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A POEM ON THE PRINCE,
BORN ON THE TENTH OF JUNE, 1688.
Our vows are heard betimes, and heaven takes ' It seems as if they sent the new-born guest
To wait on the procession of their feast; To grant, before we can conclude the prayer : And on their sacred anniverse decreed Preventing angels met it half the way,
To stamp their image on the promis'd seed. And sent us back to praise, who came to pray. Three realms united, and on one bestow'd,
Just on the day, when the high-mounted fun An eniblem of their mystic union show'd : Did farthest in its northern progress run,
The mighty trine the triple empire shar'd : He bended forward, and ev'u tretch'd the As every person would liave one to guard. sphere
Hail, Son of prayers! by huly violence Beyond the limits of the lengthen'd year,
Drawn down from heaven; but long be banith'd To view a brighter sun in Britain born ;
thence, That was the business of his longest morn; And late to thy paternal skies retire: The glorious object seen, 'twas time to turn. To niend our crimes, whole ages would require;
Deparring Spring could only stay to flied To change th' inveterate habit of our sins, Her gloomy beauties on the genial bed,
And finish what thy godlike fire begins. But left the manly summer in her stead,
Kind heaven, to make us Engliflimen again, With timely fruit the longing land to chcer, No less can give us than a patriarch's reign. And to fulfil the promise of the year.
The sacred cradle to your charge receive, Betwixt two seasons comes th'auspicious heir, Ye feraphs, and hy turns the guard relieve ; This age to blossom, and the next to bear. Thy father's angel, and thy father join,
Last solemn sabbath saw the Church attend, To keep posseflion, and securt the line ;
But long defer the honours of thy fate :
That James his running century may view,
And give this Son an auspice to the new. None but th' Eternal Comforter could bring. Our wants exact at least that moderate stay: Or did the mighty Trinity conspire,
For fee the dragon winged on his way, As once in council to create our fire?
To watch the travail, and devour the prey.
Or, if allufinns may not rise so high,
But with an open face, as on his throne, Thus, when Alcides rais'd his infant cry, Assures our birthrights, and assumes his own : The soakes belieg'd his young divinity :
Born in broad day-light, that th'ungrateful rout But vainly with their forked tongues they threat ; May find no room for a remaining doubt; For oppolition makes a hero great.
Truch, which itself is light, does darkness fhun, To needful succour all the good will run,
And the true eaglet fafely dares the fun. [birth, And Jore affert the godhead of his Son.
Fain would the fiends have made a dubious o itill repining at your present state,
Loth to confess the Godhead cloath'd in carth: Grudging yourselves the benefits of fate,
But ficken'd after all their baffled lies, Look up, and read in characters of light
To find an heir apparent in the skies: A blefling sent you in your own despight. Abandon'd to despair, still may they grudge, The manna falls, yet that celestial bread [feed | And, owning not the Saviour, prove the judge. Like Jews you munch, and murmur while you Not great Æneas stood in plainer day, . May not your fortune be like theirs, exil'd, When the dark mantling milt dissolv'd away ; Yet forty years to wander in the wild !
He to the Tyrians thewd his sudden face, Or if it be, may Moses live at least,
Shining with all his goddess mother's grace : To lead you to the verge of promis'd rest! For the herself had made his countenance bright, Though poets are not prophets, to foreknow Breath'd honour on his eyes, and her own purple What plants will take the blight, and what will light. grow,
If our victorious Edward, as they say, By tracing heaven, his footsteps may be found : Gave Wales a prince on that propitious day, Behold! how awfully he walks the round! Why may not years revolving with his fate God is abroad, and, wondrous in his ways, Produce his like, but with a longer date? The rise of empires, and their fall surveys; One, who may carry to a distant fhore Mure, might I say, than with an usual eye, The terror that his fam'd forefather bore. He sees his bleeding church in ruin lie, (cry: But why should James or his young hero itay And hears the fouls of saints beneath his altar For flight presages of a name or day? Already has he lifted high the fign,
We need no Edward's fortune to adora Which crown'd the conquering arms of Constan. That happy moment when our prince was born : tine :
Our prince adorns this day, and ages hence The moon grows pale at that presaging fight; Shall with his birth-day for some future prince. And half her traio of Nars have lost their light. Great Michael, prince of all th'atherial hosts, Behold another Sylvester, to bless
And whace'er inborn saints our Britain boasts; The facred ftandard, and secure success;
And thou, th' adopted patron of our ise, Large of his treasures, of a foul so great,
With cheerful aspects on this infant smile: As fills and crowds his universal feat.
