 | Dedicatory poems (1694) |  |
xlvii
To Sir HENRY VANE.
Vane , Young in years, but in Sage Councels old,Then whom a better Senator ne're held
The Helm of Rome, when Gowns, not Arms, repell'd
The fierce Epirote, and the African bold,
Whether to settle Peace, or to unfold
The Drift of hollow States, hard to be Spell'd;
Then to advise how War may best be upheld,
Mann'd by her Two main Nerves, Iron and Gold,
In all her Equipage: Besides, to know
Both Spiritual and Civil, what each means,
What serves each, thou hast learn'd, which few have done.
The bounds of either Sword to thee we owe;
Therefore on thy Right hand Religion leans,
And reckons thee in chief her Eldest Son.
| Dedicatory poems (1694) | |