some future Prince Great Michael Prince of all th' Aetherial Hosts And what e're In-born Saints our Britain boasts And thou th' adopted Patron of our Isle With chearful Aspects on this Infant smile The Pledge of Heav'n which dropping from above Secures our Bliss and reconciles his Love. 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 th' avenging Angel yet retire But purg'd our still encreasing 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 toyl 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 giv'n Enough encreas'd the Family of Heav'n Let them for his and our Attonement go And Reigning blest above leave him to Rule below Enough already has the Year foreslow'd His wonted Course the Seas have 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 shiv'ring sweat his Lord attaints When will the Minister of Wrath give o're 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 hand David has bought the Iebusites abode And rais'd an Altar to the Living God. Heav'n to reward him make his Joys sincere No future Ills nor Accidents appear To sully and pollute the Sacred Infant 's Year Five Months to Discord and Debate were giv'n He sanctifies the yet remaining Sev'n Sabbath of Months henceforth in Him be blest And prelude to the Realms perpetual Rest Let his Baptismal Drops for us attone Lustrations for Offences not his own Let Conscience which is Int'rest ill disguis'd In the same Font be cleans'd and all the Land Baptiz'd Un nam'd as yet at least unknown to Fame Is there a strife in Heav'n about his Name Where every Famous Predecessour vies And makes a Faction for it in the Skies Or must it be reserv'd to thought alone Such was the Sacred Tetragrammation Things worthy silence must not be reveal'd Thus the true Name of Rome was kept conceal'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 Thund'rer's Fame Shall be too narrow to contain his Name Th' Artillery of Heav'n shall make him known Crete cou'd not hold the God when Iove was grown As Ioves Increase who from his Brain was born Whom Arms and Arts did equally adorn 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 Monarchs with Plebeian blood Food that his inborn Courage might controul Extinguish all the Father in his Soul And for his Estian Race and Saxon Strain Might re-produce 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 Prophetick Madness fir'd the Muse Madness ungovernable uninspir'd Swift to foretel 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 Heav'n and our young Sun o'recast Fame the swift Ill encreasing as she rowl'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 Whirl-wind bore the Chaff and hid the Sky Here black Rebellion shooting from below As Earth's Gigantick brood by moments grow And here the Sons of God are petrify'd with Woe An Appoplex of Grief so low were driv'n The Saints as hardly to defend their Heav'n As when pent Vapours run their hollow round Earth-quakes which are Convulsions of the ground Break bellowing forth and no Confinement brook 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 Fate By Prayers the mighty Blessing was implor'd To Pray'rs was granted and by Pray'rs restor'd So e're the Shunamite 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 Past'ral-Staff before Then stretch'd his Limbs upon the Child and mourn'd Till Warmth and breath and a new Soul return'd 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 free'd 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 Heav'n will exercise us to the last Sometimes will check us in our full carreer 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 Dyet us to good Preventing Surfeits of our pamper'd blood So feeds the Mother-bird her craving young With little Morsels and delays 'em 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 repell Prompt to Revenge not daring to forgive Our Lives unteach the Doctrine we believe Thus Israel Sin'd impenitently hard And vainly thought the present Ark their Guard But when the haughty Philistims appear They fled abandon'd to their Foes and fear Their God was absent though his Ark was there Ah! left our Crimes shou'd snatch this Pledge away And make our Joys the blessing of a day For we have sin'd him hence and that he lives God to his promise not our practice gives Our Crimes wou'd soon weigh down the guilty Scale But Iames and Mary and the Church prevail Nor Amaleck can rout the Chosen Bands While Hur and Aaron hold up Moses hands By living well let us secure his days Mod'rate 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
Iune the 19th 1688 Let this be PRINTED Middleton Britannia Rediviva A POEM ON THE BIRTH OF THE PRINCE Written by Mr. DRYDEN Dii Patrii Indigetes Romule Vestaque Mater Quae Tuscum Tiberim Romana Palatia servas Hunc saltem everso Puerum succurrere saeclo Ne prohibete satis jampridem sanguine nostro Laomedonteae luimus Perjuria Trojae Virg. Georg. I. LONDON Printed for I. Tonson at the Iudges-Head in Chancery-Lane near Fleet-street 1688. Britannia Rediviva A POEM ON THE PRINCE Born on the 10th of Iune 1688. OUr Vows are heard betimes and Heaven takes care To grant before we can conclude the Pray'r Preventing Angels met 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 ev'n stretch'd the Sphere Beyond the limits of the lengthen'd year To view a Brighter Sun in Britaine Born That was the Bus'ness of his longest Morn The Glorious Object seen t' was time to turn Departing Spring cou'd only stay to shed Her bloomy beauties on the Genial Bed But left the manly Summer in her sted With timely Fruit the longing Land to chear And to fulfill the promise of the year Betwixt two Seasons comes th' 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 rowl'd again He brought a Royal Infant in his Train So great a Blessing to so good a King None but th' Eternal Comforter cou'd bring Or did the Mighty Trinty 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 decree'd To stamp their Image on the promis'd Seed Three Realms united and on One bestow'd An Emblem of their Mystick Union show'd The Mighty Trine the Triple Empire shar'd As every Person wou'd have One to guard Hail Son of Pray'rs by holy Violence Drawn down from Heav'n but long be banish'd thence And late to thy Paternal Skyes retire To mend our Crimes whole Ages wou'd require To change th' inveterate