A Panegyrick on their Royal Highnesses, and Congratulating his Return from SCOTLAND.
WHen the most high Eternal Son of God
Through fam'd Iudea in Procession Rode;
The Loyal Publican with zealous hast
Climb'd up a Tree to view him as he past;
And with a look that did his joy relate,
The Mighty Saviour did Congratulate;
So 'mongst the Crouds that with impatience Strove
T'express their fealty and faithful Love,
[Page 26] I and my throbbing heart with equal flames
Panted and prest to meet the Godlike IAMES,
Welcome then mighty Sir, welcome as peace
To Conquer'd Nations, or to sick men ease;
Welcome as what you bring us, Loyalty,
A fruit which in our Isle we rarely see;
In th'barren North it blooms to storms expos'd,
But in our Sunny Climate never grows;
Here fertile Nature makes the Commons Kings,
And from her fatness rank Rebellion springs;
Dam'd Lust of English men, that ne're repented
Their Treason, nor with Blessing were contented.
Black was the day and blasted was the year
When the Curst factions full of wretched fear;
Sought the true Heir of England to exclude
Onely because he was too Great and Good;
Two Epithetes that never yet could suit
The sordid mind of your true English Brute;
Loud Tempests roar'd as if design'd to cross
The Royal Mandate and not let him pass,
Whilst weeping Flouds seem'd to mourn our loss;
And as each Element then bore a part
In grief, even so did every Honest Heart;
But now the happy hours are fully blest,
The Land with the full store of Heaven Possest;
The Season smiles and each propitious ray
For his return their secret joy display;
[Page 27] The Flowers that did in private Clossets keep,
And during the Winter of his Absence sleep
Bloom out, and a gay fragant Robe put on
To bless and welcome in the Rising Sun;
Laetamur, The Motto of the medal.
is the word, a word which late
As mighty hopes did mighty joy create;
When the fam'd Motto with applause was put
To th' Effigie of the Grand Patriot;
Nearest their hearts, where late their Georges hung,
The Palefac't Medal with a silver Tongue
Was plac't, whilst every wearer still exprest
His joy to Harbour there so fam'd a guest;
The wretch that stampt it got immortal fame,
'Twas coyn'd by stealth like Groats at Brumicham:
Whilst each Professor with exalted voice,
Cryes Englands saved, and now let us Rejoyce.
But though seditious Tenets they pursue,
We have a cause of joy solid and true,
And therefore let us cry Laetamur too.
For Mighty YORK's return'd, return'd to Raign
O're hearts, and move in his Great Sphere again;
'Tis in his face you see the Rising Sun,
T'other's a Comet blazing o're the Town;
Portending mischiefs, seeming to explain,
The former Tragick Scene design'd again;
[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]
[Page 28] Fly then ye Loyal Natives, fly with zeal,
Embrace his knees and your true joy reveal;
Prove your Affection to your Injur'd Prince,
Give him your hearts, for you had his long since,
Aid his true cause, oppose the Rebel power,
And never part with your lov'd Heroe more.
And hail bright Princess best of thy fair kind,
An Angels body with an Angels mind,
Beauteous as are the Virgin Saints above,
That sit and smile on the Right hand of Iove:
And good as the first state heaven form'd 'em in,
E're that Angelick Sex knew how to sin;
How when she comes, shall we our Crimes atone?
How shall we meet the Justice of her frown?
That doing no offence was forc't away
With her dear Lord a cruel fate t' obey,
And sacrifice her Joy, her Peace and Fame
To a curst branded thing without a Name,
Down her fair face the liquid Treasures rowl'd,
Then taking on her Royal Partner hold,
England farewell, she cry'd, thou hated shore,
And may I never see thy baseness more:
But she comes back and nobly may despise
The Pigmy malice of her Enemies;
Disdain and Anger in her forehead sit,
Yet both so calm'd and temper'd by her wit,
[Page 29] That with a modest smile she strives t' oppose
Revenge, and only pities all her Foes.
Return then and forgive, and may your Name
Charm the wide Globe as does your Heroe's Fame:
Long may ye love, and still may ye appear
Teeming, as to our joy you prove this year,
Your Pregnant veins are framing wond'rous things,
Oh Glorious Passion that creates young Kings!
The illustrious Infant struggles in the Womb,
As if he knew his Royal Fate [...] come;
And silently mourns that so long a space
'T will be e're he begins his Glorious Race:
But when as the divinest gift of Heaven,
The Princely Babe is for our comfort given;
May every heart conspire with every Tongue
T' implore his years may be renown'd and long,
That he may merit his brave Fathers name,
And rival Vertue with his Mothers fame.
