If the first opening page so charms the sight,
Think how th' unfolded volume will delight!
See how the venerable infant lies

In early pomp; how through the mother's eyes
The father's soul, with an undaunted view,
Looks out, and takes our homage as his due.
See on his future subjects how he smiles,
Nor meanly flatters, nor with craft beguiles;
But with an open face, as on his throne,
Assures our birthrights, and assumes his own.
Born in broad day-light, that th' ungrateful rout
May find no room for a remaining doubt;

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Truth, which itself is light, does darkness shun, 120 And the true eaglet safely dares the sun.

Fain would the fiends have made a dubious birth*,
Loath to confess the Godhead cloath'd in earth:
But sicken'd after all their baffled lies,

To find an heir apparent in the skies:
Abandon'd to despair, still may they grudge,
And, owning not the Saviour, prove the Judge,
Not great Æneas + stood in plainer day,
When the dark mantling mist dissolv'd away,
He to the Tyrians shew'd his sudden face
Shining with all his goddess mother's grace:

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For she herself had made his count'nance bright, Breath'd honour on his eyes, and her own purple light.

Alluding to the temptations in the wilderness.

Virg. Eneid. I.

Volume I.

M

If our victorious Edward as they say,
Gave Wales a prince on that propitious day,
Why may not years, revolving with his fate,
Produce his like, but with a longer date?
One who may carry to a distant shore
The terror that his fam'd forefather bore.

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But why should James or his young hero stay,

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For slight presages of a name or day?

We need no Edward's fortune to adorn

That happy moment when our Prince was born:
Our prince adorns this day, and ages hence

Shall wish his birth-day for some future prince. 145
Great Michael, prince of all th' etherial hosts,

And whate'er inborn saints our Britain boasts;
And thou th' adopted pation of our isle,

With cheerful aspects on this infant smile:

The pledge of Heav'n, which, dropping from above, Secures our bliss, and reconciles his love.

Enough of ills our dire rebellion wrought,
When to the dregs we drank the bitter draught;
Then airy atoms did in plagues conspire,

Nor did th' avenging angel yet retire,
But purg'd our still-increasing crimes with fire.
Then perjur'd plots, the still-impending test,
And worse--but charity conceals the rest:

Here stop the current of the sanguine flood;

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Require not, gracious God, thy martyr's blood; 160

But let their dying pangs, their living toil,
Spread a rich harvest through their native soil;
A harvest rip'ning for another reign,

Of which this royal Babe may reap the grain.

Enough of early saints one womb has giv'n; 165 Enough increas'd the family of heav'n:

Let them for his and our atonement go,

And reigning bless'd above, leave him to rule below. Enough already has the year foreshow'd;

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His wonted course the sea has overflow'd,
The meads were floated with a weeping spring,
And frighten'd birds in woods forgot to sing:
The strong-limb'd steed beneath his harness faints,
And the same shiv'ring sweat his lord attaints.
When will the minister of wrath give o'er ;
Behold him at Arauna's threshing floor* !
He stops, and seems to sheathe his flaming brand,
Pleas'd with burnt incense from our David's hand..
David has bought the Jebusites abode,

And rais'd an altar to the living God.

Heav'n, to reward him, made his joys sincere ;

No future ills nor accidents appear

To sully and pollute the sacred infant's year.
Five months to discord and debate were giv'n;
He sanctifies the yet remaining seven.

Alluding to the passage in the first book of King, chap. xxiv.

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Sabbath of months! henceforth in him he bless'd, And prelude to the realms perpetual rest!

Let his baptismal drops for us atone; Lustrations for offences not his own.

Let conscience, which is int'rest ill disguis'd,

190

In the same font be cleans'd, and all the land baptiz d.
Unnam'd as yet, at least unknown to fame,

Is there a strife in heav'n about his name;
Where every famous predecessor vies,

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And makes a faction for it in the skies?
Or must it be reserv'd to thought alone?
Such was the sacred Tetragrammaton.
Things worthy silence must not be reveal'd;
Thus the true name of Rome was kept conceal'd,
To shun the spells and sorceries of those

Who durst her infant majesty oppose. ·

But when his tender strength in time shall rise
To dare ill tongues and fascinating eyes,

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This isle, which hides the little thunderer's fame,
Shall be too narrow to contain his name:
Th' artillery of heav'n shall make him known;
Crete could not hold the god when Jove was grown.

As Jove's increase, who from his brain was born, Whom arms and arts did equally adorn,

Free of the breast was bred, whose milky taste, 210
Minerva's name to Venus had debas'd;

So this imperial Babe rejects the food,
That mixes monarchs' with plebeian blood;

Food that his inborn courage might control,

Extinguish all the father in his soul,

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And, for his Estian race, and Saxon strain,
Might reproduce some second Richard's reign.
Mildness he shares from both his parents' blood:
But kings too tame are despicably good :
Be this the mixture of this regal child,
By nature manly, but by virtue mild.

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Thus far the furious transport of the news Had to prophetic madness fir'd the Muse; Madness ungovernable, uninspir'd, Swift to foretel whatever she desir'd. Was it for me the dark abyss to tread, And read the book which angels cannot read? How was I punish'd when the sudden blast, The face of heav'n and our young sun o'ercast! Fame, the swift ill, increasing as she roll❜d, 230 Disease, Despair, and Death, at three reprises told: At three insulting strides she stalk'd the Town, And, like Contagion, struck the loyal down. Down fell the winnow'd wheat; but mounted high, The whirlwind bore the chaff, and hid the sky. 235 Here black Rebellion shooting from below, (As earth's gigantic brood by moments grow) And here the sons of God are petrify'd with woe : An apoplex of grief! so low were driv'n The saints, as hardly to defend their heav'n.

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