TO HIS Royal Highness THE PRINCE OF WALES, UPON His Illustrious Birth and Removal FROM St. James' to Richmond.  
— Nobilitas sola est atque unica virtus.  Juv. Sat. 8. 
Vade, vale: cave ne titubes, mandataque frangas.  Hor. Epist. By a Loyal Muse. 

WHen God to Man does wished for Blessings send,  
They heighten joy, and all our care unbend;  
Each thing revives, as in the early spring,  
When Flora's sweetness on the earth is green,  
And blooming Beauty graces' all the Plain,  
Care of the Nymphs, because it kills the Swain:  
Thus springs our Joys increase, Blessed Prince, from you,  
Sweeter not Heaven ere gave, nor Earth ere knew;  
Great as the Blessing are our tributes due;  
Hail! mighty Infant, born for to command  
With equal Justice this thy Father's Land:  
Thou makest the Crown sit easy on his head,  
And fill'st with future hopes thy Mother's bed:  
Bright as the Queen of Heaven's are her eyes,  
Such are her Charms, they needs must bribe the Skies,  
And James; whose Heart beneath her Sceptre lies:  
Hail! happy Offspring of so fair a Queen,  
That nothing's wanting to complete her mein,  
Her Presence show her to be all Divine.  
If with Poetic Liberty I might  
View the vast Regions of eternal Light,  
Then should I see stand by the Heavenly Throne  
The Greatest Charles, God's Martyred Holy one,  
With Angels praising thy auspicious Birth,  
Wonder of Heaven, and the Joy of Earth;  
By God, and Angels thus beloved above,  
Surely thou must inferior Passions move;  
" For when in Heaven the Holy Angels sing,  
" Some listening Soul to Earth their Songs does bring,  
Which fill our hearts with noblest harmony,  
Such as does wait the Courts of Majesty;  
Taught by the sacred Choir, thus we sing  
Soft sleep to thee, and triumphs to our King.   

Look, Royal Babe! if that thy tender sight  
Permit thee to behold the piercing Light,  
Which longs to warm, and kiss thy pliant Arms,  
And fears to be outdone by half thy Charms;  
Hark! how three Kingdoms sacrifice for Thee  
Their choicest vows t' Eternal Majesty;  
See with what earnest joy all things combine,  
To Nurse thy Soul that's made to be divine;  
" For Kings are Gods, and may for aught we know,  
" Be somewhat more than Mortals here below.  
Saint James' boasts thy Birth, thy Godlike Face  
With joy, and wonder filled the Royal Place;  
Fraught with thy Virtues, dares itself compare  
To the famed Windsor for its wholesome Air;  
In vain it boasts, since Richmond does outshine  
All that is fair, and calls itself divine;  
Thither the Goddess, and her Lovely Son  
(Which has so long the amorous World o'ercome)  
Repair, and see themselves in thee outdone.  
The Winged Boy unbends his well-strung Bow,  
Throws by his Darts, and break his Quiver too,  
And owns no other God of Love, but You.  
Heroick Youth! thou hast a Sceptre won  
And in thy Cradle dost exceed the Son  
Of crafty Jove, which by Alcmene came,  
And did the poisonous Vipers bravely tame;  
Safe in the Arms of glorious Richmond lie  
There taught to live, thy Joys will never die;  
Long may'st thou be the Object of all Love,  
As dear to us as to the Saints above;  
And when thy Father's Soul to Heaven's gone,  
May Peace conduct thee to th' Imperial Throne.    

LONDON, Printed for Randal Tailor near Stationers-Hall. 1688.