Licenced,  
jan. 23. 1685. Rob. Midgley.   

A POEM ON THE Excellent and Useful INVENTION OF Making SEA-WATER Fresh.  

WHEN first on Man his Maker did bestow  
The Empire of his new-raised World below,  
Amidst his Power the Monarch still did want  
A full Enjoyment of the boundless Grant;  
For though the Earth did his Command obey,  
He was but tit'lar sovereign o'er the Sea.  
The Rebel-Waves despised his useless Power,  
And kept within themselves their wondrous Store,  
And from the Mystic Treasure which they hid,  
On pain of Death, did all his Search forbid.  
Nor did they only thus usurp the Deep,  
And from his watery Realm their sovereign keep;  
But even its firmer Empire they besiege,  
And turn its Homage from its Native Liege;  
Who, crowded in a narrow Spot of Ground,  
Saw his bold Rebels all the rest surround.  
While thus by his insulting Slaves confined,  
For Want of Room, the World's great Monarch pined;  
Nor could he safe in his Enclosure reign,  
Even that at last th' encroaching Billows gain,  
Till bounteous Heaven did kindly interpose,  
And stopped the Course of his invading Foes;  
The Power first given to Man it did renew,  
Taught him to conquer, and to rule them too;  
Safe o'er his vanquished Slaves the Victor rides,  
Ploughs their curled Backs, and wounds their foaming Sides.  
Amazed to find how vainly they engage,  
The proud Usurpers calmly quit their Rage,  
The Billows shrink beneath their Conqu'ror's Power,  
And stoop to Burdens which they scorned before,  
Now every Day his Conquest Man improves,  
And unopposed o'er the wide Ocean moves;  
Now unconfined he visits ev'ry Shore,  
And takes from each its Tributary Store;  
Rips up the Bowels of the pregnant Earth,  
And crowds his Coffers with the dazzling Birth▪  
While on the Waves, safe as at Land, he dwells,  
Born o'er their Backs in floating Citadels;  
Nor on their Surface only pleased to keep,  
He dives to all the Secrets of the Deep,  
And, with the shining Tribute of its Womb,  
Returns at once adorned and laden home.   

Happy the People of that Powerful Land,  
That o'er the Watery Realm has chief Command;  
That Land whose Sailing Castles raise its Name,  
Make it the Seat of Wealth, and Theme of Fame;  
To which all other Vent'rers on the Sea,  
The Homage of their falling Topsails pay.  
On happy Britain! If the Bliss it knew,  
Blessed in a Fleet, and a Commander too;  
Who heretofore, exposed in thy Defence,  
Taught thee a Pattern of Obedience;  
Who saw the swelling Waves, as void of Fear  
As if He went to take his Pastime there.  
Whilst such concurrent Means increase thy Store,  
Ingratitude alone can make thee Poor;  
For to thy Coasts, as to their Centre, float  
The Spoils of distant Climes, and Worlds remote.  
Whatever Treasure either India knows,  
United here, in vast Abundance flows;  
All that can tend to Profit or Delight,  
Oblige the Sense, or please the Appetite;  
All that which Mortals cover, or revere,  
Becomes Familiar, as if Native here.   

Nor yet, like Beasts, for Burden only made,  
Are our great Vessels fit alone for Trade;  
While some abroad for Golden Plenty room,  
The rest secure us downy Peace at Home.  
We know to Terror of invading Foes,  
While these strong Bulwarks our safe Isle enclose▪  
Witness the World how fearless heretofore  
We heard the Belgic Lion loudly roar:  
Though scarce our Fleet could then secure our Fear,  
Had we not known a greater Safeguard there,  
The blessed Effects of our late sovereign's Care;  
Whose vast Concern so for our Safety shown,  
Exposed a Life he valued as his own.  
But Heaven engaged in mighty York's Defence,  
And justified in that its Providence:  
The Hero, crowned with Victory and Spoil,  
Brought with himself all Blessings to our Isle.   

Thus happy Albion nobly did maintain  
Its ancient Empire o'er the Subject-Main;  
Its Rights, asserted by so brave a Hand,  
Subdues the Ocean to its vast Command:  
While to each Pole its conquering Bulwarks sent,  
Make our blessed Isle excel the Continent.   

