And France, that did an exile's prefence fear,
May justly apprehend you ftill too near.
At home the hateful names of parties ceafe,
And factious fouls are wearied into peace.
The difcontented now are only they,

Whofe crimes before did your juft caufe betray :
Of those your edi&s 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 thofe alone,
By fate referv'd for great Augustus' throne!
When the joint growth of arms and arts forefhew
The world a monarch, and that monarch you.

IN

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 rising 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 fee 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:

Till 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 fooneft vanish when they highest rise.
Had greater hafte these sacred rites prepar'd,
Some guilty months had in your triumphs fhar'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.

To

Now our fad ruins are remov'd from fight,
The feafon too comes fraught with new delight:
Time feems not now beneath his years to ftoop,
Nor do his wings with fickly feathers droop :
Soft western winds waft o'er the gaudy fpring,
And open'd fcenes of flowers and blossoms bring,
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 shouts 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
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 repose,
Officious flumbers hafte your eyes to close;

to you.

And

And glorious dreams ftand ready to restore
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 juftly 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 herself is left, in vain fhe brings

Her choiceft notes to praise the best of kings :
Her melting ftrains 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 itself 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 those bleffings which we must poffefs,
And judge of future by paft happiness.

No

No promife 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 reft.
Good actions still must be maintain'd with good,
As bodies nourifh'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-ftorms 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 fovereign prince, allay
Imperial power with your paternal sway.

From those great cares when ease your foul unbends,
Your pleasures are defign'd to noble ends?

Born to command the mistress of the feas,

Your thoughts themselves in that blue empire please. Hither in fummer evenings you repair

To taste the fraicheur of the purer air:

VOL. I.

D

Un

Undaunted here you ride, when winter raves,
With Cæfar's heart that rofe above the waves.
More I could fing, but fear my numbers stays;
No loyal fubject dares that courage praise.

In stately frigates most delight you find,
Where well-drawn battles fire your martial mind.
What to your cares we owe, is learnt from hence,
When ev'n your pleasures ferve for our defence.
Beyond your court flows in th' admitted tide,
Where in new depths the wondering fishes glide:
Here in a royal bed the waters sleep;

When, tir'd at fea, within this bay they creep.
Here the mistrustful fowl no harm suspects,
So fafe are all things which our king protects.
From your lov'd Thames a bleffing yet is due,
Second alone to that it brought in you;

A queen, near whofe chafte womb, ordain'd by fate,
The fouls of kings unborn for bodies wait.
It was your love before made discord cease:
Your love is deftin'd to your country's peace.
Both Indies, rivals in your bed, provide
With gold or jewels to adorn your bride.
This to a mighty king presents rich ore,
While that with incenfe does a god implore.
Two kingdoms wait your doom, and, as you choose,
This must receive a crown, or that must lofe.
Thus from your royal oak, like Jove's of old,
Are answers fought, and deftinies foretold :
Propitious oracles are begg'd with vows,
And crowns that grow upon the facred boughs.