A POEM, Occasioned by His Majesty's Voyage TO HOLLAND, THE Congress at the Hague, AND Present SIEGE of MONS.
Non enim Res Gestae Versibus Comprehendendae sunt quod longè melius Historici faciunt, sed per Ambages & Deorum Ministeria, per fabulòsum sententiarum Tormentum praecipitandus est Liber Spiritus.
Petr. Arb.
Written by N. TATE.
LONDON: Printed for Richard Baldwin, near the Oxford Arms Inn in, Warwick-Lane. 1691.
A POEM Occasioned by His MAJESTY's Voyage TO HOLLAND, &c.
ON Sacred Isis Bank, with Cares opprest,
One Noon Philander laid him down to Rest;
Where having tasted the inspiring Stream,
His Fancy form'd This Visionary DREAM.
Down to Elysian Groves He seem'd Convey'd,
Where Souls of Heroes and their Poets Stray'd:
Where Cowley with his wonted Candour smil'd,
Approacht the trembling Swain, and thus his Fears beguil'd.
Zeal for the Muses, and our Britain's Peace,
Transports Thee to these Realms without Decease.
The Leaden Star did o'er thy Birth preside,
And to thy Soul the wish'd Embrace deny'd
Of Heavenly Muse, forbid to wed her Flame,
With ought that Jove and Mercury disclaim.
But for Thou long hast waited on their Train,
For Britain's Fortune throbb'd with restless Pain,
Fate grants Thee these eternal Seats to view,
And hear our British Bards their Songs renew.
On various Theams, immortal as our Joys,
Each, where his Genius calls, his Muse employs.
Some trace mysterious Nature, and proceed
To sing the Vital Elemental Seed;
Etherial Substance, unctuous liquid Fire,
First Matter, through Still-changings Forms, intire.
Life's Principle that does its Beams disperse,
To Nourish and Cement the Universe.
Specifick Pow'r, that through First Nature ran,
That still preserves her Kinds as they began;
It flourishes in Plants, and breathes in Man.
Some sing the Ebb and Flood's mysterious Cause,
If Moons to Seas or Seas to Moons give Laws,
Since mutual sympathy their Courses bear,
And to the Stars the Earth appears a Star.
[Page 5] Some choose of Oceans Bitterness to treat,
From Beds of Salt beneath, or Solar Heat
That drinks their Dew, and of imbitter'd Tides
Repassing limpid through Earth's Sulph'rous sides.
Why Winter-Suns so swift a Circuit go?
What makes the Steeds of Winter-Nights so slow.
Our Nobler Muses, in Divine Abodes
Rank pious Heroes with their Kindred Gods;
Some our Fifth Harry and Third Edward raise,
But who has Breath for our Third WILLIAM's Praise!
Behold where MILTON Bow'rd in Lawrel Groves,
A Task beyond his Warring Angels moves;
Himself a Seraph now, with sacred flame
Draws Schemes proportion'd to great WILLIAM's Pame;
(For Common-wealths no more his Harp he strings,
By NASSAU's Virtue Reconcil'd to Kings)
Ere long the Sacred Numbers He will joyn,
And bring his Heroe thund'ring to the Boyne.
On listning bloodless Ghosts Convulsions call,
When he describes the Wound and Grazing Ball;
Then make Mischance a Miracle dispense,
And justify Suspected Providence;
Shew how our Monarch's Danger had the odds
Of others Safety, for it prov'd the Gods.
[Page 6] These Theams the Bard shall sing.
The Roses Dew exhaling with his Strains,
The Food of Ghosts throughout these happy Plains.
Happy indeed, Philander then repli'd,
Where Cowley and the tuneful Tribe reside;
Nor yet to know great William's Deeds deni'd.
The Power indulg'd to Souls from Bodies free,
(The Bard rejoin'd) Thou shalt (astonish'd) see.
A Visionary Scene thou shalt perceive,
Of what will Doubts on after Ages leave,
And scarce its own Spectators could believe.
Then wav'd his Wand, and through th' Elysian Field
Of EUROPE did an opening Prospect yield.
First, let the Belgian Shore attract thine Eye,
A distant Fleet, and open Shaloup nigh.
Can Heaven sustain to see a slender Boat
Charg'd with the Fortune of all Europe, Float?
Our Caesar see so dangerously Embarque
The World's Restorer in so frail an Ark,
Seven Worthies more, though safe our Caesar were,
Too rich a Prize to be entrusted There.
[Page 7] Illustrious Norfolk dignified to shine
In Honours Van, and grace her eldest Line.
Ormond and Ossery's resembling Heir
Alone might challenge Providence's Care;
Minerva's Favourite, Monmouth, Learn'd and Brave,
Two Chiefs beside, who proofs of Honour gave
In foreign Fields, and Britain came to save.
My Dorset too his Monarch's Danger shares,
Cleaves to his Breast for whom alone he fears.
