A Pastoral, ON THE SUCCESS AND CORONATION OF WILLIAM and MARY, KING and QUEEN OF ENGLAND.  

A te principium, tibi desinit: accipe jussis  
Carmina coepta tuis. atque hanc. sine tempora circum  
Inter victrices hederam tibi serpere lauros.   
licenced, According to Order. April 13th 1689.  
LONDON, Printed for Randal tailor, 1689.   

A PASTORAL; ON THE CORONATION OF WILLIAM and MARY, King and Queen of ENGLAND.  
Daphnis and Damon.  Dap. 

THE Groves are green, and all the Meadows gay,  
The Springs run pure and Lambs around them play;  
Sad nightingales have changed their mournful strain,  
And amorous Turtles now no more complain.  
On every Bush melodious Throstles sing,  
And chirping Swallows tell the ripened Spring.  
Nature's all gay. Come to you murmuring shade,  
Phillis our Flocks will feed, and water them when fed.   Da. 

Oft I of late, to moderate thy care,  
Have thee and thy soft Pipe invited there:  
But all in vain thy sorrows were preferred:  
We, nor thy Pipe, or Flocks were thy regard.  
Yet tell me whence this mighty change, and why  
The Sun yet low, we to the Beaches fly?   Dap. 

To sing, dear Youth, for oh such Songs I have  
Might melt the Young and mollify the Grave.   Da. 

And can there Youth? And can there truly be  
Such, and a cause to merit so much Joy?  
When Celia died, how did the God repined;  
farewell oh Youth he cried, no longer mine.  
Thy Tuneful Songs were powerful as my Bow,  
And this shall fade fince those are faded now.  
But sooner shall the Poles and Nature fall:  
Thy Songs will back the heartless God recall.   Dap. 

So may the Ivy with the Vine compare;  
So with the Summers Sun a falling Star.  
When the harsh Bittorns with the Woods agree,  
Then you, and only then shall yield to me.   Da. 

But see the covert and the shady Boughs;  
Pleasant to tempt the Lover to Repose.  
Here, while the Birds above forget their own,  
Teach them dear Youth, teach them a sweeter Song.   Dap. 

Ye Groves! For ye beholded the reverend Maid,  
When shaking with the powerful God, she said,  
farewell to Tyranny and hated sin;  
farewell the Golden Age appears again.  
A God there is that takes his Earthly round,  
With Valour and Immortal Glory crowned:  
doomed by the powers, for at his Birth they cried,  
Live, and with us eternally divide,  
The Earth; for much it wants thy purging hand  
From rigour, free and arbitrary Command.  
Settle much injured virtue on its Throne  
But little need we urge a Right thy own:  
Go then be haypy, conquer, and be feared,  
Till Crowns and Beauty be thy proud Reward.  
Teach the dull World how we Celestials reign,  
And fix the powerful Justice they disdain.  
Then Pious Swains shall bless thy happy day,  
And at thy Altars ▪ Sacred Homage pay;  
Till we all weary of thy absence grown,  
There fix thy Star, and here thy happier Throne.  
They said, and all the glorious doom approved;  
Nor could they envy where so much they loved.  
The Royal Youth his early Race began,  
And set maturer Courts the road to famed.  
Declining Nations by his matchless Arms,  
Taught how to rise, secured their Foes alarms.  
Under his Banners they successful strayed,  
And forced the Homage which before they paid.  
Thence suppliant Monarchs to his refuge flew,  
And made his glory their Asylum too.  
His powerful smiles with Towns and Beauty bought  
Refreshed the laurels they in vain had sought,  
And he by Peace subdued as when he fought.   

And now blessed Age to mature wonder come,  
He brings his Everlasting Peace along.  
The powerful Gods still on his Navy wait,  
And bless, for his attempts like theirs are great.   

I see.— I see the Fleet in all its pride;  
Neptune in smiles; the Gods are proud to guide,  
And the charmed Syrens lull the eager Tide.  
What Rebel power dares charge Divine Decree?  
None; for ene here the varying Winds agree:  
Yes, they agree; they guide him safe to shore;  
And on his Foes return their ▪ guarding power.  
So at the mighty Prophets word the Seas  
Let the dear choice of their Wise Maker pass;  
But when the Tyrant with his Host pursued  
They fell the Victims of the injured flood:  
And now— and now see every dangers past,  
With lucky palms the crowding people hast.  
echoes eternal as their wonders prove,  
And all extol his Glory and his Love.  
As when of old the Warring God return'd  
Triumphant o'er the powers his Glory scorned:  
Ten happy Nations of his Love secure  
Met him, and landing, kist the Royal shore.  
Contending Envy from his Lightning fled  
To all effects, defenceless lies and dead:  
While busy Ambition to the Altar goes,  
And doubly forms the trophies of his Brows.   

Such was the Song; so full of power Divine,  
On Albious Rocks the Maid was heard to sing.  
Young Strephon near was tending of his Herd,  
A Royal Youth with Wit and sense prepared;  
He, and two Stock-Doves was the humble hire,  
Learnt them for us, and all the World t'admire.  
Him with a Lamb and Ewe I freely feed,  
To teach the numbers and to fit the reed.  
Nor was the mighty pleasure voided of pains,  
I drudg'd to comprehend the Wit and sense.   Da. 

Nor was the price or pains to be condemned,  
Such Songs if valued might whole Flocks command.   

Yet if an humbler strain may touch your Ear,  
Such as the Swains and I was proud to hear:  
When by you dodded Oak our Flocks we fed,  
And tried our Reeds beneath the grateful shade.  
A happy hour it was: The Streams and Trees,  
And warbling echoes to prolong the bliss,  
softened the Minutes and enlarged the joys.   Dap. 

