A Congratulatory POEM ON HIS MAJESTY's Happy Return FROM HOLLAND.
Written by Mr. BROWNE.
LONDON, Printed for Thomas Jones, at the White Horse without Temple-Bar. MDCXCI.
To the Honourable Sir Thomas Alyen. Kt. & Bar.
RIght Honour'd Sir, vouchsafe to cast your Eye
On this Essay of Heroick Poesie,
Which for unmerited Favours, as 'tis meet,
I Humbly prostrate at your Worthy Feet;
Beseeching that it may so happy be
To share a Blessing in your Courtesie,
And be protected by your Loyal Name
From all the Blasts that may it else Defame:
Pray entertain it, for (Dear Sir) it sings
The very best of War-like Valiant Kings;
That Monarch, Sir, by you so greatly lov'd,
Even HE, that Heaven kind for us approv'd:
'Tis HE, I say, whom You so much adore,
And long have Pray'd to see Return once more
Happy and Safe to England's Happy Shoar.
Now, Sir, HE's come, my Muse his Welcom sings,
And in your Ears his Matchless Praises rings:
The which (Good Sir) when you vouchsafe to read,
Charity's Mantle o're my Failings spread;
My Eyes oft dazled with Excess of Light,
My Muse but dull, and narrower my Sight:
I might have left this weighty Task to them
Whose nobler Thoughts direct a loftier Pen;
But yet, I hope, I am to be excus'd,
Because 'twas Love and Zeal acted my Muse.
I write, but 'tis, alas, with trembling Hand,
The Praise of him that Rules blest Albion's Land,
And sing his Welcom to his wisht for Strand:
'Tis Wholsom Foot, tho 'tis but homely drest,
Yet something here, I hope, may please each Guest.
[Page] High are my Strains, my Buskin'd Mistress sings,
The very best of Men, the best of Kings,
In Verse Heroick tells his Heroick Deeds,
Whose Worth all Commentary still exceeds.
Nor can a Muse, Imp't with the Noblest Wing,
Sound half the Praise of William our Great King:
So high is Virtue, in her Native Glory,
Advanc'd in Him, above the Reach of Story;
Bright as the brightest Star that ere did flame,
A shining Monument to Caesar's Name,
A Prince in Fame's great Catalogue more bright
Than all the Sons of Honour ere could light,
A Prince in Prudence, and in Arms more Great
Than ever yet ruled in Albion's State;
Who lesser Sparks of Honour does out-flame,
And swallows all their Titles in his Name:
HE far exceeds the Trophies of the Pen,
A Prince above the Characters of Men,
Wise as the wisest, as the boldest bold,
In Dangers, only, and Success grown old:
On whom no Barb'rous Enemy can confer
Less than an High Immortal Character.
Sir, here I must abruptly take my Leave,
Because the Printer tells me he shall have
More than he can conveniently dispose
Within his Page; he bids me therefore close.
And so I will, Praying, Right Worthy Sir,
That God may still his Blessings on you pour;
Your Lady long preserve, you Heirs with Blessing crown,
And give you lasting Joys, when you this Life lay down.
This comes (Good Sir)
from the unworthy Hand
Of him, who is, your very Humble Servant, at Command,
BROWNE.
Of him, who is, your very Humble Servant, at Command,
BROWNE.
A Congratulatory Poem, &c.
ROuze, rouze, my Muse, and drein the from the dregs
Of Vulgar Thoughts, skrew up thy highest Pegs,
Contemn the World, soar, soar aloft, and let
Thy Thoughts Despise to take a vulgar Flight;
Imp, imp thy Wings with Zeal, thy Strains with Fire,
Let nothing sway thee, but most pure Desire;
Snatch thee a Quill from the spread Eagle's Wing,
And like the towering Lark, mount up and sing,
To welcom home WILLIAM our Sovereign King.
Tune thy sublime Theorboe four Notes higher;
And higher yet; so that the shril-mouth'd Quire
Of swift-wing'd Seraphims, come down and joyn,
To make thy Consort more than half Divine;
Strein higher still, what if I crack a String
In venturing nobly higher for to Sing?
Reach Heavens, Ela then, and undecline
Till with a deep-mouth'd Gam-ut sound again
From Pole to Pole, it will not reach his Worth;
Nor find a Note to set his Praises forth.
Hail, hail Great Monarch, of Renowned Fame,
We'll wreath the Lawrels, celebrate thy Name,
[Page 2] In Songs transcending we'll rehearse thy Story.
Let Heavens also crown thy Brows with everlasting Glory.
Shall Dutchmen, when of thy Approach they hear,
Triumphal Arches for thy Welcom rear?
