A POEM ON THE RIGHT HONOURABLE Sir James SMITH, The Present Lord MAYOR Of the CITY of LONDON.  
NOw may the Loyal once more hope to see  
The CITY Blest, with civil Majestry;  
The People pleased with their Monarch's choice,  
The WHIGS confounded, and the Church rejoice.  
Since he is chosen to possess the CHAIR,  
Who never knew no other honour here:  
Then to discharge those duties, which the just  
Carries untainted with them to the dust,  
In whose exact, and credible demean,  
Much Loyalty and Justice may be seen.  
Justice, that may mistaken Zeal recall,  
And turn the Sword, which pointed to Whitehall,  
Against those Rebels, that would destroy us all.  
Rebels, that would destructively once more,  
Unthrone their King, and Tap our English gore,  
Whose tender consciences digest no Law,  
But what was made to keep their KING in awe,  
Who rather than their cause should perish yet  
Would draw on Heaven, if Heaven would suffer it,  
Proud and ungrateful Wretches, that must be  
By Justice lashed into fidelity.  
Or nothing else their pride can countermand,  
Not Argos Eyes, not yet Briarus hands;  
In these letigious times can scarcely do,  
Without the helir of Heaven and Ceasar too,  
Therefore let Justice then their ACTS regard  
And on this spacious CITY Watch and Ward:  
But since the Scales will now be balanced true,  
And held at once by God our King and you,  
What can we fear when governed we shall be,  
By this thrice great, thrice blessed Triumvirate.   

LONDON, Printed for S. W. 1684.