DAPHNE CORONALIS: A Pindaric Ode, To the most August MONARCH, JAMES the II. Of England, Scotland, France, & Ireland, King, Defender of the Faith;  
Crowned at Westminster, April the 23d. 1685.  
Humbly Dedicated by a Loyal Muse.  
Quo pede caepisti, sic bene semper eas.  Ovid. Trist. 
Justitiae servantem animum, puraeque tenacem  
Mentis, & incoctum generoso pectus honesto  
Omnibus oppono Furiis, licet omnis in Illud  
Conspiret Rabbis, & totas convocet iras.  
LONDON: Printed for Charles Brome, at the Gun at the West-end of St. Paul's, 1685.   

DAPHNE CORONALIS: A Pindaric Ode.  

I.  
UNhappy ' state of sublunary things,  
To which the heavens no blessing lend,  
But always dreadful Overthrow's portend,  
By blasting every Noble Plant that springs:  
Ah! peaceful Albion, happy Isle,  
On Thee much kinder Stars do smile,  
Which influence thy grief,  
By beaming quick relief;  
On Thee do fall those golden Showers  
Of Mercy, Clemency, and Love,  
The Objects of the Saints above,  
The blessing of th'etherial Powers,  
A blessing which they oft create  
To make Thee great,  
Thy People fortunate.  
Ungrateful Land!  
Canst thou such Heavenly Courtship then withstand,  
And stay the Blessing with a Rebel hand?  
Such Offering, such Sacrifice,  
Will not Almighty God suffice,  
They will provoke  
His fearful stroke.  
Ah! then fair Albion shun those Seas  
Which nothing can appease,  
Which swell, and roar, and live by rage,  
Not all the Tribute of the nether World can them assuage.   

II.  
Embalmed with grief thus long we laid,  
To mourn with Us, Dame Nature stayed  
Her sweet productive course:  
Her secret Charms grew vain,  
She seemed to entertain  
No lively quick'ning force;  
Confused she was,  
As when of old both Night and Day  
Did intermix with Dust and Clay,  
And in their Native Twilight lay:  
All sad we stood,  
And wept a flood,  
To hear the short-lived groans assault the Sky,  
As Harbingers, unhappily  
They did foretell the deadly Fate  
Of CHARLES our King,  
The dearest Thing,  
Next under God Supremely Great:  
Rich in his Princely Graces and Renown,  
Nothing but length of days was wanting to his Crown;  
His better Part  
Forsook his Heart,  
And ceased to animate the Royal Clay;  
Virtue discovered now a Nobler Sphere,  
In which no Factious Hurricanes appear,  
And led his Soul safe to the Milky-way.  
Guarded by Angels there refined it lies,  
The only Present that could bribe the Skies:  
Death and Despair  
Infect the Air,  
Almost we sunk into the Gulf of Fear;  
Our sorrows flowed to such a height,  
We could not long have born the weight,  
Had not the King of Kings,  
Who sees th'event of things,  
Repaired our loss, and banished every Tear;  
New gleams of Joy do now revive,  
Things in their Native Colours thrive;  
Th' Illustrious JAMES is here,  
To chase away our Fear,  
And does again enlighten all our Hemisphere.   

III.  
Ye youthful Glories, envy of all Lands,  
Rouse from your Beds of Down, and hast away  
To fortify with Vows this happy Day;  
Put on your choice Attire,  
And tune the sevenfold Lyre,  
Wreath verdant Chaplets with your Virgin hands;  
Throw off Bandores and mournful Cypress Vails,  
Pass not for Strumpets in thin Muslin Rails  
About the street,  
For Pimps to greet;  
Lay all your Sable Vestments by,  
They suit not this Solemnity,  
Prepared to Crown  
With high Renown  
The Sacred Head of Majesty:  
Great JAMES is He, appointed now  
To sway the Sceptre here below,  
Whose Virtues shall  
Triumphant spread o'er all this tumbling Ball.   

iv  
In full content let's revel now,  
No sullen care distorts the brow;  
Our Sorrows now shall run,  
They shall be crushed away  
(As atoms by the Sun)  
Into their grosser Clay.  
We'll hoist up every Loyal Sail,  
And ply such Oars,  
Which shall prevail  
Once more reach  
The Royal Beach,  
And reverendly kiss the wished Shores.   

V  
Oh! happy Land, Thy Bark is fortunate,  
Whilst thus It rides in a continued Calm,  
Whilst thus the heavens pronounce Thee great  
By pouring on thy Head their costly Balm.  
Ah! sweet surprise,  
The Halcyon days  
Upon us rise  
With healing Rays;  
The silver Streams in gentle murmurs run▪  
No fatal Tenth Wave dares to frown;  
Impartial Justice guards our Peace,  
And wholesome Laws do still increase,  
Equal they are to Rich and Poor.  
What can o'er ruling Providence do more?  
Thus happy is our Land,  
Framed by the just Command  
Of Him, who to our Country brings,  
To crown our Joys, (even the best of Kings:)  
So sweet's the harmony of Love,  
So good the state we now live under,  
We only hear of mighty Jove,  
Scarce ever feel his Thunder.   

VI  
All hail! (Dread SIR!) thus Crowned with Joy,  
With all the Ornaments of Nature dressed,  
A Soul like Thine eternally is blest;  
For Thee our fervent Zeal we will employ.  
See with what busy Joy the Spring  
All clad in green  
Puts forth a beauteous Scene!  
The chirping Songsters of the Air  
In all their richest Plumes appear;  
The Woods and Groves  
(The Palaces for little Loves)  
Are filled with joy, and all around,  
In short-breathed tuneful Lays  
The prattling Echoes found  
Our Mighty Monarch's Praise,  
And Valleys thick with Corn do laugh and sing.   

VII.  
Thus (Sacred SIR!) kind Nature gives to You  
These rare Prognostics of Prosperity,  
The Emblems of Eternity,  
To YOU, and only YOU, legitimately due.  
Live long (Great CAESAR!) live to be admired  
By all the World, by Heaven and Earth desired:  
Go on, and view this subject Land,  
A Tribute due to thy Command.  
Oh! may thy days be long,  
Thy Joys for ever young;  
Thy Reign safe and serene,  
Thy Laurels ever green:  
In spite of Hell, and all Exclusive Leaven,  
Virtue like Thine  
Will ever shine,  
And mount Thee up to Heaven.   
FINIS.