A CONGRATULATORY POEM To the REVEREND Dr. John Tillotson, UPON HIS PROMOTION TO THE ARCH-EPISCOPAL-SEE OF CANTERBURY.  
By Mr. TUTCHIM.  
LONDON, Printed for W. Haite. MDCXCI.   

A Congratulatory POEM, etc.  

WHilst Priestly Pens the Glorious Theme decline,  
And at their Loss, or at your Fate repine;  
And College-Wits no Tuneful Notes express,  
Are drunk in Faction, or unskilled in Verse;  
I, who the Levite seldom did adore,  
And scarce e'er knew a Priest I loved before,  
Do to your Fame a juster Tribute bring,  
At once the Prelate and his Virtues sing.   

'Twas but of late my Warbling Lute I strung,  
And Mighty Orange in just Numbers sung;  
Did with the wondering World in Notes rejoice,  
And Praised our Makers and the People's Choice;  
Now the dear sweets of fresher Joys commence,  
And for the Prelate we must bless the Prince.  
Methinks the Virtue of our Land appears  
After the Luxury of Thirty Years,  
When close Opinions set the Prelate forth,  
And 'twas his Faction raised him, not his worth.  
A juster Path our Righteous Prince did tread,  
Destined the Mitre for a Nobler Head:  
He shall Unvanquished on the Plain Command,  
When such a Bishop does support his Hand:  
Home from the Wars shall lasting Trophies bear,  
For Heaven will grant a Righteous Prelate's Prayer.  
On you, Great Sir, our Pious Hopes depend,  
Your Learning must our Rational Faith defend;  
We fear no Fate, resolved to overcome,  
Beneath your Banner, who have Conquered Rome.  
Whilst Mighty William draws his Shining Sword,  
To Fight God's Battles, you Maintain his Word;  
He Skilled in War, with Manly Prowess Armed,  
Has each Good Man and every Nation Charmed;  
Your Skill in Argument is not unknown,  
Nor the great Feats your Artful Pen has done;  
Although Religion seemed to bid adieu,  
It's Resurrection we expect from you.  
Religion first with dazzling Rays did Shine,  
Her Shape was Comely, and her Face Divine,  
Her Native Beauty each Admirer warmed,  
 Stains of Error had her Mien deformed,  
And Clouds of Ignorance, that Truth o'erspread,  
Hovered in Gloomy Circles round her Head.  
You are the Sun that must dispel these Mists,  
Revive Religion, and Reform our Priests;  
Curb all our Vices, and Impede their Growth,  
So long Debauched in Luxury and Sloth.  
You are the Moses must our Factions quell,  
And stop the Murmuring of our Israel.  
At your Advancement Pious Souls Rejoice,  
No more the Monarches than the People's Choice.  
Before the King's Decree was fully known,  
Methought each Look Declared for Tillotson:  
But when 'twas known, each Man his Joy Expressed,  
And Thanked the Monarch for so good a Priest.  
Each distant place received the joyful sound,  
Where the glad News a Hearty Welcome found.  
Tho'  Sects too much infest our Land,  
And with hot Zeal for either Party stand;  
Tho' the Devotees too Mad and Rigid are,  
There ne'er appeared a Rash Dissenter here.  
The Prelate all approve, the Man Caress,  
And for his Choice their Rightful Monarch Bless.   

Let Envious Priests your Glories strive to blast,  
Fixed as some Rock your Memory shall last.  
No stubborn Levite shall molest your Fame,  
But yours shall grow, as Mighty William's Name.  
The Stubborn Levites are our Land's disgrace,  
A Haughty, Proud, and a Contentious Race;  
biased in Judgement, Turbulent in Mind,  
No King can Please, nor Acts of Grace can Bind;  
Promote our Wars with vast Expense of Blood,  
Prefer their Humour to their Country's Good;  
If these Reproach, the Venom of their Gall  
Beneath the weight of your Contempt must fall.  
All the Reproaches of the Wicked must  
Tend to the Praises of the Good and Just.  
Who knows the Vice to Envy does belong,  
Would loathe the Slanders of a Railing Tongue:  
The Glory of your Virtue shines more bright,  
And scorns the Darkness of approaching Night:  
'Tis not the Tainted Breath of Envious Fame,  
Can Blast the Beauties of your Spotless Name;  
You need not value what the Gloomy say,  
The Clouds may Darken, not Obstruct the day.  
The Lofty Pine, with Head Erect, does grow,  
Nor heeds the Motion of the Shrubs below.  
On in its course the constant Moon still jogs,  
Disdains the Barking Neighbourhood of Dogs.  
When Virtue is opposed by Vicious Might,  
It shows its force, and shines with double Light.  
Virtue, like Camomile oppressed, still lives,  
The more 'tis trampled on, the better Scent it gives.  
What though you're Hated and Contemned by Few,  
The Many to your Cause and Faith are true;  
In vain the Bad their weak disgust expressed,  
Since you are Loved, Supported by the Best.  
Scarce had our Royal Pair a greater Train,  
To give the Sceptre of a Gentle Reign,  
Than that the Prelate has so lately graced,  
Who gave the Crosier and the Mitre placed;  
The Noble Throng led the Imperial Way,  
Scarce could Moria's Charms Command their Stay;  
To see the Rites performed they all Resort,  
lessening the Numbers of the Crowded Court.   

