No More Learning

At last the summons of a busy bell.
And glimmering lights did sleep's kind mists

dispel.
From bed I stole, and creeping by the wall.
Through a small chink I spied a spacious hall ;
Tapers, as thick as stai*s, did shed their light
Around the place, and made a day of night.
The curious art of some great master's hand
Adorned the room : Hyde, CliiFord, Danby, stand
In one large piece ; next them, the two Dutch

wars
In bloody colours paint our fatal jars ;
Here London flames in clouds of smoke aspire,
Done to tlie life, I'd almost cried out fire !
But living figures did my eyes divert
From these, and many more of wond'rous art.



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196 THE rOEMS

There entered in three mercenary bands :
The different captains had distinct commands.
The beggar's desperate troop did first appear,

Littleton led, proud S re had the rear.

The disguised papists under Garroway,
Talbot lieutenant, none had better pay.
Next greedy Lee led party-coloured slaves ;
Deaf fools i' the right, i* the wrong sagacious

knaves,

Brought up by M : then a nobler train,

In malice mighty, impotent in brain,

The Pope's solicitors brought into the hall,

Not guilty lay, much guilty spiritual.

I also spied behind a private screen,

Colbert and Portsmouth, York and Mazarine.

Immediately in close cabal they join,

And all applaud the glorious design.

'Gainst me, and my loved senate's free-bom

breath.
Dire threats I heard, the hall did echo death.
A curtain drawn, another scene appeared,
A tinkling bell, a mumbling priest I heard.
At elevation every knee adored
The baker's craft, infallible*s vain lord.
When Catiline with vipers did conspire
To murder Rome, and bury it in fire,
A sacramental bowl of human gore.
Each villain took, and as he drank he swore.
The cup denied, to make their plot complete.
These Catilines their conjured gods did eat.



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OP MARVELL. 197

Whilst to their breaden whimseys they did

kneel,
I crept away, and to the door did steaL
As I got out by providence, I flew
To this close wood ; too late they did pursue :
That dreadful night my childbed throes

brought on.
My cries moved your, and heaven's compassion.

BRITANNIA.

O happy day I a jubilee proclaim ;
Daughter adore the unutterable name I
With grateful heart breathe out thyself in

prayer ;
In the mean time the babe shall be my care.
There is a man, my island's hope and grace,
The chief delight, and joy, of human race,
Exposed himself to war in tender age,
To free his country from the Gallic rage ;
With all the graces blessed his riper years,
And full-blown virtue waked the tyrant's fears :
By *s sii*e rejected, but by heaven he*s called
To break my yoke, and rescue the enthralled.
This, this is he, who, with a stretched out hand,
And matchless might, shall free my groaning

land.
On earth's proud basilisks he'll justly fall,
Like Moses' rod, and prey upon them all.
He'll guide my people through the raging seas.
To holy wars, and certain victories ;



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198 THE POEMS

His spotless fame, and his immense desert,
Shall plead love's cause, and storm this virgin's

heart;
She, like JBgeria, shall his breast inspire
With justice, wisdom, and celestial fire ;
Like Numa, he her dictates shall obey.
And by her oracles the world shall sway.