The Villiers. 1671

YOU from the Vulgar are far off remov'd,
Where 'tis disparagement ev'n to be lov'd.
Yet as we see the greater Worlds bright eye
Warms all below, whilst it does move on high;
So, you forget the State to which you're born;
Your goodness pardons what your height may scorn.
And yet 'tis true that to your self you owe
Th' officious troubles their respects bestow.
For were you but less worthy, or more proud,
You'd soon be free from the adoring croud.
But such attractive Virtues take their place
Alwayes in some of your illustrious Race;
That in each Age Fame does'em justly sing
True Fav'rites to their Country, or their King.
A glorious truth! since from your Grandsire came
He (who was justly both) great Buckingham.
Your Brooksby boasts, we her may justly bless
For th' honour o' th' last age, the love of this.
And yet here springs a doubt, whether's more due,
This boast to your brave Ancestors, or you.
You who reflect their worth, and makes us see
Both what they were, and what your Son will be.