Petition him to accept the government, And let a splendid embassy be sent. This pithy speech prevail'd, and all agreed, Old enmities forgot, the Buzzard should succeed. Their welcome suit was granted soon as heard, His lodgings furnish'd, and a train prepar'd, With B's upon their breast appointed for his guard.
He came, and crown'd with great solemnity, God save king Buzzard was the general cry.
A portly prince, and goodly to the sight, He seem'd a son of Anach for his height: Like those whom stature did to crowns prefer: Black-brow'd, and bluff, like Homer's Jupiter: Broad-back'd, and brawny-built for love's de- light;
A prophet form'd to make a female proselyte. A theologue more by need than genial bent; By breeding sharp, by nature confident. Interest in all his actions was discern'd; More learn'd than honest, more a wit than learn'd;
Or forc'd by fear, or by his prophet led, Or both conjoin'd, his native clime he fled : But brought the virtues of his heaven along; A fair behaviour, and a fluent tongue. And yet with all his arts he could not thrive; The most unlucky parasite alive. Loud praises to prepare his paths he sent, And then himself pursued his compliment; But by reverse of fortune chas'd away, His gifts no longer than their author stay: He shakes the dust against the ungrateful race, And leaves the stench of ordures in the place. Oft has he flatter'd and blasphem'd the same; For in his rage he spares no Sovereign's name : The hero and the tyrant change their style By the same measure that they frown or smile. When well receiv'd by hospitable foes, The kindness he returns is to expose: For courtesies, though undeserv'd and great, No gratitude in felon minds beget;
As tribute to his wit, the churl receives the treat. His praise of foes is venomously nice; So touch'd, it turns a virtue to a vice: A Greek, and bountiful, forewarns us twice. Seven sacraments he wisely does disown, Because he knows Confession stands for one; Where sins to sacred silence are convey'd, And not for fear, or love, to be betray'd: But he, uncall'd, his patron to control, Divulg'd the secret whispers of his soul; Stood forth the accusing Satan of his crimes, And offer'd to the Moloch of the times. Prompt to assail, and careless of defence, Invulnerable in his impudence,
He dares the world; and eager of a name, He thrusts about, and justles into fame.
Frontless, and satire-proof, he scours the streets, And runs an Indian-muck at all he meets. So fond of loud report, that not to miss Of being known (his last and utmost bliss) He rather would be known for what he is.
Such was, and is, the Captain of the Test, Thought half his virtues are not here express'd; The modesty of fame conceals the rest. The spleenful Pigeons never could create A prince more proper to revenge their hate : Indeed, more proper to revenge, than save; A king, whom in his wrath the Almighty gave: For all the grace the landlord had allow'd, But made the Buzzard and the Pigeons proud; Gave time to fix their friends, and to seduce the crowd.
They long their fellow-subjects to enthrall, Their patron's promise into question call, And vainly think he meant to make them lords of all.
False fears their leaders fail'd not to suggest, As if the Doves were to be dispossess'd; Nor sighs, nor groans, nor goggling eyes did
For now the Pigeons too had lear'd to cant. The house of prayer is stock'd with large in
Nor doors, nor windows can contain the press : For birds of every feather fill the abode; E'en Atheists out of envy own a God: And, reeking from the stews, adulterers come, Like Goths and Vandals to demolish Rome. That Conscience, which to all their crimes was mute,
Now calls aloud, and cries to persecute : No rigour of the laws to be releas'd, [request: And much the less, because it was their Lord's They thought it great their Sovereign to con- And nam'd their pride, nobility of soul. [trol,
'Tis true, the Pigeons, and their prince elect, Were short of power their purpose to effect: But with their quills did all the hurt they could, And cuff'd the tender Chickens from their food: And much the Buzzard in their cause did stir, Though naming not the patron,* to infer, With all respect, he was a gross idolater.
But when the imperial owner did espy That thus they turn'd his grace to villany,
• And much the Buzzard in their cause did stir, Though naming not the patron, &c.]
