To the King, UPON THE QUEENS BEING DELIVERED OF A SON June the 10th. MDCLXXXVIII.  
A POEM.  
By JOHN BABER Esq  
Permissu Superiorum.  
LONDON, Printed by Mary Thompson at the Entrance into 〈…〉 near Charing-cross, Anno. Dom. MDCLXXXVIII.   

TO THE KING.  

NINE Months a Loyal Zeal has Fired my Breast;  
Which for Nine Muses could not be at Rest▪  
Who long have Struggling and in Labour been,  
To give the KING a SON before the QVEEN▪  
But Duty has Controlled the Muse's Power,  
And checked my Rage to wait Her Happy Hour.   

Some could not Bridle their Officious Rhyme,  
But must bestow an Heir before the Time:  
Where each Wellwisher Honestly intends,  
Good Will for Paltry Lines, must make Amends:  
Who can more easily Foretell and Guess,  
Then when it is Arrived good News express:  
Better had They in Church or Closet stayed,  
Devoutly for the future Blessings Prayed;  
Then with too Early Rhymes a Son bespeak,  
And thus the Queen and Heaven their Debtors make:  
Then with Abortive Joys the Nation fill,  
And make the CONSORT bear the burden still:  
For till the Longed for Heir was Born, and She  
Was Safe, my Muse could never Pregnant be:   

From this Blessed Hour the Great Foundations laid,  
And Britain's Monarchy Immortal made;  
From this Great Day, Our Happiness we Date  
And Britain's future Greatness Calculate.   

As the Supreme, the Globe from Chaos wrought,  
Which cost six days till to perfection brought,  
When All in Harmony and Order ran,  
And Paradise was formed created Man;  
So You, Great Prince, in three Revolving years;  
Have cured Your World of Jealousies and Fears;  
Rebellion Vanquished, and laid Faction dead,  
And left none now the Commons to misled;  
Bereaved the Popular Villains of Pretence,  
And, giving Liberty, have given us Sense,  
Have opened all Your Subjects Hearts and Eyes,  
So that Confusion now Confounded lies:  
Some Murmurs may, perhaps, about be blown,  
As Billows roll after the Wind is down,  
All by Your Care and Providence forecast,  
Your Land in Paradise becomes at last,  
And to perpetuate what you have done,  
And rule this Paradise, 've made a SON.   

How Heaven is Gracious in bestowing now,  
And has done Wonders in preserving You:  
No Pen can tell of all the Writing Tribe,  
Nor can the Beauty of Your Queen describe;  
Beauty, which to Your Son translated may  
Live in Your Throne, and not with Age decay  
That all hereafter may be Successors  
To Her bright form, who are to Empire Yours.  
What Heaven has cast in so Divine a Mould,  
Must Beauty fit to wear a Crown enfold,  
So shall Her Eyes not be admired alone,  
But be adored for ever in her SON,  
And Your Blessed Choice hereafter to maintain,  
Her Beauty shall forever Consort Reign.   

Dressed in Her Garb, let the PRINCE mount the Stage,  
Be like his Father at Maturer Age.  
Let James' Spirit in his Bosom rest,  
All Great and Good, and Thine possess his Breast;  
Thy Prudence, like a Robe, his Shoulders deck,  
Thy Wisdom, a Gold Chain about his Neck:  
This to obtain, may He Your Footsteps Trace,  
And every Virtue which was Yours Embrace.   

Loud sounds the Fame of the Great Latian KING,  
Who from  Troy did old Anchises bring;  
The Father's weight did the kind Son sustain,  
And paid the Life He gave him back again.  
Greater in History shall the PRINCE appear,  
If of Your Virtues He the weight can bear;  
Pressed with that Sacred, Solid, Massy Load,  
He shall be Great at Home, and Feared Abroad;  
Toils and Fatigues with ease shall undergo,  
And nothing but delight in Business know:  
All this foretold, may without Magic be;  
And without casting His Nativity:  
If He his Father's Mind and Figure bear,  
Steady as Atlas He shall poise our Sphere.   

To paint these Virtues plainer to Your SON,  
'Tis fit, we should relate 'em one by one.   

