A PANEGYRIC On His Most Excellent Majesty King William the IIId.  
Occasioned by the HAPPY CONCLUSION OF THE GENERAL PEACE, SEPTEMBER the 20th, 1697.  
LONDON: Printed for Richard Baldwin, near the Oxford-Arms in Warwick-Lane. MDCXCVII.   

A PANEGYRIC On His Most Excellent Majesty, King WILLIAM the Third.  

GREAT Prince! the Arbiter of Europe's Fate,  
Happy Restorer of our Tottering State;  
That dost the Rule of willing Nations sway,  
Whilst Your Commands Submissive Kings obey.  
And he who to the World's Extremest end  
Strove his Ambitious Sceptre to Extend.  
That, what he once Usurped, would now Restore,  
And Suppliant like from You his Peace Implore:  
Pardon my tender Muse's bold Design,  
Whilst some kind Heavenly Power Inspires my Pen;  
Which (though in humble Accents) strives to Raise  
Wonder at Your Great Deeds, and Trophies to Your Praise.   

When Great Nassau in Arms and War Renowned, 
Note, His Majesty was born a Posthumus just after his Father's Death.   
Whose bold Attempts such great Success had Crowned;  
And done such Mighty Things, and more Designed  
T'untimely Fate His Warlike Soul Resigned;  
To Assuage the Sorrow at his Obsequies,  
You, Phoenix like, did from his Ashes Rise;  
And as a Rising-Sun that Joy restore,  
Which set in Seas of Tears the Night before:  
His Breath transfused to Yours, it did Inspire  
With the same Martial Heat, the same Desire  
His Soul possessed before it did Expire.  
His Courage You Improved, and as it Rose,  
Tried it with Skilful Fury on Your Foes:  
In Tender Youth You felt Wars Rough Alarms,  
The Common Good exciting You to Arms.  
This let the Fights of Mons and Seneff tell;  
How first You Fought, and Fight did excel;  
The pleasant Maze, and Sambres conscious Stream  
Can Witness to Your Deeds, and Speak Your Fame;  
Where You (when Young) Your Conquering Troops have led,  
And Mighty Armies have before You fled;  
Where too so oft You've swelled the blushing Flood  
With heaps of Slain, and Streams of gallic Blood.  
Your drooping Country, o'reran with Fire and Sword,  
To Ancient Splendour was by You Restored:  
Its Ruin with generous Pity You beheld,  
Then bravely dared, and bravely too Repelled  
The Insulting Foe, whose swollen Ambitious Mind  
That thought 'twas all his own, or else Designed,  
Within just bounds was by Your Sword Confined.   

And next by Heaven Inspired, and to pursue  
Your Great Designs, to our Relief You flew;  
There all those Mists and Gloomy Clouds dissolved,  
Which our unhappy Island had involved;  
Armed with the Right and Justice of Your Cause  
Reformed Religion, and Restored the Laws  
Which were before expelled; 'twas bravely done;  
And justly You obtained and wear a Crown:  
To which Your Deeds declare You have as good  
A Right by Merit, as You have by Blood.   

That Labour done, Tempestuous Seas You Crossed,  
Reducing Kingdoms that before were Lost:  
The stubborn Irish tamed, and at the Boyne  
A victory and Immortal Glory won;  
And should my Pen decline this noble Theme,  
Yet Fame itself would publish, when the Stream  
A Thousand Ages hence shall Run no more,  
The Wonders You performed upon the Shore.  
How undismayed You stemmed the eager Tide,  
And turned the Doubtful victory on Your Side:  
How Smoke and Sulphur filled the Air, and Storms  
Of hissing Bullets flew in various Forms:  
Death and Destruction ranged about the Field,  
And Thousands to their Fate their Gasping Breathes did yield;  
Yet all those threatening Dangers You despised,  
And more than Life the Common Good You prized:  
Some Foe Inspired by Hell designed Your Fall,  
But Heaven averted the too daring Ball;  
The Conscious Ball flew hissing by Your side,  
Saw its Mistake, then quickly grazed, and died.  
Some unseen Power protects Your Life and Crown,  
Who for Your country's safety do neglect Your own.   

