Pax redux a pindarick ode on the return of His Majesty and the happy conclusion of the peace / by Samuel Cobb. Cobb, Samuel, 1675-1713. 1697 Approx. 20 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 7 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2005-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A33516 Wing C4771 ESTC R26616 09515002 ocm 09515002 43381 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A33516) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 43381) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1327:36) Pax redux a pindarick ode on the return of His Majesty and the happy conclusion of the peace / by Samuel Cobb. Cobb, Samuel, 1675-1713. 10 p. Printed by E. Whitlock, London : 1697. Reproduction of original in the Harvard University Library. Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford. Re-processed by University of Nebraska-Lincoln and Northwestern, with changes to facilitate morpho-syntactic tagging. Gap elements of known extent have been transformed into placeholder characters or elements to simplify the filling in of gaps by user contributors. 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Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements). Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Great Britain -- History -- William and Mary, 1689-1702 -- Poetry. 2004-12 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2004-12 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2005-01 Andrew Kuster Sampled and proofread 2005-01 Andrew Kuster Text and markup reviewed and edited 2005-04 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion PAX REDUX : A PINDARICK ODE ON THE Return of His MAJESTY , AND THE Happy Conclusion OF THE PEACE . BY SAMUEL COBB . Clauduntur Belli portae . Furor impius intus Saeva sedens super arma , & centum vinctus ahenis Post tergum nodis , fremet horridus ore cruento . Virg. Aeneid . Lib. I. LONDON , Printed for E. Whitlock near Stationers-Hall , 1697. PAX REDUX : A PINDARICK ODE ON THE Return of His MAJESTY , and the happy Conclusion of the PEACE . I. NOW may the gentle Muse securely come From long Exile , and her known Bard inspire : 'T is just to tune the Peaceful Lyre , When Warlike Harmony is dumb . Cease , Sacred Goddess , to deplore Th' injurious Malice of a tedious War : No more its noisy Thunder dread : It s impious Lightning shall no more Blast the chaste Laurel on thy Head. No Mother now shall beat her Breast , and tear Her hoary injur'd Hair ; Nor shall the Maid with Female cries , For her lost Lover , wound the suffering Air , Or thicken it with Sighs . II. WAR , curs'd by Parents , leaves the Tented Field , Unbuckles his bright Helmet , and , to rest His weary Limbs , sits on his idle Shield , With Scars of Honour plough'd upon his Breast : Sternly he looks behind , and in amaze Starts , when he views the Shining Bands Of PEACE with Olive in their hands ; He scours along the Plain to shun their killing Blaze , That Angel , whose great Charge it is to keep Poor , Thinking Matter from the Cruelties of Hell , Darts the curst Fiend down to his Native Deep ; Down the dark Hills he falls , unfathomably steep , A long Eternity to dwell . There gash'd with Wounds of Glory to retire : For though the Fury takes delight In Anger , Thunder , and in Fire , PEACE Stabs him with a Smile , and Smothers him with Light. III. Wondrous ! what something more than Great Is this , that seems to animate The very Soul , and spread Its gathering Off-spring o'er Man's curious World , the Head ? Deep Mystery ! Lo , from its seeds arise Gigantick sense , whose Language flies High as the Top of Heav'n , and shines above the Skies . When Thou , whate'er Thou art , such Notions didst infuse , Sure the wise Heathens did thy Name abuse , To put Thee off with that mean Title of a MUSE . 