Obedience to Your Brother, made it plain;  
When 'twas Your Lot, You would the better Reign:  
The Prop to Monarchy, almost run down;  
That Virtue only was, and Saved the Crown:  
Void of that Virtue, Cornwall in Debate, 
Richard Earl of Cornwall, King of the Romans, Broth. to K. Henry the 3d.   
Brought the Prerogative, and set up the State:  
His Brother Level with the Barons, laid  
The Diadem he Envied, he Betrayed:  
Both King and State, when he no more could do,  
Did of this Popular Pageant weary grow.  
A Crown to Purchase, they did fill his Purse;  
But want of Power, soon rendered it a Curse:  
At last his Titular Crown, was glad to quit;  
And to his Brother by his choice submit.   

Your Vigilance does surest Measures take,  
And with Your Arms does keep Your Foes awake:  
No sooner does the Spring her Blossoms yield,  
But Quarters left, Your Army takes the Field:  
Your Host Encamped, Your Foreign Foes are Scared;  
And You secure our Peace, for War Prepared.  
Your Care does for the Nations Good suffice,  
Sees more than Commonwealths with Argus Eyes:  
Nor are Your Pains, or Labours ever lost,  
The Work's well done, which does Your Thinking cost.  
You, with th' Eternal Travelling Sun keep pace  
In his career Him to a Minute trace:  
With more Exactness, You do Bless our Sight,  
Then he throughout the Year divides his Light.  
Nor does th' Unconstant Moon her Course renew,  
But all her Changes are observed by You;  
On her quick motions, You attention lend,  
Because Your Ocean, and Your Thames depend:  
So Nicely You regard the Winds and Tides,  
You know almost where every Vessel rides:  
The Holy Church can't from Her Motions Swerve,  
And You Her Feasts Religiously Observe.  
All things by You, which do the Actions Grace,  
Are done in their most proper Time, and Place:   

Just was You Styled, before You wore the Crown;  
Now Justice is Triumphant in Your Throne▪  
All who approach You nearest, stand in Awe,  
And least of all Mankind dare break Your Law:  
With them, they know, it will the harder fare,  
To whom Your Will so often You declare:   

The Swarms who lately did the Roads infest,  
By Your Impartial Justice are Suppressed;   

The Broad Seal must not blushing, any more  
Felons to Life or Liberty restore;  
They who the part now of Delinquents take,  
Themselves do viler than Delinquents make;   

Duels, which Honour, and which Passion plead,  
Which fear not Enemies, Your Vengeance dread.   

To Soldiers no Exemption You afford,  
Justice points at Them with a Two edged Sword.  
Civil and Martial Laws, the Soldiers bind,  
And They found Guilty, no Indulgence find:  
May the ungrateful Country still exclaim,  
And with repeated Lies Your Troops defame,  
Whilst Strangers: done't Your Choice alone applaud,  
But vindicate Your Discipline Abroad.   

Nor must Your Temperance pass unadmired,  
Although the Virtue with most ease acquired;  
This Our blessed days, and shall prolong Your Reign,  
And Men shall Years by Your Example gain.  
Who would not manage His dear life the more,  
To see such Days he never saw before?  
So lived the Romans, when Augustus Reigned,  
Then Time was precious, Life with care maintained,  
That Men who did those Golden days survive  
Life present, for the past, in change would give.   

That which reforms Your Army and Your Court,  
Is of Your Piety a main support.  
You by sincere and True Devotion show,  
When You leave Britain, whether You must go.  
As Angels step by step, did mount on high,  
On jacob's Ladder, till they reached the Sky,  
When the Almighty shall ordain the Time;  
So by Your Virtues You to Heaven may climb;  
The numerous Virtues daily You dispense,  
Would make us rather think You came from thence:  
These daily here below Your Worth proclaim,  
And give You more than Common Hero's Fame,  
Who by no other Title Credit gain,  
Than by the Pitied numbers of the Slain,  
In making Orphans weep, and Widows mourn,  
Whose Trade's too Pillage, Sack, Besiege and Burn;  
Such Caesar was, such Alexander too,  
In what, SIR, were They then more Brave than You?  
For Mangling others Subjects They were known,  
But You preserve and try t'increase Your Own▪ 
His Majesty's design for a General Naturalisation.    

The Liberty to British Air confined,  
You make a Present of, to all Mankind.   

'Tis greater Glory freely to receive,  
And make Your Neighbours in Your Nation Live,  
Then Quarter in their Soil to show Your Power,  
And all Their Pains and Property devour.   

