your kind beams, by their continued stay,
Had warm'd the ground, and call'd the damps away.
Such vapours, while your powerful influence dries,
Then foonest vanish when they highest rise.
Had greater hafte these facred rites prepar'd,
Some guilty months had in your triumphs shar'd:
But this untainted year is all your own;
Your glories may without our crimes be shown.
We had not yet exhaufted all our store,
When you refresh'd our joys by adding more:
As heaven, of old, difpens'd celeftial dew,
You gave us manna, and still give us new.
Now our fad ruins are remov'd from fight,
The season too comes fraught with new delight:
Time feems not now beneath his years to stoop,
Nor do his wings with fickly feathers droop:
Soft western winds waft o'er the gaudy fpring,
And open'd scenes of flowers and blossoms bring,
To grace this happy day, while you appear,
Not king of us alone, but of the year.
All eyes you draw, and with the eyes the heart :
Of your own pomp yourself the greatest part :
Loud fhouts the nation's happiness proclaim,
And heaven this day is feafted with your name.
Your cavalcade the fair fpectators view,
From their high standings, yet look up to you.
From your brave train each fingles out a prey,
And longs to date a conqueft from your day.
Now charg'd with bleffings while you feek repofe,
Officious flumbers hafte your eyes to close;
And glorious dreams ftand ready to restore
The pleafing fhapes of all you faw before.
Next to the facred temple you are led,
Where waits a crown for your more facred head:
How justly from the church that crown is due,
Preferv'd from ruin, and reftor'd by you!
The grateful choir their harmony employ,,
Not to make greater, but more folemn joy.
Wrapt foft and warm your name is fent on high,
As flames do on the wings of incenfe fly:
Mufic herself is left, in vain fhe brings
Her choiceft notes to praise the best of kings :
Her melting ftrains in you a tomb have found,
And lie like bees in their own sweetness drown'd.
He that brought peace, all difcord could atone,
His name is mufic of itself alone.
Now while the facred oil anoints your head,
And fragrant fcents, begun from you, are spread
Through the large dome; the people's joyful found,
Sent back, is ftill preferv'd in hallow'd ground;
Which in one bleffing mix'd defcends on you;
As heighten'd spirits fall in richer dew.
Not that our wishes do increase your store,
Full of yourself you can admit no more:
We add not to your glory, but employ
Our time, like angels, in expreffing joy.
Nor is it duty, or our hopes alone,
Create that joy, but full fruition:
We know those bleffings which we must poffefs,
And judge of future by paft happiness.
No promife can oblige a prince fo much
Still to be good, as long to have been fuch.
A noble emulation heats your breast,
And your own fame now robs you of your reft. Good actions fill must be maintain'd with good, As bodies nourish'd with refembling food. You have already quench'd fedition's brand; And zeal, which burnt it, only warms the land. The jealous fects, that dare not truft their caufe So far from their own will as to the laws, You for their umpire and their fynod take, And their appeal alone to Cæfar make. Kind heaven fo rare a temper did provide, That guilt repenting might in it confide. Among our crimes oblivion may be fet : But 'tis our king's perfection to forget. Virtues unknown to these rough northern climes From milder heavens you bring without their crimes. Your calmness does no after-ftorms provide, Nor feeming patience mortal anger hide. When empire first from families did spring, Then every father govern'd as a king: But you, that are a fovereign prince, allay Imperial power with your paternal sway. From those great cares when ease your soul unbends, Your pleasures are design'd to noble ends?
Born to command the miftrefs of the feas,
Your thoughts themselves in that blue empire please. Hither in fummer evenings you repair
To taste the fraicheur of the purer
Undaunted here you ride, when winter raves,
With Cæfar's heart that rofe above the waves.
More I could fing, but fear my numbers stays;
No loyal fubject dares that courage praise.
In ftately frigates most delight you find,
Where well-drawn battles fire your martial mind.
What to your cares we owe, is learnt from hence,
When ev'n your pleasures ferve for our defence.
Beyond your court flows in th' admitted tide,
Where in new depths the wondering fishes glide:
Here in a royal bed the waters fleep;
When, tir'd at fea, within this bay they creep.
Here the mistrustful fowl no harm suspects,
So fafe are all things which our king protects.
From your lov'd Thames a bleffing yet is due,
Second alone to that it brought in you;
A queen, near whofe chafte womb, ordain'd by fate,
The fouls of kings unborn for bodies wait.
It was your love before made difcord ceafe :
Your love is deftin'd to your country's peace.
Both Indies, rivals in your bed, provide
With gold or jewels to adorn your bride.
This to a mighty king presents rich ore,
While that with incenfe does a god implore.
Two kingdoms wait your doom, and, as you choose,
This muft receive a crown, or that muft lofe.
Thus from your royal oak, like Jove's of old,
Are anfwers fought, and deftinies foretold:
Propitious oracles are begg'd with vows,
And crowns that grow upon the facred boughs.
Your fubjects, while you weigh the nation's fate,
Sufpend to both their doubtful love or hate :
Chufe only, fir, that fo they may poffefs
With their own peace their children's happiness.
To the LORD CHANCELLOR HYDE.
Prefented on New-Year's Day, 1662.
WHILE flattering crouds officiously appear
To give themselves, not you, an happy year;
And by the greatness of their prefents prove
How much they hope, but not how well they love;
The Mufes, who your early courtship boat,
Though now your flames are with their beauty loft,
Yet watch their time, that, if you have forgot
They were your miftreffes, the world may not:
Decay'd by time and wars, they only prove
Their former beauty by your former love;
And now prefent, as ancient ladies do,
That courted long, at length are forc'd to woo.
For ftill they look on you with fuch kind eyes,
As those that see the church's fovereign rife;
From their own order chose, in whose high state,
They think themselves the fecond choice of fate.
When our great monarch into exile went,
Wit and religion fuffer'd banishment.
Thus once, when Troy was wrap'd in fire and smoke, The helpless gods their burning fhrines forfook;
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