Ρ̓ΥΘΜῸΣ ΒΑΣΙΛΙΚῸΣ:
Being an HEROICK POEM, Humbly Offered to His Most Sacred MAJESTY WILLIAM the III. KING OF Great Britain; Upon his Arrival from HOLLAND.
By the Honourable E. H. of Suffolk.
‘Arma Virumque cano—’ Virg. AEn. Lib. I.
LONDON, Printed for Richard Baldwin, near the Oxford Arms Inn in VVorick Lane, 1696.
Ρ̓ΥΘΜῸΣ ΒΑΣΙΛΙΚῸΣ:
AN Heroick Poem, &c.
HAil! Heaven-born Prince, o'th' Gods the chiefest Care;
Mirror of Kings, the Life and Soul of War:
Thy Num'rous Triumphs to the World proclaim,
That Nassaw's Deeds, are equal to his Name.
Where e're the Hero moves, he fills the sight,
At once with Wonder, and a bless'd Delight.
A Prince endu'd with more than mortal Fire,
Whose Val'rous Acts, even Gods themselves Admire.
Flame to his Army Great Nassaw does give,
And weak'ned Troops by him Subdue, and live.
Hail! August Sir, whose Mild, but Potent Arm,
In Battle seems, the very Dead to warm.
The Senate bends before your Radiant Throne,
Where Seven great Lords bear to Nassaw that Crown,
Which He so Nobly to their Trust lay down.
As when bright Sol to some new Clime do's go,
And there amidst the shades his warmth bestow;
The unfrequented Groves to Deserts turn,
For whose bless'd Rays the Springs and Fountains Mourn:
Flow'rs hang down their drooping Heads and fade;
The truest Emblems of a Virgin Maid,
Which oft by them are in their Bosoms laid.
So, Glorious Sir, since you have left this Isle,
No Beauteous Nymph would e're vouchsafe to Smile;
Because Nassaw shin'd not in Person here,
Summer to us but faintly would appear:
Yet now when you your Royal Beams display,
Times Circle seems but one continued Day,
And the glad Hours in Bliss dissolve away.
Long has Britannia wish'd her Lord's Return,
Oft to the Gods would Holy Incense burn.
Much the Nymph mus'd on Nassaw's Noble Race,
Pleas'd with each Feature of his God-like Face,
His Gen'rous Meen, and ev'ry Martial Grace.
William was All, which did her Thoughts employ,
OEnone like, when Paris went to Troy,
Albions Delight, and chast Britannia's Joy.
To distant Waves many a Look she made,
Which from the Shore her Heavenly Prince convey'd.
Hero † cou'd not Leander more bewaile
That Night, when fore'd her longing Arms to fail:
In vain she call'd on Dear Leander's Name,
When the Suns-beams put out the Taper's flame.
Often the Nymph heav'd up her naked Breast,
And to the Winds and Seas much care exprest:
Nassaw by Day was ever in her sight,
Who bore his Image in soft Dreams by Night.
Dido to
Virg. Lib. 4.
Anna weeping did impartLike Grief, when Love reign'd Monarch of her Heart:
The Tyrian Queen could no free passage find,
Thrô which to vent the Anguish of her Mind,
The God as Cruel, as her Sister, kind:
Not that the shining Sword, or glitt'ring Spear,
Rais'd in Britannia's Mind this Virgin fear.
Wond'rous Nassaw can of himself Alone
Slay † Elephants, and throw strong Castles down:
But that which Rob'd this Beauteous Nymph of rest,
l Wounding with Tears and Sighs her Snowy Breast;
Who on a Couch wou'd lean Oppress'd with Care,
In look, than the bright Paphian Queen more fair;
With Mantle loose, dischevell'd all her Hair:
Were Thoughts the Pious Nymph did entertain,
Lest a Ravillac her lov'd Prince had slain.
'Twas not the Fate of War, or Villeroy's Fame,
Which blew the Fuel of her inward Flame.
Nassaw in Arms, Superiour is to all,
And at the Hero's Feet, whole Armies fall.
Nought but vile Plots encreas'd Britannia's Pain,
Working thrô all her Limbs and ev'ry Vein.
Poyson and Dagger are Rome's Instruments,
By which She Blood thrô the wide Orb forments:
Renown'd as much for her unbounded Lust,
As France more false than Carthage to her Trust.
Rome, Mother is of all the blackest Vice;
Thô sure St. Peter never taught Her this:
Witness ye Gods, when Hell with Jesuits joyn'd,
And Him to Murder in cold Blood combin'd.
Yet Heaven, Great Sir, indulgent to the Brave,
Is fix'd in her Decrees your Life to save:
Nassaw, who has in War so often stood,
With Angels Face, 'midst Storms of Fire and Blood;
Who Cannon-Balls Serenely does despise,
Dash'd on the Earth with Lightning from his Eyes.
The Gods that from above, look down and see,
Thy Brow adorn'd with Crowns of Victory,
Will Guard your Sacred Breast from Treachery.