In Namur's Siege, that Glorious Siege, we find,  
The next Experience of Your daring Mind;  
Where just success deserving Valour found,  
And Lofty Lovis his Superior found;  
His Army looking on, You won the prize;  
All Your Great Deeds before, this One does signalise.   

How unlike to this was the famed Troy of Old,  
Of which such strange Romantic Tales are told?  
None did the use of Modern Engines know,  
To hurl Destruction on the assailing Foe;  
But the Old Walls their Nodding Heads reclined,  
Their Forts submitting to the very wind,  
Though built by Gods, to Men at last resigned.  
What noble Act was in this Siege, to be  
A Subject fit for lasting Poetry!  
Yet the blind Bard (with an Inspired Pen)  
Wrote this Mock-siege in so sublime a strain;  
And the Greek Heroes has extolled so high,  
As if with daring Hand they'd stormed the Sky,  
And 'gainst the gods obtained a Victory.   

What would he write, had he the Town surveyed,  
G'ainst which Bold You, Your Cheerful Squadrons lead;  
Whose Rocky Walls, like pointed Cliffs do rise,  
That pierce with their stupendious height the Skies,  
And with their ponderous weight oppress the Ground,  
Engines of massy Brass being planted round;  
Who when in flames, disgorge their sulphurous breaths,  
In various forms disperse a thousand Deaths;  
With hissing noise Great Flaming Globes extend,  
Which Fear and Death diffusively extend.  
Their Common Fate whole Troops together found,  
Whilst thundering Drums and Trumpets dreadful sound,  
The louder Groans of dying Men confound.  
So when the Foe sprung their Infernal Mines,  
Cursed as their Counsels, close as their Designs,  
In Flakes of Fire the shattered Rocks did rise,  
Which filled with gloomy Clouds the darkened Skies.  
Thick in the Air the darting Meteors flew,  
Which seemed the Ancient Chaos to renew,  
And struck with horror all, except undaunted You.  
Yet there you stood dispeacing Your Command,  
Exposed the Bulwark of the British Land;  
Dead Corpse and mangled Limbs about You spread,  
In Rapid Balls, Death hissing round Your Head.  
No Danger You declined, but bravely stood,  
Too lavish for us of that Precious Blood;  
Which many Ages through a Royal Vein,  
To You in long successive Order ran.   

Nor are Your Deeds to Earth alone controlled,  
Your Naval Power's inimitably bold;  
Steer without Rivals to what Point they please,  
And make Your Fame as boundless as the Seas.  
All Nations, when Your Floating Forts they view,  
Lowering their Flags, resign the Right to You:  
Your wide Command to every Coast extends,  
And the scorched Moor before the English bends.  
Neptune lays down his Trident at Your Feet,  
And pays submissive Homage to Your Fleet.  
The Lofty Lovis now can do no more,  
But foam with Rage, and standing on the Shore,  
Sees from Your Ships his routed Squadrons fly,  
And his Bombed Towns in dismal Ruins lie.   

As when fierce Wolves the harmless Heard ore-pow'r,  
Just as they would their welcome Prey devour,  
The Lordly Lion's unexpected sound  
Approaching near their wakeful Ears, doth wound:  
Home to their Dens they fly as swift's the Wind,  
Grinning, look back, and leave their Prey behind.  
So when the gallic Fleet usurps Your Right,  
And on the Seas our Trembling Merchants fright;  
When they perceive the English Flag appear,  
Quickly they sculk behind their Forts for fear.  
With pregnant Sails they hasten to the Shore,  
Quitting the Prize they took but just before.   