On the fifth of November, 1684, Burnet preached a sermon in the Rolls chapel against popery, in which he dropped some oblique reflections on the king. On this account it was ordered he should preach in that place no more, and he soon after found it necessary to withdraw to Holland. The king demanded him of the states as a traitor, but they refused to acquiesce. It is said 3000l. was ordered to be paid by the treasury to any person that could contrive to deliver him into the king's hands. D.
Not suffering wrath to discompose his mind, He strove a temper for the extremes to find, So to be just, as he might still be kind; Then, all maturely weigh'd, pronounc'd a doom Of sacred strength for every age to come. By this the Doves their wealth and state possess, No rights infring'd, but license to oppress: Such power have they as factious lawyers long To crowns ascrib'd, that Kings can do no wrong.
But since his own domestic birds have tried The dire effects of their destructive pride, He deems that proof a measure to the rest, Concluding well within his kingly breast, His fowls of nature too unjustly were opprest. He therefore makes all birds of every sect Free of his farm, with promise to respect Their several kinds alike, and equally protect. His gracious edict the same franchise yields To all the wild increase of woods and fields, And who in rocks aloof, and who in steeples builds :
To Crows the like impartial grace affords, And Choughs and Daws, and such republic birds:
Secur'd with ample privilege to feed, Each has his district, and his bounds decreed: Combin'd in common interest with his own, But not to pass the Pigeons' Rubicon.
Here ends the reign of this pretended Dove; All prophecies accomplish'd from above, For Shiloh comes the sceptre to remove. Reduc'd from her imperial high abode, Like Dionysius to a private rod, The Passive Church, that with pretended grace Did her distinctive mark in duty place, Now touch'd, reviles her Maker to his face. What after happen'd is not hard to guess: The small beginnings had a large increase, And arts and wealth succeed, (the secret spoils of peace.)
"T is said, the Doves repented, though too late, Become the smiths of their own foolish fate: Nor did their owner hasten their ill hour; But, sunk in credit, they decreas'd in power: Like snows in warmth that mildly pass away, Dissolving in the silence of decay.
The Buzzard, not content with equal place, Invites the feather'd Nimrods of his race; To hide the thinness of their flock from sight, And all together make a seeming goodly flight: But each have separate interests of their own. Two Czars are one too many for a throne. Nor can the usurper long abstain from food; Already he has tasted Pigeons' blood: And may be tempted to his former fare, When this indulgent lord shall late to heaven repair.
Bare benting times, and moulting months may
When, lagging late, they cannot reach their home;
Or rent in schism (for so their fate decrees) Like the tumultuous college of the bees, They fight their quarrel, by themselves opprest; The tyrant smiles below, and waits the falling feast.
Thus did the gentle Hind her fable end, Nor would the Panther blame it, nor commend ; But, with affected yawnings at the close, Seem'd to require her natural repose: For now the streaky light began to peep; And setting stars admonish'd both to sleep. The dame withdrew, and, wishing to her guest The peace of heaven, betook herself to rest. Ten thousand angels on her slumbers wait, With glorious visions of her future state.
To grant, before we can conclude the prayer: Preventing angels meet it half the way, And sent us back to praise, who came to pray.
Just on the day, when the high-mounted sun Did farthest in his northern progress run, He bended forward, and e'en stretch'd the sphere Beyond the limits of the lengthen'd year, To view a brighter sun in Britain born; That was the business of his longest morn; The glorious object seen, 't was time to turn. Departing Spring could only stay to shed Her bloomy beauties on the genial bed, But left the manly Summer in her stead, With timely fruit the longing land to cheer, And to fulfil the promise of the year. Betwixt two seasons comes the auspicious heir, This age to blossom, and the next to bear.
Last solemn sabbath* saw the Church attend; The Paraclete in fiery pomp descend; But when his wondrous octave roll'd again,† He brought a royal infant in his train. So great a blessing to so good a king, None but the Eternal Comforter could bring. • Whitsunday. Orig. ed ↑ Trinity Sunday. Orig. ed.
Or did the mighty Trinity conspire, As once, in council to create our sire? It seems as if they sent the new-born guest To wait on the procession of their feast; And on their sacred anniverse decreed To stamp their image on the promis'd seed. Three realms united, and on one bestow'd, An emblem of their mystic union show'd: The Mighty Trine the triple empire shar'd, As every person would have one to guard.
