While, fpurr'd with eager thoughts of paft delight,
Thofe, who had feen you, court a second sight ;
Preventing fill your steps, and making haste
To meet you often wherefoe'er you past.
How shall I speak 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 fmoothly run:
Those 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, shall sway the rest.
Abroad your empire shall no limits know,
But, like the fea, in boundless circles flow.
Your much-lov'd fleet fhall, with a wide command,
Befiege the petty monarchs of the land :
And as old Time his offspring swallow'd down,
Our ocean in its depths all feas fhall 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 France, that did an exile's presence 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 most your life and bleft 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 those 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.
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 first finall prospect of a rifing 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 see you landed here,
Was caufe enough of triumph for a year :
Nor would your care thofe glorious joys repeat,
Till they at once might be fecure and great :
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 haste 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 exhausted all our store,
When you refresh'd our joys by adding more:
As heaven, of old, difpens'd celestial dew,
You gave us manna, and still give us new.
Now our fad ruins are remov'd from sight,
The feafon too comes fraught with new delight:
Time seems 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 bloffoms 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 spectators view,
From their high ftandings, 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 clofe;
And glorious dreams ftand ready to reftore
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 restor'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 herfelf is loft, in vain fhe brings
Her choiceft notes to praise the best of kings:
Her melting trains in you a tomb have found,
And lie like bees in their own fweetnefs drown'd.
He that brought peace, all difcord could atone,
His name is mufic of itfelf 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 fpirits 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 thofe bleffings which we must poffefs,
And judge of future by paft happiness.
No promise 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
Good actions still 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-storms provide,
Nor feeming patience mortal anger hide.
When empire firft from families did fpring,
Then every father govern'd as a king:
But you, that are a fovercign prince, allay
Imperial power with your paternal sway.
From thofe great cares when eafe your foul unbends,
Your pleasures are defign'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 tafte the fraicheur of the purer air:
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