A PANEGYRIC TO THE KING.  
BY John Glanvill of Lincolns-Inn, Esq  
Tu regere Imperio populos, Rex maxime nôris  
(Hae tibi sunt arts) pacique imponere morem.  Virg. Aen. 6. 
LONDON, Printed for John Newton at the Three Pigeons against the Inner-Temple-Gate in Fleetstreet, 1697.   

A PANEGYRIC TO THE KING.  

VAliant, and Wise, with Fame and Conquests blest;  
These Titles have by others been possessed.  
Tamerlane, Caesar, forty Braves before,  
As much have ventured, or have vanquished more.  
Fame's a cheap Price, about in common hurled,  
The Lot of every Bustler of the World.  
Valour's a Vice, injuriously pursued,  
And Wisdom, oft, but Cunning to delude.  
These have been mourned in most, and might in Thee,  
If Foes to Right, and Friends to Tyranny:  
If fraudful Counsels, to promote Thy Spoil,  
Laboured ill-listning Nations to embroil:  
If vain Ambition led Thy Arms, and Power  
Were but Thy wrongful Means to compass more;  
(Whilst the false Hero, frantically possessed,  
Others disturbing, gave himself not rest.)  
But when Thy Arms, Thy Counsels, and Thy State,  
(To show Thee truly and entirely Great)  
Protect, not harm, and bravely are applied  
To raise the Prostrate, and to humble Pride;  
When those, and those alone, Thy Foes we find,  
Who too are Foes of Nature, and Mankind;  
When all Thy juster Policies delight,  
Not to divide the World, but to unite;  
When choosing Peace, or animating War,  
The Public Good, is still Thy Private Care;  
When thus Thou treadest unquestioned Paths of Praise,  
Pursuing Generous Ends by Generous Ways;  
This Noble Use, this Majesty of Soul  
Exalts the Rest, and dignifies the Whole:  
To Rarer Honour a Superior Claim  
Erects, and gives Distinction to Thy Fame.  
Then, when the Nations view thy wide-stretched Power,  
They view with Pleasure, and they wish it more;  
Joy in Thy Conduct, which so wisely knows  
To vanquish Obstacles, and frustrate Foes,  
An equal Stream, that silent flows and strong,  
Bears up all Weight, and drives all Force along;  
Thy Courage charms us then, or when to wield  
The Sword, it bears Thee boiling to the Field;  
Or when it wings thy Generous Hast, nor Stay  
Allows, tho' Nature would forbid Thy way;  
Not letting Winter Winter be to Thee,  
But mocking hazards of a Frozen Sea;  
Where Ice and Cold Thy Ardour but inflame,  
And darkening Mists give Lustre to thy Fame.  
Then fond of all, we every Talon bless,  
In each the Hero visible confess;  
Then a shy Muse, that timorous of Praise,  
Would to vain Idols Altars scorn to raise,  
Her Incense brings, and daring Thee to sing,  
The Conqueror hails, the Peacemaker, and King.   

A King whom Fate a Sovereign would advance,  
Not by so low a Means as Birth, and Chance:  
A King petitioned to accept of Power,  
And rule a State thy Arms preserved before.  
Of old when Perseus freed the Lovely Maid,  
He set his price, and bargained for his Aid:  
Viewed the chained Beauty with desiring Eyes,  
And asked the Victim as the Victor's Prize.  
Noblier by Thee was the fair Isle relieved,  
Not claimed and paid, but offered and received.  
Let those court Empire who want Empire's State;  
The Hero needs no Throne to make him Great:  
Owes his own Arm what Glory can afford,  
Nor Sceptre sees so shining as his Sword.  
Him Empire courts, Kingdoms on him rely,  
And to His Sword Sceptres for Refuge fly.  
Sure Liberty we saw in Thy Command,  
Nor feared Protection from so strong a Hand:  
Whilst well we judged (nor did in vain depend)  
That he who could Deliver could Defend.   