Shall their loud Cannons eccho forth thy Fame?
And shall their Fire-works likewise the same?
Shall they with Voices, Hearts and all agree
To spread thy Praise; and eke to honour thee?
And shall not Englishmen for Shame arise?
Come, Country-men, let's eccho through the Skyes
The lasting Worth of William, our great King:
And make his Glorious Acts through Europe ring:
A Pyramid of Gold then let us rear,
And on it 'grave, in Characters most fair,
The worthy Deeds of our Third William's Name,
That after time it lively may remain
To his Eternal, Matchless, worthy Fame,
So following Ages, and Generations all
Shall justly Thee poor England's Saviour call;
When they shall read, (Great Sir) how that you gave
Your Worthy Self three Nations for to save,
Thought nought too dear, so that you might obtain
For us, our Dear-bought Liberties again;
And free us from the Yoke of Slavery;
And likewise from Curs'd Popish Tyranny.
When this is told, O who'll not love a King!
So Great, so Good, so Just in every thing?
By many Wonders YOU were hither brought;
Which strangely too by their Concurrence wrought
[Page 3] Our whole Redemption in so short a Space,
As did the Slothe of Human Aids Disgrace:
Those who do hold Success the Cast of Chance,
And Providence the Dream of Ignorance,
Might in those Miracles Design discern,
And from wild Fortune's Looks Religion learn.
Tell us no more of Julius Caesar's Fame,
Who, when he only look'd, he overcame:
Nor yet of Alexander's great Renown;
Nor Hector's Glory, blaz'd from Town to Town;
Pompey avaunt, thy trifling Glories glance;
To our Great VVilliam's, they're but Ignorance:
And Scanderbeg, that Great Renowned Man,
Who from so many Wars Victorious came,
Must Phoebus like, when Sol does shew his Face,
Resign his Glory, 'tis Bright VVilliam's Place:
No, 'tis not these can bear away the Bell,
For still our Conquering VVilliam doth excel;
Victorious still he grows, prevail he shall,
Until his Foes become Poor Quakers all.
Hail, once again, (Great Sir) and let the Hail
Through England, Scotland, Ireland prevail.
I can't forbear, nor can I hold my Hand,
My Pen will still persue my Wills Command;
Then blame me not (Great Sir) I must Repeat,
The Loyalty I bear to you the Great,
Victorious William, my Dear Sovereign Lord,
Nought can I think enough to spread abroad,
Your VVorth and Virtue, which so much excel,
All which Rehears'd would many Volumns fill.
[Page 4] The Time alas would Fail if I should speak,
Of all thy Virtues and thy Glories great,
But some (Illustrious Sir) I must Repeat.
Clap Hands, rejoyce O happy British Clime,
Thrice happy if thou didst but know thy Time,
Wherein thou'rt blest with Blessings from above,
A God of War a Queen made up of Love;
A King so Virtuous, Wise, so Good and Iust,
A King so Pious, Great and Valorous.
And eke a Queen, compos'd of Grace and Love,
Wise as a Serpent, harmless as a Dove;
So Loving Lovly, of a Soul so Great,
That whoso Loves her not, deserves the greatest Hate.
Thou'rt Blest, indeed thou'rt Blest, hadst thou a Heart
But to improve these Blessings 'yond Desert.
Religious Freedom now we all enjoy,
We live secure, and nought does us annoy;
Under our Vines most safely sit we may,
And no Distractions more shall us dismay;
No more shall Frantick Zeal our Peace disturb,
Nor Popish Thraldom more, our Conscience curb;
Within our Temples, Hymns and Anthems Ring
Of thanks to God, and praises to our King:
Our happy Roses, and our Thistles blow,
Our Fields with Milk and Hony overflow.
As yet we hear no Drums and Trumpets sound,
Nor Carkasses of Dead or'e-spread the Ground;
From which God save our happy English Land,
And strengthen much the Man of his Right Hand:
And Lord preserve in perfect Union still,
The little World of this our Albion Isle.
[Page 5] Inlarge his Life who doth inlarge our Peace,
And let his Glory with his Life increase;
That being mounted on the Wings of Fame,
This Age may see his Worth, the next admire his Name.
And whil'st we thus our weighty Work persue,
Let's once more pay our Hails, Great Sir, to You.
Hail mighty Monarch of the Warlike Race,
Whose nimble Conquests Time wants Speed to Trace.
Behold our Angel comes, by whose bright Ray
Darkness is fled, and Light salutes the Day;
Welcome, Thrice Welcome, to the old Whitehall;
Thy Gracious Presence make us happy all.
