Selected quad for the lemma: england_n

Word A	Word B	Word C	Word D	Occurrence	Frequency Band	MI	MI Band	Prominent
england_n	king_n	lord_n	privy_a	5,184	5	10.8596	5	true

Text snippets containing the quad

ID	Title	Author	Corrected Date of Publication (TCP Date of Publication)	STC	Words	Pages
A66523	A poem on the coronation of James II of England, Scotland, France, and Ireland, King, defender of the faith	Willoughby, Stephen, b. 1657 or 8.	1685 (1685)	Wing W2862; ESTC R9837	3,395	15

A POEM on the Corronation of JAMES II. of England Scotland France and Ireland King Defender of the Faith LONDON Printed by D. Mallet for the Author MDCLXXXV The Epistle DEDICATORY To the Right Honourable Francis Lord North Baron of Guilford Lord Keeper of the great Scal of England and one of his Majesties Most Honourable Privy Councel May it please your Honour I Am no Relative to those who court universal Favours and a flying Fame with Ostentation of their own Abilities though I now appear on a publick Stage I dare not presume to contend with any but content my self in my own Sphaer with my own Language and my own Method lest I should seem to aspire higher than I can pretend or falling too low be loaded with arising Wave and my aspiring Phantasie bury'd in a watery Grave My Ambition is only to tell the World that I will tread in the Foot-steps of my former Loyal Ancestors some whereof have ventured both Lives and Fortunes in the lage Rebellion and that I as well as they have the same abhorrency of Rebels against my Prince I am now under the severe Censure of the Impartial Critick yet I will not distrust the over-ruling Providence of Heaven but that some will excuse me in what I have done and gather Fire from my Coal to kindle the Noble Flames of Love of Loyalty and Religion For as it was with the Psalmist so it is with me to abstain from Good Words is Pain and Grief but if the excellency of all Presents should always equal the grandeur of those to whom they come I might justly shame or blush at my bold Oblation But being I am not unacquainted with some part of your Virtues whereby I am able to give the World a tast more easie to be had in admiration than imitation I presume upon your Lordship's Goodness Your Religion and Loyalty your Prudence and Learning and whatsoever else is Praise Worthy hath render'd you Eminent in one of the Noblest Employs of State wherein you Act with a General applause of the whole Realm But that which gives a Fragrancy to all your Bed of Flowers is that humility which like the Violet though the lowest yet is the sweetest This makes me prostrate my forlorne Papers at your Lordships Feet beseeching your Goodness to condescend to the acceptance of these poor expressions of my respects and to give them your Patronage and Protection which will shield them from all Enemies and that your happiness may extend above the reach of all that you either can desire or deserve is the hearty Prayer of Your Lordship's most Faithful and most Obedient Servant Stephen Willoughby A POEM on the CORONATION of JAMES II Of England Scotland France and Ireland King Defender of the Faith c. ALbion unveil thy mourning Shades be dress'd With Lawrel Charles thy Atlas is at rest And James the Just thy Hercules is bless'd With Regal State now may his Glories run A Match with the breath'd Courses of the Sun Weigh Mirth with Mourning nothing can destroy Providence repels Ruin from our Troy Brings Peace and makes us Citizens of Joy The blissful Powers of Heaven design'd To call the best of Kings and leave behind His Princely Brother in our wavering Isle To give us equal cause to weep and smile O happy Man That hath some Grief allow'd Lest too much Joy should make thy Brittain proud Mortal breaches immortal powers repair Elijah left Elishah in the Chair Death Where 's thy sting in thy Nocturnal Womb No The Royal Trophies thou hast made a Tomb Tho' the cold Icy Hands the Throne or'e-spead Wounded the Realm and touch'd our Monarchs Head Yet not our Peace the Darling of the Dead Tho deeps the Gash behold here 's Gilead's Balm Is there a Boist'rous Storm a timely Calm Thus Grief and Gladness two extreams appear The first weighs down the last supports me here Revoke thy sighs the shaken Masbles cry Scepters and Crowns must fall and Monarchs dye They dye to live and live to rise on high As Godlike David but Solomon is nigh Let sparkling Diadems the Worlds Renown Surround this living Ofspring of a Crown Rid on Triumphant Heavens rein spire The Orbs with language like the Orphean Lyre To tell the gazing World o're-whelm'd with Care That April's Blossoms Spring in gentle Air And Flow'rs shoot forth ' gainst new Solemnities To deck the Windows of our Paradise The Blissful Quire Ecchoing such Joys aloud Ravish'd my Soul that I amongst the Croud Crept in to view the Solemn Pomp and see Our Monarch shining like some Deity Gazing about behold the Noble Train Bless me fresh Glorys turn'd my wand'ring Brai● My