AN Heroic Poem ON THE CORONATION OF THE High and Mighty MONARCH, JAMES II.  
King of England, etc.  
— Caesar  
Imperium Oceano, Famam qui terminet Astris.  
By E. SETTLE.  
LONDON, Printed by J. L. for Benjamin Needham, in Ducklane, MDCLXXXV.   

AN Heroic Poem ON THE CORONATION OF King JAMES II.  

LET our joined shouts their solemn Duties pay,  
For 'tis Britannia's sacred Nuptial Day.  
The Royal Bridegroom puts the Diadem on,  
And Weds a Kingdom when he wears a Crown:  
Whilst our loud transports, the great Rites Proclaim;  
Our Bonfires all for Bridal Torches Flame:  
And all the joys our ravished Souls inspire,  
Make but one universal Hymeneal Quire.  
Nor are Three Kingdoms all th' Attendant Train,  
T' inaugurate, Great JAMES, thy prosperous Reign:  
For see Blessed CHARLES his Guardian Angels there,  
A Godlike Rival Host, the Ceremony share.  
Their Tutelary Powers surround Thy Throne,  
And His Disbanded Wonders list Thy own:  
Whose ushering Glories in the Front appear;  
They lead the Van, and we bring up the Rear.  
Hail, blest Britannia! happiest Envied Bride!  
Behold the great Imperial Gordian Tied.  
Honour and Triumph, all Divinely bright,  
Unbounded Charms, Ineffable Delight,  
All in one sum to Thy vast Portion fall;  
One Coronation Vow has Sealed them all.  
Vows of that Binding Force, that Wondrous Power,  
Shall make soft Peace thy Everlasting Dower,  
And all Heaven's choicest Darling Blessings shower.  
He vows and makes it Fate, (Great JAMES, for Thee,  
To plight Thy Faith, for God is to Decree.)  
Act but THY Part, Britannia, keep but Thou  
Thy Wishes chaste, and thy sworn Duty True,  
And enjoy all that tenderest Love can grant,  
And hold thy Faithful Lord in Bonds of Adamant.  
Revel in all the Scenes of endless Bliss,  
The Sweets of an unbounded Paradise.  
No flaming Sword shall bar thy Eden Gate,  
If no false Serpent tempt thee to thy Fate,  
Nor thy own Fall does thy own Ruin date.   

No, fair Britannia; prise thy Wealth but well,  
And make Thy Treasure Inexhaustible.  
To give Thee Bliss Divine, from JAMES his Throne,  
Is the Great Work of Heaven's kind Hand alone;  
To make that Bliss Immortal, is Thy own.  
Safety and Peace shall in his Sunbeams play,  
Whilst He's the God of our long Halcyon-Day.  
Great JAMES, reserved by Providence to outdo  
His Pious Sire, and Glorious Brother too;  
Beneath the Footstool of his Throne shall tread,  
Our long Enchanting Fatal Sorc'ry dead.  
His single Sceptre shall that Period gain,  
Unreached by all his great Fore-father's Reign.  
The Painted Dangers and Fictitious Fears,  
The Tub-Cant of almost a Hundred Years:  
That long portentous Phantom hushed and stilled,  
The dreaded Lion, even with Sampson's Honey filled,  
All this the great pacific JAMES shall do;  
All this our whole converted World shall view,  
Bless the great Author, and th' Auspicious Day,  
And blush their Follies and their Shame away.  
Imposture now with all her rancorous Rage,  
For ever hist from off the British Stage,  
Reason and Truth shall our sealed Eyes unblind,  
Not one poor Titus-Proselyte left behind.  
So when th' Almighty Hebrew Child was Born,  
Immaculate TRUTH began her glorious Morn:  
Whilst the old Fiend, the Pagan Oracle,  
Was silenced down to his own Native Hell.  
Our World, Great Reconciling JAMES, in Thee  
And thy blessed Reign, shall equal Glories see:  
The Croaking Imp of Jealousy and Fear,  
That more than Hellborn Popular Prince o'th' Air,  
Shall all his false Prophetic Dreams give o'er,  
And his Infernal Trump shall sound no more:  
Whilst FAITH unshaken, Mercy infinite,  
Justice immovable, unbyast Right,  
Honour untainted, all the dazzling Train  
Of Min'istring Graces to his wondrous Reign,  
Shall with that Bright stupendious Glory come,  
Shall strike the Bold Fanatic Devil dumb.   