See where thy Flocks already cease to rove,  
And come to listen to the Songs they love.  
Begin and soon their expectations free:  
Poor hearts if long delayed they pine away.   Da. 

Come all ye Nymphs, ye grateful and ye fair;  
For Pan and his Solemnities prepare  
Pan to our fading Fields at last is come,  
And see the Trees, and see the Bushes bloom.  
The lovely flowers full of their vigorous sweet,  
Kiss as he walks along his gracious Feet.  
With fresher charms here they invite and there,  
And lose no Beauty for they rise more fair.  
Not Showers to thirsty Lands, not Leaves to Trees;  
To Flocks the Swain less necessary is,  
Than Pan to us, and all that we possess.   

Come all ye Nymphs, ye graceful and ye fair,  
For Pan and his Solemnities prepare.   

Trace tender Beauties, trace the Fruitful Grove,  
And cull the flowers and Greens; assiduous prove  
In this, as in your softer hours of Love.  
Let no fair lily, Amaranth or Rose  
Escape the Heroes or the Lovers Brows.  
Mix all their dearest sweets and loveliest greens,  
The noble labour might reward your pains:  
Yet when did virtue unregarded go?  
virtue to Pan's what Beauty is to you.   

Come then ye tender Maids, ye good and fair.  
For Pan and his Solemnities prepare.   

What other toils to other power is due?  
What other God can we be proud to know?  
Kind Fate for us assigned the lot to Pan,  
None fitter or more worthy was to Reign,  
To guard the Country, or instruct the Swain  
Now ravenous Wolves so long and justly feared,  
Shall never dare to break upon the Herd.  
The Herd and Herdsman too shall be so free,  
The Air itself shall want their liberty.   

Go then ye tender Maids, ye good and fair,  
For Pan and hi● Solemnities prepare.   

Go then ye tender Flocks securely rove,  
And undisturbed possess the Fields you love.  
Ye Nymphs securely with your Shepherds play  
In shades for ever green for ever gay:  
No Birds of prey shall slain the Sacred Boughs,  
There Doves and Turtles only shall repose.  
There while the Larks and Linnets round you sing,  
And all appears an Everlasting Spring:  
Let Pan Tune every Heart and every Tongue,  
Make Pan the lasting subject of your Song.   

Hast then ye Virgins hast ye good and fair,  
Pan and the great Solemnity is near.   

How sweet how graceful walks the lovely God,  
Such Jove was when he left his own abode.  
So Mars and Phoebus in the humble Plain  
prepared their Glories to a greater famed.  
Nor sleights great Pan the Garland or the wreathe,  
Nor sleights the Praises which the Shepherds breath.  
Greater then Cedars, or the towering Pine,  
Humble as Brambles, pleasant as the Vine.  
To high and low he nobly does dispense;  
The high and low divide his influence.   

Hast hast ye Virgins come ye good and fair,  
For Pan and his Solemnities are here.   

Ah Glorious Soul! How did we greatly long  
To see thy Eyes, and bless thy charming Tongue?   

Thee, Mighty Prince we often wished, for Thee  
We taught our Infants ere they spake to Pray.  
For Thee the soft, for Thee the tenderest pled,  
But Thy Orania does her Sex exceed.  
Sweet as the Plum, and luscious as the Pear;  
What Man, what Deity does not despair?  
Softer than wool, and smooth as falling Snow,  
Fit Pan and only fit to share with You.   

Hast all ye Virgins, hast ye good and fair,  
Hast, as ye hope for Blessings from the Pair.   

See where the Olives and the laurels shine,  
In plaited Wreaths composed by Hands Divine:  
Not Phillis shows such wonder in her Art,  
And yet with Phillis few may claim desert.  
But on those Brows what will not fair appear?  
The Sun behind the very Clouds are fair.  
See where the lasting Greens their Pride renew,  
Sure on their Soil with less content they grew:  
Nor can the Violet or early Rose,  
Add one fresh Beauty to Oranias Brows.  
The Violet and Rose with shane behold  
Their Beauties by the flattering World extolled.  
Sweetness in Triumph sits upon her Eyes,  
And the slain God with happy pleasure dyes.   

Go all ye Virgins, go ye good and fair,  
Dress all your Minds, dress all your Eyes by Her.   

See too the train of Beauties that pursue,  
Beauties indeed, for She Creates them so.  
So when the Queen of Night in State appears,  
'Tis with th' attendance of Ten Thousand Stars.  
Go heavenly Pair, go then, and long enjoy  
( Long as our wishes) Happy Majesty.  
For you the Nymph, for you the Shepherd preys,  
All that can more your glorious Fortune bless:  
May heaven( if heaven to You can further give  
Worthy of us to beg or You to have.)  
So largely shower on each extended Brow,  
They must receive again to be like you.   

Go happy Maids, go all that's good and fair,  
And bless your Fortunes in the Godlike Pair.   

Wander my Flocks and like my Fancy rove,  
Vainly your Master you, or you your Master love.  
Nothing is charming now, no nothings sweet,  
But what may me and more my Pipe delight.  
inferior numbers I no more may use,  
None would the Crab before the Wilding choose:  
〈◇〉 Silver Currants and the crystal Spring,  
Oft ye my Flocks have left the troubled stream.  
Go then my Flocks and court your own despair,  
Ye have no more a Lord or Master here.   Dap. 

Sweet is thy Voice, and charming as thy theme,  
Scarce can thy Flocks thy resolution blame.  
They rather choose the Fate thy Verse has doomed,  
Glad to adorn an Altar so renowned.  
But see the kindly Rain Divinely falls,  
And luscious due the lazy Summer calls.  
Nor shall the Storms or Tempests threaten more,  
By Love and Union we●l our Peace secure.   
FINIS.