Poetical recreations consisting of original poems, songs, odes, &c. with several new translations : in two parts
Barker, Jane.
Page  269

A DITHYRAMBIQUE, Made just before the KING and QUEEN Went to Their CORONATION.

I.
KEep now, my Muse, the great Pindarique road,
And fly as if to meet a God,
For Iames and Mary are the same;
Ascend my Muse, mount in your Flame,
For oh my Soul's in hast to be abroad;
Our Souls of old were stol'n from on high,
And since, as if they fear'd Discov'ry,
Sneak here below with dull Mortality,
Let mine be open, and confess her Mother-Sky;
Visit the Plains above, and sing
Some worthy Transports of a God-like King:
Page  270What Muse cannot our Iames inspire;
What cannot Royal Mary doe,
They give us Theams and Genius too,
Fewel at once, and Fire.
Leander stretcht along, & buffeted the sawcy Waves,
That, when he thought of Life, and Ioy,
Dared the kind Thoughts annoy,
And threaten him with Graves:
The Taper did not only shew his Pathless Way,
But made him bold, and strong,
Leander stretcht along;
Not only on his Eye it play'd,
But follow'd Love through all the Pores he there had made,
It glitter'd in his Mind as well as in the Sea.
II.
Heroes, by Nature, still dispence
Vigour and Sence,
To the most Thoughtless subject-Clay,
Upon the Machins still they shine:
The Machins feel a warmeth Divine,
And briskly move, and sweetly play.
Page  271Their Royal sparkling Virtues are
The only Stars that have an Influence,
And du 'ile as the Gold they wear.
This happy England knows;
England is happy in her Sons at last,
The Days of Prodigality are past;
For Arms and Arts her Sons grow fit,
They gather Courage, and they gather Wit;
In vain their Temper, and their Clime oppose,
And once-insulting Neighbours fear,
Those Lyonsurl their Mains no more,
No longer tear the ground, and roar,
They see our Iames his England's shape restore,
And break the Charms that made her Beast before;
Those Lyons tremble, and reveer,
For England once again a Royal Matron do's appear.
III.
How much indebted must the Coronation be,
Heroick Iames, to very Thee,
Thy Person wou'd, unrob'd, add to th' Solemnity,
Page  272Luster to Thee thy Diadem will owe,
And Flaming Iewels round thy Head,
Like a good Omen spread,
Thou do'st on all a noble Stamp bestow,
Thy subtile Beams thorough thy People go,
And make each Vulgar look to show,
Indulgent Planets to their Friends, and Comets to the Foe:
Thou, with Illustrious Graces, round Thee hurl'd
From Thy own self, do'st Animate the British World;
Poetick Plato, when he made his Deitie,
But fancy'd what in Iames wee see,
The Ininite was plac'd alone,
Amidst his wond'rous Creation;
The Indivisible the Center did possess,
And with Extended Spirit, bless
The living Circles that his Breath had form'd about his Throne,
His Spirit penetrated every-where,
And left no point void of the searching Care,
Large streams of Inspiration flow'd,
And taught the Beings, that they gave, to praise their God.
Page  273IV.
Io, my Muse, the Triumphs just begin,
Over our Nations vanquish't sin,
Our Animosities and Feuds are done,
All those unhealthy Clouds are gone;
Fix't is our Delos now, nor can th' imbracing Sea
Flatter her to her old Inconstancie.
Awake, my Muse,
The comfortable news
Reherse,
* And tell it to the President of Verse,
If such a President of Verse there be,
And any way a-kin to Memorie;
How will it work on his Harmonious Mind?
How soft will be his strain,
When he shall find
His own strange Story acted o'er again?
He'll smile when e'er You wond'ring tell,
Our Delos did become unmoveable;
He'll strike his Lyre, when You shall praise
Our crowned Phoebus, and describe his Rays.
Page  274Diana too you must recite,
The Three-nam'd Goddess naturally bright,
Whose Native Glories then were seen,
When a vast Tract of Earth was plac'd between,
When she deserv'd alone to be a Queen,
Tho', like his Sister, say she now but borrows Light.
V.
Lo, where Apollo smiling stands,
And strikes his Lyre with his Melodious hands,
Possest with mighty Pleasure; Lo
Where he has left his Quiver and his Bow;
There are his Arrows lay'd aside,
And by the milder Lyre supply'd;
The chearfull sound, the chearfull sound methinks I hear;
And lo, how every Year
Dances in decent order here,
By the smooth Motion all their Poyson's spent,
And th' Hieroglyphick Snake grows innocent;
At th' chearfull Sound ill-boding Spirits fly,
Charm'd from their best-beloved Cruelty,
And vanish, like sad Ghosts, that shun the Morning's Eye.
