To the KING: A Congratulatory POEM.  Virg. Aen. l. 6. 
— Tu maximus Ille es,  
Vnus qui nobis cunctando Restituis Rem.  
Printed at London, and reprinted at Edinburgh, by the Heir of Andrew Anderson, Printer to His most Sacred Majesty, 1685.   

TO THE KING: A Congratulatory POEM.  

DREAD Sir, since it has pleased the Powers above,  
To take the other Object of our Love;  
Forgive me, if the mighty Happiness,  
We now enjoy, but know not to express,  
Transports a Muse from mourning CHARLES his Fate,  
Your Reign in Numbers to Congratulate.  
With Tears of Gratitude, that DUTY paid,  
Accept what our Just GRIEF till now delayed.   

Great King, the Greatest Britain ever knew,  
Since Caesar not to conquer came, but view;  
In whom at once indisputably shine.  
All Virtues, that can make a Man Divine.  
From one unworthy a more near Access,  
Receive this Humble, Innocent Address.  
Not such as every little, trembling Slave,  
To the Usurper in your Absence gave;  
False Fires, like Meteors, kindled to deceive,  
Behind them stink, and Darkness, only Leave.  
But from an Heart that flows with Loyal Blood,  
Derived from Ancestors, not Great, but Good;  
By Inclination, more than Duty bound,  
Almighty Love, which ever has been found  
A stronger Tie, the Subjects Faith to awe,  
Than all the wellwrought Fetters of the Law.   

Great Sir, the Glories of your Future Reign,  
Rise to my sight like some Vast, Boundless Plain,  
In which the  Objects we descry;  
At once attract, amaze, and please the Eye.  
At the entrance where we take our View, with Fear  
We find a mighty Precipice appear;  
Dreadfully steep, Horrid to look upon,  
Like the rough Dangers that did wait your Throne.  
But unconcerned on the calm Top you sat,  
Placed by the Gods, above the Reach of Fate.  
As you deserved, were always Heaven's Care,  
Nor in the midst of Ruin did despair.  
You gave all Proofs of being truly Wise,  
Faced every Danger, Fortune did despise;  
Bore all her Changes with an equal Mind,  
And made her impotent, as well as Blind.  
Hard by a Noble, useful River flows,  
Enriching all the Country as it goes,  
And in its Tardy, but Majestic Course,  
Shows us your Naval Victories, and Force.  
Sherness, and Tilbury, the Banks secure,  
From the False Dutch no more Affronts endure;  
Against invading Foes a sure Defence,  
And fit to curb Domestic Insolence.  
Not far from thence to massy Chains fast tied,  
Your strong built Ships, in proper Stations ride;  
All framed of English Oak, for service made,  
The Nations Bulwarks, Guardians of our Trade.  
The Ancient Admirals in Battle torn,  
Have valiant Monck, and Fiercer Rupert born,  
Both Sons of Mars, but both behind in Fame  
To you, Great Sir, your Britain's first, Best Name:  
●hose well-weighed Courage, and experienced Zeal,  
To their own Cost the neighbouring States can tell.  
Just to your Friends, too gentle to your Foes,  
Your long unbroken Course of Victory shows,  
What Miseries fancy Commonwealths attend,  
When Godlike Patiented Monarches they offend.   

But to resume our well forsaken Theme,  
And tell what more adorns the Silver stream;  
Your spacious Yards, and Docks for Building made,  
And crowded Stores are next to be surveyed.  
Here monstrous Cables are in Circles rolled,  
Your Floating Castles strong enough to hold;  
Fastened to Anchors of Prodigious size,  
They mock the Anger of the Seas, and Skies.  
Your Brawny Cyclops these on Anvils frame,  
Repeated strokes the stubborn Metal tame.  
Some heave the mighty Bellows, others wet  
The Coals, exciting an Intenser Heat.  
Some with huge Tongues turn the yet unformed Mass,  
Into vast Moulds, some lead the Ductile Brass.  
All with united Force at once conspire  
To show the strange effects of Skill, and Fire.  
Chain-shot, and Thundering Cannon they prepare,  
Where the Bold Artist to Perfection brings  
Those modern, murdering Instruments of War,  
The last, but not worst Arguments of Kings.   

What next the wondering Eye with Pleasure meets,  
Are the Materials of succeeding Fleets.  
Of useful Timber, a stupendious Pile,  
Planted to Beautify, and Guard your Isle.  
Those Rebels, who your Father's Reign annoyed,  
Short fruits of Prosperous Villainy enjoyed  
The Woods that should Defend them, they destroyed.  
You, Sir, your Country's Father, with just Care,  
Know when to use your Stores, and when to spare.  
Forests of Northern Fir, and British Oak,  
Obey your Orders, and the Bvilder's stroke.  
They but perform the Low, Mechanic Part,  
You are the Genius, Sir, the Soul, the Heart,  
The labour theirs, yours the Design, and Art.  
For since th' Almighty Architect inspired  
Noah to build the Ship, to which retired  
The Remnant of the deluged World,  
No Reverend History a Prince can tell,  
Who Fleets e'er used, or understood so well.   

