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Presented to the King, at his Arrival in HOLLAND, after the Discovery of the CONSPIRACY, 1696.
“ Serus in cæluin redeas, diúque
• Lætus interfis populo Quirini :
“ Néve te noftris vitiis iniquum
« Tollat -
Hor. ad Auguftum. Y E careful angels, whom eternal Fate
Ordains, on earth and human acts to wait ;
Who turn with secret power this restless ball,
And bid predestin’d empires rise and fall:
Your sacred aid religious monarchs owp;
When first they merit, then ascend the throne :
Transfer the power, and set the people free.
See rescued Britain at your altars bow;
And hear her hymns your happy care avow :
That fill her axes and her rods support
The judge's frown, and grace the awful court;
That Law with all her pompous terror Itands,
To wrest the dagger from the traitor's hands;
And rigid Justice reads the fatal word,
Poises the balance firit, then draws the sword.
Britain her safety to your guidance owns,
That she can feparate panicides from fons;
That, impious rage disarm’d, she lives and reigos,
Her freedom kept by him, who broke her chains.
And thou, great minister, above the rest
Of guardian spirits, be thou for ever bleft;
Thou who of old wast sent to Israel's court,
With secret aid great David's strong support,
To mock the frantic rage of cruel Saul,
And strike the useless javelin to the wall.
Thy later care o’er William's temples held,
On Boyne's propitious banks, the heavenly shield;
When power divine did sovereign right declare ;
And cannons mark'd whom they were bid to spare.
Still, blessed angel, be thy care the same !
Be William's life untouch'd, as is his fame!
Let him own thine, as Britain owns his hand :
Save thou the King, as he has sav'd the land !
We angels' forms in pious monarchs view;
We reverence William ; for he acts like you,
Like you, commission'd to chastise and bless,
He inuft avenge the world, and give it peace.
Indulgent Fate our potent prayer receives ;
And still Britannia (miles, and William lives.
The hero dear to earth, by heaven belov'd,
By troubles must be vex’d, by dangers proy'd :
His foes must aid, to make his fame compleat,
And fix his throne secure on their defeat.
So, though with sudden rage the tempest comes ;
Though the winds roar; and though the water foams ;
Imperial Britain on the fea looks down,
And smiling fees her rebel-subjects frown.
Striking her cliff, the storm confirms her power ;
The waves but whiten her triumphant shore ;
In vain they would advance, in vain retreat;
Broken they dash, and perish at her feet.
For William still new wonders shall be shown:
The powers, that rescued, shall preserve the throne.
Safe on his darling Britain's joyful sea,
Behold, the monarch plows his liquid way :
His fleets in thunder through the world declare,
Whose empire they obey, whose arms they bear.
Blessd by aspiring winds, he finds the strand
Blacken’d with crouds; he sees the nation stand,
Blessing his fafety, proud of his command.
In various tongues he hears the captains dwell
On their great leader's praise; by turns they tell,
And listen, each with emulous glory fird,
How William conquer'd, and how France retird;
How Belgia, freed, the hero's arm confefs’d,
But trembled for the courage which the blest.
a Louis, from this great example know,
To be at once a hero and a fóe :
By founding trumpets, hear, and rattling drums,
When William to the open vengeance comes :
And see the soldier plead the monarch's right,
Heading his troops, and foremost in the fight.
Hence then, close ambush and perfidious war,
Down to your native seats of night repair.
And thou, Bellona, weep thy cruel pride
Restrain'd, behind the victor's cha: iot tied
In brazen knots and everlasting chains
(So Europe's peace, so William's fate ordains).
While on the ivory chair, in happy state,
He fits, secure in innocence, and great
In regal clemency; and views beneath
Averted darts of rage, and pointless arms of death.
Written at The HAGUE, 1696.
HILE with labour assiduous due pleasure I mix,
And in one day atone for the business of fix,
In a little Dutch chaise on a Saturday night,
left-hand my Horace, a Nymph on my right:
No memoirs to compose, and no post-boy to move,
That on Sunday inay hinder the foftness of love ;
For her, neither visits, nor parties at tea,
Nor the long.winded cant of a dull refugee.
This night and the next shall be her's, shall be mine,
To good or ill-fortune the third we resign:
Thus fcorning the world, and superior to fate,
I drive on my car in procesional state.
So with Phia through Athens Pififtratus rode ;
Men thought her Minerva, and him a new god.
But why should I stories of Athens rehearse,
Where people knew love, and were partial to verse ;
Since none can with justice my pleasures oppose,
In Holland half drowned in interest and prose ?
By Greece and past ages what need I be tried,
When The Hague and the present are both on my fide ?
And is it enough for the joys of the day,
To think what Anacreon or Sappho would say?
When good Vandergoes, and his provident Vrow,
As they gaze on my triumph, do freely allow,
That, search all the province, you'll find no man dar is,
So bleft as the Englishen Heer Secretar' is.
E E, whilst thou weep'st, fair Cloe, fee
The world in sympathy with thee.
The chearful birds no longer fing;
Each drops his head, and hangs his wing.
The clouds have bent their bosom lower,
And shed their sorrows in a shower.
The brooks beyond their limits flow;
And louder murmurs speak their woe.
The nymphs and swains adopt thy cares ;
They heave thy fighs, and weep thy tears.
Fantastic nymph! that grief should move
Thy heart obdurate against love.
Strange tears ! whose power can soften all,
But that dear breast on which they fall.