Frosts that conftrain the ground, and birth deny
To flowers that in its womb expecting lie,
Do feldom their ufurping power withdraw,
But raging floods pursue their hasty thaw.
Our thaw was mild, the cold not chas'd away,
But loft in kindly heat of lengthen'd day.
Heaven would no bargain for its blessings drive,
But what we could not pay for, freely give.
The Prince of peace would like himself confer
A gift unhop'd, without the price of war:
Yet, as he knew his blessing's worth, took care,
That we should know it by repeated prayer;
Which storm'd the skies, and ravish'd Charles from thence,
As heaven itself is took by violence.
Booth's forward valour only serv'd to show,
He durft that duty pay we all did owe :
Th' attempt was fair; but heaven's prefixed hour
Not come so, like the watchful traveller
That by the moon's mistaken light did rise,
Lay down again, and clos'd his weary eyes.
'Twas Monk, whom Providence design'd to loose
Those real bonds false freedom did impofe.
The bleffed faints, that watch'd this turning scene,
Did from their stars with joyful wonder lean,
To fee small clues draw vastest weights along,
Not in their bulk but in their order strong.
Thus pencils can by one flight touch restore
Smiles to that changed face that wept before.
With ease such fond chimaeras we purfue :
As fancy frames for fancy to fubdue :
But when ourselves to action we betake,
It shuns the mint like gold that chemists make.
How hard was then his task! at once to be
What in the body naturally we fee ?
Man's architect distinctly did ordain
The charge of muscles, nerves, and of the brain,
Through viewless conduits spirits to dispense;
The springs of motion from the feat of sense.
'Twas not the hasty product of a day,
But the well-ripen'd fruit of wife delay.
He, like a patient angler, ere he strook,
Would let him play a while upon the hook.
Our healthful food the stomach labours thus,
At first embracing what it straight doth crush.
Wise leaches will not vain receipts obtrude,
While growing pains pronounce the humours crude :
Deaf to complaints they wait upon the ill,
Till fome fafe crisis authorize their skill.
Nor could his acts too close a vizard wear,
To 'scape their eyes whom guilt had taught to fear,
And guard with caution that polluted nest,
Whence Legion twice before was dispoffeft:
Once facred house; which when they enter'd in,
They thought the place could fanctify a fin;
Like those that vainly hop'd kind heaven would wink,
While to excess on martyrs' tombs they drink.
And as devouter Turks first warn their fouls
To part, before they taste forbidden bowls :
So these, when their black crimes they went about,
First timely charm'd their useless confcience out.
Religion's name against itself was made;
The shadow serv'd the substance to invade;
Like zealous missions, they did care pretend
Of fouls in shew, but made the gold their end.
Th' incenfed powers beheld with fcorn from high
An heaven so far distant from the sky,
Which durst, with horses hoofs that beat the ground,
And martial brass, 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 leffer rate,
Than in its flames to wrap a nation's fate.
Suffer'd to live, they are like Helots set,
A virtuous shame within us to beget.
For by example most we finn'd before,
And glass-like clearness mix'd with frailty bore.
But fince reform'd by what we did amiss,
We by our fufferings learn to prize our bliss:
Like early lovers, whose unpractis'd hearts
Were long the may-game of malicious arts,
When once they find their jealoufies were vain,
With double heat renew their fires again.
'Twas this produc'd the joy that hurry'd o'er
Such swarms 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 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 shout;
And last the cannons voice that shook the skies,
And, as it fares in fudden ecstasies,
At once bereft us both of ears and eyes.
The Nafeby, now no longer England's shame,
But better to be loft in Charles's name,
(Like some unequal bride in nobler sheets)
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 stake.
The fame indulgence Charles's voyage bless'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 straighten'd lungs, or confcious of their charge.
The British Amphytrite, smooth and clear,
In richer azure never did appear;
Proud her returning prince to entertain
With the fubmitted fafces of the main.
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, whose goodness your defcent doth shew,
Your heavenly parentage and earthly too;
By that same mildness, which your father's crown
Before did ravish, shall secure your own.
Not tied to rules of policy, you find
Revenge less sweet 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 justice doth submit your cause,
Your goodness only is above the laws;
Whose rigid letter, while pronounc'd by you,
Is softer made. So winds that tempests brew,
When through Arabian groves they take their flight,
Made wanton with rich odours, lose their spite.
And as those 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 those crouds on Dover's strand,
Who, in their haste to welcome you to land,
Chok'd up the beach with their still-growing store,
And made a wilder torrent on the shore:
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