[1] 'Several subjects': supposed to be Lord Berkeley. It contained testimonies of celebrated men to the value of religion. [2] 'Pedigree from kings': the Earl of Berkeley was descended from the royal house of Denmark. TO THE DUCHESS OF ORLEANS, WHEN SHE WAS TAKING LEAVE OF THE COURT AT DOVER.[1] That sun of beauty did among us rise; England first saw the light of your fair eyes; In English, too, your early wit was shown; Favour that language, which was then your own, When, though a child, through guards you made your way; What fleet or army could an angel stay? Thrice happy Britain! if she could retain Whom she first bred within her ambient main. Our late burnt London, in apparel new, Shook off her ashes to have treated you; 10 But we must see our glory snatch'd away, And with warm tears increase the guilty sea; No wind can favour us; howe'er it blows, We must be wreck'd, and our dear treasure lose! Sighs will not let us half our sorrows tell,-- Fair, lovely, great, and best of nymphs, farewell! [1] 'Court at Dover': the Duchess of Orleans, the youngest daughter of Charles I., came to England on the 14th May 1670, on a political mission. TO CHLORIS. Chloris! what's eminent, we know Must for some cause be valued so; Things without use, though they be good, Are not by us so understood. The early rose, made to display Her blushes to the youthful May, Doth yield her sweets, since he is fair, And courts her with a gentle air. Our stars do show their excellence Not by their light, but influence; When brighter comets, since still known Fatal to all, are liked by none. So your admirèd beauty still Is, by effects, made good or ill. TO THE KING. Great Sir! disdain not in this piece to stand, Supreme commander both of sea and land. Those which inhabit the celestial bower, Painters express with emblems of their power; His club Alcides, Phoebus has his bow, Jove has his thunder, and your navy you. But your great providence no colours here Can represent, nor pencil draw that care, Which keeps you waking to secure our peace, The nation's glory, and our trade's increase; 10 You, for these ends, whole days in council sit, And the diversions of your youth forget. Small were the worth of valour and of force, If your high wisdom governed not their course; You as the soul, as the first mover you, Vigour and life on every part bestow; How to build ships, and dreadful ordnance cast, Instruct the artists, and reward their haste. So Jove himself, when Typhon heaven does brave, Descends to visit Vulcan's smoky cave, 20 Teaching the brawny Cyclops how to frame His thunder, mix'd with terror, wrath, and flame. Had the old Greeks discover'd your abode, Crete had not been the cradle of their god; On that small island they had looked with scorn, And in Great Britain thought the Thunderer born.