Th' Event has answered with so kind Success,  
We want no more, and Thou wouldst give no less.  
Thou makest our Ends attained, our Wars to cease;  
Thou mad'st to us those very Wars be Peace.  
At Home secured, untroubled from Abroad,  
Hostility forbidden, and Faction awed.  
Not so Hibernian Plains th' injurious Foe  
Escaped, nor Caledonian Mountains so;  
A ruder Fate they found, their Sanguine share,  
Were Fields of Triumph, but were Fields of War.  
So though Jove Rules, are harmful Tempests hurled,  
Vexing his distant and inferior World:  
But where th' Imperial God his Court maintains,  
That Region's safe, there Peace unalter'd reigns:  
No Storm may rise that Quiet to impair;  
Nor will he need to use his Thunder there.  
Such the sure Calm, so placid, and serene,  
Of our blessed Seat has been the gentle Scene.  
Aloft Thy shelter o'er the Land displayed,  
We sat below, and wantoned in Thy Shade.  
If Danger e'er presumed to grow more bold,  
It could not reach, and scarce alarmed Thy Fold.  
Then too the Foe took care to let us see,  
From Thy watched Absence, what we own to Thee.  
Cared not t'approach, when we might have thee here,  
But in his very daring showed his Fear.  
Thus all owned Thee the Guardian of our State;  
By Thee made Safe, and by Thee too made Great.  
Great, as when famed in noble former Days,  
Our War was Honour, and our Peace was Praise;  
E'er erring Interests in inglorious Times,  
Ease and Contention made alike our Crimes:  
Great, as when we so wisely knew to do  
Our own at once, and the World's Business too.  
Such are the Glories which Thou dost restore;  
Such Policies, such Warfare, and such Power.  
England once more is England, and Thy Reign  
Has seen her act her brave old Part again;  
Balance wild Power, that would too far prevail,  
Lend her important Weight, and poise the Scale.  
Again her Arms for Freedom have appeared,  
Again in Belgian Plains been loved and feared:  
Her Youth rejoicing to the Field did go,  
To gain new Honours from her ancient Foe;  
Whilst under Thee she trafficked for a Name,  
Dealt with vain Wealth for large Returns in Fame.   

Here could she see a Conquering Navy come,  
Full fraught with never-fading Laurels home:  
There how unrivalled, th' Ocean all her own;  
She road at large, triumphantly alone.  
As when a Sovereign Lion, sternly great,  
Ranges a Lybian Waste in Martial State,  
His vanquished Rival sought, but sought in vain,  
Close in some sheltering Cave resigns the Plain.  
There if he hear the Conqueror dreadful roar,  
He shrinks in further, and he trembles more:  
Mindful of former Wounds, while no rash heat  
Rises to tempt him to a new Defeat:  
Such was the Scene then on the Watery Plain;  
So did Thy awful Fleets possess the Main.  
On Indian Seas Thy Flags were seen Renowned,  
And Midland Coasts heard Thy dread Cannon sound.  
Then how we loved to see proud States afraid!  
The Tuscan Duke, and Adriatic Maid  
Send, and make court, and fawn upon Thy Power  
Which ill they thought not their concern before.  
So the Clouds heard to murmur from afar,  
The distant Sound mayn't give the Impious care;  
But as the Rolling Terror moves more near,  
They shrink, and bow, and own the Thunderer.  
Let strong Ambition make the Nations bend,  
And o'er the Vassal Earth its sway extend,  
'Tis narrow all to the unbounded Sea,  
And who Reigns there, the mighty Monarch's Herald   

Yet may not Oceans limit Thy Command;  
Lord o'er the Waves Thou Conqueror art at Land.  
Kingdoms with Thee Thy Armies have o'er-run,  
And Forts contrived, to mock Assailants, won;  
There where no Bars could their hot course restrain;  
But Hills, and Rocks, and Walls, and Troops were vain:  
Those too so strong that these they scarce required,  
So numerous these that ill they those desired.  
What Toils despised! what Miracles performed!  
What threatening Works how impudently stormed!  
How easy 'twere the Mastered World t' overcome,  
Once Pyrrhus said, for either me or Rome!  
For me with Roman Soldiers to my Aid,  
For Rome with me her great Commander made  
What hopes might then by Thee, and us be fed!  
By Thee so followed, and by us so led!  
If we at least can well the Romans be,  
More than the Pyrrhus we possess in Thee.  
Like him unwearied, generous Thou, and Brave,  
Partak'st all Dangers, and no Toil wilt save.  
Like His, thy Battles from their General shine,  
And Thyself wins the victories which are Thine.  
Like him thou knowst, but greater Things, to gain;  
But unlike him thou knowst too to retain  
His Worth obtained (when Fate would on him smile)  
From willing Hands the fair Sicilian Isle;  
More has Thine done, and what his could not do,  
Obtained thy Island, and preserved it too.  
When Peace He offered to the Roman Pride,  
Claudius was heard, and Pyrrhus was denied;  
Thou hadst to Thee th'uncourted Proffer brought,  
And to Thy very Camp Thy Friendship sought:  
Then Peace was too a Business of the Field,  
And Armies saw the Gaul descending yield,  
Glad to compound, and let the World be free,  
Leave Thee Thy Kingdoms, and Thy Kingdoms Thee.  
'Tis done, Contention and Debate are over,  
And Arms and warlike Honours are no more.  
No more Thy Martial Heat must warm the Field;  
No more Thy Sword needs be the Nation's Shield.  
No Boyne may now, compelled to yield Thee way,  
Submit, and give a Kingdom with the Day.  
No Namur towers, that haughty mount the Sky,  
Shall stoop to raise Thy Trophies yet more high.  
But ruling Arts, and civil Conduct shown,  
All that in Peace is by good Monarches done;  
The Wealth restored which needful War hath drained,  
And Luxury, it's softer Foe, restrained:  
The Nation's Interest watchfully pursued,  
The Court inspected, and the State reviewed.  
La which reformed, shall Sense and Justice be,  
Nor vexed with Arts, nor lost in Nicety;  
Commerce well settled, as well understood,  
Not ruled by private Gain, but public Good;  
These left Thee still, shall ample Glories bring,  
And tho' the Soldier's past make great the King.  
Oh might we but hope too, (nor hope in vain)  
Our ancient English Manners to regain;  
Might Sterling Honesty once more be praised,  
Restored, and to its noble Standard raised;  
Then the Coin's famed Reform should be a poor  
Achievement, and appear a Boast no more;  
The greater Glory should the less deface,  
To purer Virtue still the Silver Base.  
And this shall be, degenerate fraud shall die,  
And artless Faith, and old Simplicity  
Revive, and banish all those thousand Ways,  
By which false Man his Fellow Man betrays.  
Then Golden Times shall once again commence,  
(The first but Plenty were and Innocence)  
Those Golden Times shall be acknowledged Thine,  
And as our Money, with Thy Image shine;  
A Sett of Years which taking rise from Thee,  
Shall make Thy Reign another Epoch.   

