Elfe you may find, too late, that we are things
Born to kill vaffals, and to conquer kings.
But oh to what vain conqueft I pretend!
While Love is our commander, and your friend.
Our victory your empire mere affures,
For Love will ever make the triumph yours.

ELEGY ON THE EARL OF ROCHESTER,

BY MRS. WHARTON *.

EEP waters filent roll; fo grief like mine

DE

Tears never can relieve, nor words define. Stop then, ftop your vain fource, weak springs of grief, Let tears flow from their eyes whom tears relieve. They from their heads fhew the light trouble there, Could my heart weep, its. forrows 'twould declare: When drops of blood, my heart, thou'st loft; thy pride, The caufe of all thy hopes and fears, thy guide! He would have led thee right in Wisdom's way, And 'twas thy fault whene'er thou went'st astray :

*See in vol. XVI. Mr. Waller's verfes on the Elegy here printed; and verfes alfo on Mrs. Wharton's "Paraphrafe on "the Lord's Prayer." Waller's two cantos of Divine Poefy were "occafioned upon fight of the 53d chapter of Ifaiah, turned "into verfe by Mrs. Wharton." Her "Verfes to Mr. Waller" are mentioned by Ballard; and her tranflation of " Penelope to "Ulyffes" is printed in Tonfon's edition of Ovid's Epiftles. For further particulars of this lady, fee "Select Collection of "Mifcellaneous Poems, 1780," vol. 1. p. 51. vol. II. p. 319.

And

And fince thou ftray'd'ft when guided and led on,
Thou wilt be furely loft now left alone.
It is thy Elegy I write, not his :

He lives immortal and in highest blifs,

But thou art dead, alas! my heart, thou 'rt dead:
He lives, that lovely foul for ever fled,

But thou 'mongst crowds on earth art buried.
Great was thy lofs, which thou canft ne'er express,
Nor was th' infenfible dull nation's lefs;

He civiliz'd the rude, and taught the young,
Made fools grow wife; fuch artful magic hung
Upon his useful kind inftructing tongue.
His lively wit was of himself a part,
Not, as in other men, the work of art;
For, though his learning like his wit was great,
Yet fure all learning came below his wit;
As God's immediate gifts are better far

Than those we borrow from our likeness here,
He was—but I want words, and ne'er can tell,
Yet this I know, he did mankind excell.

He was what no man ever was before,
Nor can indulgent nature give us more,
For, to make him, fhe exhausted all her store.

}

}

CON.

CONTENTS

O F

ROCHESTER'S POEM S.

A Dialogue between Strephon and Daphne Page 3 A Paftoral Dialogue between Alexis and Strephon

The Advice

The Discovery

Woman's Honour

A Song, in Imitation of Sir John Eaton

A Letter from Artemifa in the Town, to Cloe in

the Country

II

12

13

14

16

ib.

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

ib.

26

27

28

ib.

An

An Epiftolary Effay from Lord Rochester to Lord
Mulgrave, upon their mutual Poems

Trial of the Poets for the Bays

38

41

45

53

55

58

-

ib.

The latter end of the Chorus of the Second A&t
of Seneca's Troas, tranflated

-

To his Sacred Majesty, on his Restoration in the
Year 1660, written at twelve Years old
To her Sacred Majefty the Queen-Mother, on the
Death of Mary Princess of Orange

An Epilogue

Allufion to the Tenth Satire of the First Book of

Verses to Sir Car Scrope

An Epilogue

-

Prologue, fpoken at the Court at Whitehall, before
K. Charles II. by the Lady Elizabeth Howard
Elegy on the Earl of Rochester

POEMS

POE M S

BY THE

EARL OF ROSCOMMON.