The Works of the English Poets

Gaul and Batavia dread th' impending blow;

Too well the vigour of that arm they know;

They lick the dust, and crouch beneath their fatal foc,
Long may they fear this awful prince,

And not provoke his lingering fword;
Peace is their only fure defence,
Their beft fecurity his word:

In all the changes of his doubtful state,
His truth, like heaven's, was kept inviolate,
For him to promife is to make it fate.

His valour can triumph o'er land and main;
With broken oaths his fame he will not ftain;

With conqueft bafely bought, and with inglorious gain.
XVIII.

For once, O heaven, unfold thy adamantine book; And let his wondering fenate fee,

If not thy firm immutable decree,

At least the second page of ftrong contingency;
Such as confifts with wills originally free :
Let them with glad amazement look
On what their happiness may be :

Let them not still be obftinately blind,
Still to divert the good thou haft design'd,
Or with malignant penury,

To starve the royal virtues of his mind.

Faith is a chriftian's and a subject's teft,

Oh give them to believe, and they are furely bleft.
They do; and with a diftant view I fee

Th' amended vows of English loyalty.

And

And all beyond that object, there appears
The long retinue of a profperous reign,
A feries of fuccefsful years,

In orderly array, a martial, manly train.
Behold ev'n the remoter fhores,

A conquering navy proudly fpread;
The British cannon formidably roars,
While, starting from his oozy bed,

Th' afferted ocean rears his reverend head;
To view and recognize his ancient lord again :
And, with a willing hand, restores

The fafces of the main.

VENI CREATOR SPIRITUS,

PARAPHRASED.

REATOR fpirit, by whose aid

The world's foundations first were laid,

Come visit every pious mind;

Come pour thy joys on human kind;

From fin and forrow fet us free,
And make thy temples worthy thee.
O fource of uncreated light,
The Father's promifed Paraclete!
Thrice holy fount, thrice holy fire,
Our hearts with heavenly love inspire;
Come, and thy facred unction bring
To fanctify us, while we fing.
Plenteous of grace, defcend from high,
Rich in thy fevenfold energy!

Thou

Thou ftrength of his Almighty hand,

Whofe power does heaven and earth command.
Proceeding fpirit, our defence,

Who doft the gifts of tongues dispense,
And crown'ft thy gift with eloquence!

Refine and purge our earthly parts;
But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts!
Our frailties help, our vice controul,
Submit the fenfes to the foul;
And when rebellious they are grown,
Then lay thy hand, and hold them down.
Chace from our minds th' infernal foe,
And peace, the fruit of love, bestow;
And, left our feet should step astray,
Protect and guide us in the way.

Make us eternal truths receive,
And practise all that we believe :
Give us thyself, that we may fee
The Father, and the Son, by thee.
Immortal honour, endless fame,
Attend th' Almighty Father's name :
The Saviour Son be glorify'd,
Who for loft man's redemption dy'd :
And equal adoration be,

Eternal Paraclete, to thee.

}

THE

THE SOLILOQUY

O F

A ROYAL EXILE.

UNHAPPY I! who, once ordain'd to bear

God's juftice fword, and his vicegerent here,
Am now depos'd !-'gainst me my children rise, ́
My life must be their only facrifice :
Highly they me accufe, but nothing prove;
But this is out of tenderness and love!

They feek to fpill my blood; 'tis that alone
Muft for the nation's crying fins atone.
But careful Heaven forewarn'd me in a dream,
And fhew'd me that my dangers were extreme;
The heavenly vifion spoke, and bade me flee
Th' ungrateful brood that were not worthy me:
Alarm'd I fled at the appointed time;

And mere neceffity was made my crime!

CON

CONTENTS

OF THE

FIRST VOLUME.

UPON the Death of Lord Haftings

Page 9

Heroic Stanzas on the Death of Oliver Crom-

well

Aftræa Redux, a Poem on the Restoration of King

Charles II.

A Panegyric on the Coronation of Charles II.