Poetical Works of Edmund Waller and Sir John Denham. Edmund Waller

The shallow water doth her force infringe,

       And renders vain her tail's impetuous swinge;

       The shining steel her tender sides receive,

       And there, like bees, they all their weapons leave.

      This sees the cub, and does himself oppose

       Betwixt his cumber'd mother and her foes;

       With desp'rate courage he receives her wounds,

       And men and boats his active tail confounds.

       Their forces join'd, the seas with billows fill,

       And make a tempest, though the winds be still. 160

       Now would the men with half their hopèd prey

       Be well content, and wish this cub away;

       Their wish they have: he (to direct his dam

       Unto the gap through which they thither came)

       Before her swims, and quits the hostile lake,

       A pris'ner there but for his mother's sake.

       She, by the rocks compell'd to stay behind,

       Is by the vastness of her bulk confined.

       They shout for joy! and now on her alone

       Their fury falls, and all their darts are thrown. 170

       Their lances spent, one, bolder than the rest,

       With his broad sword provoked the sluggish beast;

       Her oily side devours both blade and haft,

       And there his steel the bold Bermudan left.

       Courage the rest from his example take,

       And now they change the colour of the lake;

       Blood flows in rivers from her wounded side,

       As if they would prevent the tardy tide,

       And raise the flood to that propitious height,

       As might convey her from this fatal strait. 180

       She swims in blood, and blood does spouting throw

       To heaven, that heaven men's cruelties might know.

       Their fixed jav'lins in her side she wears,

       And on her back a grove of pikes appears;

       You would have thought, had you the monster seen

       Thus dress'd, she had another island been:

       Roaring she tears the air with such a noise,

       As well resembled the conspiring voice

       Of routed armies, when the field is won, 189

       To reach the ears of her escapèd son.

       He, though a league removèd from the foe,

       Hastes to her aid; the pious Trojan[1] so,

       Neglecting for Creusa's life his own,

       Repeats the danger of the burning town.

       The men, amazèd, blush to see the seed

       Of monsters human piety exceed.

       Well proves this kindness, what the Grecian sung,

       That love's bright mother from the ocean sprung.

       Their courage droops, and hopeless now, they wish

       For composition with th'unconquered fish; 200

       So she their weapons would restore again,

       Through rocks they'd hew her passage to the main.

       But how instructed in each other's mind?

       Or what commerce can men with monsters find?

       Not daring to approach their wounded foe,

       Whom her courageous son protected so,

       They charge their muskets, and, with hot desire

       Of fell revenge, renew the fight with fire;

       Standing aloof, with lead they bruise the scales,

       And tear the flesh of the incensèd whales. 210

       But no success their fierce endeavours found,

       Nor this way could they give one fatal wound.

       Now to their fort they are about to send

       For the loud engines which their isle defend;

       But what those pieces framed to batter walls,

       Would have effected on those mighty whales,

       Great Neptune will not have us know, who sends

       A tide so high that it relieves his friends.

       And thus they parted with exchange of harms;

       Much blood the monsters lost, and they their arms. 220

      [1] 'Trojan': Aeneas.

OF THE QUEEN.

       Table of Contents

      The lark, that shuns on lofty boughs to build

       Her humble nest, lies silent in the field;

       But if (the promise of a cloudless day)

       Aurora smiling bids her rise and play,

       Then straight she shows 'twas not for want of voice,

       Or power to climb, she made so low a choice;

       Singing she mounts; her airy wings are stretch'd

       T'wards heaven, as if from heaven her note she fetch'd.

      So we, retiring from the busy throng,

       Use to restrain the ambition of our song; 10

       But since the light which now informs our age

       Breaks from the Court, indulgent to her rage,

       Thither my Muse, like bold Prometheus, flies,

       To light her torch at Gloriana's eyes;

       Those sov'reign beams which heal the wounded soul,

       And all our cares, but once beheld, control!

       There the poor lover that has long endured

       Some proud nymph's scorn, of his fond passion cured,

       Fares like the man who first upon the ground

       A glow-worm spied, supposing he had found 20

       A moving diamond, a breathing stone;

       For life it had, and like those jewels shone;

       He held it dear, till by the springing day

       Inform'd, he threw the worthless worm away.

      She saves the lover as we gangrenes stay,

       By cutting hope, like a lopp'd limb, away;

       This makes her bleeding patients to accuse

       High Heaven, and these expostulations use:

       'Could Nature then no private woman grace,

       Whom we might dare to love, with such a face, 30

       Such a complexion, and so radiant eyes,

       Such lovely motion, and such sharp replies?

       Beyond our reach, and yet within our sight,

       What envious power has placed this glorious light?'

      Thus, in a starry night, fond children cry

       For the rich spangles that adorn the sky,

       Which, though they shine for ever fixed there,

       With light and influence relieve us here.

       All her affections are to one inclined;