See where the panting Muses through the Air
From Pindus to their Patron's aid repair,
His Merits plead, and Setting Phoebus pray
To own his Darling and prolong the Day.
Thick rising Mists, of Both bereave their sight.
Expose the slender Boat to Ice and Night.
They rashly Curse the guiltless God's Descent,
Nor yet had learnt what his Departure meant;
How AEol He, and Neptune first did charge,
To calm the Deep, and leave no Wind at large;
Till gently He next Morn the Fogs should drive,
More welcome make th' endanger'd King Arrive,
To shew for what Atchievements He was Born,
Who Death and Danger in all shapes could scorn.
From Fleet, from Shore, the anxious Crowds did gaze
When Europe's Hope they saw no longer blaze,
In Darkness hid, lost in an Icy Maze;
The Fate of new-built Rome's first King they fear,
That envious Skies had snatch'd him for a Star.
They Mourn all Night, each glimmering Star appears
A Taper lit for Their great Master's Hearse.
With such Concern our fond first Parent view'd
The first Day's Sun, and with fix'd Eyes pursu'd;
When lost in Mists, or sunk beneath the Main
He fondly judg'd him; so did He complain!
Outwept the Night-Dew with distilling Eyes,
No Hope conceiv'd that He again would Rise.
Where Day He lost, all wrapt in Sables deep,
Still Westward fix'd, His Looks sad Vigills keep,
Not knowing yet the Night was made for Sleep.
Now to the shining Hague direct your sight,
(The Bard proceeds) not Sparta shone so bright
When ravish'd Helen (Type of injur'd Peace)
In Consult drew the Potentates of Greece:
And now the Royal Congress to compleat,
Behold, like Jove, our Monarch takes His Seat.
[Page 9] Each Prince some other views with silent Joy,
And mutual Wonder does their Souls employ:
So Heav'ns first Stars each others Flames admir'd,
But more the Sun who all their Beams inspir'd.
Bavaria first to Him submits his Rays,
And for Direction from his Influence prays,
The Rest of Course—To Counsel they Retire.
Here stop thy curious Search—
What Gods Decree no Mortal must enquire:
Suffice it that for Europe they prepare
Saturnian Days; see where the Golden Year
Stands ready Harness'd—Westward turn your Eye,
And Gallick Nero's last Convulsions Spy;
Like Downcast Lucifer revolves his State,
With his fall'n Angels sits in Dark Debate,
And from This Constellation bodes his Fate.
He said, and once again his Wand did wave,
And once again th'Elysian Prospect gave;
The Swain, transported, kiss'd the Sacred Ground,
And cast anew his ravish'd Eyes around;
He saw where Swarming Souls to Lethe press
To drink large Draughts of deep Forgetfulness;
Amongst themselves (ah vain Desire!) at Strife,
Ambitious to repeat the Toils of Life.
[Page 10] The Myrtle Grove where Lovers once Distress'd,
Secure from Fate in wish'd Embraces rest:
Of Virgin Souls the Receptacles mild,
Who Death embrac'd and Tyrants Lust beguil'd:
For Studious Minds bright Mansions set apart,
Who Life adorn'd with any useful Art.
By chance a rev'rend Shade of Royal Meen
He spies, stretch'd Musing on a Silent Green;
Charm'd with the Figure (on his either side
Lay Heaps of Trophies) he consults his Guide;
Enquires the Hero's Name, for from his Face
Seraphick Joy beam'd through the Dusky Place.
The Bard as with a sudden Rapture struck,
A while stood Mute, at length thus (warmly) spoke.
Most Monarchs think the Regal Task is done,
If once the Pageants can but Stuff a Throne;
Once to the Belfry of a State can climb,
No Wheels to move, but Image-like to Chime,
And with an idle Sceptre strike the Time.
But Tyrants still are worse—and stupid Frogs,
By Cranes devour'd, can call again for Logs.
Bless'd Nations who can brave RESTORERS find,
Bold to the Foe, and to their Subjects kind!
Who Empire but for Pious Ends receive,
Who War for Peace, and Conquer to Relieve.
A RACE of such Successively to Shine,
Fate ne'er allow'd but to
One of His Majesty's Ancestors formerly Emperor of Germany.
ADOLPHƲS Line:'Tis his pleas'd Shade that Glitters in yon Vale,
Where of his Off-spring he recounts the Tale;
Numbers their Persons, does their Conquests State,
Their Deeds, their Sufferings, Fortunes and their Fate.
Through long Descents of still untainted Fame,
Ev'n now he dwells on Present WILLIAM's Name;
A Name that makes the unborn Years to spring
In Fate's dark Womb, and clap their unfledg'd wing.
Column of Piety, and Honours Prop,
Late rescu'd Albion's Joy, all Europe's Hope:
Him distant Nations call with out-stretch'd Hands,
Like longing Ghosts on black Cocytus Strands,
For waftage o'er to our Elysian Lands.