Methinks I see our great Augustus stand,
With the fair Princess smiling in his hand;
High Grandeur mixt with joy adorns his face,
Whilst blushing duty hers does sweetly grace:
Their Eyes are fixt and mingling glories seem
Like the Suns Rays reflecting on a Jem,
His awful light then on his Brother shines,
Who with a silent modesty inclines
[Page 30] To hear his welcome, and with humble grace,
Fixing his Eyes upon his Monarchs face,
His willing knees with Loyal duty bend
To his dear King, his Brother and his Friend,
Who in his arms does the lov'd Favorite hold,
And speaks a Gracious welcome from his Soul.
Thrice happy Scotland, well did'st thou begin
To make atonement for thy former sin;
When thou with joy a Virtue did'st embrace
By brooding Factions driven from this place,
Well was the much wrong'd Prince receiv'd by thee,
And well ha [...] thou reform'd thy Loyalty;
Yet to his goodness thou thy fame dost owe,
For thou had'st faithless bin had he been so;
But as the Thracian Bard with Charming strains,
Drew the wild Savages from Woods and Plains,
Controul'd their Brutish rage where e're he came,
And made the fiercest Wolves and Tigers tame;
So mighty Prince thy vertue did oppose
The close designs and malice of thy Foes,
And made a Nation fam'd for Treachery
Bow to thy Loyal Principles and thee;
Whilst England's left with its King-killing race,
A nest of Rebels as it ever was.
IN this cold Monument lies one,
That I know who has lain upon;
(The happier he) whose sight would charm,
And touch would frozen Hermits warm:
Lovely as the Dawning East,
Was this Marbles frozen guest,
As Glorious and as bright as day,
As Odoriferous as May;
Whom I admir'd as soon as knew,
And now her memory pursue
With such a superstitious lust,
That I would ravish even her dust;
She all perfection had in store,
Beauty, as if design'd a Whore;
Or, as if Nature in her face
Design'd dull vertue to disgrace;
Civil she was and young, and wise,
And in her calling so precise,
That industry had made her prove
The kissing School-mistress of Love:
But Death Ambitious to become
Her Pupil leaves his Ghastly home,
And seeing how we us'd her here,
The rawbon'd Rascal Ravisht her;
Who pretty soul resign'd her Breath,
To practice Letchery with Death.
The Storm, a Song in Sir Barnaby Whigg.
BLow Boreas blow, and let thy surley winds
Make the Billows foam and roar,
Thou canst no terrour breed in Valiant minds;
But in spite of thee I'le live and find the shore:
Then cheer my hearts and be not aw'd,
But keep the Gun-room clear;
Though Hell's broke loose and the Devils roar abroad,
Whilst we have Sea-room, here boys never fear;
Hey how she tosses up, how far,
The mounting Topmast toucht a Star;
The Meteors blaz'd as through the Clouds we came,
And Salamander-like we live in flame;
But ah we sink, now, now we go
Down to the deepest shades below:
Alas where are we now? who, who, can tell?
Sure 'tis the lowest room in Hell,
Or where the Sea Gods dwell;
[Page 50] With them wee'l live, with them wee'l live and Reign,
With them wee'l laugh and sing and drink amain;
But see we mount, see, see, we rise again.
Second Movement.
Though flashes of Lightning and Tempests of Rain,
Do fiercely contend which shall conquer the Main;
Though the Captain does swear,
Instead of a Pray'r,
And the Sea is all fir'd by the Demons o'th Air;
Wee'l drink and defie the mad Spirits that fly,
From the deep to the sky;
And sing whilst the Thunder does bellow:
For Fate still will have,
A kind Fate for the brave,
And ne're make his Grave of a Saltwater wave:
To drown, drown, never to drown,
No never to drown a good fellow.
Tony: A Ballad made occasionally by reading a late Speech made by a Noble PEER.
I.
LET Oliver now be forgotten, his Policy's quite of doors,
Let Bradshaw and Hewson lye rotting like Sons of Phanatical Whores:
For Tony's grown a Patrician,
By Voting damn'd Sedition,
For many years fam'd Polititian;
The mouth of all Presbyter Peers.
II.
Tony a Turncoat at Worcester,
Yet swore hee'd maintain the Kings right,
But Tony did swagger and bluster,
And never drew Sword on his side:
For Tony like an Old Stallian,
Had still the Pox of Rebellion,
And never was sound
Like a Camelion,
Still changing both his shape and his ground.
III.
Old Rowley return'd (heaven bless him)
From exile and danger set free,
Sly Tony made hast to address him,
And swore none so Loyal as he:
The King that knew him a Traytor,
And saw him squint like a Satyr,
Yet through his Grace
Pardon'd the matter,
And gave him since the Purse and the Mace.
