Of fome black star infecting all the skies,
Made him at his own coft, like Adam, wife.
Tremble, ye nations, who, fecure before,
Laugh'd at thofe arms, that 'gainst ourselves we bore;
Rouz'd by the lafh of his own ftubborn tail,
Our lion now will foreign foes affail.
With Alga who the facred altar ftrows?
To all the fea-gods Charles an off'ring owes :
A bull to thee, Portunus, fhall be flain,
A lamb to you the Tempefts of the main:
For thofe loud ftorms, that did against him roar,
Have caft his fhipwreck'd veffel on the shore.
Yet as wife artifts mix their colours fo,
That by degrees they from each other go;
Black fteals unheeded from the neighb'ring white,
Without offending the well-cozen'd sight:
So on us ftole our bleffed change, while we
Th' effect did feel, but fcarce the manner fee.
Frofts that constrain the ground, and birth deny
To flow'rs that in its womb expecting lie,
Do feldom their ufurping pow'r withdraw,
But raging floods purfue their hafty thaw.
Our thaw was mild, the cold not chas'd away,
But loft in kindly heat of lengthen’d day.
Heav'n would no bargain for its bleffings 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 bleffing's worth, took care,
That we should know it by repeated pray'r;
Which ftorm'd the fkies, and ravish'd Charles from
As heav'n itself is took by violence.
Booth's forward valour only ferv'd to show,
He durft that duty pay we all did owe:
Th' attempt was fair; but heav'n'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 defign'd to loofe
Those real bonds falfe freedom did impofe.
The bleffed faints, that watch'd this turning fcene,
Did from their stars with joyful wonder lean,
To fee fmall clues draw vafteft 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 eafe fuch fond chimaera's we purfue,
As fancy frames for fancy to fubdue:
But when ourselves to action we betake,
It fhuns the mint like gold that chymifts make.
How hard was then his talk, at once to be
What in the body natural we fee?
Man's Architect distinctly did ordain
The charge of muscles, nerves, and of the brain;
Through viewlefs conduits fpirits do difpenfe
The fprings of motion from the feat of fenfe.
'Twas not the hafty product of a day,
But the well-ripen'd fruit of wife delay.
He, like a patient angler, ere he ftrook,
Would let them play a while upon the hook.
Our healthful food the ftomach labours thus,
At first embracing what it straight doth crush.
Wife leaches will not vain receipts obtrude,
While growing pains pronounce the humours crude ;
Deaf to complaints they wait upon the ill,
Till fome fafe crifis authorise their skill.
Nor could his acts too clofe a vizard wear,
To 'fcape their eyes whom guilt had taught to fear,
And guard with caution that polluted neft,
Whence legion twice before was difpoflefs'd:
Once facred houfe; which when they enter'd in,
They thought the place could fanctify a sin;
Like thofe that vainly hop'd kind heav'n would wink,
While to excefs on martyrs tombs they drink.
And as devouter Turks firft warn their fouls,
To part, before they tafte forbidden bowls:
So thefe, when their black crimes they went about,
First timely charmed their ufelefs confcience out.
Religion's name againft 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 pow'rs beheld with fcorn from high
An heaven fo far diftant from the fky,
Which durft, with horfes hoofs that beat the ground,
And martial brafs, belay the thunder's found.
'Twas hence at length juft 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 pow'r 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 fet,
A virtuous fhame within us to beget.
* Their fury. A French word.
For by example most we finn'd before,
And glafs-like clearness mix'd with frailty bore.
But fince reform'd by what we did amifs,
We by our fuff'rings learnt 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 neighb'ring fhore
To fetch that prize by which Batavia made
So rich amends for our impoverish'd trade.
Oh had you feen from Scheveline's barren shore,
(Crouded with troops, and barren now no more,)
Afflicted Holland to his farewel bring
True forrow, Holland to regret a king!
While waiting him his royal fleet did ride,
And willing winds to their low'r'd fails deny'd.
The waving streamers, flags, and standards out,
The merry feamens rude but chearful shout;
And last the cannons voice that shook the skies,
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 his name,
(Like fome 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 Glouc'fter's weight.
Secure as when the Halcyon breeds, with thefe,
He that was born to drown might crofs the feas.
Heav'n could not own a Providence, and take
The wealth three nations ventur'd at a stake.
The fame indulgence Charles his 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 ftraitned 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.
ND welcome now, Great Monarch, to your own;
Behold th' approaching cliffs 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.
you, whofe goodness your descent doth fhew, Your heav'nly parentage and earthly too;
By that fame mildness, which your father's crown
Before did ravish, fhall fecure your own.
Not try'd 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 pow'r to justice doth submit your cause,
Your goodness only is above the laws;
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