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A Pindaric Poem on the Death of the

Lord Fairfax, Father to the Dutchess
Dowager of Buckingham.
By George late Duke of Buckingham.

Nder this Stone does lie

One born for Victory;
Fairfar the Valiant, and the only

He,

Who e'er for that alone a Conqueror wou'd be: Both Sexes Virtues were in him combin'd, He had the Fierceness of the manliest Mind, And yet the Meekness too of Woman-kind:) He never knew what Envy was, nor Hate ;

His Soul was fillid with Truth and Honesty, And with another thing quite out of Date, Callid Modesty.

II. He ne'er seem'd Impudent, but is the place Where Impudence it self dares seldom shew

it's Face; Had any Strangers spy'd him in the Room With some of those he had overcome,

And

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136 A PINDARIC upon
And had not heard their Talk, but only seen,
Their Gesture and their Mein,
They wou'd have sworn he had the Van-

quish'd been:
For as theybragg’d,and dreadful wou'd appear,
While theytheir own ill Luck in War repeated,
His Modesty still made him blush, to hear
How often he had them Defeated.

III.
Through his whole Life, the Part he bore

Was Wonderful and Great,
And yet it so appear'd in nothing more,

Than in his private last Retreat ;
For it's a stranger thing to find
One Man of such a worthy Mind,

As can dismiss the Power which he has got,
Than Millions of the Polls and Braves;
Those despicable Fools and Knaves,
Who such a Pudder make
Through Dullness and Mistake
In seeing after Pow'r, and get it not.

IV.
When all the Nation he had won,

And with expence of Blood had bought,

Store great enough he thought,
Of Glory and Renown,
He then his Arms laid down,

With just as little Pride

As if he had been of his Enemies side,
Or one of them cou'd do that were undone:

He neither Wealth, nor Places sought:
He never for himself, but others fought:

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He was content to know,

(For he had found it so) That, when he pleas'd to conquer, he was able, And left the Spoil and Plunder to the Rabble.

He might have been a King, But that he understood

How much it was a meaner thing To be unjustly Great, than honourably Good,

V...... This from the World did Admiration draw And from his Friends, both Love and Awe, Remembring what he did in Fight before :

And his Foes, lov'd him too,

As they were bound to do, Because he was resolv'd to fight no more. So bless’d by All, he dyd; but far more bless'd were we,

2 If we were sure to live, till we could see A Man as great in War, as just in Peace as He.

W

To his MISTRESS.
By the Duke of Buckingham.
HAT a dull Fool was I,

To think so gross a Lye,
As that I ever was in Love before?
I have, perhaps, known one or two

With whom I was content to be,

At that which they call keeping Company; But after all that they could do, I still could be with more:

Their

Their Absence never made me shed a Tear;

And I can truly swear,
That till my Eyes first gaz'd on you,

I ne'er beheld that thing I could adore.
A World of things most curiously be fought,
A World of things must be together brought
To make up Charms which have the pow.

er to move
Through a discerning Eye, true Love;
That is a Masterpiece above
What only Looks and Shape can do,
There must be Wit and Judgment too;
Greatness of Thought and Worth which draw
From the whole World, Respect, and Awe.
She that wou'd raise a noble Love, must find
Ways to beget a Passion for her Mind;
She must be that, wbich She to be wou'd seem;
For all True LOVE is grounded on Esteem;
Plainnels and Truthgain more a generousHeart
Than all the crooked Subtelties of Art.
She must be--What faid I? She must be You,
None but your self that Miracle can do ;
At least, I'm sure, thus much I plainly see,
None but your self e'er did it upon me:
'Tis you alone that can my Heart subdue,
To you alone it always shall be true;
Your God-like Soul is that which rules my

Fate,
It does in me new Passions still create,
For love of you all Women else I hate:
But oh! Your Body too, is so Divine,
I kill my self with wishing you all mine.

In

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