Hail, son of prayers! by holy violence Drawn down from heaven; but long be banish'd thence,
And late to thy paternal skies retire: To mend our crimes whole ages would require; To change the inveterate habit of our sins, And finish what thy godlike sire begins. Kind heaven, to make us Englishmen again, No less can give us than a patriarch's reign. The sacred cradle to your charge receive, Ye seraphs, and by turns the guard relieve; Thy father's angel, and thy father join, To keep possession, and secure the line; But long defer the honours of thy fate: Great may they be like his, like his be late; That James this running century may view, And give his son an auspice to the new.
Our wants exact at least that moderate stay: For see the Dragon* winged on his way, To watch the travail,† and devour the prey. Or, if allusions may not rise so high, Thus, when Alcides rais'd his infant cry, The snakes besieg'd his young divinity: But vainly with their forked tongues they threat; For opposition makes a hero great. To needful succour all the good will run, And Jove assert the godhead of his son.
O still repining at your present state, Grudging yourselves the benefits of fate, Look up, and read in characters of light A blessing sent you in your own despite. The manna falls, yet that celestial bread Like Jews you munch, and murmur while you feed.
May not your fortune be like theirs, exil'd, Yet forty years to wander in the wild: Or if it be, may Moses live at least, To lead you to the verge of promis'd rest. Though poets are not prophets, to foreknow What plants will take the blight, and what will
More (might I say) than with a usual eye, He sees his bleeding Church in ruin lie, [cry. And hears the souls of saints beneath his altar Already has he lifted high the sign,
Which crown'd the conquering arms of Con- stantine:
The moons grows pale at that presaging sight, And half her train of stars have lost their light. Behold another Sylvester,|| to bless¶ The sacred standard, and secure success; Large of his treasures, of a soul so great, As fills and crowds his universal seat. Now view at home a second Constantine ;** (The former too was of the British line)†† Has not his healing balm your breaches clos'd, Whose exile many sought, and few oppos'd? Or, did not heaven by its eternal doom Permit those evils, that this good might come? So manifest, that e'en the moon-ey'd sects See whom and what this Providence protects. Methinks, had we within our minds no more Than that one shipwreck on the fatal ore,‡‡ That only thought may make us think again, What wonders God reserves for such a reign. To dream that chance his preservation wrought, Were to think Noah was preserv'd for nought; Or the surviving eight were not design'd To people earth, and to restore their kind. When humbly on the royal babe we gaze, The manly lines of a majestic face Give awful joy: 't is paradise to look On the fair frontispiece of nature's book: If the first opening page so charms the sight, Think how the unfolded volume will delight! See how the venerable infant lies
In early pomp; how through the mother's eyes The father's soul, with an undaunted view, Looks out, and takes our homage as his due. See on his future subjects how he smiles, Nor meanly flatters, nor with craft beguiles; But with an open face, as on his throne, Assures our birthrights, and assumes his own.
Born in broad daylight, that the ungrateful May find no room for a remaining doubt; [rout I The cross. Orig. ed.
The crescent which the Turks bear for their Orig. ed.
The pope in the time of Constantine the great, alluding to the present pope. Orig, ed.
Behold another Sylvester, &c.] The pope, in James the Second's time, is here compared to him who governed the Romish Church in the time of Constantine, to whom the king is likened a little lower down. D.
King James the Second. Orig. ed.
The former too was of the British line]St. Helen, mother of Constantine the Great, was an Englishwoman; and Archbishop Usher affirms, that the emperor himself was born in this kingdom. D.
11 That one shipwreck on the fatal ore The sand. bank, on which the Duke of York had like to have been lost in 1682, on his voyage to Scotland, is known by the name of Lemman ore. D.
Truth, which itself is light, does darkness shun, And the true eaglet safely dares the sun.
