him remove,
From all the' oppression and the woe
Of his frail body's native soil below,
To his soul's true and peaceful country above:
So Godlike kings, for secret causes, known
Sometimes but to themselves alone,

One of their ablest ministers elect,

And send abroad to treaties which they' intend Shall never take effect;

But, though the treaty wants a happy end, The happy agent wants not the reward, For which he labour'd faithfully and hard; His just and righteous master calls him home, And gives him,near himself, some honourable room.

Noble and great endeavours did he bring To save his country, and restore his king; And, whilst the manly half of him (which those Who know not Love, to be the whole suppose)

Perform'd all parts of virtue's vigorous life;
The beauteous half, his lovely wife,
Did all his labours and his cares divide;
Nor was a lame nor paralytic side:
In all the turns of human state,

And all the' unjust attacks of Fate,
She bore her share and portion still,
And would not suffer any to be ill.
Unfortunate for ever let me be,
If I believe that such was he,

Whom, in the storms of bad success,
And all that Error calls unhappiness,
His virtue and his virtuous wife did still accompany!

With these companions 'twas not strange
That nothing could his temper change.
His own and country's union had not weight
Enough to crush his mighty mind!

He saw around the hurricanes of state,
Fix'd as an island 'gainst the waves and wind.
Thus far the greedy sea may reach;

All outward things are but the beach;
A great man's soul it doth assault in vain!
Their God himself the ocean doth restrain
With an imperceptible chain,

And bid it to go back again.

His wisdom, justice, and his piety,
His courage both to suffer and to die,
His virtues, and his lady too,
Were things celestial. And we see,
In spite of quarrelling philosophy,

How in this case 'tis certain found,

That heaven stands still, and only earth goes round.

ODE.

UPON DR. HARVEY.

Coy Nature (which remain'd, though aged grown,
A beauteous virgin still, enjoy'd by none,
Nor seen unveil'd by any one),

When Harvey's violent passion she did see,
Began to tremble and to flee;

Took sanctuary, like Daphne, in a tree :

There Daphne's lover stopped, and thought it much
The very leaves of her to touch:

But Harvey, our Apollo, stopp'd not so;
Into the bark and root he after her did go!
No smallest fibres of a plant,

[want, For which the eye-beams' point doth sharpness His passage after her withstood.

What should she do? Through all the moving wood
Of lives endow'd with sense she took her flight;
Harvey pursues, and keeps her still in sight.
But, as the deer, long-hunted, takes a flood,
She leap'd at last into the winding streams of blood;
Of man's mæander all the purple reaches made,
Till at the heart she stay'd;

Where turning head, and at a bay,

Thus by well-purged ears was she o'erheard to say:

"Here sure shall I be safe" (said she),

None will be able sure to see

This my retreat, but only He

Who made both it and me.

The heart of man what art can e'er reveal?

A wall impervious between

Divides the very parts within,

[ceal."

And doth the heart of man even from itself con

VOL. I.

Y

She spoke but, ere she was aware,
Harvey was with her there;
And held this slippery Proteus in a chain,
Till all her mighty mysteries he descry'd ;
Which from his wit th' attempt before to hide
Was the first thing that Nature did in vain.

He the young practice of new life did see,
Whilst, to conceal its toilsome poverty,

It for a living wrought, both hard and privately..
Before the liver understood

The noble scarlet dye of blood ;
Before one drop was by it made,
Or brought into it, to set up the trade;
Before the untaught heart began to beat
The tuneful march to vital heat;

From all the souls that living buildings rear,
Whether imply'd for earth, or sea, or air;
Whether it in the womb or egg be wrought;
A strict account to him is hourly brought
How the great fabric does proceed,

What time, and what materials, it does need: He so exactly does the work survey,

As if he hired the workers by the day.

Thus Harvey sought for Truth in Truth's own book, The creatures-which by God himself was writ; And wisely thought 'twas fit,

Not to read comments only upon it,

But on the' original itself to look.

Methinks in Art's great circle others stand

Lock'd-up together, hand in hand;

Every one leads as he is led;

The same bare path they tread,

And dance, like fairies, a fantastic round,
But neither change their motion nor their ground:
Had Harvey to this road confined his wit, [yet.
His noble circle of the blood had been untrodden
Great Doctor! the' art of curing's cured by thee;
We now thy patient, Physic, see
From all inveterate diseases free,
Purged of old errors by thy care,
New dieted, put forth to clearer air
It now will strong and healthful

prove; Itself before lethargic lay, and could not move!

These useful secrets to his pen we owe!
And thousands more 'twas ready to bestow;
Of which a barbarous war's unlearned rage
Has robbed the ruin'd age:

O cruel loss! as if the golden fleece,

With so much cost and labour bought,
And from afar by a great hero brought,

Had sunk even in the ports of Greece.
O cursed war! who can forgive thee this?
Houses and towns may rise again;
And ten times easier 'tis

To rebuild Paul's, than any work of his :
That mighty task none but himself can do,
Nay, scarce himself too, now;

For, though his wit the force of age withstand,
His body, alas! and time, it must command;
And Nature now, so long by him surpass'd,
Will sure have her revenge on him at last.