thoughts I Slep'd or dy'd and rose again So deck'd with Splendours was the Ladys all That the Earths Glory seem'd Angelical Of Royallty so darting was the Ray That pierc'd my soul with joy as well as they It Emblemed the Resurrection day These things surpriz'd my dazl'd Senses I Transported was beyond the starry skie In Enoch's Chariot to Eternity But being loaded with this sinful dust Ah lass I could not wing it with the just Nor raise my Notes to reach the lofty string That warbl'd Anthem'd Requiems to the King I loos'd the Reins and left the Pompous Throne Return'd with gladness and sanck gently down To find new Royalty adorne our Sphaer With Heavenly joys that by a Metaphor are here Then what are they that would have veil'd these days And hurl'd Confusion on great James's Rays Aim'd at the Throne yet in infernum slipt They could not soar so high their Wings were clipt Their Clamours could not Monarchy destroy Only obstruct an universal Joy Miscreants our Seraphims immortal Eyes Shines through the Royal Charriot of the Skies To view the Loyal Actions of the Best By that the angry Heav'n will know the rest Seperates their call'd because they will draw back From God till Hell burst or the Gibbet Crack Sometimes like Judas they 'll appear to be True Protestants to James and Monarchy Pay Homage to the Royal Heir alone Leave him with Swords and Staves a deadly Groan Demolish'd Scepter and a ruin'd Throne But Monsters why so cruel to defeat Majesty so legitimately great Their tott'ring Noddles are stifled with fears Anxieties and doubts their blear-ey'd with Tears Trumpets and Drums stikes terrours in their Ears Lest piercing crys of Blood should seem to rend The Skies for Judgment on his Fathers End Whose Princely Head mourn'd under the black Yoak And strangely strangled with a fatal Stroke Oh tell it not in Gath nor let it come Into the publick Streets of Askelon Direful let not the Sober Heathen see Pagans will blush at such Impiety If Nature mean to cleanse her Magazin From all Sedition she must first begin To root out Errour that unseen let in Rebellion that same Leprosie of Sin Faction Transport or let the hung'ry Wave swallow Rebels in one discenting Grave What if the Conqu'ring Sword or Nero's Rod Should stain the Corners of the Land with Blood They 'r just Scourges of a displeased God In Rome Belov'd Berenice must not Reign While Roman Hatred Envy and disdain The Royal Titus and his Honour stain For he befor he Reign'd with Luxury Was charg'd with Auvarice and Cruelty ●he Senate fear'd a Nero's Tyrany But his sweeet Prudent Government of things Wip'd off Aspersions he the best of Kings A Mirrour of Monarchs through Rome was wrote Mankinds Delight 's an Eidemick Vote Jerus'lem's Conquest spread abroad his Fame Tho' the besieged wallow'd in a Flame His pitty Marbl'd an Eternal Name Whose tender Eyes water'd his Cheeks with Dews To see the burnings of the stubborn Jews 'T is true we 've no Jerus'lem but a Rout Of Hect'ring Jews like Pharisees about That would asperse sincerity of State With Subtil Calumny that came too late But sure we are his lofty mind is free From the least Charge of hated Cruelty And we 'l depend upon his Clemency A Temple to this Hero let our Land Each City be an Altar ar command And ev'ry Man a Statue to set forth His Noble Acts and truly Royal Worth As Majesty sits in his sacred Face So mercy the Derivative of his Race Is no less splendent in his Acts of Grace Gaze on his brave Atchievements they 'l command Active Obedience from a sinful Land Once from Invasion's ransom'd with his hand They were no Grapples of a Cyclop's Arms No nor deluding Syren's canting Charms That could surprize the Famous Graecian he Pass'd by Charibdis and Mortality Unmask the Tragick Scene that once o're spread Our Brittish Vallies with a Forreign dread Of horrid Ruine Epidemical Had not our Famous James high Admiral With Courage trampl'd on the Deep and stood A Valient Victor in a Sea of blood Furnish'd with Wisdom as a Warriour ought To be he Steers his Course for Triump Fought To defend's Right and shield his Brother's Crown From Invaders now th' Martial Camp 's his own Thus Agamemnon Stout as Poets feign If ten like Nestor Councellours remain With Conquest would have breath'd a Trojan vein And the World's Conqu'rour would enrich his Head With the surviving Libraries of the Dead To show that Policy the Learned Pen Marbles above the common force of Men. Champion thrice welcome let thy fragrant breath Inspire Dominions with a Second Birth Of Gladness thou' rt the Cherub of the Earth Only with Virtues seed Agrippa's breath Could make Octavians body blessed Earth In vain 's th' Attempt whilst Heaven's Golden Show'rs Of Grace Blossoms the sacred Plant with Flow'rs The Fruit's for none but Immortal Pow'rs T is no such Fruit as sow'r'd our Fathers Age Else why with Swords should Seraphims Engage To Guard our Sion from usurping Rage VIVAT REX FINIS Enter'd according to Order