AN ESSAY Upon the Third Punique War. LIB. I. and II. To which are added THEODOSIUS's Advice to his Son. AND THE PHENIX; Out of CLAƲDIAN.

By T. R. Esquire.

Scribimus indocti doctique poemata. Hor.

In the SAVOY, Printed by T. N. for William Nott at the Queens Arms in the Pall-Mall. MDCLXXI.

To the Illustrious Prince JAMES DUKE OF MONMOƲTH, BƲCCLEƲGH, &c.

May it please your Grace,

THe Art of War being that to which all great Men should apply their Studies (as the most Heroick Profession, to which Your Grace hath de­dicated Your thoughts:) This Essay (be­sides that it hath the Honour to be born in Your Service) may justly claim Your Prote­ction; and the rather, because in it there is an Image of a Brave Young Heroe, whose Vertue so far out-strip'd the Deliberate Pro­motions of his Countrey, that He ascended to the Highest Dignities by Dispensations [Page]of the Roman Laws, not sought by his Ambition; but voluntarily indulged to his Worth: all which he obtain'd, not so much by his Birth (though of the most Noble) as by an early application of Himself to the Study of what a Great Man should do, and bringing into practice what he had studied. And he was happy in this, that his Em­ployments seemed to be conferred on Him, rather by Necessity than choice, He appear­ing rather the Sanctuary, than Servant of his Countrey, by securing them from the Fears of Carthage and Numantia. Ipre­sent Him to Your Grace, in little and a rough Draught, leaving Him to some bet­ter Hand to finish; hoping Your Grace will more regard my desire, than my Art to ex­press my self

Your Grace's Most humble and most faithful Servant T. R.

THEODOSIƲS His ADVICE to his Son E. Claudian. 40. Honorii Consulat.

