ON THE PARK AT St. JAMESE'S.  

OF the first paradise, there's nothing found,  
Trees set by Heaven are vanished, and the ground,  
Yet the description lasts, who knows the fate  
Of lines that shall this paradise relate?  
In stead of river's rolling by the side  
Of Eden's Garden, here flows in the Tide;  
The Sea that always served his Empire, now  
Pays Tribute to our Prince's pleasure too.  
Of ancient Cities we the Founders know,  
But Rivers old as Seas to which they go  
Are nature's bounty, 'tis of more renown  
To make a River, than to build a Town.  
For future shade young Trees upon the bank  
Of the new stream appear in even rank;  
The voice of Orpheus, or Amphyon's hand  
In better order could not make them stand.  
May they increase as fast, and spread their bows,  
As the high fame of their great owner grows.   

May he live long enough to see them all  
Dark shadows cast, and as his Palace tall.  
Me thinks I hear the love that shall be made,  
The gallants dancing in the Amorous shade,  
The Lovers walking by the River side,  
They bath in Summer, and in Winter slide.  
Me thinks I hear the music in the Boats  
And the loud echo which returns their notes,  
Whilst over head a flock of new sprung fowl  
Hang in the air, and do the Sun control,  
Darkening the sky they hover o'er, and shrow  
The wanton sailors with a feathered Cloud;  
Beneath a shoal of silver fishes glides  
And plays about the gilded Barges sides;  
A thousand Cupid's on the billows ride,  
And Sea-Nymphs enter with the swelling tide,  
From Thetis sent as spies to make report  
And tell the wonders of her sovereign's Court▪  
All that can living feed the greedy eye,  
Or dead the palate, here you may descry;  
The choicest things that furnished Noah's Ark,  
Or Peter's sheet, inhabiting this Park,  
All with a Border of rich fruit-Trees crowned,  
Whose loaded branches hide the lofty Mound.  
Such various ways the spacious Allies lead  
My doubtful Muse knows not what path to tread.  
Yonder the Harvest of cold months laid up  
Gives a fresh coolness to the royal Cup;  
Here Ice like Crystal firm, and never lost,  
Tempers hot July with December's frost;  
Winters dark prison, whence he cannot fly  
Tho the warm Spring his Enemy draw ny;  
Strange that extremes should thus preserve the Snow  
High on the Alps, and in deep Caves below.  
Here a well polished Mall gives us the joy  
To see our Prince his matchless force employ;  
His manly posture, and his graceful mien,  
Vigour and youth in all his actions seen,  
His shape so lovely, and his limbs so strong,  
Confirm our hopes we shall obey him long.  
No sooner has he touched the flying ball,  
But 'tis already more than half the Mall,  
And such a fury from his arm hath got  
As from a smoking Culverin 'twere shot.  
May that ill fate my Enemies befall  
To stand before his anger, or his ball.   

Next this my Muse (what most delights her) sees  
A living Gallery of aged Trees,  
Bold Sons of Earth, that thrust their arms so high  
As if once more they would invade the sky.  
In such green Palaces the first Kings reigned,  
Slept in their shades, and Angels entertained;  
With such old Counsellors they did advise,  
And by frequenting sacred Groves grew wise▪  
Free from the impediments of light and noise,  
Man thus retired, his nobler thoughts employs.  
Here Charles contrives the ordering of his States,  
Here he resolves his neighbouring Princes fates,  
What Nation shall have peace, where War be made  
Determined is in this Oraculous shade.  
The World from India to the frozen North  
Concerned in what this solitude brings forth  
His fancy objects, from his view receives  
The prospect thought, and contemplation gives.  
That seat of Empire here salutes his eye  
To which three Kingdoms do themselves apply,  
The structure by a Prelate raised, Whitehall  
Built with the Fortune of Rome's Capitol,  
Both disproportioned to the present State  
Of their proud founders, were approved by fate.  
From hence he doth that Antique Pile behold,  
Where royal heads receive the sacred Gold,  
It gives them Crowns, and doth their ashes keep,  
There made like Gods, like mortals there they sleep.  
When others fell, this standing did presage  
The Crown should triumph over popular rage:  
Hard by that house where all our ills were shaped  
The auspicious Temple stood, and yet escaped:  
So Snow on Aetna doth unmelted lie  
Whence rolling flames, and scattered Cinders fly;  
The distant country in the ruin shares  
What falls from Heaven the burning Mountain spares.  
Next, that capacious Hall he sees, the room  
Where the whole Nation doth for Justice come,  
Under whose large roof flourishes the Gown,  
And Judges grave on high Tribunals frown.  
Here, like the people's Pastor, he doth go,  
His flock subjected to his view below,  
On which reflecting in his mighty mind  
No private passion doth indulgence find;  
The pleasures of his youth suspended are,  
And made a sacrifice to public care;  
Here free from Court compliances he walks,  
And with himself, his best adviser, talks;  
How peaceful Olives may his temple's shade  
For mending Laws, and for restoring trade,  
Or how his brows may be with laurel charged  
For Nations conquered, and our bounds enlarged;  
Of ancient prudence here he ruminates,  
Of rising Kingdoms, and of falling States;  
What ruling Arts gave great Augustus' fame,  
And how Alcides purchased such a name.  
His eyes upon his Native Palace bent  
Close by, suggest a greater argument:  
His thoughts rise higher when he does reflect  
On what the World may from that Star expect  
Which at his birth appeared, to let us see  
Day for his sake could with the night agree.  
A Prince on whom such different lights do smile  
Born the divided world to reconcile.  
Whatever Heaven, or high extracted blood  
Could promise, or foretell, he will make good,  
Reform these Nations, and improve them more  
Than this fair Park from what it was before.    

Printed for Tho. Dring.