University of Virginia Library

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A POEM ON THE MARRIAGE Of His Grace the DUKE of NEWCASTLE

To the Right Honourable The Lady Henrietta Godolphin, Inscrib'd to His GRACE.

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While Gothick Arms begin t'infest the Times
Already far debauch'd with Gothick Rhimes,
While baneful Faction would its Pow'r advance
By Popish Chains, and Vandal Ignorance,
Illustrious Youth! indulgently excuse
The fond, weak Sallies of an artless Muse;
Who would the Triumphs of thy Love rehearse
In soft-breath'd Musick, and un-labour'd Verse.

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Hail! darling Pride to the Pierian Maids!
Hail! learn'd Frequenter of their secret Shades!
For Thee in largest Rills their Fountains flow,
Their Voices warble, and their Lawrels grow.
Oh! could I reach transcendent Worth with Praise,
And Roman Virtues paint in Roman Lays,
A British Pollio the pleas'd World should view
More bright, than Pollio, whom a Virgil drew.
Contending Orators should yield the Prize,
And o'er a Trajan a Newcastle rise.
But Thou, fair Charmer of his glorious Breast,
Thou with whole Nature's Gifts profusely blest,
While thus I rove amid the tuneful Throng,
Vouchsafe to listen, and adorn my Song.
Still flow the Verse, like thy own Thoughts, serene,
Sweet, as thy Voice, and easie, as thy Mien.
May those bright Eyes inspire each happy Line,
And all thy Beauties in my Numbers shine.

On proud Olympus is the lov'd Abode,
And awful Mansion of the thund'ring God:
The Ruler of the Skies there keeps his Court,
And there the crowding Deities resort.

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Each circling Year records, how vengeful Earth
With Monsters teem'd, and gave the Giants Birth,
While the great Sire of Gods and Men ordains
A Feast for Trophies won on Phlegra's Plains.
Th'Immortals sport, and revel in Delight,
And drink, and laugh, and love away the Night.
It chanc'd, as flowing Nectar warm'd the Soul,
And Ganymede supply'd th'exhausted Bowl,
Gay Cytherëa from her Silence broke,
And thus to the reserv'd Tritonia spoke.

Fam'd Goddess of the Spear, whom Danger charms,
Whose melting Musick is the Din of Arms;
Whence is that clouded Brow, that pensive Mood?
Are no Scenes pleasing, but the Scenes of Blood?
How soft the Groans, which dying Legions yield!
How sweet the Prospect of a gory Field!
For future Pleasures, what Designs are form'd,
Of Countries ravag'd, and of Cities storm'd?
With brave Eugenio will th'Heroick Maid
Shatter th'aspiring Bulwarks of Belgrade?
Or if Polite Diversions are decreed,
Seek the smooth Converse of the courtly Swede?

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By Thee instructed, he may draw new Schemes,
And break th'Illusions of Ambitious Dreams:
Not madly aim at fix'd Britannia's Throne,
But strive to prop the Ruins of his own.
To thee I must a secret Truth declare,
Britannia is become my Fav'rite Care.
Her Sons confess their Stemm, and pleas'd I trace
The well-known Features of th'Ænëan Race.
In that blest Isle Triumphant Beauty reigns,
And willing Youth wears Love's delightful Chains.
Not ev'n Augustus dares to disobey,
His Carolina's Looks confirm my Sway.

The Warrior-Virgin with a Frown reply'd,
Dull are thy Taunts, and foolish is thy Pride.
Go, happy Queen! in empty Form excell;
Still on thy Glass, or glassie Fountains dwell.
Oft tho' in Arms, amid discolour'd Scenes,
Unpleas'd I view not Meads, and flow'ry Greens.
What, tho' my Hand can launch the whizzing Spear,
A Wreath of Olive is the Wreath I wear.
Let Northern Blasts Dofrenian Mountains chill,
I only visit the Parnassian Hill.

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Suedia's rough Prince may in Encampments freeze,
Or try his floating Oaks on British Seas,
My Pow'r shall Brunswick's lawful Crown protect,
And still his Councils, and his Arms direct.
But say, thou fruitful Mother of Desires,
Feels ev'ry British Youth thy soft'ning Fires?
Has none the Courage to dispute thy Reign,
And are the Labours of Minerva vain?
See! in the Front a Young Patrician stands,
Who scorns thy Sway, and laughs at thy Commands.
He with the Treasures of learn'd Rome is blest,
And all my Athens has enlarg'd his Breast.
Adorn'd by Nature, and improv'd by Arts,
Beauty he sees, but Beauty has no Darts.
His Soul glows only with the Patriot's Flame;
Why need I add, Newcastle is the Name?

No more would Venus the Contest renew,
But smiling rose, and silently withdrew.
She bids th'attending Train of little Loves
Prepare the Silken Harness for her Doves.
Then in an Iv'ry Car with Purple Reins
She guides her snowy Birds, and Cyprus gains.

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High on a Mount, crown'd with unfading Green,
Her costly Palace from afar is seen.
Here Ruby-Walls, and Agate-Steps arise,
And Jasper-Pavements strike the wond'ring Eyes.
Here ev'ry Sense its full Enjoyments meets
In circling Pleasures, and a Maze of Sweets.
Thro' spicy Groves eternal Zephyrs play,
By Night no Mildews, and no Clouds by Day.
Still Flow'rs of various Hue, unbidden, grow,
Birds chaunt above, and Fountains purl below.
At Cytherea's Nod the Graces pour
Ambrosial Essence in a lavish Show'r.
The Nymphs, industrious with an artful Care,
Check the bold Freedoms of her wand'ring Hair.
Here, ruffl'd Tresses to smooth Curls are wrought,
And there, a graceful Negligence is taught.
Love's firm Associates in long Pomp advance,
The sweet Deportment, and the speaking Glance.
Perfidious Vows, with well-dissembl'd Tears,
Fantastick Hopes, and more fantastick Fears.
With careless Looks, and richly gay Attire
Shines rosie Youth, and rowls her Eyes of Fire.
Round her Persuasion languishingly clung,
And Harmony thrill'd melting from her Tongue;

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While close appear'd with their enchanting Pow'rs,
Array'd in whitest Robes, the smiling Hours.