What Poets then shall sing in grateful Lays,  
What happy Poets, of those happy Days:  
How will they love the Beauties to rehearse!  
The flowery Scene to paint in flowery Verse.  
Yet as they wander, in a gayer Strain,  
O'er the smooth Praises of Thy Halcyon Reign;  
Some too shall take a Pleasure to look back,  
And of a rougher Fame a View shall take;  
From Thy first Start deduced Thy Deeds shall trace  
Through all th' Extent of the Heroic Race;  
Show how Thy Worth Thy way to Honour made;  
A Worth obscured, and breaking from a Shade:  
As when fair Light through hostile Chaos pressed,  
And vigorous ever since the Globe has blest;  
How at Thy Rise, surprise did all engage,  
To see Thee such, surmounting all Presage;  
Daring, yet Cool; Concealed, yet no Disguise;  
Steady with Youth, without Experience, Wise.  
How Thy own Holland Thou, so well, didst free;  
By others lost, to be retrieved by Thee;  
How in a larger Sphere advanced to shine,  
The Leagued Affairs of half a World were Thine!  
What Actions here? What Virtues shall they see?  
What Faith? What Spirit? And what Constancy?  
When with a Fabian Firmness, still the same,  
Thou keptest Thy Course, slighting, and gaining, Fame;  
Fixed in Thy Prudence, resolute to Thy Ends,  
Nor tired with mighty Foes, nor feeble Friends.  
Here, a fierce Chief shocked in his Conquering way,  
Shalt Thou Stem victory, and reverse the Day;  
There a forced Camp expiring War shall crown;  
An Act so bold, it could be Thine alone.  
Grave, Narden, Bon, shall be renewed to Fame,  
And all Thy Wonders a Regard shall claim.  
A thousand more of Bravery shall they find;  
A thousand of the Honour of Thy Mind;  
That Wrongs and Interest, could alike Disdain,  
And throw back offered Rule that would its Brightness strain.   

Those Jars asleep, Thou shalt repose awhile,  
Till new Alarms sound to re-wake Thy Toil.  
Then roused afresh they thou shall lead to War,  
With equal Ardour, and with equal Care.  
There later Scenes again shall full be shown;  
All that Thou hast performed, and Europe known,  
Till now, once more of lovely Peace possessed,  
She from Thy Labours re-injoys her Rest.  
So when black Southern Clouds begin to pour  
Impetuous down a wild destructive Shower,  
Then from the North does the brave Boretts rise,  
A ready Champion, and asserts the Skies.  
What Conflicts then the suffering Air molest?  
The Plains above groan with the strong Contest.  
The Face of Heaven shifts, various, to the View;  
Half clear it smiles, then gloomy frowns anew;  
The Wind persists, is obstinate and fierce;  
Till, tired the Clouds grow willing to disperse;  
'Tis silence then; the warring Tempests cease,  
And the fair World, all calm, returns to Peace.   
FINIS.