A panegyrick to my Lord Protector by a gentleman that loves peace, union, and prosperity of the English nation. Waller, Edmund, 1606-1687. 1655 Approx. 11 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 5 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2003-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A67339 Wing W507 ESTC R835 12241353 ocm 12241353 56782

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A67339) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 56782) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 904:5) A panegyrick to my Lord Protector by a gentleman that loves peace, union, and prosperity of the English nation. Waller, Edmund, 1606-1687. 8 p. Printed by Thomas Newcomb ..., London : 1655. Reproduction of original in Huntington Library. One of two editions published in the same year.

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 eng Political poetry, English -- Early works to 1800. 2002-11 Assigned for keying and markup 2002-12 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2003-01 Sampled and proofread 2003-01 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2003-02 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

A PANEGYRICK TO MY Lord Protector, BY A GENTLEMAN THAT Loves the Peace, Union, and Prosperity OF THE English Nation.

CLAUDIAN: &c. Gaudet enim virtus testes sibi jungere Musas, Carmen amat quisquis Carmine digna gerit.

LONDON, Printed by Thomas Newcomb, in Thames-street over against Baynards-Castle, 1655.
A PANEGYRICK TO MY Lord Protector, WHILE with a strong, and yet a gentle Hand You bridle Faction, and our Hearts command; Protect us from our Selves, and from the Foe; Make us Unite, and make us Conquer too; Let partial Spirits still aloud complain, Think themselves injur'd that they cannot Raign, And own no Liberty, but where they may Without controule upon their Fellows prey. Above the Waves as Neptune shew'd his Face To chide the Winds, and save the Trojan Race; So has your Highness rais'd above the rest Storms of Ambition tossing us represt: Your drooping Country torn with Civill Hate, Restor'd by you, is made a glorious State; The seat of Empire, where the Irish come, And the unwilling Scotch to fetch their doome. The Sea's our own, and now all Nations greet With bending Sayles each Vessel of our Fleet; Your Power extends as farr as Winds can blowe, Or swelling Sayles upon the Globe may goe. Heav'n, that has plac'd this Island to give Lawe, To balance Europe, and her States to awe, In this Conjunction does on Brittain smile, The greatest Leader, and the greatest Ile; Whether this portion of the World were rent By the rude Ocean from the Continent, Or thus Created, it was sure design'd To be the Sacred Refuge of Mankind. Hither th' oppressed shall henceforth resort, Justice to crave, and Succour at your Court; And then your Highness, not for ours alone, But for the Worlds Protector shall be known: Fame, swifter then your winged Navie, flyes Through every Land that near the Ocean lyes, Sounding your Name, and telling dreadfull newes To all that Piracy and Rapine use: With such a Chief the meanest Nation blest, Might hope to lift her Head above the rest; What may be thought impossible to doe For us embraced by the Sea and You? Lords of the Worlds great Waste, the Ocean, wee Whole Forrests send to Raigne upon the Sea, And ev'ry Coast may trouble or relieve, But none can visit us without your leave; Angels and we have this Prerogative, That none can at our happy Seat arrive, While we descend at pleasure to invade The Bad with vengeance, or the good to aide: Our little World, the Image of the Great, Like that amidst the boundless Ocean set, Of her own Growth has all that Nature craves, And all that's Rare as Tribute from the Waves; A Egypt does not on the Clouds rely, But to her Nyle owes more, then to the Sky; So what our Earth, and what our Heav'n denies, Our ever constant Friend, the Sea, supplies; The taste of hot Arabia's Spice we know, Free from the scorching Sun that makes it grow; Without the Worm in Persian Silks we shine, And without Planting Drink of every Vine; To digg for Wealth we weary not our Limbs, Gold, though the heavy'st Metall, hither swims; Ours is the Harvest where the Indians mowe, We plough the Deep, and reap what others Sowe. Things of the noblest kinde our own soyle breeds, Stout are our men, and Warlike are our Steeds; Rome, though her Eagle through the world had flown, Could never make this Island all her own; Here the third Edward, and the black Prince too, France conqu'ring Henry flourisht, and now You For whom we stay'd, as did the Grecian State, Till Alexander came to urge their Fate: When for more Worlds the Macedonian cry'de, He wist not Thetis in her Lapp did hide Another yet, a world reserv'd for you To make more great, then that he did subdue: He safely might old Troops to Battail