Mr. Waller altered the Maid’s Tragedy from Fletcher, and translated the first Act of the Tragedy of Pompey from the French of Corneille.  Mrs. Katharine Philips, in a letter to Sir Charles Cotterell, ascribes the translation of the first act to our author; and observes, that Sir Edward Filmer did one, Sir Charles Sidley another, lord Buckhurst another; but who the fifth, says she, I cannot learn.

Mrs. Philips then proceeds to give a criticism on this performance of Waller’s, shews some faults, and points out some beauties, with a spirit and candour peculiar to her.

The best edition of our author’s works is that published by Mr. Fenton, London 1730, containing poems, speeches, letters, &c.  In this edition is added the preface to the first edition of Mr. Waller’s poems after the restoration, printed in the year 1664.

As a specimen of Mr. Waller’s poetry, we shall give a transcript of his Panegyric upon Oliver Cromwell.

A Panegyric to my Lord protector, of the present greatness and joint interest of his Highness and this Nation.

In the year 1654.

While with a strong, and yet a gentle hand
You bridle faction, and our hearts command,
Protect us from our selves, and from the foe,
Make us unite, and make us conquer too;

Let partial spirits still aloud complain,
Think themselves injur’d that they cannot reign,
And own no liberty, but where they may
Without controul upon their fellows prey.

  Above the waves as Neptune shew’d his face
  To chide the winds, and save the Trojan race;
  So has your Highness, rais’d above the rest,
  Storms of Ambition tossing us represt.

  Your drooping country, torn with civil hate,
  Restor’d by you, is made a glorious state;
  The feat of empire, where the Irish come,
  And the unwilling Scotch, to fetch their doom.

  The sea’s our own, and now all nations greet,
  With bending sails, each vessel of our fleet. 
  Your pow’r extends as far as winds can blow,
  Or swelling sails upon the globe may go.

  Heav’n, that hath plac’d this island to give law,
  To balance Europe, and her states to awe,
  In this conjunction doth on Britain smile;
  The greatest leader, and the greatest isle.

  Whether this portion of the world were rent
  By the rude ocean from the Continent,
  Or thus created, it was sure design’d
  To be the sacred refuge of mankind.

  Hither th’ oppressed shall henceforth resort
  Justice to crave, and succour at your court;
  And then your Highness, not for our’s alone,
  But for the world’s Protector shall be known.

  Fame swifter than your winged navy flies
  Thro’ ev’ry land that near the ocean lies,
  Sounding your name, and telling dreadful News
  To all that piracy and rapine use.