But though so far Man quelled the Ocean's Rage,  
That open War it durst no longer wage,  
The private Rebel did its Spleen retain,  
And fell to Stratagem, since Force proved vain;  
And with its Briny Humour murdered more  
Than all its Billows had devoured before:  
While at the Sailors baneful Thirst it laughed,  
Who swallowed Death in every greedy Draught.  
And from their Country far, in some swollen Wave,  
By which they perished, found their hasty Grave;  
Or, if they met not there an early Tomb,  
Came loaden with Disease and Torment home;  
Who, swollen with Dropsies, and with Scurvies worn,  
Begged more their speedy Ruin, than Return.  
If for Relief to the fresh Springs they fly,  
They lose that Time their Business should employ;  
And wand'ring in the Search of this kind Aid,  
Are more by that, than roughest Storms, delayed.   

Thus, like a Miser, starved amidst his Store,  
Whom only his Abundance renders Poor,  
Amidst the Waters with strange Thirst they die,  
A Thirst increasing with its Remedy,  
In vain (Alas!) to those cold Climes they steer,  
Whose Frosts and Snow are lasting as their Year;  
Since still within a Torrid Zone they bear;  
Whilst the Salt Tyrant, left they should complain,  
Locks up their Throats, and does their Words restrain:  
Pleased with their Woes, it makes their Grief its Game,  
As Nero smiled at Rome's increasing Flame.  
Discouraged thus, their wondrous Art proves vain,  
No more they'll venture, though allured by Gain.  
So far sweet Health all Blessings else outvies,  
That newfound Worlds can ne'er its loss reprize.   

What reverence then to that kind Art is due,  
Whence Man the Way to Health and Life first known!  
That powerful Art which, by disarming Death,  
With healing Charms prolongs our Vital Breath!  
That Art whose Presence all Diseases shun,  
As Clouds disperse before th' approaching Sun.   

Great Sons of Heaven, Props of our Humane State, 
To the College of Physicians.   
Whose Skill maintains the Life Heaven did create!  
The Wonders, which in our Defence you show,  
Preserve our Being's, and your memories too:  
Since for our Safety they but seldom fail,  
Sure for your Glory they must still prevail.  
You who from Death's grim Jaws his Prey reprieve,  
And with a Breath make even the Dying Live;  
Be deathless still, as you on us bestow  
Almost an Immortality below,  
And from the Mouth of the devouring Grave,  
Whole Lands at once with one Prescription save.  
Nor is the Blessing Life your Gift alone,  
You give us all that tends to make it one;  
You the Twin-Charms of Youth and Beauty give,  
A Bliss that few are willing to outlive.  
In these soft Streams, distilling from the Sea,  
To whose first Knowledge you prepared the Way,  
The rough-dull Skin grows smooth and clear as they.  
The Sea thus happily improved by you,  
Does every Day a rising Venus' show.  
Here the soft Charmers of our easy Hearts,  
Whose Power alone out-braves your healing Arts,  
Heighten those Beauties which the World enslave,  
And make you perish by the Darts you gave.  
No more our Ladies to the Spaws shall go,  
Who to your Streams may greater Blessings owe,  
And be, like Cynthia's bright Retinue, seen  
In their Attendance on our brighter Queen,  
Who from above immediately was given,  
To show the true Epitome of Heaven,  
Bright as its Glorious Residents within,  
And as its Starry Orb without Serene.  
Long may we feel the Blessings of Her Reign,  
As long the Wonders of Her Face remain!  
That when She does Her Throne for Glory change,  
The Alteration may have nothing strange.   