Last Cordial, He, to make their Hopes revive,
And keep their Gasping Liberty alive,
Toils he sustains, like those Alcides bore,
And like Alcides only to Restore
The Sick World's Rest—
Reserv'd by Fate to enter Fame's last Stage,
To Vanquish and Reform an Impious Age:
[Page 12] Monsters to Quell, and clip fell Dragons wings,
Crown'd Basilisks disarming of their Stings:
Restores stol'n Jewels to their proper Crown,
And Scorns no less to Buy than Sell Renown.
Unbeaten Paths direct to Honours Heights,
His Swords cuts out, and ne'er by Proxy Fights;
But ever Lightning in the foremost Band,
His Honours Harvest reaps with his own Hand.
But see the Skies bear down, a sudden Breeze
With Spicy whispers wakes the Nodding Trees
On Lethe's Bank—Now, Sweeter Notes rebound,
'Tis Waller's Harp, I know the Melting Sound;
The Harp that once his Sacharissa Sung,
And Charm'd your World, the Same, but here new Strung;
Does here his Sacharissa's Praise refuse,
To Britains Goddess consecrates his Muse:
Now Sings MARIA, whose Diviner Frame,
Refines his Passion to Seraphick Flame.
For Her he does his Rich Conceptions lay
In Judgment deep, but when they see the Day
Pure and Transparent as slow China's Clay;
For her the Spangled Firmament is spread,
For her Chast Cupids reap th'Elysian Mead,
And weave eternal Chaplets for her Head.
[Page 13] Day shines for Her, and let her tread the Night,
Descending Stars shall pave her walks with Light:
Like Cintbia let her guild the Sea with Beams,
The Slumb'ring Nereids starting from their Dreams,
Shall catch at her bright Image in the Streams.
If such her Form, what Herald shall we find
For the Immortal Blazon of her Mind;
The Cloyster may learn Virtue from her Court,
Her Constancy can all Extreams support;
Secure she treads the Labyrinths of State,
Nor servilely on Fortune's Smiles does wait,
But Present to her Self, Commands her Fate.
Our Eagle Absent, she protects her Seat,
Her Subject Brood from Gallick Vultures Threat;
So Pallas can far-warring Mars supply,
So Juno, Jove Absenting, Rules the Sky.
The Trumpet Sounds, our Stragling Hero's Arm,
And to Imaginary Standards Swarm;
Still with bright Arms, slick Steeds, their former Care,
Delighted, and to frame fictitious War.
Now Modern Fights, then those of former years,
Cressey one day the Scene, the next Poictiers;
By Lots distinguish'd they divide or joyn,
Now represent Seneff and then the Boyn.
See where a Visionary MONS does rise,
Besieg'd, reduc'd to last Extremities;
To her Relief, a Hero young as day,
A Personated ORANGE wings his way,
Still Leading, still instructing how to Dare,
He Blazes in the Forehead of the War:
Undaunted does on Breath of Cannons go,
And Conquers by Astonishing the Foe.
Now wrap'd in Smoak I see him still perform
Fresh Wonders, and still Lightning through the Storm;
Through Groves of Pikes, wide wasts of Death he hews,
O'er prostrate Crests and Shields the Foe pursues:
Their Trenches lost, precipitating Fear
Drives back the Front on their Astonish'd Rear.
Turn Luxemberg, yield thy devoted Head,
For Mothers Tears and Blood of Infants shed;
Since soon or late Just Vengeance must take place,
An honourable Destiny embrace;
While great Nassau calls out and bids Thee stand,
Consult thy Fame, and Perish by His Hand.
Thou Fly'st, perhaps, presaging such a Doom,
Through slow revolving Years too soon may come,
When Haughty Lewis shall repeat his Crime,
And Rescu'd Mons Besiege a second time:
[Page 15] What Fate Decrees, to bring her former Chief
He Perseus wing'd once more to her Relief;
Or now Reserves him for a desp'rate Game,
Ev'n to Retrieve (if Lost) the Captive Dame,
Let Time unfold—
Here from his Charming Dream Philander woke,
For Shouts and pealing Bells his Slumber broke:
The day he left so bright, he seeks in vain,
And wonders at the Moons untimely Wain.
Upstarted now, on ISIS Bank he stood,
And saw (or ween'd) the Goddess of the Flood.
Hence, hence, she cry'd, long since thy Fellow Swains,
Have litt their chearful Bonfires through the Plains.
From Belgia's Shore our Patron's safe Return'd,
Too long these silent Banks his Absence mourn'd:
The Altar Smoaks, thy Offering's still delay'd,
'Tis more than time thy promis'd Vows were paid.
FINIS.
☞ A Poem occasioned by the Late Disturbances and Discontents in the State: With Reflections on the Rise and Progress of Priest-Craft.