By impious Hands William's too brave to Dye;
Yea, Nassaw may the Rage of Hell defie.
Those Lawrels which from Foreign Lands you've bore,
Surpass what e're Old Romes fam'd Counsuls wore.
The Wreaths which round Great William's Temples shine,
Declare his Person, as his Soul, Divine.
Urg'd by the matchless Trophies of Nassaw,
Who with his Conq'ring Sword keeps France in awe.
Apollo now, Inspire my Muse with Verse,
That I once more, may William's Praise Rehearse:
Tune then Thalia thy Harmoninous Lyre;
Raise thy low Voice, and mount to Heaven for Fire.
I'th' Glorious Tracts of an Eternal space,
Where none Ascend but of Angellick Race.
Seraphs and Cherubs all about they fly,
The Winged Powers o'th' Imperial Sky.
Encircled with the Radiant Beams of Light,
Where wakeful Day secludes the sleepy Night;
The Majesty of Heaven Serenely sat,
Pond'ring which way a Hero to Create;
Whose War-like Deeds all Aera's might survive,
And Sons of Mars in him be taught to live:
Which Image we, in Great Nassaw behold,
Numbers too weak his Virtues to unfold;
As Nestor Sage, and as Achilles Bold.
Sparta nor Thebes could ever Parallel
His Acts, which even Demy-Gods excel.
In Albions Prince kind Heaven is pleas'd to shew,
What, at her Will, Infinity can do.
The Best of Kings in whose mild Breast is All,
That Man, or truely Brave, or Good can call:
'Gainst Gallic Troops himslelf Person goes,
Who to his Captives Royal Pitty shews,
And Generously treats the worst of Foes.
Justly might William Rule this Orb alone,
VVhile Eastern Kings turn Vassals to his Throne,
And him great Monarch of the VVorld do own.
From the bless'd VVomb of a Coelestial Dame,
Immense in all the Rudiments of Fame,
Great Nassaw Sprung: To whom all Homage's due;
Kin to the Gods, and to his Country True.
Bounded are Monarchs in their Soveraign Rule;
Yet Nassaw seems wide Europe to Controul:
Upon his Sword vast Empires do depend,
And Valiant Princes Court him for their Friend.
William, when but a Youth, did Glory seek,
As Marius brave, and as † Timoleon meek:
Gallant Marcellus! who the Gauls o'rethrew,
And with his Lance
[...] the [...]
Viridomarus slew,Unto Nassaw in Arms inferiour was;
His Deeds all humance Courage do surpass.
† Emilius cou'd ne're such Vict'ries boast;
Nor he who overcame the Punic Host.
Agis, Numa,
[...]ii [...]
Furius, great Men they were,Thô they to William no Resemblance bear.
At Cannae Hannibal the Romans fought,
And by his Sword Immortal Glory got.
Emp'rours and
Colon [...]
Tribunes fell by's single Hard;Where he the Legions charg'd, there none durst stand:
Who e're with him in Battle did Engage,
Was sure to fall a Victim to his Rage:
Yet cou'd this Chief, Life in himself Renew,
Might his great Actions, see out-done in you.
The
Alexa [...] Surnam [...] [...] Great.
Macedonian Prince, more Rash than Brave,Countries Destroy'd; but You, whole Kingdoms save:
Locusts, which did of late this Land Infest,
Working their Poyson in the Infants Breast;
Like Birds of Night, when you appear'd by Day,
Fled to their Cells, nor wou'd no longer stay.
Proud Caesar who let the brave
Pomp [...] Pennus
Pompey kneel,That he to Rome his † Slipper might Reveal:
Like thine, his Breast could ne're such Ardour feel;
No, not when Caius sat Enthron'd in State,
And Haughtily Surviv'd his Captive's Fate.
When All-Just Heav'n Nassaw's large Soul did frame,
Double the Portion of Coelestial Flame,
Great Jove infus'd; in whom we clearly see,
The bright Impresses of Divinity.
On Earth, no Monarch can with him Compare,
Like to the Gods, his Breast exempt from Fear.
Ambitious Lewis * Holland did Invade,
In the [...] 72
And Cities all around in Ashes lay'd;
Temples Destroyd, nor wou'd the Altars spare,
Thô to the Gods they Consecrated were:
War and Distress throughout the Land was spread;
In every Place lay mighty heaps of Dead.
Gray-headed Senators of Reverend Meen,
A tropid Horrour in their Looks were seen;
The tender Virgins, with Heart-rending Crys,
And Sighs of Aged Matrons peirc'd the Skys.
Nassaw, then from his Throne of State arose,
In Person went the Tyrant to Oppose;
And rescu'd weeping Belgia from her Foes.
And Altars raise to his Eternal Fame:
When to their Troops, Nassaw Advanced near,
He struck the Gallic Generals with Fear;
Even Conde himself durst not appear.
Descend my Muse, and leave Great William's Praise
To them of skill in Sophoclean Layes:
Him, who Prince Arthur Sings in lofty Strain;
Or
Dorset.
he, who Lord of Wit, and Verse does Raign.FINIS.