'Mongst the Triumphant Crowds that Celebrate  
This great Days splendid Coronation State;  
His shining Pomp, and the more radiant Gems,  
His Virtues, that outshine his Diadems;  
Th' Harmonious Notes reach even Heaven's Echo'ing Towers,  
Welcomed by all Great JAMES his Kindred Powers.  
The very Rubies in the MARTYR's Crown,  
Even a new glittering sparkling Fire put on:  
Whilst His Transported Great Immortal SIRE,  
Such vast Paternal Ecstasies inspire;  
Till Foremost in the whole Seraphic Choir,  
He leads a solemn Hallelujah round,  
To Consecrate his bestloved Offspring Crowned;  
A Son whose Hand shall crush the Serpent's Head,  
That stung the Royal Murdered Father Dead.  
With no less Joy his Heaven-crowned BROTHER sings,  
The Best of Subjects, now the Best of Kings.  
His Matchless Loyalty, Ever-burning Love,  
BROTHER and FRIEND, still sacred Names above,  
With that Ascending Fragrant Incense fly,  
As reach his Hallowed Throne, and perfume all the Sky.  
Well He remembers in that fatal Hour,  
When weeping England saw her CHARLES no more,  
How the Great JAMES like Great Elisha stood,  
With Hands uplift, and Sorrows streaming Flood!  
With rended Garments, and a trickling shower  
Of melting Tears, he wailed the parting Hour!  
Till from above behold the opening Sky,  
The Fiery Steeds and Flaming Chariot fly:  
Here a whole bursting, drowning, Deluge fell,  
Such were the Eyes that took their last Farewell.  
In vain he cries, alas! in vain he calls;  
Grasping the Wondrous Mantle as it falls;  
With Divine Transmigrating Glories fired;  
Filled with the Mounting God, with the WHOLE CHARLES inspired  
This he remembers, and for Joys yet more  
Sublime, He turns Heavens sacred Volume o'er;  
Reads what the Book of Fate for JAMES writes down,  
And Blesses, as he Reads, the Head, and Crown;  
Whilst his own Race, like the great Moses, run,  
Union and Concord but by CHARLES begun;  
That Godlike Joshuah fills his Royal Seat,  
Who his unfinished Wonders shall complete.   

Yet not the spacious Empyraean Round,  
Could this prodigious Days vast Glory bound;  
Even Envies Court the Loud-tongued Raptures shake,  
Descending down to the Infernal Lake.  
For heavens Best Joys, Hell's bitterest Torments make.   

Amongst the Mighty Potentates below,  
Alarmed, and staggered, at this dreadful Blow;  
The Noble Peer felt the most kill Wound,  
Struck even with new Damnation at the sound:  
His hissing Snakes all their whole Poisons pour,  
Rage, Anguish, Gall, Death, Horror, Fury; more  
Than his Tap run in fifty Years before.  
Amongst the gnashing Teeth, and wring Hands,  
Lo! Burnet's great Reforming Pupil stands:  
Whilst the Great JAMES his Coronation Fame,  
With that uncommon Blast of Thunder came;  
His burning Veins with hotter Torments glow  
Than at the Pangs of Ketches treble blow.  
Nay, even the half-relenting Essex there,  
Some sounds of Discontent could scarce forbear:  
The murmuring Accents he began to try;  
But his Throat gaped, and half the Breath went by.   

The universal grief went round so fast,  
As to a solemn General Mourning past.  
Even Sabler Shades hung round the dismal Cell;  
(If possible to add new Blacks to Hell.)  
But the most hideous Figure of Despair,  
Was to behold a withered Beldame there;  
The GOOD OLD CAUSE, the dying Sidney's Saint,  
And Proserpine's long Bosom Confident.  
Whilst for a Garb, to suit her doleful Tears,  
All hanging o'er her gloomy Brow, she wears  
(Grief's darkest Dress, her ever deepest Cloud,)  
A tattered Veil, made of Noll's Tyburn shroud.  
In her Right Hand an old scrawled List she held,  
With full-mouthed, keenest Execrations filled,  
To pay off Pagan Popery's old Scores,  
Called all a thousand Scarlet Babel Whores;  
Because at Worcester the Apostate fell,  
And Commenced Antichrist at Boscobel.  
Over her Head, for this Days Sorrows fit,  
Was the unfortunate EXCLUSION Writ:  
Large the Memorial Characters were made;  
For 'twas Exclusion HELL's Foundation laid.  
GOD to Exclude was Lucifer's first Gild,  
For which sole Crime this Burning Jail was built.  
Damnation formed to pay Exclusion's Hire;  
Exclusion the first spark that ligh't Hell Fire.   

Thus Seated and Arrayed, her Flesh all rent,  
She gave her most ungoverned Wail vent.  
With louder Howls than even her Funeral cries,  
At her dear Ignoramus Obsequies.  
Her wild Distractions with full Torrents flow,  
And all Ideas crowd to heighten Woe.  
The very Fire does but new Torments make,  
For the remembered cursed Newmarket sake:  
And every Brimstone Flash calls a new Groan,  
For the defeated Rumbold Musquetoon.  
Amidst each bellowing Pang, and crying Yell,  
As the salt Brine down her haged Furrows fell;  
In vain, with a torn Handkerchief, once dipped  
In Royal Gore, her Blooshot Eyes she wiped.   

But leave, my wearied Muse, this humble Flight:  
From these Republic Owls, and Bats of Night,  
Visit the Region of Great JAMES once more,  
Where the proud Royal mounting Eagles soar.   

But for new Beams of brighter Glories still,  
Not JOVE himself the Mighty Scene can fill.  
Behold the Great Imperial JUNO Crowned,  
With all her beauteous Constellation round:  
The Sovereign Goddess so divinely Fair,  
That even adoring Angels worship there:  
Such Myriads of Attracting Graces Reign,  
As half unpeople Heaven to fill Her Train.  
There MONARCHY, with all her powerful Darts  
Sits Crowned to captive Souls; here BEAUTY, Hearts.  
To make an universal Triumph shine,  
It is but just their equal Powers should join,  
The Great and Fair in One Imperial Robe:  
CAESAR and BEAUTY ever share the Globe;  
Between 'em both their Conquering Lightning hurled,  
The equal Masters of the vanquished World.   

This Ravishing Scene all Loyal dazzled Eyes  
Shall smiling see, whilst bursting Treason dies;  
Whilst our poor skulking little wou'd-be-King  
Dwindles to that lost despicable thing,  
As shall even Dangerfield with Envy view,  
The Princelier Perkin Warbeck of the Two.   
FINIS.