To France more clearly You Your Title show,  
Now Frenchmen Refuge to Your Bounty owe,  
Then if their Conquered Country You ran o'er,  
And should re-take what was Yours heretofore.   

What English Monarch ever looked so far,  
And made the World the Object of his Care?  
You, to be Naturalised, do all invite,  
Your Yoke is easy, and Your Burden light.   

Well does it for Your happy Subjects far,  
That You their Blood in Your Expenses spare;  
You see particulars in Your Accounts  
Of Sums, to which Your vast Revenue mounts.   

You care not to grow Rich at any Rate,  
But would, t'improve Our Trade, Great Sums abate;  
Your Customs Ebb, You gladly would allow,  
To make the English Manufactures flow:  
To You, and Our late Monarch, many years  
We for the Navy have been in Arrears.  
That England does not barely Duty own,  
But is indebted Sums of Money too.   

You in Your Treasury long Hours do stay,  
While others are dispatched and sent away;  
So long on Business there you wait, till few  
Are found, when You come forth, to wait on You:   

Your Thrift to save Your Subject's Money strives,  
As Your Compassion does to save their Lives.  
So Provident of both, of none profuse,  
This for Example goes, and that for Use,  
Thus in the West no Guiltless Subject bled,  
Or could Impeach Your want of Mercy, dead.   

Freedom's a Happiness, but not complete,  
Where there remains a Privilege to Cheat:  
Cheats 've declared with Vigour to oppose;  
And greatest Grievances, make greatest Foes:  
A Grievance our forefather's have endured,  
And still is Felt, shall in Your Reign be Cured.  
You give us Hopes; And You must needs prevail,  
Too Just, and Great, is Your Design to fail.  
Since You of Mortgaged Lands would Frauds prevent,  
The States t' Register must for Shame Consent.  
The Suck-blood Vermin of the Robe alone,  
Can Smile to see Men every Day undone.  
Must Rich Men Poor become t'advance Their Trade,  
And Honest Men buy Land in Masquerade?  
Must Rogues Escape their Country who Defame;  
And Terra Firma be an empty Name?  
Must Villains without Punishment Combine?  
Laws be their Shelter, Right to Undermine?  
In Towns Beleaguered, safer is the Ground,  
Here Lawyers oftener Springing Mines are found:  
The unprevailing Knaves no Damage meet;  
But Honest Men are Ruined if they hit.   

Lest Strangers hoping Liberty to share,  
Should be Surprised and drawn into a Snare;  
A Law against this Mischief, Sir, provide,  
This Grivance so detested, and decried:  
For which I in a Rapture wish Success,  
And turn my Poem into an Address.   

May Perjured Rascals into Prison sent,  
And Whipped, and Pillory'd, grown Impudent;  
Like Felons suffer, equal danger run;  
That Crime alone has much more Mischief done.  
SCOTLAND, which Death for Perjury Allots;  
Free when Oats flourished, from pretended PLOTS:  
Has not been by State Homicides drawn in  
To Gild of Murder, that most Crying Sin.  
There are no Living Faces to look Red,  
With Dead men's Blood by Debauched Justice shed.  
Yet our Convicted Chief Impostor here,  
Of Life Secure, does a Caged Carcase bear,  
In Tales persisting from his Lying Throat,  
The Blackbird Perches, Whistling the same Note.  
That Crime Repeated, Witness Bought, and Sold;  
In Trials, he may every day behold.  
And by the Progress of those Rake-hells, He  
May fear, He may in Prison Crowded be.  
But Pardon, Sir, That with a Name so Vile,  
I do these Verses and Your Hand Defile.   

These to Extirpate be Your Thoughts employed,  
That Your old Foe and Ours may be Destroyed:  
For while of these Your Subjects stand in fear,  
Freedom and Property but Trifles are:  
Our Substance is, though these we vainly Boast,  
Safer on Seas, than on the English Coast.  
In fear we lay out Wealth, and for the Rest,  
We are but Merchant-Venturers at Best.   

Heaven has put all these Things into Your Mind,  
And what's Amiss, You to Reform Designed.  
Has given You Power, which no Power can Control,  
An Active Body, and a Perfect Soul.  
That as the Cause produces the Effect,  
So From these Gifts, we may the Fruits expect.   

