OF Mr. RICHARD DUKE I can find few memorials. He was bred at Westminster and Cambridge; and Jacob relates, that he was some time tutor to the duke of Richmond.
He appears from his writings to have been not ill qualified for poetical compositions; and being conscious of his powers, when he left the university, he enlisted himself among the wits. He was the familiar friend of Otway; and was engaged, among other popular names, in the translations of Ovid and Juvenal. In his Review, though unfinished, are some vigorous lines. His poems are not below mediocrity; nor have I found much in them to be praised.
With the wit he seems to have shared the dissoluteness of the times; for some of his compositions are such as he must have reviewed with detestation in his later days, when he published those sermons which Felton has commended.
Perhaps, like some other foolish young men, he rather talked than lived viciously, in an age when he that would be thought a wit was afraid to say his prayers; and, whatever might have been bad in the first part of his life, was surely condemned and reformed by his better judgement.
In 1683, being then master of arts, and fellow of Trinity College in Cambridge, he wrote a poem on the Marriage of the Lady Anne with George Prince of Denmark.
'He was admitted there in 1670; was elected to Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1675; and took his master's degree in 1682. N.,
*They make a part of a volume published by Tonson in 8vo. 1717, containing the poems of the arl of Roscommon, and the duke of Buckingham's Essay on Poetry; but were first published in Dryden's Miscellany, as were most, if not all, of the poems in that collection. H.
He then took orders; and, being made prebendary of Gloucester, became a proctor in convocation for that church, and chaplain to queen Anne.
In 1710, he was presented by the bishop of Winchester to the wealthy living of Witney in Oxfordshire, which he enjoyed but a few months. On February 10, 1710-11, having returned from an entertainment, he was found dead the next morning. His death is mentioned in Swift's Journal.
3 He was presented to the rectory of Blaby in Leicestershire in 1687-8; and obtained a prebend at Gloucester in 1688. N.
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have we wander'd a long dismal night, Led through blind paths by each deluding light: Now plung'd in mire, now by sharp brambles torn, With tempests beat, and to the winds a scorn! Lost, weary'd, spent! but see the eastern star And glimmering light dawns kindly from afar: Eright goddess, hail! while we by thee survey The various errours of our painful way; While, guided by some clew of heavenly thread, The labyrinth perplex'd we backward tread, Through rulers' avarice, pride, ambition, hate, Perverse cabals, and winding turns of state, The senate's rage, and all the crooked lines Of incoherent plots and wild designs; Till, getting out, where first we enter'd in, A new bright race of glory we begin.
As, after Winter, Spring's glad face appears,
As the blest shore to shipwreck'd mariners,
Success to lovers, glory to the brave,
Health to the sick, or freedom to the slave;
Such was great Caesar's day! the wondrous day,
That long in Fate's dark bosom hatching lay,
Heaven to absolve, and satisfaction bring,
For twenty years of misery and sin!
What shouts, what triumph, what unruly joy,
Swell'd every breast, did every tongue employ,
With rays direct, whilst on his people shone
The king triumphant from the martyr's throne!
Was ever prince like him to mortals given?
So much the joy of Earth and care of Heaven!
Under the pressure of unequal fate,
Of so erect a mind, and soul so great!
So full of meekness, and so void of pride,
When borne aloft by Fortune's highest tide!
Mercy, like Heaven, 's his chief prerogative,
save, and glory to forgive.
All storms compos'd, and tempests' rage asleep,
He, halcyon like, sat brooding o'er the deep.
He saw the royal bark securely ride,
No danger threatening from the peaceful tide;
And he who, when the winds and seas were high,
Oppos'd his skill, and did their rage defy,
No diminution to his honour thought,
T' enjoy the pleasure of the calm he brought.
(Should he alone be so the people's slave,
As not to share the blessings that he gave?)
But not till, full of providential care,
He chose a pilot in his place to steer:
One in his father's councils and his own
Long exercis'd, and grey in business grown;
Whose confirm'd judgment and sagacious wit
Knew all the sands on which rash monarchs split;
Of rising winds could, ere they blew, inform,
And from which quarter to expect the storm.
Such was, or such he seem'd, whom Cæsar chose,
And did all empire's cares in him repose;
That, after all his toils and dangers past,
He might lie down and taste some ease at last.
Now stands the statesman of the helm possest,
On him alone three mighty nations rest;
'Byrsa his name, bred at the wrangling bar,
And skill'd in arms of that litigious war;
But more to Wit's peacefuller arts inclin'd,
Learning's Mæcenas, and the Muses' friend;
Him every Muse in every age had sung,
His easy flowing wit and charming tongue,
Had not the treacherous voice of Power inspir'd
His mounting thoughts, and wild Ambition fir'd;
Disdaining less alliances to own,
He now sets up for kinsman of the throne;
And Anna, by the power her father gain'd,
Back'd with great Cæsar's absolute command,
On false pretence of former contracts made,
Is forc'd on brave a Britannicus's bed.
Thus rais'd, his insolence his wit out-vy'd,
And meanest avarice maintain'd his pride:
When Cæsar, to confirm his infant state,
Drown'd in oblivion all old names of hate,
By threatening many, but excepting none
That paid the purchase of oblivion.
Byrsa his master's free-given mercy sold,
And royal grace retail'd for rebel gold:
Earl of Clarendon, ? Duke of York.