The pledge of heaven, which, dropping from above, Now view at home a second Conftantinc
Secures our bliss, and reconciles his love. (The former too was of the British line);
Enough of ills out dire rebellion wrought, Has not his healing balm your breaches clos'd, When to the dregs we drank the bitter draught; Whose exile many sought, and few oppos’d? Then airy atoms did in plagues conspire, O, did not heaven by its eternal doom
Nor did th'avenging angel yet retire, Permit those evils, that this good might come? But purg?d our ftill-increasing crimes with fire. So manifeft, that ev'n the moon-ey'd seets Then perjur'd plots, the still impending test, See whom and what this Providence protects. And worse-but charity conceals the reft : Methinks, had we within our minds no more Here stop the current of the fanguine flood; Than that one fhipwreck on the fatal ore, Require not, gracious God, thy martyrs' blood; That only thought may make us think again, But let their dying pangs, their living toil, What wonders God reserves for such a reign. Spread a rich harvest through their native foil ; To dream that chance his preservation wrought, A harvett ripening for another reign,
Were to think Noah was preserv'd for nought; Of which this royal babe may reap the grain. . Or the surviving eight were not design'd
Enough of early saints one womb has given; To people earth, and to restore their kind. Enough increas'd the family of heaven : When humbly on the royal babe we gaze,
Let them for his, and our atonement go; The manly lines of a majestic face
And, reigning blek above, leave him co rulc below, Give awful joy : 'tis paradise to look
Enough already has the year foreshow'd On the fair frontispiece of Nacure's book : His wonted course, the sea has overflow'd, In the first opening page fo charms the fight, The meads were floared with a weeping spring, Think how th' unlolded volume will delight! And frighten'd birds in woods forgot to sing : See how the venerable infant lies
The strong-limb'd Aced beneath his harness faints, In early pomp; how through the mother's eyes And the same shivering sweat bis lord attaints. The faiher's loul, with an undaunted view, When will the minister of wrath give o'er? Looks out, and takes our homage as his due. Behold him at Araunal's threshing-floor : See on his fucure fubjets how he smiles,
He ftops, and seems to fheath his faming brand, No meanly flatters, nor with craft beguiles ; Pleas'd with burnt incense from our David's hand
David has bought the Jebusite's abode,
As, when peut vapours run their hollow round, And rais'd an altar to the living God.
Earthquakes, which are convulsions of the ground, Heaven, to reward him, makes his joys fin Break bellowing forth, and no confinement brook, No future ills nor accidents appear
Till the third settles what the former shook ; To fully and pollute the facred infant's year. Such heavings had our souls; till, flow and late, Five months to discord and debate were given : Our life with his return'd, and faith prevail'd on He fan&tifies the yet remaining seven,
fate. Sabbath of months! henceforth in him be blest, By prayers the mighty blessing was implor'd, And prelude to the realms perpetual rest! To prayers was granted, and by prayers restor'd. Let his baptismal drops for us acone;
So, ere the Shanamite a son conceiv'd, Lustrations for offences not his own.
The prophet promis'd, and the wife believ'd. Let Conscience, which is interest ill disguis'd, A son was sent, the son so much defir'd; In the same font be cleans'd, and all the land But soon upon the mother's knees expir’d. baptiz'd.