HAd Fortune plac'd Thee on the Parthian Throne,
(Dear Youth) and far, i'th East, ador'd, alone,
The rude Tiara crown'd thy' Arsacian Brow,
Thy high Descent might then suffice, and thou
Secur'd by Birth, might'st in thy Pleasures flow.
But Rome's great Court, will no such Princes know.
There not in Blood, but Vertue, thou must shine,
And, to that Vertue, noble Actions join;
Which hid, is vile: for, what can it produce,
In darkness drown'd? like Ships, that want the use
Of Helmes; or Lutes without their Strings, or Bows
Unbent. Yet this, who e'r Himself not knows,
Nor can the Passions, of the Mind, allay,
Shall ne'r obtain. To it's a rugged way.
Learn what Man is; when his Aetherial Flame
Prometheus mix'd with Earth, our Parts to frame,
Sincere, as when from Heav'n He stole't, the Mind,
Struggling for liberty, He kept confin'd,
And, when Things Mortal, nothing could compose,
Two more He added: with the Body those
Perish, but, this survives, when they are dead,
And upward flies. Her Empire's in the Head,
Where all Our Actions she directs and guides.
Their station's lower, which the Neck divides
From Hers. Where They her Dictates entertain,
And, that Things Sacred, might not with Prophane
Be mix'd, the Workman gave, to every part,
Its place, distinct. Anger, the Bloodlike Heart
Within the Brest maintains, as fill'd with Fire,
It swells, when headlong Rage, or mad Desire
Of Mischief, it inflames: when chill'd, with Fear,
It self contracts; but, when 'twas found to bear
All things, with violence, and rest deny
To the whole Frame, the Lungs a moist supply
Of Air, yield to the liquid Flames, and, so
The swelling Fibres, through soft Conduits, flow.
But, weighing nought, all coveting, desire
Is forc'd into the Liver to retire,
And lower Tracts. Where, when she opens, wide,
Her Monstrous Jaws, she can be satisfi'd
With no supplies. Sometimes, she's wrack'd with cares
Of Avarice: sometimes the Wounds she bears
Of burning Love: sometimes her Joys o'rflow,
And then, oppress'd with grief, the streams as low.
Then satisfi'd, again, doth higher rise
Like Hydra slain, which Death with Strength supplies.
But, whosoe'r these Tumults can controul,
Gives a safe Temple to the Purest Soul.
Though thou command the farthest Indian Shore,
Though Medes, soft Arabs, Serians thee adore:
If Anger sway thee, base Desires, or Fear,
Thou art a Slave: within thy Self shalt bear
Unequal Laws: Thou, then, of Right, maist bring
All, to thy Rule, when of thy Self, thou'rt King.
'Tis Custom makes Us prone to Sin, and We
To all the Charms, of rein-less Luxury,
By licence, yield: 'tis Conquest to be chast
When Venus tempts thee. Or when Wrong is plac'd
Before thee, to suppress thy Rage. But these
Dire Tumults, wisely, in thy self appease;
Nor what thou maist, but, what becomes thee, do,
And teach thy thoughts, Things Honest to pursue.
But above All, think, oft on this, That thou
Liv'st in the midst of all the World, and how
Thy Actions to all People are reveal'd.
A Princes Vices never are conceald.
For their high Fate discovers all they do,
And busie Fame explores, and pries, into
Their most reserv'd Retreats. Let Piety
Be thy chief Care; for though We' inferiour be
In all we do, yet Piety, alone,
Can make Us like the gods. Jealous of none
Nor doubtful be, but, Constant to thy Friends;
Not greedy of Reports, who e'r attends
Such Vanities, shall empty Rumors fear,
And, in Himself, be wrack'd with anxious Care.
No Strength of Guards, nor Rings of Piles can prove
So safe to Thee, as will the Peoples Love:
Which Thou shalt never force. Thy Kindness must