IV.
And now little Chancellor Tony,
With honour has feather'd his Wing,
And careful scrap't up the Money,
But never a Groat for the King:
But Tony's luck was confounded,
The Duke soon smoakt him a Round-head,
From head to heel
Tony was sounded;
And Y—k soon put a spoke in his Wheel.
V.
But Tony that frets in his Passion,
Like Boy that has netled his breech,
Did late in the house take occasion
To make a most delicate speech:
He told the King like a Croney,
If e're he hope't to have Money
He must be Rul'd, Oh fine Tony!
Was ever Potent Monarch so school'd?
VI.
The King Issues forth Proclamation,
By Learned and Loyal Advice,
But Tony declares to the Nation,
The Council will never be wise:
For Tony Rayles at the Papist,
Yet is himself an Atheist,
Though so precize
Sneaking and Apish:
Like holy Quack or Priest in disguise.
VII.
But destiny shortly will cross it,
For Tony grows Gowty and Sick,
In spite of his Spiggot and Fawset,
The Statesman must go to Old Nick:
Yet Tony's madder and madder,
And M—blows like a Bladder,
And others too,
Who grow gladder,
That they Great Y—k are like to undo.
VIII.
But now let this Rump of the Law see
A Maxime, and so we will part,
Who e're with his Prince is so sawcy,
'Tis fear'd is a Traytor in's heart:
Then Tony cease to be Witty,
By buzzing Treason i'th City,
And love the King,
So ends my ditty:
Or else may'st thou swing like a dog in a string.
Love's World: A Copy of Verses Translated out of the French of Astrea, Written by my Uncle Durfe.
I.
GReat Artist, Love, the sure Foundation laid,
And out of me another World has made;
The Earth is my Fidelity, which stands
Immovable by any Mortal hands;
And as this World upon the Earth is founded,
So this on my fidelity is grounded.
II.
If any fits of jealousie do make,
The Earth of my fidelity to shake,
And cause my solid constant heart to tremble,
Imprison'd Winds exactly they resemble:
Which being in the pregnant Womb inclos'd,
Makes me and the whole Globe be discompos'd.
III.
My Tears the Ocean are, as soon you may
Empty the Sea, as them dry up or stay;
[Page 62] My sighs so many storms are, which rebel
And make this Sea to bubble and to swell;
And my Eyes flowing Rivulets do glide,
Paying their constant Tribute to this Tyde.
IV.
The Air my Will is, pure Serene and free,
And always waits on my fidelity;
The Wind is my Desire, and rules my Will,
Which by the stronger gust is moved still;
And as in Caverns we do see the wind,
So my desire is in my heart confin'd.
V.
The Fire Invisible mixt in the Air,
Those secret flames which burn my heart up, are;
And as this Element no Eye can see,
Even so my flames within me smother'd be;
But as all fire some nourishment does crave,
So must mine dye or nourishment must have.
VI.
My Hopes the Moon is, which does still increase
Or else diminish always more or less;
And as fair Silvia, I do find it true,
I have no light until supply'd by you;
So she no bright perfection ever won▪
'Till beautify'd with glories from the Sun.
VII.
The Sun is your Incomparable Eye,
Which other Planets does so far outvie;
That as the Sun life to the World does give,
So Lovers dye unless you bid 'em live;
'Tis day when you appear, and it is night,
Obscurely dark, when you are out of sight.
VIII.
The Summer is my Joy, when you do please,
To shine upon me and my passions ease;
The Winter is my Fear, when you withdraw,
And my despairing doubts deny to thaw;
And then alas, what fruit can Autumn bring,
When I can find no flowers in my spring?
A Scotch Sung, sung at the Artillery Feast.
[...]
WOONS, what noo is the
[...]
mat—ter! gud feth 'tis won—d'rous
[...]
strange; the Whiggs do keep sike a
[...]
clatter that nean can pass th' Exchange.
[...]
They cry bread it is pitty, their numbers
[...]
are no more, the Duke does dine in the
City, and muckle they fear his power.
[...]
They begin the awd trick agen, and
[...]
Cabal like awd Nick a-gen, Feast
[...]
three hundred pound thick agen, sike a
[...]
height they soar: Ah bonny London, thour't
[...]
undone if e're thou art in their power.
II.
The wise Old E—with the Spiggot,
That never knew rest or ease,
Ods bread is grown sike a Bigot;
The Nation has his disease.
More I think I could name ye,
That make this raree show,
Bold George, and Politick Iemmy;
Converted by Doctor TO.
