Matthew Prior. Dialogues of the Dead and Other Works in Prose and Verse. The Text Edited by A. R. Waller |
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 | Matthew Prior. Dialogues of the Dead and Other Works |  |
147
THE EXAMINER. 7 SEPTEMBER 1710
148
To the Earl of Godolphin.
Whilst weeping Europe bends beneath her Ills,
And where the Sword destroys not, Famine kills;
Our Isle enjoys, by your successful Care,
The Pomp of Peace amidst the Woes of War.
So much the Public to your Prudence owes,
You think no Labours long for our Repose:
Such Conduct, such Integrity are shown,
There are no Coffers empty but your own.
From mean Dependance Merit you retrieve;
Unask'd you offer, and unseen you give.
Your Favour, like the Nile, Increase bestows,
And yet conceals the Source from whence it flows:
So pois'd your Passions are, we find no Frown,
If Funds oppress not, and if Commerce run.
Taxes diminish'd, Liberty entire,
Those are the Grants your Services require.
Thus far the State-Machine wants no Repair,
But moves in matchless Order by your Care:
Free from Confusion, settled and serene,
And, like the Universe, by Springs unseen.
But now some Star, sinister to our Prayers,
Contrives new Schemes, and calls you from Affairs.
No Anguish in your Looks, nor Cares appear,
But how to teach the unpractis'd Crew to Steer.
Thus, like some Victim, no Constraint you need,
To expiate their Offence, by whom you bleed.
And where the Sword destroys not, Famine kills;
Our Isle enjoys, by your successful Care,
The Pomp of Peace amidst the Woes of War.
So much the Public to your Prudence owes,
You think no Labours long for our Repose:
Such Conduct, such Integrity are shown,
There are no Coffers empty but your own.
From mean Dependance Merit you retrieve;
Unask'd you offer, and unseen you give.
Your Favour, like the Nile, Increase bestows,
And yet conceals the Source from whence it flows:
So pois'd your Passions are, we find no Frown,
If Funds oppress not, and if Commerce run.
Taxes diminish'd, Liberty entire,
Those are the Grants your Services require.
Thus far the State-Machine wants no Repair,
But moves in matchless Order by your Care:
Free from Confusion, settled and serene,
And, like the Universe, by Springs unseen.
But now some Star, sinister to our Prayers,
Contrives new Schemes, and calls you from Affairs.
No Anguish in your Looks, nor Cares appear,
But how to teach the unpractis'd Crew to Steer.
Thus, like some Victim, no Constraint you need,
To expiate their Offence, by whom you bleed.
Ingratitude's a Weed in every Clime,
It thrives too fast at first, but fades in Time.
The God of Day, and your own Lot's the same,
The Vapours you have rais'd, obscure your Flame.
But though you suffer, and a while retreat,
Your Globe of Light looks larger as you set.
It thrives too fast at first, but fades in Time.
The God of Day, and your own Lot's the same,
The Vapours you have rais'd, obscure your Flame.
But though you suffer, and a while retreat,
Your Globe of Light looks larger as you set.
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