habit of our Sins And finish what thy Godlike Sire begins Kind Heav'n to make us English-Men again No less can give us than a Patriarchs Reign The Sacred Cradle to your Charge receive Ye Seraphs and by turns the Guard relieve Thy Father's Angel and Thy Father joyn 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 Iames 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 Heroe Great To needful Succour all the Good will run And Iove assert the Godhead of his Son. O still repining at your present state Grudging your selves the Benefits of Fate Look up and read in Characters of Light A Blessing sent you in your own Despight The Manna falls yet that Coelestial Bread Like Iews you munch and murmure 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. Tho' Poets are not Prophets to foreknow What Plants will take the Blite and what will grow By tracing Heav'n his Footsteps may be found Behold how awfully He walks the round God is abroad and wondrous in his ways The Rise of Empires and their Fall surveys More might I say than with an usual Eye He sees his bleeding Church in Ruine lye And hears the Souls of Saints beneath his Altar cry Already has he lifted high the Sign Which Crown'd the Conquering Arms of Constantine The Moon 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 Brittish Line Has not his healing Balm your Breaches clos'd Whose Exile many sought and few oppos'd Or did not Heav'n by its Eternal Doom Permit those Evils that this Good might come So manifest that ev'n the Moon-ey'd Sects See Whom and What this Providence protects Methinks had we within our Minds no more Than that One Shipwrack 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 Majestick 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 th' unfolded Volume will delight See how the Venerable Infant lyes 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 Day-light that th' ungrateful Rout May find no room for a remaining doubt Truth which it self is light does darkness shun And the true Eaglet safely dares the Sun. Fain wou'd the Fiends have made a dubious birth Loth to confess the Godhead cloath'd in Earth But sickned after all their baffled lyes To find an Heir apparent of the Skyes Abandon'd to despair still may they grudge And owning not the Saviour prove the Judge Not Great Aeneas stood in plainer Day When the dark mantling Mist dissolv'd away He to the Tyrians shew'd his sudden face Shining with all his Goddess Mother's Grace For She her self had made his Count'nance bright Breath'd honour on his eyes and her own Purple Light. 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 Terrour that his Fam'd Forefather bore But why shou'd Iames 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 with his Birth-day for
is Godlike God in his own Coyn to pay But you Propitious Queen translated here From your mild Heav'n to rule our rugged Sphere Beyond the Sunny walks and circling Year You who your Native Clymate have berest Of all the Virtues and the Vices left Whom Piety and Beauty make their boast Though Beautiful is well in Pious lost So lost as Star-light is dissolv'd away And melts into the brightness of the day Or Gold about the Regal Diadem Lost to improve the lustre of the Gem. What can we add to your Triumphant Day Let the Great Gift the beauteous Giver pay For shou'd our thanks awake the rising Sun And lengthen as his latest shaddows run That tho' the longest day wou'd soon too soon be done Let Angels voices with their harps conspire But keep th' auspicious Infant from the Quire Late let him sing above and let us know No sweeter Musick than his Cryes below Nor can I wish to you Great Monarch more Than such an annual Income to your store The Day which gave this Vnit did not shine For a less Omen than to fill the Trine After a Prince an Admiral beget The Royal Sov'raign wants an Anchor yet Our Isle has younger Titles still in store And when th' exhausted Land can yield no more Your Line can force them from a Foreign shore The Name of Great your Martial mind will sute But Justice is your Darling Attribute Of all the Greeks 't was but one Hero's due And in him Plutarch Prophecy'd of you A Prince's favours but on few can fall But Justice is a Virtue shar'd by all Some Kings the name of Conq'rours have assum'd Some to be Great some to be Gods presum'd But boundless pow'r and arbitrary Lust Made Tyrants still abhor the Name of Just They shun'd the praise this Godlike Virtue gives And fear'd a Title that reproach'd their Lives The Pow'r from which all Kings derive their state Whom they pretend at least to imitate Is equal both to punish and reward For few wou'd love their God unless they fear'd Resistless Force and Immortality Make but a Lame Imperfect Deity Tempests have force unbounded to destroy And Deathless Being ev'n the Damn'd enjoy And yet Heav'ns Attributes both last and first One without life and one with life accurst But Justice is Heav'ns self so strictly He That cou'd it fail the God-head cou'd not be This Virtue is your own but Life and State Are One to Fortune subject One to Fate Equal to all you justly frown or smile Nor Hopes nor Fears your steady Hand beguile Your self our Ballance hold the Worlds our Isle FINIS a Whit-Sunday b Trinity-Sunday c Alluding only to the Common-wealth Party here and in other places of the Poem d Rev. 12. v. 4. e The Cross. f The Crescent which the Turks bear for their Arms. g The Pope in the time of Constantine the Great alluding to the present Pope h K. James the Second i The Lemmon Ore. k Alluding to the Temptations in the Wilderness l Virg. Aeneid I. m Edw. the black Prince Born on Trinity-Sunday n The Motto of the Poem explain'd o St. George p Alluding to the passage in the 1. Book of Kings Ch. 24. v. 20th q Original Sin. r The Prince Christen'd but not nam'd s Jehovah or the name of God unlawful to be pronounc'd by the Jews t Some Authors say That the true name of Rome was kept a secret ne hostes incantamentis Deos elicerent u Candie where Jupiter was born and bred secretly x Pallas or Minerva said by the Poets to have been bred up by Hand y The sudden false Report of the Prince's Death z Those Gyants are feign'd to have grown 15 Ells every day a In the second Book of Kings Chap. 4th b Sam. 4th v. 10th c Exod. 17. v. 8th d Aristides see his Life in Plutarch