As the Sun's heat replenisheth the Earth,
Purges the Blood, and gives to Seasons Birth:
So your Blest Ray diffus'd within our Sphere,
Gives vital Warmth to ev'ry Creature there,
To Providence and Thee we still shall raise
Altars for Thanks, and Pyramids for Praise.
The Church shall Triumph, and the State Rejoyce,
And sing Te Deums with united Voice.
So shall you be Belov'd by Wholes, not Parts,
And ever live the Regent King of Hearts.
O that my Low-bred Strains were yet rais'd Higher,
That I might still bright William's Worth admire.
Reach then a soaring Quill that I might write,
As with a Jacob's Staff to take the height.
Now come aloft, come, come, and breath a Vein,
And give some vent unto thy dareing Strain;
Come Mars, Minerva, ay and Juno too,
Mount, Mount, Parnassus, William's Praise persue.
[Page 6] The chiefest Gods in their best Royal State,
Thy matchless Praises now do celebrate;
Jove that shakes Heaven with his angry Brows,
Presents thee Harmony, to be thy Spouse;
Whose Father fam'd, is Mars the God of War,
Whose Mother bright, is Venus Morning Star:
Minerva too presents her Golden Chain,
And lovely Ceres will make thee Rich in Grain▪
Jove's mighty Daughters with their Beardless King,
From famous Helicon their Musick bring;
Each one with Flowers and Lawrels rarely Crown'd,
Whilst Aroa's pleasant Harp doth sweetly sound.
Thus, Thus, the Gods in all their best Aray,
With Songs and Dances Crown this happy Day:
'Tis VVilliam's Praise, 'tis VVilliam's Praise alone,
That's thus by all that's Good and Great made known:
Metals may Blazen Common Beauties, he
Makes Pearl and Planets humble Herauldry:
But whether am I fled? a Poets Song,
When Love directs, his Praise, is ever long.
Awake, 'tis shame, our Lyons Dormant lye,
And all our Spirits in a Lethargy.
Rouze Country-men, take hold of Shield and Spear,
Make William's Foes Tremble and Quake for fear.
Let's make those Monsters that Invade our Land,
Throw down their Arms, and turn their trembling Hand,
'Gainst those that Disobey our King's Command.
Wee'll ransack Europe, find out England's Foes,
And such as dare our Sovereign Lord Oppose:
[Page 7] Let's find those Hell-hounds that so much annoy,
And seek our Native Land for to destroy:
And eke those Vultures, that corrode the heart
Of their own Mother, make her sorely smart;
That watch a Season, for to give her up
For to be Butcher'd, by a Damned Pope;
Or else to humble her to Lewis fell,
That Cursed Monster who rose up from Hell,
To be a Plague, and Scourge to Christendom:
To this most Christian Turk, they'd fain become
Vassals; and likewise Slaves to Hell and Rome.
Let's find, let's find, I say those Traytors out,
And let them to Condign Shame be brought:
That thus the King defie, and do adore,
The Filthy Carkass of a Rotten Whore.
Look up, you Sons of mighty Ancestors!
Who never bounded were by their own Shores:
Your Fighting Fathers were abroad renown'd,
Their Kings in France, and distant Jewry Crown'd.
Now give me Vine! and let my Fury rise,
That what my ravisht Soul's Immortal Eyes
With Joy and Wonder saw, I may Rehearse,
To curious Ears in high Immortal Verse.
Forgive (Great Sir) that this Aspiring Flame,
(First kindled as a Light to shew thy Fame)
Consumes so fast, and is mis-pent too long,
E're my Chief Vision is become my Song.
Thy Self I saw quite tir'd with Victory,
As weary grown to Kill, as they to Die:
[Page 8] Whilst some at last, thy Mercy did enjoy,
'Cause 'twas less pains to Pardon, than destroy;
And thy Compassion did thy Army please,
In meer Belief, it gave thy Valour ease.
Lo! in a Calm began thy Regal Sway,
Which with most Chearful Hearts all do obey;
As if no Law were Juster than thy VVord,
Thy Scepter still were safe, without a Sword.
And let Chronologers pronounce thy Style,
The first True Monarch of the Golden Isle:
An Isle so seated for Predominance
And Naval Strength, it's Power can so advance,
That it may Tribute take, of what the East,
Shall ever send in Traffick to the West.
Advance Great Sir, still let your Fame be spread,
As for as where the Morning Clouds look red:
Go on, go on, let lofty Lewis feel,
The mighty Force of thy revenging Steel,
Make, make, his Flowers fade and Courage reel;
Nay reel he must at last, and tumble down,
France is thy Right, he shall resign his Crown
To you (Illustrious Sir) you shall enjoy your own.
