On Sir John Roe

XXXII.
 ? ON SIR JOHN ROE.
 (II)   
  What two brave perils of the private sword
      Could not effect, nor all the Furies do,
 That self-divided Belgia did afford ;
      What not the envy of the seas reach'd to,
 The cold of Mosco, and fat Irish air,
      His often change of clime, though not of mind,
 What could not work ; at home, in his repair
      Was his blest fate, but our hard lot to find.
 Which shews, wherever death doth please t'appear,
      Seas, sérenes, swords, shot, sickness, all are there.

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