The troubled seer approach'd the mouroful door, Un-nam'd as yet; at least unknown to fame : Ran, pray'd, and sent his pastoral staff before, Is there a strife in heaven about his name ; Then stretch'd his limbs upon the child, and Where every famous predecessor vies,
mourn'd, And makes a faction for it in the skies?
Till warmth, and breath, and a new foul, return'.. Or must it be reserv'd to thought alone ?
Thus niercy stretches out her hand, and fares Such was the facred Tetragrammaton.
Desponding Peter (inking in the waves. Things worthy filence must not be reveal'd:
As when a sudden storm of hail and rain Thus the true name of Rome was kept conceal'd, Beats to the ground the yet unbearded grain, To fhun the spells and sorceries of those,
Think not the hopes of harvest are destroy'd Who durft her infant majesty oppose.
On the flat field, and on the naked void ; But when his tender strength in time shall rise The light, unloaded Item, from tempest freed, To dare ill tonguea, and fascinating eyes;
Will raise the youthful honours of his head; This ifle, which hides the little thunderer's fame, And foon restor'd by native vigour, bear Shall be too narrow to contain his name :
The timely product of the bounteous year. Th'artillery of heaven shall make him known ; Nor yet conclude all fiery trials palt: Crete could not hold the God, when Jove was For heaven will exercise us to the last; grown.
Sometimes will check us in our full carcer. As Jove's increase, who from his brain was born, With doubtful bleslings, and with mingled fear; Whom armis and arts did equally adorn,
That, still depending ou his daily grace, Free of the breast was bred, whose milky taste His every mercy for an alms may pass, Minerva's name to Venus had debas'd;
With fparing hands will dict us to good : So this imperial babe rejects the food
Preventing Turfeits of our pamper'd blood. That mixes monarch’s with plebeian blood :
So feeds the mother bird her craving young rood that his inborn courage might controul, With little morsels, and delays them long, Extinguish all the father in his soul,
True, this last blefling was a royal fealt; And for his Erian race, and Saxon strain, But where's the wedding garment on the guest? Might reproduce some second Richard's reign. Our manners, as religion were a drcam, Mildness he thares from both his parents' blood : Are such as teach the nations to blaspheme. But kings too tame are despicably good :
In lusts we wallow, and with pride we (well, Be this the mixture of this regal child,
And injuries with injuries repel; By nature manly, but by virtue mild.
Prompt to revenge, not daring to forgive, Thus far the furious transport of the news Our lives unteach the doctrine we believe. Had to prophetic madness fir'd the Musc; Thus Israel finn’d, impenitently hard, Madness ungovernable, uninspir’d,
And rainly thought the present ark their guard; Swift to foretel whatever the desir'd.
But when the haughty Philistines appear, Was it for me the dark abyss to tread,
They fled, abandon'd to their focs and fear; And read the book which angels cannot read? Their God was abfent, though his ark was How was I punish'd when the sudden blast,
there. 'The face of heaven, and our young Sun o'ercast ! Ah! left our crimes should snatch this pledge away, Fame, the swift ill, increasing as she rollid, And make our joys the blessings of a day! Disease, despair, and death, at three reprises told: For we have sinn'd him hence; and that he lives, At three insulting strides she falk'd thc town, God to his promise, not our practice gives. And like contagion, Itruck the loyal down. Our crimes would soon weigh down the guilty Down sell the winnow'd wheat; but, mounted scale, high,
But James and Mary, and the church, prevail. The vihirlwind bore the chaff, and hid the sky. Nor Amalek can rout the chosen bands, Ilere black rebellion shooting from below While Hur and Aaron bold up Moses' hands. (As carth's gigantic brood by moments grow) By living well, let us secure his days, And here the tons of God are petrified with woe: Moderate in hopes, and humble in our ways. An apoplex of grief! so low were driven
No force the free-born spirit can constrain, The saints, as hardly to defend their heaven. But charity, and great examples gain.
Forgiveness is our thanks for such a day.
The name of grea your martial mind will Tis god-like God in his own coin to pay.
