The Description of the CORONATION Of His Sacred MAJESTY K. JAMES II. And His Most ILLUSTRIOUS CONSORT Queen MARY.  
Celebrated on the 23 th' Day of April, 1685.  
With a Brief Account of the Famous FIREWORKS, Which were upon the Thames, April the 24 th'.  
A POEM.  

MY Ravished Muse in such bright Mazes dance,  
So Rapture-struck, and all dissolved in Trance,  
That I her Pencil but in vain provoke,  
To shadow out the Visionary Stroke;  
Since She, like Angels, that above the Blessed,  
Feels Ecstasies too high to be expressed.  
Nor blame the Muse that would this Subject shun!  
Poets & Limners should not meddle with Perfection.  
All common strokes their stinted Art may draw,  
Whilst a Bright Vision keeps the Hand in awe.  
And if th'Original they don't Transcend,  
They only Libel, what they would commend.  
And who can add one little common Ray  
To the gay Splendour of this Happy Day?  
A Day that no Hyperbole can Grace;  
The only Paint that Beautifies a POEM'S Face.  
Hail Happy Day! A Day so long Renowned  
For Holy GEORGE, and several Monarches Crowned!  
Tho' now thy former Glories disappear,  
As twinkling Stars, when Day's bright Gods draw near;  
Yet greater Honours in their room are given,  
From Earth's ray Calandre, thou art transcribed to that of  
Heaven.  
Long hast thou worn red Characters below,  
But now the Gods will keep thee Holy too.   

Tho' the Morn was spread with rebel showers of rain  
Yet Jove's kind hand soon forced them back again:  
And now the Sun which long did Mourning wear,  
Does in his Noblest Gayest Robes appear.  
Whilst on heavens brow no Cloudy frowns were seen,  
But as the First-day, Pleasant and Serene.  
The gazing Gods throw those dark Screens away,  
That they this Sight the Clearer might Survey.  
But if the Sun had lain a bed till now,  
Without his aid we'd seen the Glorious Show.  
The Souls of Kings and Heroes Blest above,  
With Choirs of shining Spirits hither move;  
Mantled in Rays of Light ne'er seen till now,  
On wings of Joy, they hover to and fro,  
Followed by Chariots so Divinely bright;  
To which the Sun but Darkness is, and Night,  
Or had this failed, we might the Prospect take  
From the great Splendour which the Court did make.  
As when we would the Richest Jewels try,  
We need but their own Light to know them by.   

Hark! what soft Airs and Raptures fill the Skies,  
Performed by Infinite Choires of Deities?  
Whilst Mortals too, their rural Music mix,  
And with their Concord the Charmed Planets fix.   

Now Guardian-Angels quit their wasted Care,  
And sly in Troops to Gild the London Air.  
Where Aeolus too in gentle Breezes haste;  
Loaded with all the Odours of the East,  
The Essence of each Fragrant Flower He brings,  
And hovers o'er us with His Balmy Wings.   

The Gods own much to Bounteous Nature too,  
From whose Rich Bosom several Treasures flow.  
For had She Awkward been, They had been set  
To the Expense of greater Wonders yet.   

But hold! where does my forward Pencil run  
To end the Day, before 'tis scarce begun?  
Early I risen this Triumph to attend,  
And saw the Royal Pair the Boat ascend.  
Whose Sacred Presence such Devotion strike,  
Poets themselves want Skill to feign the like.  

By slow degrees on Silver Thames they road,  
She as a Goddess, He so like a God,  
That I with Moses wished an Interposing Cloud.   
Objects so Bright should put on a Disguise,  
Lest the Adorers faint beneath the Rays.  
In the same Sphere two mighty Suns behold!  
Each of which does contain a Heavenly World.  
And did the Persians see this Royal Pair,  
They'd slight their God, and pay their Homage here.  
He that has tried to fix his daring Eyes  
On that vast Light which Guilds the Morning Skies,  
Will find it yet more dazzling to Survey  
This Pair of Suns, this double Deity.  
The rest o'th' Court I with more ease could view,  
Yet they made more than Humane Figures too.  
With Radiant Jewels being covered all over,  
Half the World's Wealth, with its Pride, they bore.  
Scarlet beneath the Massy-Lace was hid  
With Imagery, o'er Splended Tissue spread.  
Here the Fair Sex's Art and Patience see,  
Emblem'd in every Rich Embroidery!  
Eight hideous Weeks, which most should Work, they strove,  
Neglecting all the while their Health and Love.  
And the green Girls preparing for the Day,  
Made themselves Pale, to make their Lovers gay.   

On THAMES see numerous shining Vessels move,  
Which dance like some transported Orphean Grove.  
And like the Spheres their Artful measures take,  
From the soft Music their own motions make.  
But when all did in one close Body meet,  
They looked like some new-built Elisian-street:  

Or as if the highest Heaven came down  
Fraughted Gems for his dear James' Crown,  
An earnest of His brighter last Eternal one.   
Blessed Thames! hadst thou a Tongue thy bliss to own,  
My Muse had not then made her weakness known,  
But since imperfect signs thy thoughts declare,  
I dare intrude as thy Interpreter.  
Hail Sacred Princes! thrice she seems to say,  
Whom Instinct makes even senseless nhings obey;  
Your Royal Barge on my soft Bosom made,  
The happyed wound that Water ever had.  
Under whose weight may I for ever live,  
But, Oh, that wish, You cannot like, forgive!  
Long may You wear that Ancient Potent Crown  
Which now, (Great Sir) You're going to put on!  
And may Your Sacred, Glorious Sceptre stand  
For ever firm, and easy in Your Hand!  
Your Crown too, (Mighty Queen) long may You wear,  
And be as Happy, as You're Good and Foir!  
And when You'll (late) be pleased t'enrich the Sky;  
May some kind Stars exhale me too on high?  
Where (if the Gods so please) may I reside  
Your fixed, and everlasting Pyramid!  
In the mean while close by Your Palace side  
I will with soft, and constant numbers, Glide.  
The common Frowns which Nature bid me wear,  
Shall at Your awful Presence disappear.  
At that Command, I'll henceforth Ebb and ●low,  
And will no Neptune (Sir) no Th●tis (Madom) own but You.   

