A POEM Upon Occasion of the Happy DISCOVERY OF THE Late Horrid Plot Against the Life of His most Sacred Majesty.  
O Socii, revocate animos moestumque timorem  
Mittite: forsan & haec olim meminisse juvabit.  
Pygmalion, scelere ante alios immanior omnes.  Virg. Aen. l. 1. 
LONDON, Printed for A. Roper and E. Wilkinson at the Black Boy in Fleetstreet. MDCXCVI.   

TO My Lord DORSET.  

AS when of old in the triumphant Times  
Of Poetry, before the Plague of Rhimes,  
Apollo's Sons the loved Maecenas-chose  
To Patronise the Labours of their Muse:  
Nor were the greatest Wits his only Care,  
The lower Orb had a becoming Share.  
So in this Age, wherever Parnassus stands,  
Your Lordship all the Region commands.  
Her eldest Sons, with flowing Numbers crowned,  
Descend to Earth, and compass you around.  
Nor must You take it ill from younger Wings,  
A stronger flight from Dorset's Favour springs.   

Accept, My Lord, a Youthful, humble Muse,  
That, labour what I can, my Thoughts pursues.  
My busy Mind, with Loyalty possessed,  
Dislikes it close and hid within my breast.  
Nor should the rest, so much obliged to Write,  
Forbear their Pens, when Themes, like this, invite.   

Others, my Lord, with Pegasean Force,  
Are able to attain the laboured Course:  
My following Muse, more humble in her Strains,  
Attempts no Goal upon the crowded Plains.  
Enough for me, whilst others scour the Place,  
And swiftly measure out the bounded Space,  
Not to be last in the contending Race.    

A POEM ON THE DISCOVERY OF THE Late Horrid Plot.  

ONce more, ye Sacred Nine, my Breast inspire,  
And kindly warm it with Poetic Fire:  
No common Theme your Influence invokes,  
No Battle urges, nor Heroic Strokes  
Of Generous War, performed in open Field,  
Where Routed Foes do to the Victor yield:  
A different Cause doth your joint Aids require,  
My Voice engages, and new-strings my Lyre.   

Seven times had the bright Sun fulfilled his Course  
In Zodiack Circle, and had spread his Force  
Amongst the Signs, whose Influences show  
The Fated Course of all Events below:  
A Space that had produced the greatest things,  
Whether in War, or Policy, for Kings.  
Amongst the rest, Two only were Renowned,  
Both had their Turns, and were with Laurel crowned.  
Not equal both in Justice of the War,  
Nor could in Valour boast an equal Share:  
The King of Gaul by wild Ambition fired,  
New Homages and without Lands required.  
Which to obtain, without Pretence of Right,  
Is dangerous, and would demand long Fight.  
Ignoble therefore, but at home Secure,  
For safety doth Neglect of Fame endure:  
Bold of Advice, his Generals He Sends  
To undertake the Toils, which He commends.  
With equal Force the Battle they disdain,  
But draw their numerous Armies on the Plain.  
Mean while their subtle King's creating Mould  
Gains over many a Foe with its seducing Gold.   

Not so Fair Albion's King, the Pride of War,  
The Age's Hero, and the Gauls Despair.  
The God like Prince, swayed by more generous Fates  
Fights for Himself, and his Confederates.  
With eager haste he crosses o'er the Main  
Each Year, and for the Battle stays with Pain.  
He flies wherever his Tents of Canvas roll,  
And to each armed Troop imparts his Soul.  
Then draws them out in well-disposed Array,  
And very hardly from the Foe can stay.   

Thus when two Sovereign Bees collect their Powers,  
(For theirs a perfect Emblem is to ours)  
The Rival Kings their winged Battalions lead,  
And each prepares his own with cheerful Speed:  
Draws all his Squadrons up in Rank and File,  
And with Impatience waits the coming Broil.   

The Signal given, to dreadful Work they fall,  
Shouts, Drums, and Trumpets mix with Cannon-Ball:  
Swords, Spears, and Battleaxes, prove their Force,  
And Death stalks up and down without Remorse.  
Each minute is she seen, a rapid Flood,  
That overwhelms at once whole Ranks in Blood.  
Fiercely she moves, and with a horrid Sound  
Deals Ruin and Confusion all around.  
The War grows hot, and like a mighty Sea,  
Sways this way now, compelled by the Decree  
Of the strong Tide, to combat with the Wind,  
Which now prevailing, drives it back behind.  
Alternately they seem to fall and rise,  
Both tugging hard for the Victorious Prize:  
So fares the War. William undaunted stands,  
And with fierce Looks dispenses his Commands.  
Then animates his Men, and in their Sight,  
Plunges amidst the Tumult of the Fight.  
There needs no more: his great Example made  
Such Havoc, nor was first his Fury laid,  
Till the proud Foe, champing his Teeth, gave ground,  
Whilst quick Retreat the hasty Trumpets sound.   

Continual War had been the practised Art,  
And William's Labours shone in every part:  
Witness Hibernian Fields, and rapid Flood  
Of Boyne, overflowing with a Tide of Blood:  
Of Human Blood, whilst all its Banks were spread  
With Carcases of the Promiscuous Dead.  
Here the bold Monarch venturing too far,  
A Bullet glancing did his Shoulder soar.  
Nor did He leave Engaging on the Strand,  
Till hasty Conquest had restored the Land.   

As when two Clouds encounter in the Air,  
And grappling with the horrid Shocks of War,  
Burst out at last, and down the Thunder falls  
With glittering Lightning, quick as th' Optic Balls:  
With such a Speed our Hero did advance,  
And swiftly drove away the Force of France.   