Both the Sheriffs there should ha bin,
Then how merry they would ha bin,
Met for National good agen,
As they were before,
Ah bonny London,
Thou'rt undone,
If long thou art in their power.
III.
More to shew us what Ninnys
Are all Rebellious beasts,
The Cuckolds sent in their Guinnys,
To make up this Godly Feast.
What Insolence was done,
Or that their Plotting and Drinking;
Should e're be oppos'd so soon.
But when they knew they were barr'd agen,
They sent out the Black Guard agen,
All our Bonfires were marr'd agen;
Slaves did shout and roar:
Ah bonny London,
Thou'rt undone,
If e're thou art in their power.
IV.
Right and Royalty Governs,
Which Rebels would overthrow,
They once were fatal to Soveraigns;
Ah let 'em no more be so.
But to baffle Oppression,
Inspir'd by Fate divine,
Defend the Crown and Succession;
And keep it in the Right-Line.
Each bold Genius will write for it,
And the Whigs hang in spite for it,
Losing Regal power:
And bonny London,
They're undone,
That thought to usurp once more.
The Spinning Wheel, a Pastoral, made at New-Hall, and Sung to the KING at Windsor.
I.
UPon a sunshine Summers day,
When every Tree was green and gay,
The Morning blusht with Phebus ray,
Just then ascending from the Sea,
As Silvio did a Hunting ride,
A lovely Cottage he espy'd;
Where lovely Chloe Spinning sat,
And still she turn'd her Weel about.
II.
Her Face a Thousand Graces crown,
Her Curling hair was lovely brown,
Her Rowling Eyes ah hearts did win,
And white as down of Swans her skin;
So taking her plain dress appears,
Her Age not passing sixteen years,
The Swain lay sighing at her foot,
Yet still she turn'd her Wheel about.
III.
Thou sweetest of thy tender kind,
Cries he, this ne're can suit thy mind,
Such Grace attracting noble Loves,
Was ne're design'd for Woods and Groves▪
Come, come with me to Court my Dear,
Partake my Love and Honour there;
And leave this Rural sordid rout,
And turn no more thy Wheel about.
IV.
At this with some few modest sighs,
She turns to him her Charming Eyes;
Ah! tempt me Sir no more she cries,
Nor seek my weakness to surprize,
I know how Virgins are deceiv'd;
Then let me thus my Life wear out,
And turn my harmless Wheel about.
V.
By that dear panting breast cries he,
And yet unseen divinity;
Nay by my Soul that rests in thee,
I swear this cannot, must not be;
Ah cause not my eternal woe,
Nor kill the Man that loves thee so;
But go with me and ease my doubt,
And turn no more thy Wheel about.
VI.
His Cunning Tongue so play'd its part,
He gain'd admission to her heart;
And now she thinks it is no sin,
To take Loves fatal poyson in;
But ah too late she found her fault,
For he her Charms had soon forgot;
And left her e're the year ran out,
In tears to turn her Wheel about.
The Court Star: A Poem, on the Dutches of—.
I.
VVE all to Conquering Beauty bow,
Its Influence I admire,
But never saw a Star 'till now
That like you could inspire:
Now I may say I met with one,
Amazes all Mankind,
And like Men gazing on the Sun;
With too much light am blind.
II.
Like the bright Genious of your Race,
You spread your Influence,
Your one Sex borrows from your Face;
And ours from your sence:
Pardon me, since my thoughts I raise,
With this blest Theam delighted,
For since all loudly speak your praise,
Then when shou'd I not write it.
III.
The glittering Temple of our God,
Is deckt with forms divine,
But amongst all the heavenly Crowd,
Is ne're a Face like thine;
The strictest zeal Apostate stands,
When so much Grace they view,
To heaven they trembling lift their hands;
But Eyes and hearts to you.
IV.
Calm as the tender moving sighs,
When longing Lovers meet;
Like the divining Prophets wise,
And like blown Roses sweet:
Modest yet Gay, reserv'd yet free,
Each happy night a Bride,
A Mein like awful Majesty,
And yet no spark of Pride.
V.
The Patriarch to gain a Wife,
Chast, Beautiful and Young,
Serv'd Fourteen years of painful life,
Yet never thought 'em long;
Ah! were you to reward such cares,
And Life so long could stay,
Not Fourteen, but Four Hundred years;
Would seem but as one day.
VI.
Thus when eternal kindness flow'd,
E're wretched Adam sinn'd,
Heavens bounteous hand on him bestow'd;
A lovely Female friend.
I know not how he priz'd that life,
But this I'me sure is ture,
If a true blessing be a Wife,
She then must be like you.
FINIS.