Create this in them, and, a Mutual Trust
Thou seest the Worlds fair Frame it self entire
Preserves, by Love. The Elements conspire,
Kindly, among themselves. His Tract the Sun
Still keeps. The Sea, within its shores, doth run:
and th'Aire, by which Earth's compast, and upheld,
Nor presseth on its Burthen, nor doth yield.
Tyrants, who Terrors give, fear more: They still
The Famous envy, and the Valiant kill.
Though Swords and Poison guard them, no Retreat
To them seems safe, they tremble, while they threat.
Like a Good Patriot, and a Father All
Advise not for thy self; and, what they call
The Publick Good, prefer before thine own.
If a Decree thou publish, to be known
As sacred, first observe thine own command;
The People will submit, and ne'r withstand
A Law, whose Author, first, Himself obeys.
A King's Example, all his Kingdom sways.
His Life, more than Edicts, upon the Minds
Of Men prevails; and, as the Vulgar finds
Him change, they follow. But when this is done,
Slight none beneath Thee; nor desire to run
Beyond the Bounds to man prescrib'd; for Pride
Like a black cloud, the brightest parts will hide.
We give Thee not Sabeans, apt to be
Enslav'd. Nor the Armenian Monarchy,
Nor the Assyrian (once a Womans) Throne.
Thou Romans must command: who, long, alone
Have rul'd the Universe: who nor the Pride
Of Tarquins, nor would Caesar's Laws abide;
Our Annals ancient Crimes record, whose stains
Eternal are. What Age the Monstrous Reigns,
Of the Caesarean House, will not abhor?
Who knows not Nero's cruel Murthers? or
(a)The horrid Caprean Grotto, by an old
Incestuous Man possest. Thou mayst behold
Great Trajan-still, Immortal, in his Fame;
Not that, with Conquest, He from Tigris came,
And Parthia made our Province: Or, that He
In Triumph, for his Dacian Victory,
Entred the Capitol; but, that his Mind
Was Equal still, and to his Countrey kind.
Such Great Examples (my dear Son) be sure
To follow; and, when call'd to war, inure
Thy Troops to labour, and for sharpest fights
Prepare; let not the Ease, or warm delights
Of Winter Quarters, thy unactive Hands
Un-nerve: but, in some wholesome place, thy Bands
Encamp, and with strong Guards, thy Line defend.
Learn when to close thy Ranks, when to extend
Thy equal Wings, and them to close again.
What Troops are fit for Hills, what for the Plain.
What Valleys apt for Ambush; what wayes are
Most difficult: And if the Foe the war
Within their Walls maintain, for battery strait
Prepare, and let thy Rams the massie weight
Of stones roll down; the arm'd Testudo shake
Their Gates; the lab'ring youth their passage make
Through secret Mines. If a long Siege delay
Thy hopes, let not secure Conceits betray
Thy Conquest, or believe them close block'd in;
Many by Careless Mirth have ruin'd bin.
Straggling they've perish'd, and while Ease they enjoy'd,
Oft Victory hath guardless Troops destroy'd.
Let not thy Tents be fill'd with the delight
Of Courts; nor let arm'd Luxury invite
Soft Ministers of Lust, still to attend
Thy Ensigns; nor be careful to defend
Thy self from Winds and Rain, nor seek to shun
With rich Ʋmbrello's, the too furious Sun.
Eat what thou ready find it, thy self apply
To constant exercice. Be foremost, high,
Steep Mountains to ascend; nor think it shame
To take an Axe in hand, when need shall claim
A Wood be fell'd. If thou 'rt to pass a Moor,
Or Lake, on Horse-back, first, the depth explore.
O'r frozen Rivers let thy Chariot go
The foremost: first swim over those that flow.
When hors'd, through Troops of Horse charge, boldly, when
A-foot, the Foot assist; all danger then