Bright Venus now, in all her Charms confest,
The wanton Cupid to her Bosom prest.
In soothing Sounds she cry'd, My fav'rire Boy,
The Source of ev'ry Care, and ev'ry Joy!
Sweet Energy, and blest Increase of Love,
God of the Gods, and Conqueror of Jove!
Not his almighty Hand, like thine, can aim
So sure a Bolt, or spread so swift a Flame.
'Tis by thy Pow'r my unresisted Reign
Extends thro' Heav'n, and Earth, and Air, and Main.
But to support that Sway one Toil bestow,
New point thy Arrows, and new string thy Bow:
Cull from the golden Store the noblest Dart
To gain a Triumph o'er the noblest Heart.
In the lov'd Palace, fair Britannia's Court,
Where Nymphs, the Rivals to my Nymphs, resort,
Oft shines a Youth, to whose rich Mind alone
The Charms of Beauty are the Charms unknown.
Who, high in Honours, soars as high in Sense,
And from his Virtues claims Pre-eminence.

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For whom with Joy th'Aonian Lyres are strung,
Whom Phœbus loves, and whom his Garth has sung.
But with vain Words thy Conquest I delay:
Alone Newcastle has not own'd our Sway.
Awhile let Venus o'er Minerva boast
In the true Lover the true Patriot lost.
Yet grateful be his Wounds, and sweet his Pain,
Teach him to Sigh, but not to Sigh in vain.
His Phœnix-worth must shun the Phœnix-state,
Unless his Life could share her wond'rous Fate,
And learn by Death still to renew its date.
In Pity to Mankind Love's Joys inspire,
Least future Ages with vain Tears require
The living Images of such a Sire.

She spoke, and swift th'obedient Cupid flies
On Southern Winds, and cleaves the yielding Skies:
Fir'd, and transported with the sweet Commands,
He sped his Flight, and reach'd the British Lands.
Augusta first he sought, thence up-wards springs,
And hov'ring stoop'd again, and clos'd his Wings,
Nigh where the Mole, long diving in the Ground,
Starts up a-fresh, and wond'ring looks around:

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Sees stately Piles adorn his verdant Coast,
And Chargate in a rising Claremont lost.
Not Guadiana, the Hesperian Pride,
Who rouls unseen, below, a silent Tide,
Enjoys, when bursting out, so pure an Air,
Or views her Banks crown'd with a Tow'r so fair.
Variety of Sylvan Scenes compleat
Th'unrival'd Pleasures of this Rural Seat.
Our wand'ring Eyes th'Embellishents behold,
Which Roman Bards to Villa's lent of old.
What Statius fancy'd, or what Claudian drew,
The boldly-feign'd Descriptions here are true.
Here the great Lord those Wonders can produce,
He tills the Wilds, and tames them into use.
He bids the barren Waste with Plants be crown'd,
And softens Rocks into a fruitful Ground.
The yielding Earth obeys his Vanbrook's Will,
Sinks to a Vale, or rises to a Hill.
The God of Love now gains th'enchanting Seats,
Of Eccho, Fauns, and Nymphs the green Retreats.
He hears, and sees Birds warbling thro' the Glades,
And treads on breathing Flow'rs in Myrtle Shades.
Deluded by known Sweets, he seems to rove
Still in the Grotto's of the Paphian Grove.

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At last He reach'd the Mansions, fram'd to please,
The proud Ascent is conquer'd, here, with ease;
There, in steep Prospect, Woods, and Streams delight,
And Domes, and distant Turrets fill the Sight.
The Deity, with Shades encompass'd 'round,
Secret past on, and young Mæcenas found.
On a rich Tyrian Couch his Limbs were spread,
And awful Maro's hallow'd Page he read,
Where Gallus tunes his Grief, and sweetly mourns,
While proud Lycoris for his Rival burns.
He smil'd at Sorrows, which he thought so vain,
Nor pity'd an imaginary Pain.
But by degrees his Breast began to beat,
And pant, and glow with an unusual Heat.
Godolphin's Image in his Mind he views,
And still the sweet Idëa he pursues.
Much he revolves the Pleasures of her Face,
Much the long-shining Virtues of her Race.
A Race, which greatly has th'Example shown
To raise the Publick Treasures, not it's own.
A Race, distinguish'd in th'united Charms
Of conqu'ring Beauty, and of conqu'ring Arms.
Unnumber'd Thoughts unnumber'd Ways inspire
The luscious Poyson, and the pleasing Fire.

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His Claremont now begins to look less fair,
For Cupid was, but not Godolphin there.
He seeks Augusta to regain his Rest,
Nor knows, he bears the Sting within his Breast.
Thence to the Court, in fond Pursuit of Ease,
He hastes; the Court soon doubles his Disease.
In artful Measures a bright Throng advance,
But Henrietta there adorn'd the Dance.
Such Looks had Helen, and so sweet a Mien,
At Sparta dancing first by Paris seen.
Motions, like these, that boasted Flame begun,
He saw, He lov'd, and whom He lov'd, He won.

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