To Mr. HARLEY. Wounded by Guiscard. 1711. Matthew Prior Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T075639 Prior, Matthew, 1664-1721. Poems on Several Occasions [English poems only]. London Printed for JACOB TONSON at Shakespear's-Head over against Katharine-Street in the Strand, and JOHN BARBER upon Lambeth-Hill. MDCCXVIII. 1718 pp. 285-286. [42],506,[6]p.: ill.; 2°.

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To Mr. HARLEY . Wounded by Guiscard . 1711. — ab ipso Ducit opes animumque ferro . Hor. I. In one great Now , Superior to an Age , The full Extremes of Nature's Force We find : How Heav'nly Virtue can exalt ; or Rage Infernal , how degrade the Human Mind . II . While the fierce Monk does at his Tryal stand ; He chews Revenge , abjuring his Offence : Guile in his Tongue , and Murther in his Hand , He stabs his Judge , to prove his Innocence . III . The guilty Stroke and Torture of the Steel Infix'd , our dauntless Briton scarce perceives : The Wounds His Countrey from His Death must feel , The Patriot views ; for those alone He grieves . IV . The barb'rous Rage that durst attempt Thy Life , Harley , great Counsellor , extends Thy Fame : And the sharp Point of cruel Guiscard's Knife , In Brass and Marble carves Thy deathless Name . V. Faithful Assertor of Thy Country's Cause , Britain with Tears shall bath Thy glorious Wound : She for thy Safety shall enlarge Her Laws ; And in Her Statutes shall Thy Worth be found . VI . Yet 'midst Her Sighs She Triumphs , on the Hand Reflecting , that diffus'd the Publick Woe ; A Stranger to her Altars , and her Land : No Son of Her's could meditate this Blow . VII . Mean Time Thy Pain is gracious Anna's Care : Our Queen , our Saint , with sacrificing Breath Softens Thy Anguish : In Her pow'rful Pray'r She pleads Thy Service , and forbids Thy Death . VIII . Great as Thou art , Thou canst demand no more , O Breast bewail'd by Earth , preserv'd by Heav'n ! No higher can aspiring Virtue soar : Enough to Thee of Grief , and Fame is giv'n .