Ill-boding Spirits on happy Minutes wait,
And boldly vex the Fortunate,
Page  275And Politickly seize a glad unwary State;
A Coronation pomp gone by,
Behind the greedy Vultures fly,
The rear's brought up with Iudgments, Plagues, Mortality,
And all the poor Spectators dye;
Instead of Medals to be thrown about,
Malicious Powers
Scatter their Ulcers, and their Sores,
And show'r their Tokens on th'Infected Rout,
This former times have known, avert it Heaven from ours.
VI.
Close up, my Muse, the dismal Scene,
Leave the Destroying Angels, or Destroying Men;
Our Monarch shall your Musick make,
Of honourable Actions speak,
Sing of our Present Ioys, and Miseries forsake;
Speak of the Prince that aw'd the Main,
And in the Ocean wide began his Reign,
Whose Prowess heavy Flemmings understood;
Whose Valour every-where
Escap'd the Rocks and Shallows of Despair,
Who Noah's lawfull Heir
Succeeded in the boundless Empire of the Flood.
Page  276Shew the undaunted Champion on the shore,
Dying his future Robes in Hostile Gore;
Shew him in Peace how easie, and how free,
And yet beyond the Reach of Mutinie,
Eternal Conquerour! in Peace he gets a Victorie.
He stops not there where other Warriours doe,
He do's not always force pursue,
He can both Soul and Body too,
Mankind in all Capacities subdue:
He do's not only use the killing Art,
With harmless Skill sometimes he wounds the Heart,
And there plants Loyal Veins to quell the trayt'rous part;
The Vital Flame he do's not always damp,
But pours a precious Oyl into the gloomy Lamp;
His former Vict'ries are in this o'er-come,
And he's the greatest Conquerour at home.
VII.
Illustrious Prince, humble and brave,
Head of his Country, and his Countries slave;
A Souldier's hardships oft h' endur'd,
And in bold Deeds the Prince obscur'd;
As Iove to the Egyptian Beasts was known,
Oft he retir'd to our Condition,
And thence took Rise to leap into a Throne.
Page  277He ran through every Task that Subjects bear,
Accomplish't, by degrees, for Royal Care;
With Toil he climb'd the Pinnacle of State,
His Fortune oft was us'd before 'twas great,
*And Lawrels did his Head for the Imperial Crown prepare.
Theseus and Bacchus thus Ambrosia gain,
And with the Healing Nectar calm their former Pain:
Thus Hercules upon twelve Trophies rose,
He labour'd for, and merited a long Repose.
Thus sacred Charles ascends,
And visits his Celestial Friends;
Safely he cuts the thund'ring Skies,
Adorn'd with new imperious Ioys;
Young Angels kiss each tender Limb,
And fondly call him Cherubim,
His Saviour and his Sire embrace him as he flies.
VIII.
Iames, thou hast won 'em, & our Lives are thine,
Thousands of ours vouchsafe receive,
For that Great One thou woud'st so often give;
Page  278That Life which weather'd Storms, & a more damn'd Design,
Which can the Devils various shapes decline,
In Patience Second Brother of the Stuart's Line.
Patience, the stay of angry Fate,
That pleases Heav'n when it's inclin'd to Hate:
Patience, that Patience purchases above,
By sacred Sympathy,
The Bar at which the Heav'ns and We
Meet and Agree,
Patience the Alchymie,
That turns to Gold the Leaden Darts of Love;
By Touch-stone Patience, the creating Counsels know
If they have fram'd a Master-piece, or no.
In Patience Thetis dip't her Boy,
And sent him to defy the Force of Troy;
Patience the Shield which Cyclops beat,
Compos'd of Cold and Heat,
Struck by the Sword of Envy, or of Spite,
The more it sparkles, and confounds the fight.
The Icy Sword snaps on the Shield,
Spite falls unarm'd, and Envy quits the Field.
Page  279Thus far th' inconstant style betrays my mind,
Wav'ring, as needless, till the Pole they find.
But here 'tis fix't, since to the Queen 'tis brought,
The Queen is the Perfection of our Thought:
Her Beauty, which can fire the Soid Iames,
With ease must put our inder Breasts in flames.
Such Beauty Heav'ns in Modena misplace,
We lay the justest claim to such a Face.
Such radiant Eyes our Nation's loss repay,
For the rich Pearls that Caesar bore away;
As in some Vital, where the Scarlet Blood
Glides smoothly on, and keeps an equal lood;
The brisker Soul rides high, and knows no bound,
Expands it self, and slashes round:
S must our Queen, when she shall pass along,
So be distinguish't rom the Crimson Throng.
Hail, Gracious Queen of Beauty, and of Wit,
In whom the two best Characters are writ,
From the blest Hills; Oh, Aiding Goddess! You
Both warm our Climate, and our Fancies too.
What Off'rings for such Presents cou'd we bring,
If we had not been happy in a King.