And in him, Plutarch prophesy'd of you.
Some kings the name of conquerors have af Whom piety and beauty make their boatt,
sum'd, Though beautiful is well in pious loft ;
Some to be great, some to be gods presum'd; So loft as star-light is dissolv'd away,
But boundless power, and arbitrary luft, And melts into the brightness of the day; Made tyrants still abhor the name of just; Or gold about the royal diadem,
They shunn'd the praise this godlike virtue gives Lol to improve the lustre of the gem.
And fear'd a title that reproach'd their lives. What can we add to your triumphant day? The power, from which all kings derivc their Let the great gift the beauteous giver pay.
state, Fer should our thanks awake the riliog sun, Whom they pretend, at least, to imitate, And lengthen, as his latest shadows run,
Is equal both to punish and reward ; That, though the longest day, would soon, too But few would love their God, unless they foon be done.
And deathless being ev'n the damn'd enjoy;
That could it fail, the Godhead could not be. After a prince, an admiral beget;
This virtue is your own; but life and state
Equal to all, you justly frown or smile ; And when th' exhausted land can yield no Nor hopes nor fears your feady hand beguile; more,
Yourself our balance hold, the world's our ille. Your linc can force them from a foreign More.
M A C. FLECKNO E.
All human things arc subject to decay, Was but the prelude to that glorious day,
With well-tim'd oars before the royal barge, Was call’d 10 empire, and had govern'd long : Swellid with the pride of thy celestial charge ; In prose and verle, was own'd, without dispute, And, big with hymn, commander of an holt, Through all the realms of Nonsense, absolute. The like was ne'er in Epsom blankets toft. This aged prince, now flourishing in peace,
Methinks I see the new Arion sail, And bleft with issue of a large increase ;
The lute still trembling underneath thy nail, Worn out with husiness, did at length debate At thy well-Marpened thumb from shore to shore To settle the succellion of the state :
The trebles (queak for fear, the bases roar : And, pondering, which of all his sons was fit Echoes from Pisling-Alley Shadwell call, To reign, and wage immortal war with wit, And Shadwell they resound from Afton-Hall. Cry'd, 'Tis resolv'd; for nature pleads, that he About thy boat the little fishes throng, Should only rule, who molt resembles me. As at the morning toast that floats along. Shadwell alone my perfect image bears,
Sonetimes, as prince of thy harmonious band, Mature in dulness from his tender years :
Thou wield'At thy papers in thy threshing hand. Shadwell alone, of all my sons, is he,
St. Andre's feet ne'er kept more equal time, Who stands confirm'd in full stupidity.
Not ev'n the feet of thy own Pysche's rhyme : The rest to some faint meaning make pretence,
Though they in numbers as in sense excel; But Shadwell never deviates into feníc.
So just, fo like tautology they fell, Síme beams of wit on other souls may fall, That, pale with envy, Singleton foreswore Strike through, and make a lucid interval : The lute and sword, which he in triumph bore, But Shadwell's genuine night admits no ray,
And vow'd he ne'er would act Villerius niore. His rising fogs prevail upon the day.
Here stopt the good old are, and wept for joy, Besides, his goodly fabric fills the eye,
In filent raptures of the hopeful boy. And seems delign'd for thoughtleis majesty : All arguments, but most his plays, persuade, Thoughtless as monarch oaks, that fhade the That for anointed dulness he was made. piain,
Close to the walls which fair Augusta bind, And spread in solemn state fupinely reign. (The fair Augusta much to tears inclin'd) Heywood and Shirley were but types of thee, An ancient fabric rais'd r' inform the sight, Thou last great prophet of tautology!
There food of yore, and Barbican it hight : Ev'in I, a dunce of more renown than they, A watch-enwer once ; but now, so fate ordains, Was sent before but to prepare thy way;
Of all the pile an empty name remains :
Scenes of lewd loves, ard of polluted joys,
And, undifturb’d hy watch, in lilence fleep.