〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉. A PANEGYRIC ON THE CORONATION OF KING JAMES II. AND His Royal Consort QUEEN MARY. On APRIL 23. 1685.  
By the Author of the Plea for Succession, in Opposition to Popular Exclusion.  
LONDON, Printed for Walter Davis in Amen-Corner. 1685.   

〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉, A PANEGYRIC ON THE CORONATION OF King JAMES II.  
GReat CHARLES adieu! Tears can't recall, yet we can't but send 'em after Thee. These are little Tributes, we may pay without fear of COMMONS, whose Votes can't seal our Eyes, though once they shut our Purses! We leave Thee to Eternal Triumphs, where that Heavenly Choir turns Prophecy to Exultation,  
At last grown weary of an Earthly Crown,  
Crowned with an Heavenly One! O blessed Remove  
From a Throne below, to a Throne above! 
This was sung to the King on last New-Years Day.   
Now Melpomene be gone: with thy mourning Weeds be gone: Blubber not the Triumphs of the Day: it is thy Sovereign's Command, Be gone.  
Come, Polyhimnia, clad in thy gayest Robes, unlaced from Poetic measures; with Garments flying loose, and careless, as the Times; Come, Solemnize the Day.  
Tell, how the Nations flow, as to an Universal Head; how all Lands, with their proudest Barks, plow up the British Seas; and every Tide throws in Foreign Climes upon us: till all Babel's scattered Tongues make here their Rendezvous, and at one View represent the World! Wise men, blown in from every Wind, with submissive Sails salute the Warlike Isle, and offer Presents to the rising Monarch of the World!  
Tell, how the Godlike CHARLES in Celestial Vehicle, enclosed with the winged Quires of Heaven, descends awhile from his Throne above, and with equal motion hovers o'er our King, to see, and adorn the Day. While the Heavens, but now tucked up, as flying from us; now descend in pearly drops, and, like the Holy Oil from His Sacred Head, stream Blessings to all the Corners of the Land. Which done, the joyful Sun brisks from behind the Cloud; weaves Garlands of His Rays, and crowns His Head with Glories: while the Planets, through Streams of Light, smile down their sweetest Influences.  
See (if thou canst) how He sits on His Royal Throne! How Peers, like Stars, lie buried in His Light! See how the Queen imparts Her Gracious Beams; while the Beauties, that attend, shrouded by Her Light, grow pale, and sink into the milky way! See how the silent Rounds attentive stand; as if turned all to Eye, and Ear; looking like the intellectual World, gazing on the Throne above; while Traitor's Heads, set o'er the Hall, Envy struck, do again look pale, and die!  
Tell the Miracles of the Day, viz.  
How that Devil, whose name is Legion, is dispossessed; and the Nation, that once did cut, and wound itself; now clothed, and in their wits, sit down at their Royal Master's Feet!  
How that lying Spirit, once smuged up in Republic, and Excluding Forms; like Heathen Oracles, at the approach of this Diviner Light, stabbed with Grief, runs howling back to Hell!  
Tell the Fiends sad Tales to the black Club below; how they make bold Sd Sd —y stamp; Armstrong's Hands to shake; old Tony's blinking Eyes to outrun their Tap; and turn the joiner's Raree-Shew to Lamentations; filling the Infernal Court with Shrieks, and Yells; which sound to the Belgic Shore; and make the 
* A late Pamphlet so called.  PROTESTANT RAZOR, there forged, and set to the murder of a Monarchy; turn edge, and cut the Traitor's Throats.  
Tell how the Hollow Cries reach the British Isle; spoil Wappin Treats, and quick Dispatches; confound the Bench, and make the stubborn House now at last apt to change!  
But draw a Cloud between thyself, and JAMES, our Sun, rising from his Western Seat to his Zenith at Whitehall; attended with Peers, and Nations, like the Host of Heaven (where may He shine in Meridian Glory, till taken up to Ariadna's Crown, and Cassiopeia's Chair;) a Story fit for none, but great Norfolk's hand.  
When the God of Sleep hath given Rest to Thy wearied Mind, wearied with the tedious Glories of the Day: then rise to a second Show.  
See how the winged People of the Air stand all at Gaze, called up by an Artificial Day!  
Survey the Thames, now better peopled, than the Town; tell how, many Houses become joint Tenants to a little Skull, and Streets lie trust up in Liters! How Echoes from the Shores, and Giants meet, and battle in the Air! while the wondering Fish come shoaling in; and now officious grown, with scaly Backs support the overloaded Boats!  
