AN EPISTLE TO Charles Montague Esq ON His MAJESTY's VOYAGE TO HOLLAND.  
BY Mr. GEORGE STEPNEY.  
LICENCED jan. 31. 1690/1 1  
I. Fraser.  
LONDON, Printed for Francis Saunders, at the Blue Anchor in the Lower Walk of the New Exchange, 1691.   

AN EPISTLE TO Charles Montague Esq.  

SIR,  
SInce you oft invite me to renew  
An Art I've either lost, or never knew,  
Pleased my past follies kindly to commend,  
And fond lose the Critic in the Friend;  
Tho' my warm Youth untimely be decayed,  
From Grave to Dull insensibly betrayed,  
I'll contradict the Humour of the Times,  
(Inclined to business, and averse to Rhimes)  
And to obey the Man I love, in spite  
Of the World's Genius, and my own, I'll write.   

But think not that I vainly do aspire  
To Rival what I only would Admire,  
The Heat and Beauty of your manly thought,  
And Force like that with which your Hero fought.  
Like Sampson's Riddle is that powerful Song,  
Sweet as the Honey, as the Lion strong;  
The Colours there so artfully are laid,  
They fear no Lustre, and they want no Shade,  
But shall of writing a just model give,  
While Boyne shall flow, and William's Glory live.   

Yet since his every Act may well infuse  
Some happy Rapture in the humblest Muse,  
Tho' mine despairs to reach the wondrous height,  
She prunes her pinnions, eager of the flight;  
The King's the Theme, and I've a Subject's Right:  
When William's Deeds, and rescued Europe's Joy  
Do every Tongue and every Pen employ,  
'Tis to think Treason sure to show no Zeal,  
And not to Write is almost to Rebel.   

Let Albion then forgive her Meanest Son,  
Who would continue what her Best begun;  
Who, leaving Conquests and the Pomp of War,  
Would sing the pious King's divided Care;  
How eagerly he flew when Europe's Fate  
Did for the Seeds of future Actions wait;  
And how two Nations did with Transport boast  
Which was beloved, and loved the Victor most:  
How joyful Belgia gratefully prepared  
Trophies and Vows for her returning Lord;  
How the Fair Isle with rival passion strove,  
How by her Sorrow she expressed her Love,  
When He withdrew from what his Arm had freed,  
And how she blessed his way, yet sighed, and said,   

Is it decreed my Hero ne'er shall rest,  
Ne'er be of me, and I of him possessed?  
Scarce had I met his Virtue with my Throne,  
(By Right, by Merit, and by Arms his own)  
But Ireland's freedom and the Wars alarms  
Called him from me and his Maria's Charms.  
O generous Prince! too prodigally kind,  
Can the diffusive Goodness of your Mind  
Be in no bounds, but of the World, confined?  
Should sinking Nations summon You away,  
Maria's Love might justify Your stay.  
Imperfectly the many Vows are paid,  
Which for your Safety to the Gods were made,  
While, on the Boyne, they laboured to outdo  
Your Zeal for Albion by their Care for You;  
When too impatient of a glorious Ease,  
You tempt new Dangers on the Winter-Seas.  
The Belgic State has rested long secure  
Within the Circle of thy Guardian Power;  
Reared by thy care that noble Lion, grown  
Mature in strength, can range the Woods Alone:  
When to my Arms they did the Prince resign,  
I blessed the Change, and thought Him wholly mine;  
Conceived Long hopes I jointly should obey  
His stronger, and Maria's gentle Sway,  
He fierce as Thunder, she as Lightning bright;  
One my Defence, and t'other my Delight.  
Yet go— where Honour calls the Hero, go;  
Nor let your eyes behold how mine do flow;  
Go, meet your Country's joy, your virtue's due,  
Receive their Triumphs, and prepare for new;  
Enlarge my Empire, and let France afford  
The next large Harvest to thy prosperous Sword;  
Again in Crecy let my Arms be reared,  
And o'er the Continent Britannia feared;  
While under Mary's tutelary Care,  
Far from the Danger, or the Noise of War,  
In honourable Pleasure I possess  
The Spoils of Conquest, and the Charms of Peace.  
As the Great Lamp by which the Globe is blest,  
Constant in toil, and ignorant of rest,  
Through different Regions does his Course pursue,  
And leaves one World but to revive a new;  
While, by a pleasing Change, the Queen of Night  
Relieves his Lustre with a milder Light:  
So when your Beams do distant Nations cheer,  
The Partner of your Crown shall mount the Sphere,  
Able Alone my Empire to sustain,  
And carry on the Glories of thy Reign—  
But why has fate maliciously decreed,  
That greatest blessings must by turns succeed?   

Here she relented, and would urge his stay  
By all that fondness and that grief could say;  
But soon did her presaging thoughts employ  
On Scenes of Triumphs and returning Joy:  
Thus, like the Tide, while her unconstant breast  
Was swelled with Rapture, by Despair depressed,  
Fate called; The Hero must his way pursue,  
And her cries lessened as the shore withdrew.   

