A Pandarique Ode ON THE Vice-Chancelor's RETURN TO OXON.  

BEfore the early Sun can raise his Head,  
Out of his Glorious Eastern Bed;  
Each Persian seems with mournful eyes  
To Beg, he would no longer stay;  
And in Imagination flies,  
At least, to compliment him half the way.   

No less Ambitious for your sight, were we,  
E're since your Grateful Mercury  
warned us that happy Day drew nigh,  
That would our long-lost Joys restore,  
Joys even so Transcendent high;  
Fates could not give, nor could we covet more.   

Who can compute how much to heaven we owe,  
For those great Gifts it doth bestow!  
Yet we, alas! small Thanks express,  
But should it stop that Influence,  
Oh! then we Prostrate would confess,  
We had our Life, and Growth, and Vigour thence.   

Thus now, your Absence taught us one thing more,  
Then e're your Presence could before;  
continued Blessings made us grow  
So Stupid, that we could not tell,  
Whence, how, or wherefore they did flow;  
But losing you, we soon perceived it well.   

Soon we perceived 'twas you that moved this sphere,  
And ordered our Will-Motions here:  
What other Atlas should we find,  
For such a weighty Office meet?  
Could Fortune stoop your generous mind,  
To stoop to Honours lying at your Feet:   

But Her weak Stratagems successless prove,  
For nought can your great Spirit move;  
Oh strange Praepostrous Method! You,  
Against yourself must interest use,  
T'avoid what others most pursue,  
And what they Court so bravely to refuse!   

Welcom'd by all, and wished for, you are come,  
As conquering Caesar entered Rome:  
But we'l a double welcome give,  
And our vowed Garlands gladly pay,  
And with deserved ' Encomiums, strive,  
To Celebrate the Glory of this Day.   
FINIS.   

Printed for C. Corbet, in Warwick-Lane. 1683.