Fain would the fiends have made a dubious
Loath to confess the godhead cloth'd in earth: But sicken'd, after all their baffled lies, To find an heir-apparent of the skies: Abandon'd to despair, still may they grudge, And, owning not the Saviour, prove the judge. Not great Æneas stood in plainer day, When, the dark mantling mist dissolv'd away, He to the Tyrians show'd his sudden face, Shining with all his goddess mother's grace: For she herself had made his countenance bright, [light. Breath'd honour on his eyes, and her own purple If our victorious Edward, as they say, Gave Wales a prince on that propitious day, Why may not years revolving with his fate Produce his like, but with a longer date? One, who may carry to a distant shore The terror that his fam'd forefather bore. But why should James or his young hero stay For slight presages of a name or day? We need no Edward's fortune to adorn That happy moment when our prince was born: Our prince adorns his day, and ages hence Shall wish his birthday for some future prince. Great Michael, prince of all the ethereal hosts,
And whate'er inborn saints our Britain boasts; And thou,§ the adopted patron of our isle, With cheerful aspects on this infant smile : The pledge of heaven, which, dropping from Secures our bliss, and reconciles his love. [above, Enough of ills our dire rebellion wrought, When, to the dregs, we drank the bitter draught; Then airy atoms did in plagues conspire, Nor did the avenging angel yet retire, But purg'd our still increasing crimes with fire. Then perjur'd Plots, the still impending Test, And worse-but charity conceals the rest : Here stop the current of the sanguine flood; Require not, gracious God, thy martyrs' blood; But let their dying pangs, their living toil, Spread a rich harvest through their native soil: A harvest ripening for another reign, Of which this royal babe may reap the grain. Enough of early saints one womb has given! Enough increas'd the family of heaven: Let them for his and our atonement go; And reigning bless'd above, leave him to rule below.
Alluding to the temptations in the wilderness. Orig.ed.
Edward the Black Prince, born on Trinity Sun
The motto of the poem explained. Orig.ed. St. George. Orig. ed.
Enough already has the year foreslow'd His wonted course, the sea has overflow'd, The meads were floated with a weeping spring, And frighten'd birds in woods forgot to sing: The strong-limb'd steed beneath his harness faints,
And the same shivering sweat his lord attaints. When will the minister of wrath give o'er? Behold him, at Araunah's threshing-floor :|| He stops, and seems to sheath his flaming brand, Pleas'd with burnt incense from our David's David has bought the Jebusite's abode, [hand. And rais'd an altar to the living God.
Heaven, to reward him, makes his joys No future ills nor accidents appear, [sincere ; To sully and pollute the sacred infant's year. Five months to discord and debate were given: He sanctifies the yet remaining seven. Sabbath of months! henceforth in him be bless'd, And prelude to the realms perpetual rest! Let his baptismal drops for us atone; Lustrations for offences not his own. Let Conscience, which is Interest ill disguis'd, In the same font be cleans'd, and all the land baptis'd. [fame : Unnam'd as yet,** at least unknown to Is there a strife in heaven about his name? Where every famous predecessor vies, And makes a faction for it in the skies? Or must it be reserv'd to thought alone? Such was the sacred Tetragrammaton.tt Things worthy silence must not be reveal'd: Thus the true name of Rome was kept con- ceal'd,‡‡
To shun the spells and sorceries of those Who durst her infant majesty oppose. But when his tender strength in time shall rise To dare ill tongues, and fascinating eyes; This isle, which hides the little thunderer's Shall be too narrow to contain his name: [fame, The artillery of heaven shall make him known; Crete§§ could not hold the god, when Jove was grown. [born,
As Jove's increase,¶¶ who from his brain was Whom arms and arts did equally adorn,
** The prince christened, but not named. Orig. ed. tt The sacred Tetragrammaton] Jehovah, or the name of God, unlawful to be pronounced by the Jews. Orig, ed.
Thus the true nawe of Rome was kept conceal'd] Some authors say, that the true name of Rome was kept a secret: Ne hostes incantamentis deos elicerent. Orig. ed.
§§ Candia, where Jupiter was born and bred secretly. Orig. ed.
TT Pallas, or Minerva, said by the poets to have been bred up by hand. Orig. ed.
