TO MY LORD CHANCELLOR, Presented on New-years-day, By I. Driden.  
LONDON, Printed for Henry Herringman at the Anchor in the Lower-walk in the New Exchange. 1662.   

My Lord,  
WHile flattering crowds officiously appear  
To give themselves, not you, an happy year;  
And by the greatness of their Presents prove  
How much they hope, but not how well they love;  
The Muses (who your early courtship boast,  
Though now your flames are with their beauty lost)  
Yet watch their time, that if you have forgot  
They were your Mistresses, the World may not:  
Decayed by time and wars, they only prove  
Their former beauty by your former love;  
And now present, as ancient Ladies do  
That courted long at length are forced to woe.  
For still they look on you with such kind eyes  
As those that see the Churches Sovereign rise  
From their own Order chose, in whose high State  
They think themselves the second choice of Fate.  
When our Great Monarch into Exile went  
Wit and Religion suffered banishment:  
Thus once when Troy was wrapped in fire and smoak  
The helpless Gods their burning shrines forsaken;  
They with the vanquished Prince and party go,  
And leave their Temples empty to the foe:  
At length the Muses stand restored again  
To that great charge which Nature did ordain;  
And their loved Druids seem revived by Fate  
While you dispense the Laws and guide the State.  
The Nation's soul (our Monarch) does dispense  
Through you to us his vital influence;  
You are the Channel where those spirits flow  
And work them higher as to us they go.  
In open prospect nothing bounds our eye  
Until the Earth seems joined unto the Sky:  
So in this Hemisphere our utmost view  
Is only bounded by our King and you:  
Our sight is limited where you are joined  
And beyond that no farther Heaven can find.  
So well your Virtues do with his agree  
That though your Orbs of different greatness be,  
Yet both are for each others use disposed,  
His to enclose, and yours to be enclosed.  
Nor could another in your room have been  
Except an Emptiness had come between.  
Well may he then to you his Cares impart  
And share his burden where he shares his heart.  
In you his sleep still wakes; his pleasures find  
Their share of business in your labr'ing mind:  
So when the weary Sun his place resigns  
He leaves his light and by reflection shines.  
Justice that sits and frowns where public Laws  
Exclude soft mercy from a private cause,  
In your Tribunal most herself does please;  
There only smiles because she lives at ease;  
And like young David finds her strength the more  
When ed from those arms she wore:  
Heaven would your Royal Master should exceed  
Most in that Virtue which we most did need,  
And his mild Father (who too late did find  
All mercy vain but what with power was joined,)  
His fatal goodness left to fitter times,  
Not to increase but to absolve our Crimes:  
But when the Heir of this vast treasure knew  
How large a Legacy was left to you,  
(Too great for any Subject to retain)  
He wisely tied it to the Crown again:  
Yet passing through your hands it gathers more,  
As streams through Mines bear tincture of their Ore.  
While Emp'rique politicians use deceit,  
Hide what they give, and cure but by a cheat;  
You boldly show that skill which they pretend,  
And work by means as noble as your end:  
Which, should you veil, we might unwind the clue  
As men do Nature, till we came to you.  
And as the Indies were not found before  
Those rich perfumes which from the happy shore  
The winds upon their balmy wings conveyed,  
Whose guilty sweetness first their World betrayed;  
So by your Counsels we are brought to view  
A rich and undiscovered World in you.  
By you our Monarch does that same assure  
Which Kings must have or cannot live secure:  
For prosperous Princes gain the Subjects heart,  
Who love that praise in which themselves have part:  
By you he fits those Subjects to obey,  
As Heavens Eternal Monarch does convey  
His power unseen, and man to his designs,  
By his bright Ministers the Stars, inclines.  
Our setting Sun from his declining seat  
Shot beams of kindness on you, not of heat;  
And when his love was bounded in a few,  
That were unhappy that they might be true;  
Made you the favourite of his last sad times,  
That is a sufferer in his Subjects crimes:  
Thus those first favours you received were sent  
Like heavens rewards, in earthly punishment.  
Yet Fortune conscious of your destiny  
Even then took care to lay you softly by:  
And wrapped your fate among her precious things,  
Kept fresh to be unfolded with your Kings.  
Shown all at once you dazzled so our eyes,  
As newborn Pallas did the God's surprise;  
When springing forth from Jove's new-closing wound  
She struck the Warlike Spear into the ground;  
Which sprouting leaves did suddenly enclose,  
And peaceful Olives shaded as they rose.  
How strangely active are the arts of Peace,  
Whose restless motions less than Wars do cease▪  
Peace is not freed from labour but from noise;  
And War more force but not more pains employs;  
Such is the mighty swiftness of your mind  
That (like the earth's) it leaves our sense behind;  
While you so smoothly turn and roll our Sphere,  
That rapid motion does but rest appear.  
For as in Nature's swiftness, with the throng  
Of flying Orbs while ours is born along,  
All seems at rest to the deluded eye:  
(Moved by the Soul of the fame harmony)  
So carried on by your unwearied care  
We rest in Peace and yet in motion share.  
Let Envy then those Crimes within you see  
From which the Happy never must be free;  
(Envy that does with misery reside,  
The joy and the revenge of ruin'd Pride;)  
Think it not hard if at so cheap a rate  
You can secure the constancy of Fate,  
Whose kindness sent, what does their malice seem,  
By lesser ills the greater to redeem.  
Nor can we this weak shower a tempest call  
But drops of heat that in the Sunshine fall.  
You have already wearied Fortune so  
She can not farther be your friend or foe;  
But sits all breathless, and admires to feel  
A Fate so weighty that it stops her wheel.  
In all things else above our humble fate  
Your equal mind yet swells not into state,  
But like some mountain in those happy Isles  
Where in perpetual Spring young Nature smiles,  
Your greatness shows: no horror to affright  
But Trees for shade, and Flowers to court the sight;  
Sometimes the Hill submits itself a while  
In small descents, which do its height beguile;  
And sometimes mounts, but so as billows play  
Whose rise not hinders but makes short our way.  
Your brow which does no fear of thunder know  
Sees rolling tempests vainly beat below;  
And (like Olympus' top,) th' impression wears  
Of Love and Friendship writ in former years.  
Yet unimpaired with labours or with time  
Your age but seems to a new youth to climb.  
Thus Heavenly bodies do our time beget;  
And measure Change, but share no part of it.  
And still it shall without a weight increase,  
Like this New-year, whose motions never cease;  
For since the glorious Course you have begun  
Is led by CHARLES, as that is by the Sun,  
It must both weightless and immortal prove,  
Because the Centre of it is above.  
FINIS.