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Part must be left, a fund when foes invade;
trade: Ev’n Canaan's happy land, when worn with toil, Requir'd a fabbath-year to mend the meagre foil.
Good senators (and such as you) so give,
Observe the war, in ev'ry annual course;
Oblig'd, by one sole treaty, to restore
Macedons refus’d to fight:
Ev’n victors are by victories undone ; Thus Hannibal, with foreign laurels won, ToCarthage was recall’d, too late to keep his own. While fore of battle, while our wounds are green, Why should we tempt the doubtful dye agen ? In wars renew'd, uncertain of success; Sure of a share, as umpires of the peace.
A patriot both the king and country serves : Prerogative, and privilege, preserves : Of each our laws the certain limit show; One must not ebb, nor t'other overflow : Betwixt the prince and parliament we stand; The barriers of the state on either hand : May neither overflow, for then they drown the
land. When both are full, they feed our bless'd abode; Like those that water'd once the paradise of God.
Some overpoife of sway, by turns, they share ; In peace the people, and the prince in war : Consuls of mod'rare power in calms were made; When the Gauls came, one sole dictator sway'd.
Patriots, in peace, affert the people's right; With noble stubborness resisting might: No lawless mandates from the court receive, Nor lend by force, but in a body give. Such was your gen'rous grandfire ; free to grant In parliaments, that weigh’d their prince's want : But fo tenacious of the common cause, As not to lend the king against his laws. And, in a loathsome dungeon doom'd to lie, In bonds retain'd his birthright liberty, And Iham’d oppression, till it set him free.
O true descendent of a patriot line, Who, while thou shar'st their lustre, lend'st them
thine; Vouchsafe this picture of thy foul to fee; 'Tis fo far good, as it resembles thee : The beauties to th’original I owe; Which when I miss, my own defects I show: Nor think the kindred mufes thy disgrace : A poet is not born in ev'ry race.
Two of a house few ages can afford;
EPISTLE the FOURTEENTH.
Sir GODFREY KNELLER,
Principal PAINTER to his MAJESTY.
NCE I beheld the fairest of her kind,
eyes. Such are thy pictures, Kneller: such thy skill, That nature seems obedient to thy will ;
Comes out, and meets thy pencil in the draught;
Shadows are but privations of the light;
Prometheus, were he here, would cast away
But vulgar hands may vulgar likeness raise ;