Free of the breast was bred, whose milky taste Minerva's name to Venus had debas'd; So this imperial babe rejects the food That mixes monarch's with plebeian blood: Food that his inborn courage might control, Extinguish all the father in his soul, And, for his Estian race, and Saxon strain, Might reproduce some second Richard's reign. Mildness he shares from both his parents' blood: But kings too tame are despicably good: Be this the mixture of this regal child, By nature manly, but by virtue mild.
Thus far the furious transport of the news Had to prophetic madness fir'd the Muse; Madness ungovernable, uninspir'd, Swift to foretell whatever she desir'd. Was it for me the dark abyss to tread, And read the book which angels cannot read? How was I punish'd, when the sudden blast,* The face of heaven, and our young sun o'er-
Fame, the swift ill, increasing as she roll'd, Disease, despair, and death, at three reprises told:
At three insulting strides she stalk'd the town, And, like contagion, struck the loyal down. Down fell the winnow'd wheat; but mounted high,
The whirlwind bore the chaff, and hid the sky. Here black rebellion shooting from below, (As earth's gigantic brood by moments grow) And here the sons of God are petrified with wo; An apoplex of grief: so low were driven The saints, as hardly to defend their heaven. As when pent vapours run their hollow round, Earthquakes, which are convulsions of the ground, [brook, Break bellowing forth, and no confinement Till the third settles what the former shook; Such heavings had our souls; till, slow and late, Our life with his return'd, and faith prevail'd on
By prayers the mighty blessing was implor'd, To prayers was granted, and by prayers restor❜d. So ere the Shunammite a son conceiv'd, The prophet promis'd, and the wife believ'd. A son was sent, the son so much desir'd; But soon upon the mother's knees expir'd. The troubled Seer approach'd the mournful door,
Ran, pray'd, and sent his pastoral staff before, Then stretch'd his limbs upon the child, and mourn'd, [return'd. Till warmth, and breath, and a new soul
The sudden false report of the prince's death. Orig. ed.
Those giants are feigned to have grown fifteen ells every day. Orig. ed.
1 In 2 Kings, iv. Orig. ed.
Thus mercy stretches out her hand and saves Desponding Peter sinking in the waves.
As when a sudden storm of hail and rain Beats to the ground the yet unbearded grain, Think not the hopes of harvest are destroy'd On the flat field, and on the naked void; The light, unloaded stem, from tempest freed, Will raise the youthful honours of his head; And, soon restor❜d by native vigour, bear The timely product of the bounteous year.
Nor yet conclude all fiery trials past: For Heaven will exercise us to the last; Sometimes will check us in our full career, With doubtful blessings, and with mingled fear;
That, still depending on his daily grace, His every mercy for an alms may pass, With sparing hands will diet us to good; Preventing surfeits of our pamper'd blood. So feeds the mother-bird her craving young With little morsels, and delays them long.
True, this last blessing was a royal feast, But where's the wedding-garment on the guest? Our manners, as religion were a dream, Are such as teach the nations to blaspheme. In lusts we wallow, and with pride we swell, And injuries with injuries repel ; Prompt to revenge, not daring to forgive, Our lives unteach the doctrine we believe. Thus Israel sinn'd impenitently hard, [guard And vainly thought the present ark their But when the haughty Philistines appear, They fled, abandon'd to their foes and fear; Their God was absent, though his ark was there. [away, Ah! lest our crimes should snatch this pledge And make our joys the blessings of a day! For we have sinn'd him hence, and that he lives God to his promise, not our practice gives. Our crimes would soon weigh down the guilty scale,
But James and Mary, and the Church prevail. Nor Amalek can rout the chosen bands, T While Hur and Aaron hold up Moses' hands. By living well, let us secure his days, Moderate in hopes, and humble in our ways. No force the free-born spirit can constrain, But charity, and great examples gain. Forgiveness is our thanks for such a day, "T is godlike God in his own coin to pay.
But you, propitious queen, translated here, From your mild heaven, to rule our rugged sphere,
Beyond the sunny walks, and circling year: You, who your native climate have bereft Of all the virtues, and the vices left;
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