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She spoke; the God of Love aloud
Of little Loves, that waited by,
This good omen thus from heaven
Like a happy fignal given,
Their loves and lives (all four) émbrace,
And hand in hand run all the race.
The whole world's imperial throne;
If the Gods would please to be
To reward her, if it be fhe-
With fuch a husband, fuch a wife
UPON HIS MAJESTY'S RESTORATION AND
"Quod optanti divûm promittere nemo "Auderet, volvenda dies, en, attulit ultro." VIRG.
OW bleffings on you all, ye peaceful stars,
Your univerfal gentle influence
To calm the stormy world and still the rage of wars!
Did your pacific lights disdain
Your feven fair brethren of great Charles's-wain ;
The ftar that appeared at noon, the day of the king's birth, juft as the king his father was riding to St. Paul's to give thanks to God for that blefling.
No lefs effects than these we may
Be affur'd of from that powerful ray, Which could out-face the fun, and overcome the day..
Aufpicious ftar! again arife,
And take thy noon-tide station in the skies,
And all that's in them, all, does fmile and does rejoice. 'Twas a right season ; and the very ground
Ought with a face of paradise to be found,
Then, when we were to entertain
Felicity and innocence again.
Shall we again (good Heaven!) that blessed pair behold, Which the abused people fondly fold
For the bright fruit of the forbidden tree,
By feeking all like Gods to be?
Will Peace her halcyon neft venture to build
And truft that sea, where she can hardly fay
She 'as known these twenty years one calmy day ?
Ah! mild and gallefs dove,
Which doft the pure and candid dwellings love,
Canft thou in Albion ftill delight?
Still canft thou think it white?
Will ever fair Religion appear
In these deformed ruins? will fhe clear
Will Juftice hazard to be seen
Where a High Court of Justice e'er has been ?
And Bradshaw's bloody ghoft, affright her there,
Then may Whitehall for Charles's feat be fit,
Of all, methinks, we least should fee
That name of Cromwell, which does freshly still
Left, that great ferpent, which was all a tail
(And in his poisonous folds whole nations prifoners made)
Should a third time perhaps prevail
To join again, and with worse fting arise,
And dread your perish'd enemies no more.
Your fears are caufelefs all, and vain,
Defender of the faith, but of
With a full tide to every port they flow,
With a warm fruitful wind o’er all the country blow.
Honour does as ye march her trumpet found,
The Arts encompass you around,
And, against all alarms of Fear, Safety itself brings up the rear ; And, in the head of this angelic band, Lo! how the goodly Prince at laft does ftand (O righteous God!) on his own happy land: 'Tis happy now, which could with so much ease: Recover from fo defperate a disease;
A various complicated ill,
Whofe every fymptom was enough to kill;
'Tis happy, which no bleeding does endure,
Or that which, if from Heaven it came,