A Congratulatory POEM TO Sir John Moor, Knight, Lord Mayor Elect of London.

NO sooner doth the aged Phenix dye,
But kind indulging Nature gives Supply;
Sick of her solitude, she first retires,
And on her Spicy Death-bed then expires:
Thus unconcern'd, Sir Patience now declines
The Sword, and all his Dignities resigns;
Next under God and Royal Charles, 'twas He
Defended persecuted Liberty.
When the fierce fury of the Romish Flood
Broke out beyond it's limits, He withstood
The threatning, Deluge of the angry Main,
And forc'd its beating Billows back again;
His circumspection seasonably reads
The dark Intrigues of vain projecting heads:
He cou'd all foreign Maladies resent,
And equally Intestine Broils prevent.
But now, as dying Parents first commend
Their Issue to th' tuition of a Friend,
And then, as if their chiefest care was past,
Pleas'd with the Settlement, they breathe their last:
So he perceiving busie Date appear,
That with a Period will close his year,
Contentedly resigns his dying Claim,
To the Successour of his Charge and Fame;
One whose wise Conduct knows how to dispence
Rigour to Guilt, and help to Innocence.
Here we the City's wise Results may scan,
Their very choice is Metropolitan;
So Universal their Elections are,
That England in the happiness doth share.
On then great Magistrate, and, like the Sun,
Set with the splendid Glory you begun,
Disperse such hovering Clouds as wou'd benight,
And Interpose themselves 'twixt us and light;
You boldly dare your noble Trust attest,
Without a base perswading Interest.
When pleasing Flattery puts on her Charms,
To take with gentle Arts and soft Alarms,
Fixt with a gallant Resolution, you
∆≤ncase the Hypocrite, and bids adieu.
In this confus'd and ill digested State;
Where Plots new Plots, to counterplot, create,
Trusting to Reasons Conduct as your Guide,
You'l leave the threatning Gulphs on either side;
And then erect such Marks, as may appear,
To caution others from a Shipwrack there.
'Tis now resolv'd, the Romanists shall see
The mean Effects of all their Policy;
The Puritans will but expect in vain,
Their Pious Frauds will gull the Land again:
You, like a great Columbus, will find out
The hidden Worlds of deep Intrigues and Doubt,
Whilst to your new Discoveries we give
Our thanks, such worthless Presents as we have.
England no more of Jealousies shall know,
But Halcyon Peace shall build, and Plenty flow,
And the proud Thames, swell'd high, no more complains,
But smilingly looks on the peaceful Plains;
No angry Tempest then shall curle her Brow,
Glad to behold revived Commerce grow,
Whilst emulous of your Example, We
Strive who shall most express their Loyalty:
No Factions shall us from our selves divide,
More than the Sea, from all the World beside,
But link'd together in one Chain of Love,
And with one Spring unanimous we'll move;
That, to our Foes regret, it may be said,
We are again One Body and One Head.

LONDON, Printed for W. Davis, 1681.

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