'Tis not the Tide of many reeling Years,
Can wash the Fields of Gossey and Poictiers;
A conscious Horror strikes their Bosoms still,
When they survey that famous fatal Hill,
Where our third Edward's Host Spectators stood,
Wading to Honour 'bove the Knees in Blood,
And left the Prince to make the Conquest good.
[Page 9] Where will they sculk when they the Banners view
Of a Third Edward, and a VVilliam too?
O what can't England do if she awake!
Give Laws to Europe, and make Empires shake;
Keep Mistress of the undisputed Main,
And hold the Ballance just 'twixt France and Spain;
And once more make her useless Cannons roar,
Thro' both the Indies, and bring back their Oar;
Search out new Worlds, and conquer old ones too,
Bomb Mexico and subjugate Peru.
Beard the Proud Sophy and the Grand Mogul,
These are the Rays would make thy Glories full.
What tho' the Spaniards have surrendred Mons,
And left it unto the Tyrant of France,
'Twas 'cause they wanted Thee for their Defence.
For doubtless had you but near them advanc'd,
You'd made them all toth' Tune of Teague to dance,
And back again in hast return to France.
But this will no ways stain thy Matchless Glory,
Thy Name shall still be Crown'd in English Story;
For we're Resolv'd (Great Sir) to reunite,
And with our Lives and Fortunes pay their spite.
Come, come, you Foolish Iacobitish Crew,
Lay by your Malice, lest there worse ensue:
Oh! never Plot against your Prince and State,
Lest Vengeance fell repay it on your Pate;
No never think that God will suffer such,
His Dear ANOYNTED ever for to touch:
Leave off, leave off, your Dagon cannot stand,
Whilst the Blest ARK remains within our Land;
[Page 10] Joyn, joyn with us, for God is on our side,
Even so shall Blessings still to you betide;
Yet know proud Foes, if you do this disdain,
We will e're long your Pride and Glory stain,
For we're Resolv'd advancc Great Williams Fame.
Sure Heaven has thee design'd to wound the Whore,
To tear her Flesh, and lay her in her Gore;
To ruin Rome, the Pope to undermine,
And work his fatal Downfal in due time.
Jehovah Spirit Thee for thy Great Work,
Make Thee a Terrour unto Pope and Turk:
So by you then shall Tyrants be undone,
And all the force of Hell and Rome or'thrown.
When God appointed Kings with his own Voice,
And joyful People blest him for the Choice;
Then Kingly Virtues set the Monarch forth,
And not Succession Crown'd him, but his Worth.
Such is thy fate blest Isle, and may'st thou be,
A Blessing to thy King as He's to Thee:
Thou never wer't so happy yet till now,
Blest with a King, before whose Feet shall bow
All those that hate Thee, and the Truths of God,
If they'll not kiss the Son, shall feel the Rod.
Too boldly (Awful Monarch) am I gone,
Thro' all your Guards, to gaze about your Throne;
Yet 'tis the use of Greatness to excufe,
The daring Progress of the Sacred Muse:
She taught the Lover, Love; the Warriour, War;
And is the Guide when Honour would go far.
Become the VVonder, and Discourse of Fame;
May every Lawrel, ev'ry Mirtle Bough
Be stript, for VVreaths t'adorn, and load thy Brow;
Triumphant VVreaths, which 'cause they never fade,
Wise elder times, for Kings and Poets made;
Let me deserve a little sprig of Bay,
To wear Great Sir, on your blest Holy-day.
Stay, speak (O Fame!) what Triumph thou wouldst sound;
In all thy boasted Flights, thou scarce hast found
One Theam like mine. Ascend and strait disperse,
(As far as ever thou wert led by Verse,
Or Light e're flew) my Sov'reigns full Renown,
Then rest thy VVings, and lay thy Trumpet down.
Now Thanks to Heaven, that did our King Protect,
And him in all his Councils did Direct;
Gave Laws to VVinds, and made the Seas obey,
And safely home our Sovereign Lord Convey:
Thanks to those Barks, that brought his Person o're,
From the fair Belgick, to the British Shoar,
Let Heavens Prosper them with Blessings store.
May Heavens still Protect your Majesty,
And Crown you with Success, by Land and Sea;
And after Death with Immortality.
FINIS.
A Catalogue of Books, Printed for, and sold by T. Jones, at the VVhite Horse, without Temple-Bar.
A Dialogue between two Oxon Scholars, 4 to.
A Dialogue between the Confederate Princes, &c. Concerning the Present Affairs of Europe.
In the Press, and will be Publish'd this Easter Term, A Choice Collection of AYRES, for two and three Treble Flutes, Compos'd by the best Masters of Musick, and all Engraved upon Copper Plates, price, 2 s. 6. d.