The Sea You Rule, and the French Monarch Awe,  
Set Bounds to's Pride, and give's Ambition Law.  
That Vaunting Prince, whose vain Ambitious Mind,  
Victory o'er us, and all the World, designed;  
And to an Universal Monarchy aspired,  
With's beaten Fleet behind Strong Forts retired:  
Sees the Britannia with a just disdain,  
Riding Triumphant on the Liquid Plain,  
To keep Your Right, and Lord it on the Main.   

O would this Theme some Abler Pen inspire,  
To give just Praise, where I can but admire.  
Or would Great Homer now revive again,  
To write Your Actions in that Lofty Strain,  
As once he sung (nor did he sing in vain)  
Of Gods and Heroes, as he raised his Voice,  
When Wars and Battles were his Lofty Choice:  
Or would some mighty Virgil now rehearse  
In Golden Lines, and never-dying Verse,  
Your Glorious Acts, the Immortal Piece should be  
Engraved in Brass t' instruct Posterity:  
To rouse Luxurious Monarches from their Ease,  
To do like You, and Emulate Your Praise.  
Teach Amorous Sots to shun a Woman's Charm,  
Having been circled in more Noble Arms:  
Kindle in tender Breasts a Warlike Fire,  
And their soft Souls with Daring Thoughts inspire;  
Then Times to come should celebrate Your Birth,  
And future Hero's Copy from Your Worth:  
Their Souls inspired by Your Immortal Fame,  
Would Tyrants Crush, and gallic Monsters Tame,  
And terrify their Boldest Foes with Your repeated Name.   

Thus Great You are, and thus unenvyed stand,  
Since what you Act, transcends what You Command.  
Not like Luxurious Kings neglect the State,  
Or to a General trust a Kingdom's Fate.  
In Person all Your Great Exploits are done,  
You conquer all Yourself, and make the Work Your own   

O happy those that such a Prince obtain,  
Happy the Kingdoms where such Monarch's Rain:  
Blest the Alliance Crowned with such a Head;  
And Troops, by such a Daring Courage led.  
Happy are they whom such Examples Fire,  
And bravely in such a Glorious Cause Expire:  
How undismayed they meet approaching Death;  
With what Delight they Gasp their Dying Breath,  
And dare their Fate, when such a Prince is by,  
Who used to Conquer, never fears to Die.  
'Tis brave to quit one's Life for Common Good,  
And Seal one's Love to You with Streams of vital Blood.   

If thus by Arms You've won us such Renown;  
Now Europe's Quiet doth Your Action's Crown;  
Now Martial Noise is hushed, and Battles cease,  
Happy You'll make the Effects of such a Peace,  
Our Trade shall flourish and our Wealth Increase:  
We shall with Plenty and Excess be cloyed,  
And all that Heaven can grant, by us enjoyed.  
The World's whole product be in England viewed,  
And in our Isle the Golden Age renewed:  
Our Merchants unmolested on the Main,  
Shall free Commerce with Neighbouring States regain;  
Who shall with Europe's Wealth our Stores supply,  
And choicest Wines to feed our Luxury:  
We shall the Luscious Sweets of Asia know,  
The Indies both shall to our Havens flow;  
And Africk's dazzling o'er at every Tide,  
On the sweet Stream of Silver Thames shall Ride:  
Your dread Commands all Countries shall Obey,  
And to Your Stores their Grateful Tribute Pay:  
Our Different Factions You shall Reconcile,  
And reunite our now-Divided Isle.  
Those stubborn Souls which Justice ne'er could Tame,  
Shall become Vassals merely to Your Fame.  
Those misled Fools who scorned to own Your Power,  
By Your Merit won, shall Loyal Thoughts restore,  
And pay the Allegiance they denied before.  
A Series of new Time shall now begin,  
And every Rolling Year shall usher in  
A long contained Scene of Happiness.  
But here:  
My Muse! Transported with the Endless Bliss,  
The welcome Peace approaching to our Isle;  
And to those high flown Thoughts, that Lofty Style  
The Subject craves, unable to aspire,  
Must the high Theme desist, and silently admire.   
G. B.  
FINIS.