'T is true , that when they saw thy Powers Divine So variously dispers'd , so prodigally Shine , They thought Thee more than One , and split Thee into Nine . Each individual Part of thy vast Influence , May warm an incapacious Soul to Sense , Enough to list his Shining Name In the second Roll of Fame : But here must all thy Army throng , Here thy Collected Self must meet to frame The brave Pindarick Song . IV. Come then , with all thy Trappings , all thy Train Of Raptures , and of Ecstasies , Of Figures , and of Mysteries Conceal'd from vulgar Eyes : Come , and thy Priest ordain To touch thy fires , and talk in thy Majestick Strain Say whom of all th' Heroick Race Wilt Thou with Pelides place ? Whose stablish'd Victories rehearse ? To whose immortal Fame Wilt Thou erect a Temple , and ingrave his NAME On massy Monuments of Verse ? Of all the fam'd NASSOVIAN Line ( That is , of all the God-like and Divine ) None equal to Great WILLIAM shine . God's chief Vicegerent , who by Secret Springs would show How he should scourge the boldest Foe , Commission'd , like a Moses , to release Thee , England , from thy tedious Nine Years Miseries , And sooth the Rebel World with the sweet charms of Peace . How he persuades the moody People to prevent Their future and tremendous Punishment , E'er the Last Plague , to slay their First born Male , be sent ! For though He 's gentle as the softest Muse , And more unharmful than a galless Dove ; Yet none but sturdy Tyrants he subdues , And wins the Suppliant with Love. So Heav'nly Lightning does it's force conceal , It 's Vertue , hardest Matters feel , It spares the Scabbard while it melts the Steel . V. 'T is sweet , past labours to renew , And in the Memory repeat What to the Eye was formidably Great , To think how WILLIAM , like an Eagle , flew , And in his Talons grasp'd whate'er did lye Within the Compass of his Eye . How would he sometimes like a Whirlwind , play , And sweep whole Groves of Men away ! Sometimes , like Hannibal , o'er rugged Hills he past , His glorious way o'er Alpes of slain he led , O'er Mountains , which himself had cast , And clomb the Pyreneans of the Dead . Sometimes he flow'd like the luxuriant Main That with impetuous Tide , Immeasurably deep and wide , Stretches his liquid Volumes o'er the delug'd Plain . Yet though this wondrous Ocean can display His Conquests to the Cradle of the Day ; Though when he pleases to be great , He shoulders Kingdoms from their Seat : Though other Nations he deface , He clasps fair Albion with a kind embrace , And with incircling arms defends her Generous Race . VI. The Venerable Thunderer of old Left his Olympian Seat , ( When he intended to behold Important Battles , or dispose The ballanc'd Fate of Kings , ) and chose Thee , Springy Ida , for his blest Retreat . Though the capacious Worlds above Were all too narrow for extended Jove , Coop'd in this inch of Land The crowded Immortality would stand , Here , on the Grand Concerns of Fate , The stinted Godhead to debate Himself a Consistory sate . VII . Nor can the streights of the commanded Main , Nor can this Handful of a World contain WILLIAM's immortal Soul , That moves this Lump , like Jove , and mingles with the Whole ; Yet Britain is his Dwelling : Here his Chariot's plac'd , Here are his Altars , and his Temples rais'd . Fair Britany ! the beauteous Eye That does the Globe with Light supply : The Head , where William takes delight To teach the Belgick Hands to fight , And Gallick Feet to fly . VIII . O Glory ! how he rears his lofty Head Above the fabled Monarchs of the Sky , The Counterfeits of an ill fashion'd Deity : The gilded Titles of the Flatter'd Dead , Whom Poets , when they lack'd a God , would frame , Besaint some Emperour's anointed Name , Embalm his worth , and canonize his fame . But Britain's King laughs at the gaudy show ; The glorious Off-Spring of the Fam'd NASSAWS Scorns all the Voices and Applause , But that which Gods and Heav'n bestow . Whence from Thrones of solid Gold His Smiling Ancestors behold His glorious Toils below . Thus they Triumphant grew , Thus they did equal steps pursue , Till up to lofty Honour 's Airy Top they flew . Unchristian Kings with whom they did ingage , And Turkish Captains wept their rage . While the soft Feathers of the downy Snow Serv'd for a Bed and Pillow too . In cold , in fields , in frost they often lay , And long to Heav'n beat out their stubborn way , And long they drudg'd , and labour'd for the Glorious Day . IX . William alone was left behind To bless the rest of Human kind : His budding Years with ripen'd Valour shone , He had his Fathers Vertues , and his Own. When in his Cradle the blest Infant lay , And sacred Smiles omen'd th' Auspicious Day , Which to th' astonish'd World should a Nassaw convey . Nature , and Michael noblest of th' Angelick Kind , Did their united