But precious Ointments of Eternal Fame,  
Embalm great boil's most celebrated Name!  
Boil the blessed Moses of our happy Land,  
Who from the Ocean does fresh Springs command;  
By whose safe Conduct we new Worlds may know,  
Worlds which with more than Canaan's Plenty flow:  
And England now may vie with Israel's Bliss,  
Ours scarce inferior to Their Moses is;  
The Skill their's had to Egypt was confined,  
Ours leaves that Egypt, and the World behind;  
And is with Nature so familiar grown,  
She has no Secret left to him unknown.  
For the strict Searches of his piercing Eye,  
Earth has no Place too low, nor Heaven too high;  
His Knowledge sinks into the deep-hid Mine,  
And soars to Heights of Mysteries Divine,  
Of which he does such near Ideas draw,  
As if unveiled he the bright Objects saw.  
Nor does he yet approach too rudely near,  
Kept at just Distance by an awful Fear;  
But into all does, like the Angels, pry,  
With trembling Dread, and blushing Modesty;  
And when he treats of their Seraphic Love,  
None but such Transports his Affections move;  
Whose stronger Heat, from his refined Desires,  
Repels the influence of Inferior Fires;  
But when exalted, and employed on High,  
His ravished Soul dissolves in Ecstasy,  
Nor would from that Sublimer Bliss descend,  
Nor one short Thought on this mean World misspend,  
Did not the Power, he does Above revere,  
Display his Splendour in his Creatures here;  
Through which he does, with strict Enquiry, pass,  
And, in their Being's, their Creator trace.  
He knows each Creature's Virtue, and its Use;  
And from the Worst can Excellence produce.  
By him the Waters, Acid and Marine,  
Are purged and freed from their Destructive Brine:  
The Sailer now to farthest Shores may go,  
Since in his Road these lasting Fountains flow;  
The Sea, corrected by this wondrous Power,  
Preserves those now, whom it destroyed before:  
No more with Thirst the Feav'rish Seaman dies,  
The Briny Waves afford him fresh Supplies.  
The mighty boil does by his powerful Art,  
The Ocean to a Well of Life convert;  
Whose Fame had Israel's thirty Monarch heard,  
He had these Springs to Bethel's Well preferred;  
And their Diviner Virtue had (if known)  
Excused the Risque he made three Worthies run:  
Had these in Naaman's Days been understood,  
Iordan's famed Stream had scarce been thought so Good;  
Nor would their Influence, more truly Great,  
Require he should the Healing Bath repeat.  
boil, our good Angel, stirs the sovereign Pool,  
That makes the Hydropic-Leprous Seamen whole;  
And now, who first shall put to Sea, they strive,  
Since safer there, than on the Shore they live:  
And, when to Coasts remote they boldly steer,  
Proclaim the Worth of their Preserver there.  
We shall to India be in Debt no more  
For the rich Fraights we carry from its Shore:  
This far more precious Secret left behind  
Will amply pay for all the Wealth we find;  
The Purchase of that Treasure with this Art,  
Our former Course of Traffic will invert:  
The Indians now, for Gold, shall buy our Store,  
As we their Gold, for Trifles, heretofore.   

The tender Mother now who, for her Son,  
Stormed Heaven with Prayers and Repetition,  
Does her remaining Breath to Praise convert,  
To celebrate this Life-preserving Art:  
And the glad Wife, wrapped in her Husband's Arms,  
For his Return, applauds its wondrous Charms.   

Ormuz, the Persian Eden, now once more  
May hope to be a well-frequented Shore;  
Now of fresh Streams it shall have large Supplies,  
And rich as those that watered Paradise.   

When the World's Conqueror went to Ammon's Shrine,  
Ambitious to be thought of Race Divine;  
He who to Godhead, as to Power, aspired,  
With burning Thirst, more than Ambition, fired,  
Above his World, one cooling Draught desired;  
Then, had he found this Art, he had done more  
Than in his greatest Victories before:  
He justly then had his Plus Ultra writ,  
And large discoveries had succeeded it;  
He for new Conquests had found daily Room,  
And saved his Tears for Worlds to overcome.   

