DAPHNE CORONALIS: A Pindarique Ode, To the most August MONARCH, JAMES the II. Of England, Scotland, France, & Ireland, King, Defender of the Faith;

Crown'd at Westminster, April the 23d. 1685.

Humbly Dedicated by a Loyal Muse.

Quo pede caepisti, sic bene semper eas.

Ovid. Trist.
Justitiae servantem animum, puraeque tenacem
Mentis, & incoctum generoso pectus honesto
Omnibus oppono Furiis, licet omnis in Illud
Conspiret Rabies, & totas convocet iras.

LONDON: Printed for Charles Brome, at the Gun at the West-end of St. Pauls, 1685.


UNhappy 'state of sublunary things,
To which the Heav'ns no blessing lend,
But always dreadful Overthrow's portend,
By blasting ev'ry Noble Plant that springs:
Ah! peaceful Albion, happy Isle,
On Thee much kinder Stars do smile,
Which influence thy grief,
By beaming quick relief;
On Thee do fall those golden Show'rs
Of Mercy, Clemency, and Love,
The Objects of the Saints above,
The blessing of th'Aetherial Pow'rs,
A blessing which they oft' create
To make Thee great,
Thy People fortunate.
Ungrateful Land!
Canst thou such Heav'nly Courtship then with­stand,
And stay the Blessing with a Rebel hand?
Such Offring, such Sacrifice,
Will not Almighty God suffice,
[Page 2] They will provoke
His fearful stroke.
Ah! then fair Albion shun those Seas
Which nothing can appease,
Which swell, and roar, and live by rage,
Not all the Tribute of the nether World can them asswage.
Embalm'd with grief thus long we laid,
To mourn with Us, Dame Nature staid
Her sweet productive course:
Her secret Charms grew vain,
She seem'd to entertain
No lively quick'ning force;
Confus'd she was,
As when of old both Night and Day
Did intermix with Dust and Clay,
And in their Native Twilight lay:
All sad we stood,
And wept a flood,
To hear the short-liv'd groans assault the Sky,
As Harbingers, unhappily
They did fore-tell the deadly Fate
Of CHARLES our King,
The dearest Thing,
Next under God Supremely Great:
Rich in his Princely Graces and Renown,
Nothing but length of days was wanting to his Crown;
His better Part
Forsook his Heart,
[Page 3] And ceas'd to animate the Royal Clay;
Virtue discover'd now a Nobler Sphere,
In which no Factious Hurricanes appear,
And led his Soul safe to the Milky-way.
Guarded by Angels there refin'd it lies,
The only Present that cou'd bribe the Skies:
Death and Despair
Infect the Air,
Almost we sunk into the Gulf of Fear;
Our sorrows flow'd to such a height,
We cou'd not long have born the weight,
Had not the King of Kings,
Who sees th'event of things,
Repair'd our loss, and banish'd ev'ry Tear;
New gleams of Joy do now revive,
Things in their Native Colours thrive;
Th' Illustrious JAMES is here,
To chase away our Fear,
And does again enlighten all our Hemisphere.
Ye youthful Glories, envy of all Lands,
Rouze from your Beds of Down, and hast away
To fortifie with Vows this happy Day;
Put on your choice Attire,
And tune the sevenfold Lyre,
Wreath verdant Chaplets with your Virgin hands;
Throw off Bandores and mournful Cypress Vails,
Pass not for Strumpets in thin Muslin Rails
[Page 4] About the street,
For Pimps to greet;
Lay all your Sable Vestments by,
They suit not this Solemnity,
Prepar'd to Crown
With high Renown
The Sacred Head of Majesty:
Great JAMES is He, appointed now
To sway the Scepter here below,
Whose Virtues shall
Triumphant spread o'r all this tumbling Ball.
In full content let's revell now,
No sullen care distorts the brow;
Our Sorrows now shall run,
They shall be crush'd away
(As attoms by the Sun)
Into their grosser Clay.
We'll hoise up ev'ry Loyal Sail,
And ply such Oars,
Which shall prevail
Once more reach
The Royal Beach,
And reverendly kiss the wished Shoars.
Oh! happy Land, Thy Barque is fortunate,
Whil'st thus It rides in a continu'd Calm,
Whil'st thus the Heav'ns pronounce Thee great
By pouring on thy Head their costly Balm.
[Page 5] Ah! sweet surprize,
The Halcyon days
Upon us rise
With healing Rays;
The silver Streams in gentle murmurs run▪
No fatal Tenth Wave dares to frown;
Impartial Justice guards our Peace,
And wholsom Laws do still increase,
Equal they are to Rich and Poor.
What can o're ruling Providence do more?
Thus happy is our Land,
Fram'd by the just Command
Of Him, who to our Countrey brings,
To crown our Joys, (even the best of Kings:)
So sweet's the harmony of Love,
So good the state we now live under,
We only hear of mighty Jove,
Scarce ever feel his Thunder.
All hail! (Dread SIR!) thus Crown'd with Joy,
With all the Ornaments of Nature drest,
A Soul like Thine eternally is blest;
For Thee our fervent Zeal we will employ.
See with what busie Joy the Spring
All clad in green
Puts forth a beauteous Scene!
The chirping Songsters of the Air
In all their richest Plumes appear;
[Page 6] The Woods and Groves
(The Pallaces for little Loves)
Are fill'd with joy, and all around,
In short-breath'd tuneful Lays
The prattling Ecchoes found
Our Mighty Monarch's Praise,
And Valleys thick with Corn do laugh and sing.
Thus (Sacred SIR!) kind Nature gives to You
These rare Prognosticks of Prosperity,
The Emblems of Eternity,
To YOU, and only YOU, legitimately due.
Live long (Great CAESAR!) live to be admir'd
By all the World, by Heav'n and Earth desir'd:
Go on, and view this subject Land,
A Tribute due to thy Command.
Oh! may thy days be long,
Thy Joys for ever young;
Thy Reign safe and serene,
Thy Laurels ever green:
In spight of Hell, and all Exclusive Leaven,
Virtue like Thine
Will ever shine,
And mount Thee up to Heaven.

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