Religion's name against itself was made;

The fhadow ferv'd the fubftance to invade ;
Like zealous miffions, they did care pretend
Of fouls in fhew, but made the gold their end.
Th' incenfed powers beheld with scorn from high
An heaven fo far diftant from the sky,

Which durft, with horfes hoofs that beat the ground,
And martial brafs, bely the thunder's found.
'Twas hence at length just vengeance thought it fit
To speed their ruin by their impious wit.
Thus Sforza, curs'd with a too fertile brain,
Loft by his wiles the power his wit did gain.
Henceforth their fougue must spend at lesser rate,
Than in its flames to wrap a nation's fate.
Suffer'd to live, they are like Helots fet,
A virtuous fhame within us to beget.
For by example moft we finn'd before,
And glass-like clearness mix'd with frailty bore.
But fince reform'd by what we did amifs,
We by our sufferings learn to prize our bliss:
Like early lovers, whofe unpractis'd hearts
Were long the may-game of malicious arts,
When once they find their jealousies were vain,
With double heat renew their fires again.
'Twas this produc'd the joy that hurry'd o'er
Such fwarms of English to the neighbouring shore,
To fetch that prize, by which Batavia made
So rich amends for our impoverish'd trade.
Oh had you seen from Schevelin's barren shore,
(Crowded with troops, and barren now no more,)

Afflicted

Afflicted Holland to his farewell bring
True forrow, Holland to regret a king!
While waiting him his royal fleet did ride,
And willing winds to their lower'd fails deny'd.
The wavering streamers, flags, and standards out,
The merry feamen's rude but chearful fhout;
And laft the cannons voice that fhook the fkies,
And, as it fares in fudden ecftafies,

At once bereft us both of ears and eyes.
The Nafeby, now no longer England's fhame,
But better to be loft in Charles's name,
(Like fome unequal bride in nobler fheets)
Receives her lord: the joyful London meets
The princely York, himself alone a freight;
The Swift-fure groans beneath great Glofter's weight:
Secure as when the halcyon breeds, with these,
He that was born to drown might cross the feas.
Heaven could not own a Providence, and take
The wealth three nations ventur'd at a fake.
The fame indulgence Charles's voyage blefs'd,
Which in his right had miracles confefs'd.
The winds that never moderation knew,
Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew;
Or, out of breath with joy, could not enlarge
Their ftraighten'd lungs, or confcious of their charge.
The British Amphytrite, fmooth and clear,
In richer azure never did appear;

Proud her returning prince to entertain
With the fubmitted fafces of the main.

AND

AND welcome now, great monarch, to your own; Behold th' approaching clifts of Albion :

It is no longer motion cheats your view,
As you meet it, the land approacheth you.
The land returns, and, in the white it wears,
The marks of penitence and forrow bears.

But you, whofe goodness your defcent doth fhew,
Your heavenly parentage and earthly too;

By that fame mildness, which your father's crown
Before did ravifh, fhall fecure your own.
Not tied to rules of policy, you find
Revenge lefs fweet than a forgiving mind.
Thus, when th' Almighty would to Mofes give
A fight of all he could behold and live;
A voice before his entry did proclaim
Long-fuffering, goodness, mercy, in his name.
Your power to juftice doth submit your cause,
Your goodness only is above the laws;
Whofe rigid letter, while pronounc'd by you,

Is fofter made.

So winds that tempefts brew,

When through Arabian groves they take their flight,
Made wanton with rich odours, lose their spite.

And as thofe lees, that trouble it, refine
The agitated foul of generous wine:
So tears of joy, for your returning, fpilt;
Work out, and expiate our former guilt.
Methinks I fee thofe crouds on Dover's ftrand,
Who, in their hafte to welcome you to land,
Chok'd up the beach with their ftill-growing store,
And made a wilder torrent on the fhore:

While, fpurr'd with eager thoughts of paft delight,
Those, who had seen you, court a second sight ;
Preventing ftill your steps, and making hafte
To meet you often wherefoe'er you past.
How fhall I fpeak of that triumphant day,
When you renew'd th' expiring pomp of May!
(A month that owns an intereft in your name:
You and the flowers are its peculiar claim.)
That ftar, that at your birth fhone out fo bright,
It ftain'd the duller fun's meridian light,
Did once again its potent fires renew,
Guiding our eyes to find and worship you.
And now Time's whiter feries is begun,
Which in foft centuries fhall smoothly run :
Thofe clouds, that overcaft your morn, fhall fly,
Difpell'd to fartheft corners of the sky.
Our nation with united intereft bleft,

Not now content to poize, fhall fway the rest.
Abroad your empire shall no limits know,
But, like the fea, in boundlefs circles flow.
Your much-lov'd fleet fhall, with a wide command,
Besiege the petty monarchs of the land :

And as old Time his offspring fwallow'd down,
Our ocean in its depths all feas shall drown.
Their wealthy trade from pirates' rapine free,
Our merchants fhall no more adventurers be:
Nor in the fartheft Eaft thofe dangers fear,
Which humble Holland muft diffemble here.
Spain to your gift alone her Indies owes ;
For what the powerful takes not he bestows;

And

And France, that did an exile's prefence fear,
May justly apprehend you ftill too near.
At home the hateful names of parties cease,
And factious fouls are wearied into peace.
The difcontented now are only they,

Whofe crimes before did your juft caufe betray :
Of thofe your edicts fome reclaim from fin,
But moft your life and blest example win.

Oh happy prince, whom heaven hath taught the way
By paying vows to have more vows to pay!
Oh happy age! Oh times like thofe alone,
By fate referv'd for great Auguftus' throne!
When the joint growth of arms and arts foreshew
The world a monarch, and that monarch you.

IN

To His SACRED MAJESTY.
A PANEGYRIC on his CORONATION.

N that wild deluge where the world was drown'd, When life and fin one common tomb had found, The firft fmall prospect of a rising hill

With various notes of joy the ark did fill :

Yet when that flood in its own depths was drown'd,
It left behind it falfe and flippery ground;

And the more folemn pomp was still deferr'd,
Till new-born nature in fresh looks appear'd.
Thus, royal fir, to fee you landed here,
Was caufe enough of triumph for a year :
Nor would your care those glorious joys repeat,
Till they at once might be fecure and great :