But, where he could not, Charle's Fame shall go,  
Charles' ever-blessed Above, and loved Below;  
Whose benign Aspect cherished this dear Art,  
That to the World does Wealth and Life impart.  
Yet the Discovery nicely he received,  
Not too long Doubted, nor too soon Believed,  
But to their Wisdoms made the Secret known,  
Where always he deposited his own;  
To them whose Care, the Atlas of the State,  
Supports the People's, and the Prince's, Weight,  
And cheerfully the Burden undergo,  
To make him safe Above, and them Below.  
Soon their discerning Judgements found the Use  
And Good this blessed Discovery would produce;  
And voted, with unanimous Consent,  
Its Worth deserved a King's Encouragement.  
And sure no Monarch could indulge it more,  
Than the most Worthy of so rich a Store;  
By his kind Influence wondrously it grew,  
Till even Perfection was almost in view:  
But Heaven the Monarch's Glory did prevent,  
And with that Grant his Brother compliment.   

Great james succeeds to end what Charles begun,  
This Work required more Royal Hands than one;  
So Fruits are nourished by the Morning Sun,  
But ripened by the warmer Beams at Noon.  
The Gift of Healing, on the Royal Blood  
Of England's Caesars has been long bestowed;  
But to perform such Miracles as now,  
Great Sir, by Heaven was still reserved for You;  
And, for the Safety of Your happy Isle,  
The jarring Elements You reconcile;  
And now the Waves, proud to obey your Power,  
Are gladly fettered by their Conqueror:  
They, who the 
* Xerxes.  Persian's Chains and Rods despised,  
Are, by Your Hands, successfully chastised.  
What the proud Dane 
* Canutus.  once vainly sought to do,  
Great Prince of Wonders, is performed by You;  
No Briny Wave dares Your Encounter meet,  
Unless to Kiss, not Incommode, Your Feet;  
With such Submission they receive Your Law,  
That from their Peccant Humour they withdraw,  
Ambitious still their Potent Lord to please:  
Oh that all Sep'ratists would learn of these!   

Nor rule You thus the Liquid Realm alone,  
The wilder Flames Your just Dominion own.  
And now the Water, from its common Foe,  
Receives the greatest Kindness that can show:  
How then should Men adore Your peaceful Reign;  
That does the Rage of these fierce Things restrain!   

How pleased the joyful Sailors now appear,  
And with glad Shouts approach Your Sacred Ear!  
Shouts so well Echoed from Your Forts on Shore,  
That their own Cannons scarce so loudly roar.  
They know how well this blessed Experiment  
Will the worst miseries of a Siege prevent,  
And though Invaders should their Springs enclose,  
Their Drink shall last while the wide Ocean flows;  
To which not Thirst alone shall them invite,  
But a more powerful Argument, Delight:  
And, as they drink, each Knee to Heaven shall bow,  
For Your Long Life, to whom all Theirs they owe.  
Long may You rule us, and Your Fame excel  
The blessed Advantage of this Miracle;  
May You as Pure, as Undecaying, live,  
As the rich Treasures Your Alembics give!   

Blessed be the better Genius of our Land,  
That first informed us at Your dread Command!  
What Thanks to them our Happy Islands owe,  
From whence Streams richer, than Pactolus, flow?  
To his adored and celebrated Name,  
The Muses owe their Homage, as their Fame:  
By Spencer led they took a daring Flight,  
And boldly soared to each Poetic Height;  
To which again they their strong Wings must raise▪  
When they the Noble Sunderland would praise:  
May many such as he appear each Day  
To teach us how we should Your Will obey.  
As, with a ready dutiful Content,  
The grand Fatigues of State he underwent;  
And though already pressed with weighty Care,  
The second Burden not refused to bear:  
Pleased to declare the useful Mystery  
Of purest Streams, extracted from the Sea;  
A Task none better could perform than he,  
Whose riper Wit outstripped his tender Age,  
And did his Mind in Business soon engage;  
So early he in public Tasks began,  
He commenced Statist, ere he well writ Man;  
And, like good Angels, still did gladly choose  
To be the Messenger of happy News:  
And sure more happy News scarce blessed our Isle,  
Since james the Great was welcomed from Exile.  
Till Heaven, to shower its choicest Blessings down,  
The Latian, Glory added to his Crown.  
Now our triumphant Kingdoms boast they show  
The best of Secrets, and of Queens below:  
A Treasure that to none could appertain,  
But that Great Prince that rules the boundless Main.   
FINIS.