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

Within the town commanded by our fleet.

       These mighty peers placed in the gilded barge,

       Proud with the burden of so brave a charge, 40

       With painted oars the youths begin to sweep

       Neptune's smooth face, and cleave the yielding deep;

       Which soon becomes the seat of sudden war

       Between the wind and tide that fiercely jar.

       As when a sort[3] of lusty shepherds try

       Their force at football, care of victory

       Makes them salute so rudely breast to breast, 47

       That their encounter seems too rough for jest;

       They ply their feet, and still the restless ball,

       Toss'd to and fro, is urged by them all:

       So fares the doubtful barge 'twixt tide and winds,

       And like effect of their contention finds.

       Yet the bold Britons still securely row'd;

       Charles and his virtue was their sacred load;

       Than which a greater pledge Heaven could not give,

       That the good boat this tempest should outlive.

       But storms increase, and now no hope of grace

       Among them shines, save in the Prince's face;

       The rest resign their courage, skill, and sight,

       To danger, horror, and unwelcome night. 60

       The gentle vessel (wont with state and pride

       On the smooth back of silver Thames to ride)

       Wanders astonish'd in the angry main,

       As Titan's car did, while the golden rein

       Fill'd the young hand of his adventurous son,[4]

       When the whole world an equal hazard run

       To this of ours, the light of whose desire

       Waves threaten now, as that was scared by fire.

       Th' impatient sea grows impotent, and raves,

       That, night assisting, his impetuous waves 70

       Should find resistance from so light a thing;

       These surges ruin, those our safety bring.

       Th' oppress'd vessel doth the charge abide,

       Only because assail'd on every side;

       So men with rage and passion set on fire,

       Trembling for haste, impeach their mad desire.

      The pale Iberians had expired with fear,

       But that their wonder did divert their care,

       To see the Prince with danger moved no more

       Than with the pleasures of their court before; 80

       Godlike his courage seem'd, whom nor delight

       Could soften, nor the face of death affright.

       Next to the power of making tempests cease,

       Was in that storm to have so calm a peace.

       Great Maro could no greater tempest feign,

       When the loud winds usurping on the main,

       For angry Juno labour'd to destroy

       The hated relics of confounded Troy;

       His bold Aeneas, on like billows toss'd

       In a tall ship, and all his country lost, 90

       Dissolves with fear; and both his hands upheld,

       Proclaims them happy whom the Greeks had quell'd

       In honourable fight; our hero, set

       In a small shallop, Fortune in his debt,

       So near a hope of crowns and sceptres, more

       Than ever Priam, when he flourish'd, wore;

       His loins yet full of ungot princes, all

       His glory in the bud, lets nothing fall

       That argues fear; if any thought annoys

       The gallant youth, 'tis love's untasted joys, 100

       And dear remembrance of that fatal glance,

       For which he lately pawn'd his heart[5] in France;

       Where he had seen a brighter nymph than she[6]

       That sprung out of his present foe, the sea.

       That noble ardour, more than mortal fire,

       The conquer'd ocean could not make expire;

       Nor angry Thetis raise her waves above

       Th' heroic Prince's courage or his love;

       'Twas indignation, and not fear he felt,

       The shrine should perish where that image dwelt.

       Ah, Love forbid! the noblest of thy train 111

       Should not survive to let her know his pain;

       Who nor his peril minding, nor his flame,

       Is entertain'd with some less serious game,

       Among the bright nymphs of the Gallic court,

       All highly born, obsequious to her sport;

       They roses seem, which in their early pride

       But half reveal, and half their beauties hide;

       She the glad morning, which her beams does throw

       Upon their smiling leaves, and gilds them so; 120

       Like bright Aurora, whose refulgent ray

       Foretells the fervour of ensuing day,

       And warns the shepherd with his flocks retreat

       To leafy shadows from the threaten'd heat.

      From Cupid's string, of many shafts that fled

       Wing'd with those plumes which noble Fame had shed,

       As through the wond'ring world she flew, and told

       Of his adventures, haughty, brave, and bold,

       Some had already touch'd the royal maid,

       But Love's first summons seldom are obey'd; 130

       Light was the wound, the Prince's care unknown,

       She might not, would not, yet reveal her own.

       His glorious name had so possess'd her ears,

       That with delight those antique tales she hears

       Of Jason, Theseus, and such worthies old,

       As with his story best resemblance hold.

       And now she views, as on the wall it hung,

       What old Musæus so divinely sung;

       Which art with life and love did so inspire,

       That she discerns and favours that desire, 140

       Which there provokes th'advent'rous youth to swim,

       And in Leander's danger pities him;

       Whose not new love alone, but fortune, seeks

       To frame his story like that amorous Greek's.

      For from the stern of some good ship appears

       A friendly light, which moderates their fears;

       New courage from reviving hope they take,

       And climbing o'er the waves that taper make,

       On which the hope of all their lives depends,

       As his on that fair Hero's hand extends. 150

       The ship at anchor, like a fixed rock,

       Breaks