The Winds were silent, and the Gentle Main  
Bore an Auspicious Omen of his Reign,  
When Neptune, owning whom those Seas obey,  
Nodded, and bad the cheerful Triton's play.  
Each chose a different Subject for their Lays,  
But Orange was the Burden of their Praise:  
Some in their strains up to the Fountain run,  
From whence this stream of Virtue first begun;  
Others chose Heroes of a later date,  
And sung the 
* William.  Founder of the neighbouring State,  
How daringly he Tyranny withstood,  
And sealed his Country's freedom with his Blood.  
Then to the two illustrious 
† Maurice and Henry.  Brethren came,  
The glorious Rivals of their Father's Fame:  
And to the 
‖ William.  Youth, whose pregnant hopes outran  
The steps of Time, and early showed the Man,  
For whose Alliance Monarches did contend,  
And gave a Daughter to secure a Friend.  
But as, by Nature's Law, the Phoenix dies,  
That from its Urn a Nobler Bird may rise,  
So fate ordained the Parent soon should set  
To make the Glories of 
* His present Majesty  his Heir complete.   

At William's Name each filled his vocal shell,  
And on the happy Sound rejoiced to dwell;  
Some sung his Birth, and how discerning Fate  
Saved Infant Virtue against powerful hate,  
Of poisonous Snakes by young Alcides quelled,  
And Palms that spread the more, the more withheld.  
Some sung Seneffe, and early Wonders done  
By the bold Youth, Himself a War Alone;  
And how his firmer Courage did oppose  
His Country's foreign and intestine Foes,  
The Lion He who held their Arrows close.  
Others sung Perseus, and the injured Maid,  
Redeemed by the winged Warrior's timely Aid;  
Or in mysterious Numbers did unfold  
Sad modern truths wrapped up in tales of old,  
How Saturn,, flushed with Arbitrary Power,  
Designed his Lawful Issue to devour,  
But jove, (reserved for better fate) withstood  
The black Contrivance of the doting God;  
With Arms he came, His guilty Father fled,  
('Twas Italy secured his frighted Head)  
And by his Flight resigned his empty Throne  
And Triple Empire to his Worthier Son.   

Then in one note their Artful force they join,  
Eager to reach the Victor and the Boyne;  
How on the wondering Bank the Hero stood,  
Lavishly bold and desperately Good;  
Till fate, designing to convince the Brave  
That they can dare no more than Heaven can save,  
Let Death approach, and yet withheld the sting,  
Wounded the Man, distinguishing the King.   

They had enlarged out found the strain too strong,  
And in soft notes allayed the bolder Song:  
Flow, gentle Boyne, (they cried) and round thy Bed  
For ever may victorious Wreaths be spread;  
No more may Travellers desire to know  
Where Simois and Granicus did flow;  
Nor Rubicon, a poor forgotten Stream,  
Be, or the Soldiers rant, or Poet's theme;  
All Waters shall unite their Fame in Thee,  
Lost in thy Waves as those are in the Sea.   

They breathed afresh, unwilling to give over;  
And begged thick mists long to conceal the shore;  
Smooth was the Liquid Plain; the sleeping Wind,  
More to the Sea, than to its Master, kind,  
Detained a Treasure, which we value more  
Than All the Deep e'er hid, or Waters bore.  
But He, with a Superior Genius born,  
Treats Chance with Insolence, and Death with Scorn,  
Darkness and Ice in vain obstruct his way,  
Holland is near, and Nature must obey;  
Charged with our hopes the Boat Securely rode,  
For Caesar and His Fortune were the Load.   

With eager transport Belgia met her Son,  
Yet trembling for the danger He had run;  
Till, certain of her Joy, she bowed her Head,  
Confessed her Lord, blest his return, and said,   

If Passion by long Absence does improve,  
And makes that Rapture which before was Love,  
Think on my old, my intermitted bliss,  
And by my former pleasure measure this;  
Not by these feeble Pillars which I raise,  
Unequal to sustain the Heroe's praise,  
Too faint the Colours, and too mean the Art  
To represent Your Glories, or my Heart:  
These humble Emblems are designed to show,  
Not how we would Reward, but what we Owe.  
Hear from your Childhood take a short review  
How Holland's happiness advanced with you;  
How her stout Vessel did in Triumph ride,  
And mocked the storms, while Orange was her Guide.  
What since has been our Fate— I need not say,  
(Ill suiting with the blessings of the day.)  
Our better fortune with our Prince was gone,  
Conquest was only there where He led on.  
Like the Palladium, wheresoever you go  
You turn all Death and Danger on the Foe.  
In you we but too sadly understood  
How Angels have their Spheres of doing good,  
Else the same Soul which did your Troops possess,  
And Crowned their daring Courage with Success,  
Had taught our Fleet to triumph o'er the Main,  
And Fleurus had been still a guiltless Plain.  
What pity 'tis, ye Gods! an arm and mind  
Like Yours, should be to time and place confined?  
But Thy return shall fix our kinder fate,  
For Thee our Councils, Thee our Armies wait,  
Discording Princes shall with Thee combine,  
And centre all their Interests in Thine;  
Proud of Thy friendship, shall forego their sway,  
As Rome Her great Dictator did obey;  
And all united make a Gordian knot,  
Which neither Craft shall lose, nor Force shall cut.    

ADVERTISEMENT.  
AN Epistle to Charles Earl of Dorset and Middlesex, Lord Chamberl●●● of His Majesty's Household. Occasioned by His Majesty's late Vic●●●● in Ireland. By Charles Montague, Esq