TO HIS EXCELLENCE RICHARD Earle of ARRAN &c. LORD DEPUTY of IRELAND,
A POEM.
— Nec deficit alter
Aureus, & simili frondescit virga metallo.
DVBLIN, Printed at His Majesties Printing-House for Joseph Wild Bookseller in Castle-Street. 1682.
To His Excellence Richard Earl of Arran, Lord Deputy of Ireland: On the occasion of His Grace James Duke of Ormonde &c. Lord Lieutenant of the same, (His father's) going for England, And leaving the Government to him.
HEnce the nice Witts that are so squeamish grown,
Nothing will down with them, but what's their own:
It has been said (yet tax'd) I freeze, and burn,
And the same instant, both rejoyce, and mourn
And why (I pray) mayn't different notes agree?
Take away discords, where's the Harmony?
Both are met here: We mourn, one Sun gone East,
And joy, Another rising in the West:
Such — such, as had the Antient Persian
View'd the Parelia, this double Sun
Had made him stagger at the smart surprise,
Nor yet resolv'd, divide his sacrifice.
'Tis now past twenty times since th' Ormonde stem
First brancht it self in such a Princely Beam;
And may it yet encrease; and multiply
It's scatter'd rayes, into a Galaxy.
Spread-Eagles joyn in body; Lucifer,
And Vesper, are the same alternate Star:
The Elements, Castor and Pollux too,
Relieve each other, and in that, still new.
Nature had never made a second day,
Without a nights repose; that short allay,
Stampt us another, and that timely care
Stept in, and sav'd the Infant-World's despair.
And now, 'tis but a day from Sun, to Sun;
The one takes up, the other, holds it on:
Seasons, to Seasons give a fresh supply;
The year absolv'd, comes the Epiphany.
Such Your most noble Father (Sir's) with you;
He closes one, and you, begin the new:
And, be his Motions, yours, I'll boldly say,
The Sun withdrew, and yet We lost no day.
J. Wilson.