Nor stops he there, whose Courage more than Power  
Gains but a Crown, that was his own before.  
To Flanders next he makes with full-blown Sails,  
And Neptune wafts him with auspicious Gales.  
Supplied with eager Aids his Force he leads,  
No Danger shakes him, nor no Chance impedes.  
All Arts of War he doth with Honour know,  
Neglects no time, but studies all the Foe.  
To each Ally convenient Succour sends,  
And Universal Liberty defends.   

Now had inconstant Luna changed her Face  
Above a score of times, and borrowed Grace  
And radiant Brightness from Apollo's Beams,  
To cheer the darksome Night with lucid Streams:  
Since Ludovicus, in his Court secure,  
Herd much of Arms, of Conquest now no more.  
He heard how William had opposed his Force,  
Stopped his Advances, and disturbed his Course.  
How Namur's Walls, invincible in Thought,  
Were by his Arms to quick Subversion brought:  
Whilst all his Troops, embattled in Array,  
Stood gazing on, and calmly lost the Day.  
Fortune he saw declining from his Side,  
Still changeable, and moving with the Tide.  
He knew the Rule, so proper to each State,  
Not to proceed is a Regressive Fate.  
He saw his People Poor, and in Distress,  
And daily found his Reputation less.  
His Fleet divided, and his Ships confined  
Within their several Ports; no Gale of Wind  
Provoked the lazy Sails, but calm and mild,  
Seemed to have lost the Use of being filled.   

All went amiss, Ambition found no Hopes  
Of Universal Empire:  
She saw an Adversary Prince arise  
Above a common Height, Just, Valiant, Wise:  
One, whom old Bards Prophetically sung,  
And raised his future Fame with bold Cumaean Tongue:  
His many Laurels were pronounced of old,  
His Godlike Virtues, and 
* One of his Ancestors wore the Imperial Crown.  Imperial Mould.  
Truth, Justice, Mildness, Wisdom, are his Guides:  
These form his Valour, which in War decides.  
The only Potent Prince, that could withstand  
The Force of France, and limit its Command.  
His People generally loved his Sway,  
And without Force consented to obey.  
They knew his Virtues, and his Princely Mind,  
His native Disposition to be kind,  
His dangerous Attempt to save their Laws,  
His daily Fight to defend their Cause:  
Great Proofs of Kindness, and Heroic Worth,  
When Kings in Person lead their Armies forth!   

The English are a freeborn, generous Race,  
That love Dominion, nor its Rules deface,  
Or break, when such within the Compass be  
Of their old constituted Liberty.  
In War and Peace the soundest Maxims hold,  
Wise in Advice, in Execution bold.  
In Valour far above their Neighbours famed,  
And great Assertors of their Freedoms Named.  
All lawful Taxes without Murmur pay,  
And every just decree of State obey.  
A Kingly Government the Nation loves,  
Their Monarchy all fear of Chains removes.  
Prerogative and Liberty are mixed  
So equally, and so securely fixed,  
So nicely interwoven in one piece,  
That neither justly can his Bounds increase.  
O happy State of Albion, that brings,  
Such Benefits to People, and to Kings!   

All this Ambition knew, and straight agreed  
To raise her drooping Hopes, the King must bleed.  
The single Remedy that could be found  
To prop her broken Fame, and to regain her Ground.  
Nor only so; the Perspective had made  
A fairer Sight, new Lands of Conquest laid.  
Straight she imparts what she had found in view  
To all her Court, who great rejoicings show,  
And murmur their Applause to kill the Foe.   

With utmost haste her Ministers she sent,  
Prepared to excecute the dire Intent:  
Revenge and Murder, with their meager Train  
Of Followers, Pride, Uproar, and Disdain,  
Madness, Confusion, and a horrid Crowd  
Of Native Plagues were to infest the Road,  
Whilst the good King, secure within his Coach,  
Calm in his Thoughts, and fearing no Reproach;  
Thoughtless of Arms to labour his Defence,  
(The Good are safe in their own Innocence)  
Was with a fierce, unlimited Disdain,  
Without Remorse, to be attacked and Slain:  
Had not Almighty Providence maintained  
Its own best Cause, and their wild Hands restrained.   

Barbarous Men! with what an open Gild  
And daring, they proceeded to have spilt  
Imperial Blood, which we so dearly hold,  
That every Drop is worth a Mine of Gold?  
And justly too, since there collected lies  
The Joy of Europe; and its Miseries  
When once He fails, spring from the weighty loss:  
Great reason then has Europe to rejoice,  
And sing his Safety with exalted Voice.   

Wondrous Deliverance! nor could it be  
Less than a Miracle for Liberty.  
Almighty Power with influencing hand  
Was felt by some of the Conspiring Band.  
It's Efficacy grew, till by degrees  
It formed them wiser, and unclosed their Eyes.  
They look upon their Act with horrid Sense,  
And now betake themselves to Penitence.  
Without Reluctance to the King they go  
And give him Caution of the Lurking Foe.  
Declare the Stratagem of Murder loud,  
The Combination of a numerous Crowd,  
Engaged by Subtle Ludovicus Art,  
In order to effect th' Invading part:  
Thus we had seen all Plagues of War increase,  
And Desolation brought to Lands of Peace:   

So the famed Powder-Plot, (whose black Intent  
Was to involve the King and Parliament  
At once in Ruins, and overturn the State,  
By bringing Popery to work its Fate)  
By some Conspiring Hand, tho' much concealed  
In Mystic Words, was happily revealed.   
FINIS.