These Lessons perfectly Your SON must know,  
To what He must His future Greatness owe.  
He must observe His Father's Rules alone,  
Has Able Ministers, though He wants none:  
That He does all Things know, and all Inspect;  
And in most Doubtful Cases does Direct,  
They but the Oar do Manage, while He Stiers,  
And in most public Acts his Style appears,  
That these to Rule are necessary Things,  
Support not only, but Distinguish KINGS.  
KING'S will be ever from Oblivion free  
And all of Course come into History,  
And whatsoever are Their Actions, Speed  
In Order Pens Them down, as They Succeed.  
Each KING has a new Stamp, and th' Old does Change▪  
And every KING a Statue on th' Exchange.  
In Baker they Their several Periods bear,  
As May'rs and Sheriffs Recorded for their Year.  
Some have their Poets, who in their Defence;  
Writ what they Think not, and Belie good Sense:  
With Gilded Lines, a Hero who to Feign,  
Like Crutches would Support a Feeble Reign:  
Who would their Prince near His Inferiors place,  
As Women seek Foils to set off a Face.   

For You whose Actions still are so Sublime,  
Above the Flight of Rapture, or of Rhyme.  
Invention is too weak, Expression low,  
Just Praises for your Merits to bestow.  
Without set-Speech, or Verse You're Praised by All,  
So naturally from their Lips Your Praises fall:   

As You their Maker them permit to Praise,  
As Conscience Dictates, though in divers Ways:  
So every Subject pays his Tribute due,  
And in h's own Method daily Praises You.   

To paint Your Wisdom, who are truly Wise,  
And more Discern then Subjects can Advise:  
And better know to Give, than they to ask;  
Vain the Attempt is, and I quit the Task.   

Of Your Dominions may He know the length,  
And of Your Sceptre may he feel the strength,  
Of Favours and Commands, which You confer,  
May He the Value know, or very near,  
The worth of Things, to which You Men advance,  
Their Dutiful Deservings to enhance.  
Though he look big, with Freeborn in his Face,  
How slight a thing's a Subject in Disgrace?  
What slender Worship does a Title bring,  
To Him who's out of Favour with his King?  
Against Him Combinations are Contrived,  
And Quarrels, which lay dormant, are revived.   

Bleak looks a Trading City, and despised,  
A Body without Soul, the Charter seized   

Maces and Furs their Princes Favour gone,  
Neglected look, like Roses after June.   

My Lord, the Judge, divested of his Chain,  
Takes Fees, and pleads below the Bar again;   

The Stubborn Prelate, whom his Prince Rebukes,  
With Heaven itself, than out of Favour looks;  
The Flock their Pastor both supects and fears,  
When in Sheeps-clothing He a Wolf appears:   

White-Staff discarded, Lame and Helpless seems,  
Though he walk lusty with substantial Limbs.  
A Colonel in Commission Insolent,  
Cashiered his haughty Carriage does repent,  
As on Deathbed, Contrition does begin,  
With them who did run on long Scores in Sin:  
No Coats Gallooned to's Levee do repair,  
And he may ride alone to take the Air,  
Forced to disguise it, deeply though displeased,  
He may pretend he is of trouble eased.   

Honour's are, without Royal Favour, Dreams,  
And all are cold not warmed with Royal Beams;  
No badge of Greatness, wont Lustre bears,  
But like a Garment out of fashion wears.   

The Garter him that wears it may delight,  
'Tis the King's Favour that buoys-up the Knight;  
But stripped of that, he's for an Idol spoiled.  
His Star looks Tarnished, and his Ruban soiled   

The Greatest to support the Crown should strive,  
For all their Greatness from the Crown derive,  
As much obliged is the most ancient Peer,  
As he that was created but last year;   

That Malcontents much like Conspirers look,  
And have been sometimes for Conspirers took.  
And when Conspiracies their Aim do miss,  
The Monarchy but deeper roote● is:  
Sedition sure has most enticing Charms?  
For Princes have long Ears but longer Arms.   

What more's convenient for Your Son to know,  
You'll best by Precept, or Example show,  
That if Heaven Grants him after You to Reign,  
He shall with Fame his Mighty Post maintain,  
If He for Fame should with his Father vie,  
And think to get the Prize by flatt●●●  
As 〈…〉   

 
Cyrus, said He, is thought the Greater Man,  
Conquer the World, and do the best you can▪  
So You, SIR, must be counted Greater yet,  
In that You did so Great a SON beget.   
FINIS.