Forces joyn In composition of his Mind To make it almost perfect , and almost divine . X. As when some Pilot would new Worlds explore , He searches every Land and Shore , And to his Chard would add some Port unknown before . He strikes his untir'd Bark o'er Indian Waves , Where with rich Sand th' exundant Rivers flow , Where Pearls from ripen'd Dew-drops grow , And yellow Metal Suns the hollow Caves : Or else his Keel the wintry foam does sweep , Where Cold benums the Horrid Deep . Fain would he cross the Frozen Sea , Touch the last Minute of the last Degree : So Nature , when she fram'd him , was at vast expence To find out a new World of Sense . Her purest Notions in his Head she blew , Her best Ingredients on his Heart she threw : But when at last she could no farther go , When she had gave him Reason , Sense and Thought , And was to her last Thule brought , She pin'd , because her Map could no fresh Notions show . XI . Michael , ( for Angels often come on Earth , Are often buisy at a Heroe's Birth ) Took the Fine Piece , by Heav'ns Command , Which Nature with imperfect Art had drest , And with a well-directed Hand He pencil'd out the rest . Strong his expression , and his style divine , Eternal Sense was couch'd in every Line : No rough , ill shaded stroke did sully the Design . Religion in the Centre of his Heart he drew , ( His Heart was temper'd with Celestial Dew ) Whil'st Valour , Bravery around her plac'd , Like Guards , the lovely Virgin grac'd . Then all the Vertues in just order ran , Then all the parts began To fashion out the finish'd Man. XII . Wise Nature did astonish'd look , Such steps and strides his thriving Courage took , And all her lazy Rules forsook . Maturely Valiant in his Infancy , He left behind the common span , Out-leap'd the vulgar bounds of Man , Broke from the crackling shell , and strait began to fly . So Unaccountable Eternity above With no respect to time does in a constant Circle move . E'er Age had breath'd upon his Wings , he flew , And vastly , very vastly grew . Strange , and to all the Calendars of Time unknown ! For e'er the circling and laborious Sun Had measur'd twice five years , he run The Race of Alexander , and began his Own. XIII . His Own was wonderful and great , At Mons he ran upon the mouth of Fate , And from War's Deluge sav'd a sinking State. In Him , as in the Heav'n commanded Ark , The Families of Holland did imbark . How did They meet Him with exalted praise ? What Elogies they sung ? What Statues did they raise ? But yet they could not think Him fit At the grave Council-board to sit , Imputing Courage to a Youthful heat . But when they read the Volumes of his Mind , ( Vast Tomes ! ) and Search'd the Closets of his Brain , What endless Sums of Wisdom did they find ? What untouch'd Heaps of Prudence did his Head contain ? The bearded Seniors wondred to behold A Prince , who had few Summers told , Young without rashness , without dotage Old. XIV . To wait on his green fame , with a becoming Pride , Holland's foreseeing Doctors did aspire , ( Who with much toil and sweat acquire , What niggard Nature has deny'd . ) These the mis-judging World his Masters thought , But they knew better , and with justice styl'd Themselves the Scholars to the Royal Child , Ambitious not to teach , but to be taught . For though no Venerable strokes were seen To Silver his white Temples , or adorn his Chin , His Tokens of Experience lay within . Whether his pre-existing Soul By his blest Ancestors above was taught , From whence his Sacred Schemes were brought To modell Kingdoms , and the World controul . Or whether he , like Adam , at a view The Universe and Nature knew . His Learning was more perfect and divine , How faithfully , how strongly was it knit ! The Tempter view'd and envy'd it , He saw the Sceptred Knowledge with the Mitred joyn . XV. So , blest Religion , teach us to adore , Like Him , thy Venerable Power ; Direct our erring Feet , and we shall ask no more : In vain we tempt Thee with a daring Flight , Thy Streams o'erflow our violated sight , And drown our watring Eyes with flouds of glaring Light. The Plummet and the Line of Reason are too weak To fathom the deep bottom of thy Rays : The Plummet will dissolve away , And the scorch'd Line will break At thy mysterious blaze , In such a burning Sea of Day . XVI . IO , Triumphant