From every part the glad Admirers throng,  
And Bless the Prelate as they pass along.  
Thus once the Ransomed People filled the Strand,  
O'erspread the Beach, to see Great ORANGE Land;  
He brought Ten Thousand Blessings to the Shoar,  
Great as the Miseries we felt before,  
Removed our Scourges, and Destroyed our Rods,  
And Triumphed o'er our Wooden Priests and Gods.  
The joyful People soon his Praises sing,  
With one united Shout Proclaim him King.  
Scarce did they more Rejoice to see the Crown  
Placed on a Head was Chosen by their own,  
Than now they Triumph when the Miter's given,  
To one approved by People, Prince, and Heaven.  
But now, my Lord! the Mighty Work is done,  
And Heaven with Blessings does the Action Crown;  
The joyful News fills every distant Plain,  
And glads the Heart of every Humble Swain.  
We from your Learning do expect the Truth,  
To help the Aged, and Instruct the Youth;  
And hope your good Example will afford,  
The same Success as Mighty WILLIAM's Sword:  
Conquer the Lusts and Vices of the Age,  
Assuage their Fury, and appease their Rage:  
To stop a Torrent, when the Waves combine,  
Requires a Courage and a Heat Divine:  
To dare their Force, and with address withstand  
The Impious Fury of a Sinful Land:  
Such Mighty Actions never can be done,  
But by the Hands of such as Tillotson;  
'Tis not an easy step to mount a Throne,  
And pull an old Imperious Tyrant down.  
Sin, like a Tyrant, with its Sceptre Reigns,  
And all the Pious Strength of Man disdains;  
A numerous Train does to its Courts belong,  
Its Slaves are Valiant and its Votaries strong:  
Just like a Rightful Monarch it appears,  
And pleads Succession of some Hundred Years;  
Does for all Lewdness and each Vice declare,  
And against Grace Proclaims an open War:  
All its strong holds with Art does fortify,  
And forms a Train of its Artillery:  
Of Lust, Ambition, and Insatiate Pride,  
Of Malice and Ten Thousand Ills beside;  
Longing for Death, and Thirsting after Blood,  
And the destruction of each thing that's Good.  
This is the Enemy, my Lord, you must  
Destroy, and lay its Honour in the Dust;  
Retrieve the Praise of Threadbare Virtue's Fame,  
And give't a Glorious and Immortal Name.  
'Tis true, the Business and the Work is hard,  
But great's your Help, and great is your Reward.  
The Mighty WILLIAM did the Sceptre Sway,  
When Men were Stubborn, and refused t'Obey;  
A Moody People in a Nation Ruled,  
Had been with Folly and with Lewdness gulled,  
So Good, so Mild, so Gentle was his Sway,  
The major part soon learned to Obey.  
Nor is the Hierarchy, where you Command,  
Much less Infested with the Sins o'th' Land;  
Despotic Sway of late o'ercome the Law,  
And we the Ruins of our Freedoms saw:  
Then Grave Divinity became a Cheat,  
And fell and dwindled to I know not what:  
Some for Preferment had their Faith forgot,  
And gave their Hand to carry on the Plot;  
Some Braves indeed (and these were not a few)  
Kept to their Doctrines and their Country true,  
Opposed our Foes, and our Restorer served,  
And never yet have from his Interest swerved.  
The Glory of our Faith you must retrieve,  
And a new Life must to Religion give,  
And make our Clergy good Examples live.  
Thus by your Sway we hope for better times,  
Men shall hate Vice, and shall abandon Crimes;  
The Shame of Sinning shall its use unlearn,  
And Men by Virtue shall their Worth discern,  
The Priests no longer shall be steeped in Sloth,  
an't shall be Scandal to refuse the Oath;  
Nor shall Opinion one another blame,  
The Wolf shall slumber with the tender Lamb;  
Our Tuneful Bards exalted Notes shall raise,  
And Sing the Monarch's, and the Bishop's Praise.   
FINIS.