That new state-maxim he invented first,
(To aged Time's last revolution curst)
That teaches monarchs to oblige their foes,
And their best friends to beggary expose;
"For these," he said, "would still beg on and serve;
'Tis the old badge of loyalty to starve:
But harden'd rebels must by bribes be won,
And paid for all the mighty ills they 've done:
When wealth and honour from their treasons flow,
How can they choose but very loyal grow?”
This false ungrateful maxim Byrsa taught,
Vast sums of wealth from thriving rebels brought;
Titles and power to thieves and traitors sold,
Swell'd his stretch'd coffers with o'er-flowing gold.
Hence all these tears-in these first seeds was sown
His country's following ruin, and his own.
Of that accurst and sacrilegious crew,
Which great by merit of rebellion grew,
Had all unactive perish'd and unknown,
The false 3 Antonius had suffic'd alone,
To all succeeding ages to proclaim
Of this state principle the guilt and shame.
Antonius early in rebellious race
Swiftly set out, nor slackening in his pace,
The same ambition that his youthful heat
Urg'd to all ills, the little daring brat
With unabated ardour does engage
The loathsome dregs of his decrepit age;
Bold, full of native and acquir'd deceit,
Of sprightly cunning and malicious wit;
Restless, projecting still some new design,
Still drawing round the government his line,
Bold on the walls, or busy in the mine:
Lewd as the stews, but to the blinded eyes
Of the dull crowd as Puritan precise;
Before their sight he draws the juggler's cloud
Of public interest, and the people's good.
The working ferment of his active mind,
In his weak body's cask with pain confin'd,
Would burst the rotten vessel where 'tis pent,
But that 'tis tapt to give the treason vent.
Such were the men that from the statesman's
Not pardon only, but promotion gain'd:
All officers of dignity or power
These swarming locusts greedily devour;
Preferr'd to all the secrets of the state,
These senseless sinners in the council sate,
In their unjust deceitful balance laid,
The great concerns of war and peace were weigh'd.
This wise 4 Lovisius knew, whose mighty mind
Had universal empire long design'd;
And when he all things found were bought and sold,
Thought nothing there impossible to gold:
With mighty sums, through secret channels brought,
On the corrupted counsellors he wrought:
Against the neighbouring Belgians they declare
A hazardous and an expensive war.
Their fresh affronts and matchless insolence
To Cæsar's honour made a fair pretence;
Mere outside this, but, ruling by his pay,
Cunning Lovisius did this project lay,
By mutual damages to weaken those
Who only could his vast designs oppose.
But Cæsar, looking with a just disdain
Upon their bold pretences to the main,
Sent forth his royal brother from his side,
To lash their insolence, and curb their pride:
* Earl of Shaftesbury.
♦ French king.
Britannicus, by whose high virtues grac❜d,
The present age contends with all the past;
Him Heaven a pattern did for heroes form,
Slow to advise, but eager to perform,
In council calm, fierce as a storm in fight,
Danger his sport, and labour his delight:
To him the fleet and camp, the sea and field,
Did equal harvests of bright glory yield.
No less each civil virtue him commends,
The best of subjects, brothers, masters, friends;
To merit just, to needy virtue kind,
True to his word, and constant to his friend:
What's well resolv'd as bravely he pursues,
Fix'd in his choice, as careful how to choose,
Honour was born, not planted in his heart,
And virtue came by Nature, not by art:
Where glory calls, and Cæsar gives command,
He flies; his pointed thunder in his hand.
The Belgian fleet endeavour'd, but in vain,
The tempest of his fury to sustain:
Shatter'd and torn, before his flags they fly
Like doves that the exalted eagle spy,
Ready to stoop and seize them from on high:
He, Neptune like, when, from his watery bed
Above the waves lifting his awful head,
He smiles, and to his chariot gives the rein,
In triumph rides o'er the asserted main;
And now returns the watery empire won,
At Cæsar's feet to lay his trident down.
But who the shouts and triumphs can relate
Of the glad isle that his return did wait?
Rejoicing crowds attend him on the strand,
Loud as the sea, and numerous as the sand,
A joy too great to be by words exprest,
Shines in each eye, and beats in every breaste
So joy the many, but the wiser few
The godlike prince with silent wonder view,
The grateful senate his high acts confess
In a vast gift, but than his merit less.
Britannicus is all the voice of Fame,
Britannicus! she knows no other name;
The people's darling, and the court's delight,
Lovely in peace, as dreadful in the fight!
Shall he, shall ever he, who now commands
So many thousand hearts, and tongues, and hands;
Shall ever he, by some strange crime of Fate,
Fall under the ignoble vulgar's hate?
Who knows? the turns of Fortune who can tell?
Who fix her globe, or stop the rolling wheel?
The crowd's a sea, whose wants run high or low,
According as the winds, their leaders, blow.
All calm and smooth, till from some corner flies
An envious blast, that makes the billows rise:
The blast, that whence it comes, or where it
We know not; but where-e'er it lists it blows.
Was not of old the Jewish rabble's cry
Hosanna first, and after crucify?
Now Byrsa with full orb illustrious shone,
With beams reflected from his glorious son;
All power his own, but what was given to those
That counsellors by him from rebels rose;
But, rais'd so far, each now disdains a first,
The taste of power does but inflame the thirst.
With envious eyes they Byrsa's glories see,
Nor think they can be great, while less than he
Envy their cunning sharpen'd, and their wit,
Enough before for treacherous councils fit:
T'accuse him openly not yet they dare,
But subtly by degrees his fall prepare:
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