leade Against th' unwarlike Persian, and the Mede, Whose hastie flight did, from a bloodless Field, More Spoyle then Honor to the Victor yield; A Race unconquer'd, by their Clyme made bold, The Calidonians arm'd with want and cold, Have, by a fate indulgent to your Fame, Bin, from all Ages, kept, for you to tame, Whom the old Roman wall so ill confin'd, With a new chain of Garisons you bind, Here forraign Gold no more shall make them come, Our English Iron holds them fast at home; They, that henceforth must be content to know, No warmer Region then their Hills of Snow, May blame the Sun, but must extoll your Grace, Which in our Senate has allow'd them place; Preferr'd by Conquest, happily o'rethrowne, Falling they rise, to be with us made one; So kinde Dictators made, when they came home, Their vanquish'd Foes, free Citizens of Rome. Like favor find the Irish, with like Fate Advanc'd to be a portion of our State; While by your Valour, and your Courteous mind Nations divided by the Sea are joyn'd. Holland, to gain your Friendship, is content To be our Out-guard on the Continent; Shee from her fellow-Provinces would goe, Rather then hazard to have you her Foe: In our late Fight when Cannons did diffuse Preventing posts, the terror and the newes Our neighbor-Princes trembled at their rore, But our Conjunction makes them tremble more. Your never-fayling Sword made War to cease, And now you heale us with the arts of Peace, Our minds with bounty, and with awe engage, Invite affection, and restrain our rage: Less pleasure take, brave minds in battails won, Then in restoring such as are undon, Tygers have courage, and the rugged Bear, But man alone can, whom he conquers, spare. To pardon willing, and to punish loath, You strike with one hand, but you heal with both, Lifting up all that prostrate lie, you grieve You cannot make the dead again to live: When Fate, or Error had our Age mis-led, And o'r these Nations such confusion spred, The onely cure which could from Heav'n come down, Was so much Power and Clemency in one. One, whose Extraction from an ancient Line, Gives hope again that well-born Men may shine, The meanest in your Nature milde and good, The noble rest secured in your Blood. Oft have we wonder'd how you hid in Peace A minde proportion'd to such things as these? How such a Ruling-spirit you could restrain? And practice first over your self to raign? Your private Life did a just pattern give How Fathers, Husbands, pious Sons, should live, Born to command, your Princely vertues slept Like humble David's, while the Flock he kept; But when your troubled Countrey call'd you forth, Your flaming Courage, and your Matchless worth Dazeling the eyes of all that did pretend To fierce Contention, gave a prosp'rous end: Still as you rise, the State exalted too, Finds no distemper, while 'tis chang'd by you. Chang'd like the Worlds great Scene, when without noise, The rising Sun Nights vulgar Lights destroyes. Had you some Ages past, this Race of glory Run, with amazement, we should read your story; But living Virtue, all atchievements past, Meets Envy still to g • apple with at last. This Cesar found, and that ungrateful Age Which losing him, fell back to blood and rage: Mistaken Brutus thought to break their yoke, But cut the Bond of Union with that stroke. That Sun once set, a thousand meaner Stars, Gave a dim light to Violence and Wars, To such a Tempest, as now threatens all, Did not your mighty Arm prevent the fall. If Romes great Senate could not weild that Sword, Which of the Conquer'd world had made them Lord, What hope had ours, while yet their power was new, To rule victorious Armies but by you? You that had taught them to subdue their Foes, Could Order teach, and their high Spirits compose, To every Duty could their Minds engage, Provoke their Courage, and command their Rage. So when a Lyon shakes his dreadfull Mayn, And angry growes, if he that first took pain To tame his youth, approach the haughty Beast, He bends to him, but frights away the rest. As the vex'd World to finde repose at last It self into Augustus arms did cast; So England now does with like toyle opprest, Her weary Head upon your Bosome rest. Then let the Muses with such Notes as these Instruct us what belongs unto our peace; Your Battails they hereafter shall indite, And draw the Image of our Mars in fight: Tell of Towns storm'd, of Armies over-run, And mighty Kingdomes by your Conduct won; How while you thunder'd, Clouds of Dust did choak Contending Troops, and Seas lay hid in smoak: Illustrious acts high Raptures doe infuse, And every Conqueror creates a Muse. Here in low Strains your milder Deeds we sing, But there (my Lord) wee'll Bayes and Olive bring To Crown your Head, while you in Triumph ride O're vanquish'd Nations, and the Sea beside; While all your Neighbor-Princes unto you Like Joseph's Sheaves pay rev'rence and bow. FINIS.