This Speech being finished, she resigned her care  
To the now Honoured Ground of Westminster;  
Where, lo, the Earth is ready to unfold  
That Pomp the Sea too narrow was to hold.  
But  of State o'er all the ground being spread,  
This doleful Speech the sighing Tellus made.   

What have I done (ye Gods) that I must meet  
This cursed Exclusion from my Sov'reigns' Feet?  
Must I sustain more than half Europe's weight,  
Without the just return of viewing it?  
〈…〉 wh●●ver did these Cover lay,  
〈◊〉 spoil the greatest Wonder of this day,  
〈…〉 my wronged Bosom lie,  
〈◊〉 ●i●h all her Summer Treasury;  
〈…〉 ●●l●ghting on great CAESAR's Road  
〈◊〉 Sweets to spread herself abroad.  
〈◊〉 H●ed, she had been Proud to meet  
●e 〈◊〉 from Your Royal Feet.  
〈…〉— she'd something more to say,  
〈◊〉 Tryumps, bore the sound away.   

●●m●●ous Crowds both far & near were seen  
〈◊〉 streets seemed Paved, & houses Tiled with Men,  

〈◊〉 with the Fair Sex, appeared more bright,  
〈◊〉 with hard gazing fed their eager sight,  
●●gh'd & wished, & did the rest in dreams at night   
… dy pressed they did one Mass appear,  
●hen bright James & his fair Queen drew near;  
〈◊〉 ●●ghty ●ulk did its own self divide,  
〈◊〉 made a Golden Wall on either side.  
〈◊〉 which they to the Prince's Chamber past,  
●●ke Repose, for Gods themselves must rest.  
〈◊〉 havin●●●s some short Refection,  
〈◊〉 Glorious proper Robes of State put on;  
〈◊〉 Ably (now) where Pomp and Triumph waits,  
… l the Royal Godlike CANDIDATES?  
〈◊〉 after numerous Ceremonies passed,  
〈◊〉 … notion, Oaths, etc. which several hours did last,  
〈◊〉 Sacred Heads received the Imperial Crown,  
〈◊〉 CANTERBVY's happy hand set on.  
〈◊〉 ●an! what bliss hast thou received this hour?  
〈◊〉 … t couldst thou wish, or could Heaved give thee  
〈◊〉 more?   

Th'exact Description of the Cavalcade,  
And the bright Figures e●'ry Order made;  
What hands the Sceptre, Sword, Staff, 〈…〉  
Or who Curtana, or the Spurs did bear,  
Or by what Peers the Crowns supported 〈…〉  
What Favourites next the Presence did 〈…〉  
Or what bright Youhs bore up the 〈…〉  
How from the Temple to the Hall They 〈…〉  
(Where waited for them a Stupendious 〈…〉  
What Hecatomb fell Victory to Their Board,  
Or what vast Seas of Wine it did afford  
And lastly, how with the vast Infinite 〈…〉  
They to White-Hall, (now Crowned,) 〈…〉  
Are Thames, that would a mighty Volu●● 〈◊〉  
Nor is't a Poets, but the Herald's task▪  
Besides, it would more charge of time require,  
Then now my niggard Fate is pleased 〈…〉   

But having yet Surveyed the Court alone  
I now would make the People's transports 〈◊〉  
But I (alas) want Language to express my own.   

Ten thousand Bells in one loud Consort 〈…〉  
Both Earth and Heaven itself to Ent●●● 〈…〉  
Sure for this Reason they were raised on 〈◊〉  
That the Gods might the better hear 〈…〉  
The Pleasant Musics nimble foot steps h●●e,  
Passing Harmoniously from Sphere to Sphere  
Which now the Starry Battlements has sound,  
Which Hark, reverberates, and multiplies 〈◊〉  
They Man's Officious and Injurious call,  
Who interposed the designed Miracle.  
For Joy, their useless Rapes away they'l● throw  
And Music on their own accord bestow.  
Next, Loyal Fires (the People's Offerings) see!  
Like Burning Groves raising their Heads on high!  
As if this night was destined to devour,  
What was designed for the next Winter Store.  
See how it Roars, as if it had an intent  
To reach the Stagerytes Fictitious Element!  
Whilst on Thames too they such vast Fireworks make,  
That all her Streams seem but one Flaming Lake.  
The Frighted Gods thinking their Skies on Fire,  
For safety to the farthest heavens retire:  
They feared another Race of Giant's rose,  
Who now had Fire instead of Mountains chose,  

But when Discreeter Gods saw the intent,  
Instead of Thunder and Revenge, they sent  
A Herald to proclaim this Compliment.    

Blessed Change! And now the Heavenly Powers rejoice  
That England does approve of their Wise Choice:  
And to its Throne, wronged Loyalty restore,  
Where Treason stretched its ugly Limbs before.  
Being Loyal grown, Your Bliss is now complete,  
For You before all Blessings had but That;  
This day 've Crowned a King, whose Godlike Reign  
Restores you the Blessed Golden Age again.    
FINIS.  

Printed by Nathan. Thompson at the Entrance into Old Spring-garden near Charing-cross, 1685.