A poem to His Most Sacred Majesty King William upon his return from Flanders by E. W. ...

A POEM To his Most Sacred MAJESTY King William Upon his Return from FLANDERS.

By E. W. Gent.

RAise Mighty Albion thy Aspiring Head, And on thy Surface all thy Glories spread▪ That thy Great Prince, now he's Return'd may see By outward signs, thy inward Loyalty▪

Let no vain Thoughts thy Noble Sons delude, And make Thee blind with Base Ingratitude; But with clear Chearful Hearts our Tongues imploy, At once expressing both our Thanks and Joy, To our Blest William so divinely good, Whose Name all Vertues does at once include.

Welcom thou most Serene and Happy Prince, Who warms our Isle with thy Blest Influence, And in the face of Winter home dost bring Amongst thy Subjects a delightful Spring. Your Absence long was by your Subjects Thought, Which Magnifies the Blessings you have brought; As Lovers after tedious Absence meet, With Souls dissolving do each others greet, And by their Joy that height of Love reveal, Which frequent Dalliance did before conceal. Great Prince, the Vertues seated in your Mind, Do the whole World to Acts of Justice bind, And by those Trophies you abroad have gain'd, The Galliok Wolf within his Den is Ch••in'd; Lodg'd in safe Covet, sn••rling lies, afr••id▪ In open Fields to shew his fearful Hea••; Thus from secure intrenchments dare not pass To look the Belgick Lion in the Face; Who oft in Foreign Fields defying Fate, Where the loud Engines of Destruction wait, From whom the Messengers of Death are sent, Quick as Hail Showers from the Firmament: Yet thou great Prince a brave Defiance bids, And through the storm with bold Assurance rides, Which thy admiring Foes at distance see, And think Thee some Immortal Deity.

Go on Great Soul, and let proud Lewis feel Thy Heart as well as Sword is touch'd with Steel, And dare it self in such Attempts expose, He dare not stand to see, much less expose. No Marshal deeds in former Ages done, No Conquest by the Roman Caesars won, No Acts there are which Noble Souls pursue, But what, great Sir, have been outdone by you; As if our Isle on Heaven had forc'd a Rape, And got some God conceal'd in Human Shape: For by your Blest Success, Mankind may see You're more than Man, if less than Deity. Should to each Prince such Heavenly Fire be given, Or should their Souls like yours, partake of Heaven, Should the God's Bounty so exhaust their Store, This World would then be Rich and Heaven Poor. But that Blest Power to shew peculiar Care O're him, where such Divine Perfections are, Has given your Soul a Power to baffle Fate, And still in spite of Chance prove Fortunate.

By those Blest Vertues to your Greatness given, You seem the only Favourite of Heaven; And we the only Happy Nation are, Beneath your Conduct, Courage and your Care; As if on Earth some Deity was sent To Purify our English Government; That our Pale Rival Enemies may see No Nation's so Divinely Blest as we: Our Laws by Antient Maxims do aver, That Kings possest of Thrones can never err; Which now is prov'd inevitably true, Since by you Deeds 'tis manifest in you.

Great Prince, for ever Live, and Heavens Bless By Sea and Land your Forces with Success; And may you hourly such delights acquire Beyond what we can wish, or you desire, And e're your Souls above these Limits hurld, May you become sole Monarch of the World; That your Blest Consort so divinely Fair, Of all your Blessings may have equal share.

FINIS.