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XXII.

Fame of th' asserted sea thro' Europe blown,
Made France and Spain ambitious of his love;
Each knew that side must conquer he would own,
And for him fiercely as for empire strove.

XXIII.

No sooner was the Frenchman's cause embrac'd,
Than the light Monsieur the grave Don outweigh'd;
His fortune turn'd the scale where'er 'twas cast,
Tho' Indian mines were in the other laid.

XXIV.

When absent, yet we conquer'd in his right;
For tho' some meaner artist's skill were shown
In mingling colours, or in placing light,
Yet still the fair designment was his own.

XXV.

For from all tempers he could service draw;
The worth of each with its alloy he knew,
And, as the confidant of Nature, saw
How she complexions did divide and brew.

XXVI.

Or he their single virtues did survey,
By intuition in his own large breast,
Where all the rich ideas of them lay,

That were the rule and measure to the rest.

XXVII.

When such heroic virtue Heav'n sets out,
The stars, like commone, sullenly obey;

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Because it drains them when it comes about,
And therefore is a tax they seldom pay.

XXVIII.

From this high spring our foreign conquests flow,
Which yet more glorious triumphs do portend;
Since their commencement to his arms they owe,
If springs as high as fountains may ascend.

XXIX.

He made us freemen of the Continent,
Whom Nature did like captives treat before;
To nobler preys the English Lion sent,
And taught him first in Belgian walks to roar.

XXX.

That old unquestion'd pirate of the land,

Proud Rome, with dread the fate of Dunkirk heard, And, trembling, wish'd behind more Alps to stand, Altho' an Alexander were her guard.

XXXI.

By his command we boldly cross'd the line,
And bravely fought where southern stars arise;
We trac'd the far-fetch'd gold unto the mine,
And that which brib'd our fathers made our prize.

XXXII.

Such was our Prince; yet own'd a soul above
The highest acts it could produce to show;
Thus poor mechanic arts in public move,
Whilst the deep secrets beyond practice go.

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XXXIII.

Nor dy'd he when his ebbing fame went less,
But when fresh laurels courted him to live;
He seem❜d but to prevent some new success,
As if above what triumphs earth can give.

XXXIV.

His latest victories still thickest came,

As near the centre motion doth increase;
Till he, press'd down by his own weighty name,
Did like the Vestal under spoils decrease.

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But first the Ocean as a tribute sent

That giant prince of all her wat❜ry herd;
And th' isle, when her protecting genius went,
Upon his obsequies loud sighs conferr'd

XXXVI.

No civil broils have since his death arose,
But Faction now by habit does obey,
And Wars have that respect for his repose
As winds for halcyons when they breed at sea.

XXXVII.

His ashes in a peaceful urn shall rest;
His name a great example stands, to show
How strangely high endeavours may be blest,
Where piety and valour jointly go.

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SATIRE ON THE DUTCH.

WRITTEN IN THE YEAR M.DC.LXII.

As needy gallants, in the scriv'ner's hands,
Court the rich knaves that gripe the mortgag'd lands,
The first fat buck of all the season's sent,
And keeper takes no fee in compliment;
The dotage of some Englishmen is such
To fawn on those who ruin them, the Dutch.
They shall have all, rather than make a war
With those who of the same religion are.
The Streights, the Guinea trade, the herrings too;
Nay, to keep friendship, they shall pickle you.
Some are resolv'd not to find out the cheat,
But, cuckold-like, love them that do the feat.
What injuries soe'er upon us fall,

Yet still the same religion answers all.

Religion wheedled us to Civil war,

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Drew English blood, and Dutchmen's now would spare.
Be gull'd no longer; for you'll find it true,
They have no more religion, faith! than you.
Int'rest's the god they worship in their State,
And we I take it have not much of that.
Well monarchies may own religion's name,
But states are atheists in their very frame.
They share a sin; and such proportions fall,
That, like a stink, 'tis nothing to them all,

Think on their rapine, falsehood, cruelty,

And that what once they were they still would be.
To one well-born th' affront is worse and more,
When he's abus'd and baffled by a boor.
With an ill grace the Dutch their mischiefs do;
They've both ill nature and ill manners too.
Well may they boast themselves an ancient nation,
For they were bred ere manners were in fashion;
And their new Commonwealth has set them free
Only from honour and civility.

Venetians do not more uncouthly ride

Than did their lubber State mankind bestride.
Their sway became 'em with as ill a mien
As their own paunches swell above their chin.
Yet is their empire no true growth but humour,
And only two kings' touch can cure the tumour.
As Cato did in Afric fruits display,'

Let us before our eyes their Indies lay;
All loyal English will like him conclude,
Let Cæsar live, and Carthage be subdu❜d.

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