William , come , Supported on the downy wings of PEACE , Bid the loud Thunder of the Drum And the shrill Trumpet cease . O War , be still , and ye rough People sleep , Lay your strip'd Arms upon the Floor , Thee , Mars , a hundred Chains shall keep , William shall lock the Brazen Door , And let the rattling hinges creak no more To fright the Sailor on the Deep , Or echo on the Shore . O'er silent Armour shall yok'd Fury sit , Steel Fetters on her hands , and Shackles on her Feet : No more let loose through the tam'd World to roam ; How will the cruel Goddess spit , And from her Bloody Nostrils snort the scatter'd foam . XVII . War , like a Rain , has only laid the Pride Of mortal Dust , until the Sun appear , And bring his chearful Army on our side , PEACE Marching in the Front , and PLENTY in the Reer ▪ Plenty , which like a slighted Mistress lay Forsaken long , and shut from every Door , Returns at last more beautiful and gay , Like Jove , descending in a Golden Showre . Absence alone enhanceth much the Price Of Things , which present we despise . Hence , Evil Fate , with all thy hated Train , No more to curse our Sacred Isle again . To distant barren Climes let Want repair , Nor longer hover in the British Air , But in some Desart soil Build her curst Nest , and damn th'unthriving Ploughman's toil . Safe shall the Merchant travel on the Deep , All the wide Ocean shall one Harbour be , Each Ship , a Warehouse , it 's own wealth shall keep , Safe as the first brave Man's who try'd the Sea , When God himself ingag'd for his Security . But though our swelling Flood is past , Another , yet a milder , Deluge grows , While Heav'n is doubly kind at last , And only now in Goodness overflows . XVIII . Breath , ye soft Zephyrs , on the sailing Fleet , And waft it gently to the gainful shore , Whose Cannon , hostile now no more , In harmless Thunder shall it's welcome greet . And , while their Keels the foamy wave shall plow , The Voices of the Multitude combin'd Shall form a favourable Wind , And smooth the surly Ocean's Brow. The bridled North no more shall scour the Main , No more shall battle in th' afflicted Air , While British Trees move on the Liquid Plain , And in their bellies the World's Treasure bear . They come ; I see the sails of hollow'd Oaks Wave their Red Crosses o'er the furrow'd Seas , A gentle Gale their swelling wings provokes , And curls the surface of the watry Wilderness . Lo ! on the back of subject Thames they ride , Some clotted Gold in yellow Vomits pour , Some disembogue the Silver ore , Some born upon a prosp'rous Tide With Ceilon spices load the wealthy shore , And Persian Silks t' adorn the beauteous Lady's Pride . XIX . But where , O where , shall our desiring Eye Behold the noble animating Fleet ? Hence , inauspicious Clouds , and clear the smiling Sky To let it pass securely by 'T is stor'd with Man's chief blessing Wine and Wit , Let no unthinking Tempest toss or justle it . Fair God of Light shine on the way , and be A Taper to direct it o'er the Sea : On the Fair Pomp Thou art oblig'd to wait ; For though Thou didst the Grape create , The Grape inspir'd the Bard , and he created Thee ; To build a Poet , Noble and Divine , Nature and Love at first did joyn : Nature the Basis laid , and Love The stately Fabrick did improve ; But none could raise the Spire without the help of Wine . XX. And now be happy , Everlasting Isle , When other Kingdoms round thee shall expire , Devour'd by the last Universal Fire . Rise thou above the Top , and Crown the Funeral Pile ; Or else ( for 't is a pity Thou shouldst fall ) Be chang'd , as then our Bodies shall . May Jove translate Thee to some happy Walk , Strow sweet unfading Roses on the Ground , The best that can in Heaven be found : Worthy where Gods may tread , where tuneful Saints may Talk : Thee , Chymick Angels shall refine To the pure Sterling of fair Eden's Coyn ; Lop Thee , and prune Thee so , Till Canoniz'd Thou shalt a Garden grow , And with Immortal harmless Apples shine . There shall brave William and Achilles sit Under thy Golden Shade , For none but Warlike Heroes made , Their Bloody Labours to repeat : There shall he tastful Manna eat ; There shall He reap the Harvest of Eternity : Eternity ! his just reward , Not owing to the dreaming Bard , But gain'd by works of Arms and solid Piety . FINIS .