In vain your Neighbour on the other side,  
With fruitless labour, and deluded Pride,  
Into Good Harbours would his Rocks improve,  
And from Choked Ports returning Sands remove,  
'Tis easier far for him to exercise  
His little frauds upon the Continent,  
To set up Chambers of Dependencies,  
Where unjust Sentences his Bounds augment.  
Great JAMES! to whom by Arms, and Title too,  
The Empire of the Liquid World is due:  
Can when he pleases his own Ocean free  
From the Encroachments of the Dieu Donnée.  
To Breast and Rochfort can his Fleets confine,  
Or intercept the Squadrons e'en they join.  
By threatening War, can check his vast Design,  
And call his Armies from the Po, and Rhine.  

Can useless make his present Naval Power,  
And, as Bright Gloriana heretofore;  
Command the Haughty Prince to Build no more.    

You to your Rome a true Augustus are,  
Like him, you close the Iron Doors of War.  
The sovereign Arbiter of Europe stand,  
Poising the Scales in your Impartial Hand.  
Th' Italian, German, Spaniard, and the Gaul,  
When you prescribe, their ancient Feuds let fall.  
If Northern Kings fall out, your word alone  
Sends gladsome Peace to cheer the frozen Zone.  
Thus Foreign Nations, by your Prudence thrive,  
Nor less advantage does your own receive.  
Where e'er they spread themselves i' th' East, or West,  
With your propitious influence they are Blest.  
Not Greece, nor Rome such Colonies could boast,  
So firmly settled, and so seldom Lost.  
Then for their safety you such Laws provide.  
As none but your own Britain's know beside.  
No sordid ends of Avarice you pursue,  
But where your prosperous Arms your Power extend,  
You propagate the Faith which you defend,  
Calm the Old World, and Civilize the New.   

Pardon me, Sir, that I so long forbear  
One signal Instance of your Generous Care:  
That as in Fruitful Regions some you plant,  
You rescue others from Distress, and want.  
So equal Thanks, to the kind Gods are due,  
Who first create, and then preserve us too.  
Long time in vain the Valiant English lay  
Exposed to Faithless Moors, an easy Prey.  
Lost to their Country, they in Deserts spent  
Their useless lives, till Loyal Dartmouth sent  
By your Advice, the Shattered Relics bore  
From Africk's scorched, inhospitable Shore.  
An Action in each Circumstance as Great,  
As the Athenian Generals famed Retreat.  
No less true Courage, no less Conduct shown,  
In our Illustrious English Xenophon.   

To those abroad who serve you if so kind,  
At Home what Hourly Blessings may we find,  
From the Just Temper of your Godlike Mind?  
Not Parents of their Children, Lovers of  
The first Dear Object of their youthful Flame,  
Half so Indulgent, half so Tender prove,  
As you of each Man's Fortune, Life, and Fame.  
The Young, and Bold, who are for Action fit,  
To the pursuit of Honour you excite;  
The few who Merit, seldom miss Reward,  
The many wretched are not Hope debarred.  
What Soldier will decline the Camp, or Field?  
For whose Emerit Age you Chelsey build,  
Where you the Wrecks of Humane Life repair,  
And pay with Glorious Ease the Toils of War.   

But, Sir, we must not here your Virtues bound,  
All Arts have you their firm Protector found,  
All useful Knowledge to such height refined,  
We lagging leave the tired Old Schools behind;  
And Future Times to Ours this Blessing own,  
They need but practise, what from us they know.  
Witness the place, within whose Famous Walls,  
To conquering truth, old error prostrate falls.  
Where, led by you, the Hero's of the age,  
With Dint of Reason, Ignorance engage.  
Sagacious Henshow, Hoskins, Noble boil,  
And Wren the Archimedes of our Isle.  
With Sylva's Author, who the British Oak  
Has taught to plant, since Charles there Refuge took  
A sacred Tree.  
The Learned here on Trust no Notions take,  
But deep researches into Nature make.  
Pursue her close in all her winding ways,  
On sound Experiments their Systems raise.  
Reveal her Treasures freely to the wise,  
And veil her Secrets from profaner eyes.  
In Gratitude, what Altars should we rear?  
What Vows, what Victims to those Altars bear?  
Old Rome for much less Benefits than these,  
Called, whilst alive, her Caesar's Deities;  
And were we not convinced, a Power to own,  
To those Illustrious Heathens then unknown,  
We with more Reason might our JAMES adore,  
Than they, their most deserving Emperor.  
Joy of our hearts, sole pleasure of our eyes,  
With whose auspicious Reign, our Spirits rise.  
By long experience dear to us before,  
Now Dearer for a thousand Reasons more.  
Welcome, as Light to those in Dungeons penned,  
As pardon to despairing wretches sent,  
As Home to Men 〈◊〉 from Banishment.  
But your one Life, we of the Gods implore,  
In granting that, they all things else restore.   

The many Peopled World one God obeys.  
The Sceptre of the Air one Eagle sways.  
One Generous Lion ranges through the Wood  
One mighty Whale is Monarch of the Flood.  
Our JAMES the Great, Patron of Arms, and Arts,  
Commands the British Seas, and Shores, and Hearts.   
FINIS.