Will glorious, and grateful seem, when thou
Art present, and, shalt each brave deed allow.
But, I thy early Inclinations know,
Be not too hasty, thou wilt stronger grow.
As yet not ten years old, thou dost aspire,
To what ev'n men may dread, I see the Fire,
The Marks of thy great Soul. 'Tis told by Fame,
That the brave youth, who Porus overcame,
'Midst his Companions joys, wept, when he heard
His Father's frequent Victories, and fear'd
Great Philip's prosp'rous Valour, nought would leave]
To him for future Conquest. I perceive
Like Motions in thee, and, may divine
(A Father may) thou wilt, hereafter, shine
As Great, as He; nor to my Favour owe
That Empire, which thy Innate Worth may so
Deserv'dly claim. So, when the painted Spring
Appears, the murm'ring Bees their growing King,
Who must conduct them to the Fields, adore;
Their Publick Laws for Hony, and, for store
In Combs, observe. So, a young Bull, whose Horns
Are yet scarce firm the Pasture claims, and scorns
A Rival in the Heard. But war forbear,
Till riper years, and, with thy Brother, here,
(While I'm engag'd) my place secure; you may
Teach unsubdu'd Araxis to obey,
And swift Euphrates. Yours all Nile may be,
With whatsoe'r the Rising Sun doth see.
But, if the Alps we pass, and our good Cause
Have like success, that Warlike France thy Laws
May hear, and Spain, obey thy just Command,
Thou then shalt come, and, I, into thy Hand,
Will all my Conquests put. Then, then may I,
Secure of Fate, pleas'd with my labours, die:
While you both Poles may rule. Mean time, among
The Muses still thy self employ, while young,
And read what thou may'st imitate, converse
With Greece, and Rome's Antiquities; discourse
The Acts of ancient Captains, and apply
Thy thoughts to future war; on Italy
As 'twas of old reflect; if thou aspire
To a forc'd Liberty,(b) Brutus admire;
If Treachery thou hat'st, thou will't approve
Of(c) Metius torture. If thou do'st not love
Too great severity, thou wilt detest
(d) Torquatus Act. If a vow'd death seem best.
(e)The Decii, running into dangers, you
Will reverence. What one brave Man may do,
(f) Cocles, on Tyber's broken Bridge, alone,
Engag'd, and.(g) Mutius burning Hand have shown.
From(h) Fabius learn th' Effects, of wise delay.
What in distress'd affairs, good Conduct may
Perform,(i) Camillus sliughter of the Gauls
Declares. Hence know, whatever chance befalls,
True Merit still excels. The cruelty
Of Carthage gives Eternal Fame to thee
(k)Great Regulus. Had* Cata had success,
The Glory of his suffrings had been less.
Observe what sober Poverty may do,
(l) Curius was poor, when Kings he overthrew.
(m) Fabritius poor, when he scorn'd Pyrrhus gold.
(n)Nor did Serranus think it shame, to hold
The dirty Plough, when a Dictator, and
(His humble Cottage view'd) the Lictor's hand
Fix'd to the Willow Posts, his Fasces. There
The Harvests by a Consul gather'd were.
And the rude Fallows (to advance their Rate)
Till'd by a Ploughman, in his Robes of State.
Thus your great Father, like an Aged Guide
Of some tall Ship, by many Winters try'd
With various storms, of the Sea weary grown,
And Age, commends the Helm unto his Son.
Shews him all dangers, and his Arts: What Star
The right-hand guides: How swelling Billows are
By steerage, to be shun'd: The Signs of Rain,
The treachery of clear Skies: When to the Main
The Sun descends, what will ensue: What Wind
Disturbs the Moon, and makes her Face unkind.
But now, great Prince, wherever thou do'st shine,
Whether the South, or Northern Heav'n be thine,
See thy desire fulfill'd; thy Noble Deeds
Thy Son not only equals, but exceeds.

