A POEM On and To Her Gracious Majesty Upon the Day of Her Happy CORONATION.   crown 
By one of Her Majesty's Servants.  
Printed by Nathaniel Thompson at the Entrance into the Old-Spring-Garden near Charing-Cross, MDCLXXXV.   

A POEM On and To Her Gracious Majesty Upon the Day of Her Happy CORONATION.  
IN humble Verse we Hearts and Pens employ,  
To show the Realm its King's and Kingdom's Joy.  
A QUEEN Beloved by all; so Good and Great,  
In every thing so Charmingly Complete.  
That 'twould to England be no shame to own,  
She giveth to day more Lustre to Her Crown,  
Than It gives Her; because Her Worth alone  
Has Title to an Everlasting one.  
This makes Her Princely Pious Soul as well,  
As Her Majestic Person here Excel:  
And checks Presumptuous Pens, that dare pretend  
To praise, what God can only Right commend.  
Wherefore, if thou (my Muse) darest not be seen  
In setting forth the Glories of thy QUEEN;  
Ask but Her Virtues, They will not deny  
What Merits do attend her Majesty:  
Since Person, Wit and Beauty, can from none  
Receive such Praise, as from themselves alone:  
Remit those Wonders, to His Royal Breast  
Who reaps their Fruits, and knows to prise them best.  
Thy Trembling Pen must dare but to set forth,  
Such common known Attractives of Her Worth,  
As may in Loyal Hearts this day create,  
Legal Ambition them to imitate.  
That Virtue Faith, on which she built the rest,  
Her Loyal both to God and King expressed.  
In Banishment, 'twas Her Belief in God  
That made Her Kiss the Persecuting Rod:  
Yet in defence of Her Religious Faith,  
She appeased the King's and waved the People's wrath.  

And being with Her God's Decrees content,  
She Calmed a misinformed Parliament,  
On satisfaction now at Meeting bend.   
Her Hope shines in Her Works, and they make known  
Her Care and Zeal for an Immortal Crown;  
Which She from boundless Bounty more expects  
For doing well, than having no Defects;  
For should we say; to Bliss Sh'as no pretence,  
But on the known account of Innocence?  
Where is to God the Nation's Gratitude  
For those Perfections to its Queen allowed?  
Where is our leave those Merits to admire,  
Which scarce can raise in us Her value higher?  

Shall we drown all the Glories of Her Name,  
Her Birth and Courage, Wisdom, Zeal and Fame  
In that dull praise; She never was too Blame?   
'Tis far more Just to say; There is no Good  
With which She has not Graced the Royal Blood:  
For when in Health, Her Majesty is well,  
She does, in what our Hearts can wish, Excel.  

Nor can we justly bid her mend, unless  
We beg She'll for our sakes herself Caress,  
And England, by her Preservation, Bless.   
Yet may She mend that subtle Pious Pride  
Which does with too much Skill her Virtues hid:  
And keeps those Excellencies out of sight,  
Which robs the rising Nation of its Right:  
For 'tis our due to know, and hear, and see  
Th' Examples that still most Attractive be.  
And where be Works more worth our practice seen,  
Than in the Saintlike Carriage of our Queen;  

Which must not be to Vulgar Eyes denied,  
In complaisence to that Religious Pride,  
Which will have God alone be Glorified:   
'Cause Holy History us oft acquaints  
God will be Praised and Honoured in his Saints:  
Then own Great Saint that bounty of thy Lord  
Which gives Thee Grace such Graces to afford;  
As breed in all thy Sex a sacred Strife,  
To regulate their Works by thy Good Life.  
Let briskly Noted Evidence confute  
Them who 'gainst thy Humility dispute,  
Who have seen height by Thee so sweetly checked,  
With wise submission and discreet neglect,  
That thou Great Queen without design or fault,  
Didst 'bove Ambition thy Blessed self exalt;  
And so remained by wondering Eyes admired,  
Till all the Hearts with Love about thee fired,  
And wished the Heat of their Respectful Flames,  
Might warm Thee in the Breast of thy Great James;  
Where thy Good Life will have as strong Defence,  
As on our Souls a Holy Influence.  
Be then less secret in Thy Sacred Life,  
Since th' Realm begins to relish such Blessed Strife  
As renders us Contentious, but to be  
In some sort Good, Great Patroness like Thee.  
Who will Thy Bounty to the People plead,  
Have as much Witness as have been in need.  
To God and his, so Liberal is Thy Love,  
Thou thinkest thy wealth best spent when lodged above  

Patience and Pity in Thy Breast contend  
To put to every Grievance such an end,  
As does the least of Merit still Befriend.   
Then venture to expose those Virtues, which  
Do, in Thy Life, this Happy Land every.  
View, view Their Power and how Divines their Skill,  
What Good they bid, we dare not but fulfil:  
If Thy Devout and Awful Charms appear,  
They make us all the kinds of Evil fear:  
'Tis strange Thou shouldst th' Seditious Charm with Peace,  
Making their Comforts grow, their Griefs Decrease,  
And yet 'mongst greatest Virtues breed contest,  
Which of them all Thy Life has practised best.  
Nor can there ought correct this Pious pother,  
But to let one great Act outdo another:  
Till Immense Bounty undertakes the task  
To give that great Reward Thy Virtues ask:  
Which being nothing less, than Him who gave  
That worth by which Thou dost the world outbrave,  

Let Heaven help Us Mortals to requite,  
Thy Goodness, then possess Thy sole Delight,  
That Jesus and his Mary may Unite.   
FINIS.