On the Occasion of the DESCENT OF HIS HIGHNESS THE Prince of Orange INTO ENGLAND, AND THEIR Highnesses Accession to the CROWN. A Pindarique ODE.
I.
VErtue, how weak is thy Defence!
How weak thy Guards of Innocence!
When giddy Pow'r has but a weak pretence;
A weak pretence too strong will prove
For all thy mighty, humble Bonds of Love;
The Poyson of a weak pretence
Will stain thy bright Obedience;
Tho' Passive 'tis, and 'tis refin'd,
Beyond the common kind;
Tho'free,
From the blind Bigot, and Hypocrisy.
II.
In the warm close
Of sacred Charles's easie Reign,
The truth too lucidly arose
To be suspected vain;
Dissolv'd in ease, and weakn'd with delight,
The trust of pow'r was in the Jesuite;
The Jesuite profoundly knew
The Arts to huddle up old Plots, by forging new,
From out the Noose his neck he swiftly drew;
For aversion some, and some for gain,
Would the old truth maintain;
Too eagerly they hurried on
The after-game,
And wrought their heedless Zeal into a Flame,
That serv'd to shape their own;
Some justly for their folly fell:
Yet why should pious Russel bear a part?
Who ne'r knew Art,
But to oblige his Countries King and God:
Why noble Essex bear the double Load,
Of Active, and of passive ill?
A martyr'd Saint, tho meant a Sacrifice to Hell.
III.
Yet, glorious Soul, from thee
Far be the specious Villany:
Thy Errors only were too kind,
For plenty, and for ease design'd;
Thy thoughts imploy'd in Love, and Peace;
And all thy genuine Acts were Acts of grace;
Thy Justice did to all afford
The Ballance, very few the Sword:
But thus misled
Thy Judas in the Kiss betray'd,
And in our Temples rended veils we needs must read,
How their great Saviour Dy'd.
IV.
'Tis done, and 'tis a Roman Deed,
The day now openly they claim;
Numerous unerring Tragedies succeed,
The sanction of a Roman Aim;
And Vertue languishes at best,
Or only for design,
Or by oppression is confest:
The sacred Fence of Law goes down,
And nothing's left us but the Gown:
The Gospel should the Turn pursue,
If Wolves disguis'd amongst the Sheep could do:
All Faith by Precedents deny'd,
To Heav'n 'tis scarce ally'd;
And hope can on her Anchor hardly stem the Tyde:
Unmask't the Jesuite appears,
Unmask't the Reverend Villany he bears;
For Hell the Tool to nothing else intends.
But ruin to his Friends:
Ah! Royal James, thou might'st have known
Thy pleasant Eden yet thy own;
Thy pow'r next Heaven, thy Actions free,
And all thy Creatures fond of thee;
Had not thy Womans vicious Appetite
Been cheated by the Devil the Jesuite.
V.
But purging Remedies must ease
The Heats of a Dissease:
And tho the Devil, and Woman fixt the Vice
On vain,
Deluded Man,
'Twas Heav'n expell'd him Paradice;
Heav'n saw the Clogg his People drew
From Woman, and the Bigot too;
He saw the Conscientious Arts begun,
And lavishly he saw them carry'd on;
He saw the Flesh pots drest, t'incite
His Israel to drudge with Appetite;
But when once bound to slavery, he knew,
That Leeks and Onyons would profufely do;
He saw, and heard at length the Cries
They offer'd for their Miseries;
And Orange, Moses-like ordain'd,
T' expunge the faithless King, and purge th' infected land.
VI.
He comes, He comes, th' Almighty's choice!
The Winds, and Seas obey his Voice!
'Twas Heav'n the mighty work begun,
For every Act of thine,
Almighty Hero, is divine;
For Heav'n are all the conquests thou hast won:
To thy Commission who would not submit!
Whose Victories are in the gaining sweet;
And in fruition sure must be divinely great.
Those noble Searching Souls, who early knew
The Miseries that would ensue;
And early were opprest,
For turning evils to the best,
Heav'ns gracious care at thy approach confest;
On thee their Faith, and Hope securely plac't:
Nor flatt'ring Honour, vicious Gain,
Nor Influence, the rest could chain,
On thee to trust 'tis safe, on them 'tis vain:
But Churchill let me ever name;
Churchill, the Muses happy claim!
Churchill, the Precedent of fame!
His Vertue, no prevailing ease,
No weak'ning Honours e're could lessen to Degrees;
Nor Court, nor Camp, but by deserts could please.
Betimes he to his God intends,
His Cause (he knew) deserv'd before his Friends;
Betimes the Glorious Course pursu'd,
He knew, that to be great was to be good,
And scorn'd the specious Murmurs of the Crowd;
He truly knew,
That Heav'n was won by loss, and scandal too.
VII.
Io Triumphe! be your Song,
That to the House of God belong;
Such holy extasies are due,
O Albion, from all thy Laymen too:
For where do's Heav'ns prevailing mercies shine,
With greater Lustre, than on Thine?
Would you conquer Heav'n, prevent
The wretched ills your sins have meant?
This conquest is your President:
Would you all the beauties know,
That peace and lovesome ease can shew?
Obey and Love the mighty two.
Love and Obedience, are the sweetest Fruit
Of Heaven, the pleasing Attribute.
Hail! sacred Hero, blest the Crown!
That Heav'n and Merit makes thy own:
May all thy genial Kingdoms prove,
As easie as thy Royal Love;
And may thy Scepter still possess the Dove.
Ave Maria! full of Grace,
And all as charming as thy Face;
For thus religiously to thee
We bow from superstition free:
May all thy Hours be crown'd with bliss,
Sweet as thy thoughts, and great as his;
May constant Love, and useful War,
Attend your service every where;
And still may your Auspicious Rule
Extend o're all, inlarge in ev'ry Soul.
FINIS.