Let us now behold our KING, dear to God, and Man; shielded by the hand of Heaven from harms of Foreign Wars, and Flemish Fights; where covered with Smoke, and Fire; with Blood, and Brains of shattered men, he out-dared even Guns, and Death! Snatched by the hand of Heaven from the Northern wreck; secured from raging Seas, and madness of the People! From Exclusions, Associations, and the Rye! A Royal Soul, whom Miracles have preserved, and Angels crown!  
Instead of Pike, and Musket, we have Liberty and Law; instead of Rumps, and Associations, a rightful Sovereign; and Peace, instead of Fields of Blood. An Argument of a Divine care over Him, and us; which hath given to each his Right; to him His People, to us our King.  
Let us honour all the Instruments of our Peace: whom bold Addresses would have ravished, like Jewels from the Crown: those Atlases of State, whose Heads, and Shoulders, helped to save Three Nations; and fixed a tottering Throne.  
That Head, and Glory of our Bench; whose Merits may atone the Faults of others of the Robe.  
That unwearied Head, which laden with Age, and Honours; often sought, and now at last hath gained the unwilling Shade!  
Worthies, whose bright Names, like fixed Stars, shall shine to future Ages.  
Let Newmarket-Fire, which burned Two Kings from Death; made 'Em outstrip, and surprise the Plot, and saved us all from the flames of War; and was sent from Heaven, like a Countermine, to blow up that Plot, which was made, and brought from Hell; yearly blaze in all our Streets.  
Hail, Sacred Town! Honoured to be the Nations Sacrifice! In whose Ashes Heaven wrote the deepest Characters of Love, for in thy Death we all do live! A second Jericho, first cast down by Heaven for his People's safety; and then by Fanatic Rage condemned to perpetual Ruins: who would give to destroy the whole, but not to restore this little part! Hither, as to an Holy Land, let every Loyal Pilgrim come; and here erect his Better Monument of Praise.  
For the just Heavens took the injured Princes part; Michael, and his Angels, with the Stars in their courses fought; and every Creature did conspire their Sovereign's Right.  
Then plot no more; for he, that upheld the Subject, will never fail the KING. Heaven is never idly busy; for Wonders are not done for nought. When Israel is brought from Egypt, through red Seas, and howling Deserts, and delivered from a plotting Amalek; Balak shall never overcome, though Balaam turn Enchanter for him.  
Then plot no more: the Lernaean Monster needs must fall, when our Alcides conquers Serpents from his Cradle! See him laden with bloodless Victories over them, before whom Religion, Law, and Valour fell! A Wise, and Noble Soul, Just to all Men, Fast to his Friends, Venturous of his Life, whose Martial influence turns all to Champions, and re-peoples' the Land with Giants. A Soul, in all points, shaped for Glories. To Thee King Arthur and his Knights must bow; and St. George yield up his Spear, and Day! England's King! England's Champion! England's Guardian Angel! in whom dwells all that is Great, and Just, and Good!  
Methinks I see that undaunted Foot set on the Necks of them, that cut it off; and that rising Head, like the clambering Sun, looking over all the Thrones about it! To Thee shall the wild Morocco, and distant Bantam seek! To Thee shall the Nations look for Laws of Peace, and War! while each Pole shall bend, and meet to bear thy Canopy!  
Then plot no more: the proudest Waves may break themselves, but never move the Rock.  
Let those white Doves, the sweet Emblems of Peace, and Love; that at the Royal Change sat upon his Arms, listening to the proclaiming their great Master, be happy Omens of a blessed Reign.  
Nay,  
We will fear no more: who have a God, that works such Wonders for us.  
We will fear no more: who have a King sprung from a Royal Stock, whose greatest Fault was Mercy! A King, who hath said, He will govern by the Laws: A King, that never broke His Word: JAMES the Just: whose innate Goodness doth more oblige Him to make an happy People, than Oaths, and Covenants, could do others, to make a GLORIOUS KING.  
Great JAMES, we entirely acquiesce in Thee! Better tutored be the Tongues that shall presume to tutor a King, a Politician, a Divine! We will not dare to reproach thy Word; or disturb the couching Herds.  
Go whining Whig; seduce no more; foul Fiend avaunt, pollute not this Sacred Ground; go to Ditches stinking as thy Breath, there be laid for ever; there croak thy ugly Tones; there swell, burst, and die: while we our Loyal Triumphs sing.  
FINIS.