THE PHENIX: Out of CLAƲDIAN.

BEyond the Indies, and where Eurus Wings
Are spread, by farthest Seas encompass'd, springs
A Grove, which, by Sol's lab'ring Steeds, of all
Is, first, awak'd, and hears the lashes fall,
When the moist borders, with the dewy Coach
Resound. Whence, by her Blush, the Morns approach
Is seen, and; in her flying Mantle, Night
From far grows pale, by the reflected light.
Here, the too happy Phenix lives, alone,
Fenc'd with a matchless Climate, touch'd by none
Of Nature's sickly Race: where ne'r opprest
By those Contagions, that the World infest,
He (like the gods) continues Firm, as are
The Stars, and, with Recruited Limbs, the War
Of Time debells; not us'd, with Cates, the rage
Of Hunger to subdue: or Thirst asswage
In Springs. But, nourish'd by the purer Rayes
O'th' Sun, and harmless Vapors of the Seas,
Lives on that Airy Food. A Secret Light
Flies from his Eyes, about his Face as bright
A Glory shines, and, on his Radiant Head,
The rising Crest a Native Star doth spread:
From whose clear Beams, divided Darkness flies,
As from the Day. Rich Scarlet paints his Thighs,
And his Wings (which Cerulean Flowers enfold)
Out-fly the Winds, above enrich'd with gold.
He, Sire, and Off-spring of Himself, does come
Neither from Seed conceiv'd, nor teeming Womb.
But, by a Fruitful Death, without the Ayd
Of Parents, his Stiff Joynts, with Age decay'd;
(From duty now discharg'd) repairs and flies
To a fresh life, as often, as he dies.
For when his Summers, through a thousand Rings
Have run; with Winters, and as many Springs
And Autumns, that to lab'ring Peasants paid
Their wealthy Shades; at length unweildy made,
To time (by numerous Ages overcome)
He yields. As Pines by Tempests shaken from
The Head of Caucasus, decline, and are
Press'd into Ruin by the Weight they bare.
Some by continued Winds, some by the rage
Of wasting showres, and some by canker'd age.
His sight now waxeth dimme, his aged Beak
Distills faint Isicles about his Neck.
As when the Moon, encompass'd in a Bay
Of Clouds, with dubious Crescents shrinks away.
Those Wings, that through the Clouds were wont to fly;
Trail on the ground. Then knowing he must die,
Framing the Cradle of 's returning Form,
He chuseth driest Simples, from the warm
Adjoyning Hills, and, of that rich Perfume,
Makes both his future Birth-bed and his Tomb:
Where plac'd, (his former Strength and Vigor done)
He first, with Fainter Cries, salutes the Sun:
Then prays, and with a Suppliant Anthem claims
The Blessing of his youth-restoring flames.
Whom, when Sol sees from far, He strait appears
To stop, and thus his Pious Darling chears;
Oh thou, who shak'st off Age upon thy Pile,
And with false Sepulchres dost Fate beguile,
Who, out of thine own Ruins, oft, art born,
And from thy death, as young (as doth the Morn
From Night) returnest, thy Beginning take
Again, and, here, thy wither'd Corps forsake,
And, in thy Figure chang'd, come forth more fair.
This said, shaking his Head, a single Hair
From's yellow Locks, He, sudden, darts, and so
With Vital Lighrning strikes the Willing, who
That, thus from death, He may, with speed, return
To life, with Joy, doth voluntary burn.
These Darts from Heav'n the Heap of rich perfume
Soon kindle, and the Aged Bird consume.
The Moon, amaz'd, pulls back her Steeds; the Pole
Ceaseth, the flow Naves of the World to role.
The Pile, thus teeming, Nature (careful Dame)
Least she should lose her Bird, the faithful flame
Removes, that so, th' Immortal Grace of Things
She may restore; when strait warm Vigor springs
Through all the Members, and in every vein
Reviving Blood, begins to flow again.
Then, of it self, the living Dust assumes
Motion, and, the Rude Embers cloaths with Plumes.
He, that, of late, the Father was, the same
Is now the Son, and New succeeds the Flame
The Confines of his double Life, awhile,
Divides. Then strait to hallow, near to Nile,
His Father's Manes, cov'ring o'r with grass,
The Urn, and Parent-nest, He, swift, doth pass
Into another Clime, and bears it to
The Pharian Land. A vast, un-numbred Crue
Of winged People (wondring as He flies)
Attend, and, in their varied flight, the Skies
Like an huge Army, cloud. Yet, among all
Those many Myriads, none their General
Presume, in flight, to cross, or go before,
But, all the Tract of their bright King adort.
Neither the furious Hawk, nor Bird that bears
The Arms of Jove, dares move, or think on Wars;
And, from their Reverence, Common Peace proceeds.
From Tygris so, the Parthian Captain reads
His barbarous Troops; in Gems, most proudly drest,
A rich Tiara doth his Brows invest;
Gold Reins his Horse; his Purple Robe is wrought
By' Assyrian Needles: and, thus swell'd with thought
Of's high Command, through Tyrian Troops he goes.
There is a City (which all Egypt knows)
Where, in a stately Temple, rais'd upon
An hundred Theban Columns, they the Sun
Adore, with Sacred Rites. Here first (they say)
His Custom is the Parent-Urn to lay.
Then, prostrate to the Image of the god,
Unto the Holy Flame commends his load;
And, on the Altars offers up, instead
Of Incense, his own Reliques, and his Seed:
When strait the Myrrh-annointed Pillars shine,
And holy Altars breath a Fume divine.
The Indian Odor, now it self dilates,
Through all the Pharian Coasts, and penetrates.
To the Pelusian Pools, all Egypt's fill'd
With wholsom Air, which, as if Heav'n distill'd
Immortal Nectar through it, all the while,
Persumes the seven large Mouths of Swarthy Nile.
Oh happy! thine own Heir! that gives to thee
New Life, by which, we all dissolved be!
From thy dead Ashes doth thine Off spring rise,
And thou secure, thine Age before thee dies.
Whatever was Immortal, thou hast seen,
And, Time calls thee to witness what hath been.
Thou know'st what time, from springing Rocks, the Seas
Their swelling Waters to the Stars did raise:
What year it was wherein the Worlds great Frame
By Phaeton's Error perish'd in a Flame.
No Ruin can thee touch; when Earth shall be
Worn out, thou from Decay, alone, art free.
'Gainst thee the Fates, nor Law, nor Pow'r can have,
Till the whole World shall be thy Pile and Grave.
FINIS.

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