A CONGRATULATORY POEM On the R●… Honourable Sr. ORLANDO BRIDGMAN. Lord Keeper of th●● reat Seal of England.  
My Lord,  

TO You, as fast as verses feet can move  
A Country Muse conveys the Countries love,  
And though her Laureates Courtly sisters bring  
From their rich Stones a noble offering,  
Yet (sith the mind most makes the Sacrifice)  
Your goodness will not meaner gifts despise.   

She joys the Keeper, but more joys the Seal  
Lodged to th'advantage of the publiques Weal,  
And the disposer too, whose prudent Choice  
Is herein echoed by the vulgar voice;  
You are the happy Centre, that unite  
In one the Patriot, and the Favourite.  
Rare Harmony! the music of the Spheres  
Too seldom thus accords with vulgar Ears.   

'Twere easy to reflect, but that such ways,  
Are the low Topics of a narrow praise,  
Whence let your predecessors rest for me  
His Libel here would your detraction be,  
True Diamonds are by their own sparks declared,  
And they're dull stones which shine not but compared,  
Nor do you seek or need it, single Merit  
Won you the Honour, Let that mighty wear it.   

Mean while, we must ourselves twice happy rate  
Since peace and you, together blest the State;  
Our fears i'th' Wane, our joys are in the Increase  
Whiles we have such a Keeper to our peace,  
And (but that Faction did the Term devise)  
we'd add too Keeper, of our Liberties.   

Were all your own Rolls searched, scarce should we find,  
That noble Seat filled with so fit a mind.  
So brave a Mind, as baseness ne'er allays,  
So great a Mind, as greatness cannot raise,  
So just a Mind, as interest can't seduce,  
So wise a Mind, as colours can't abuse  
So large a Mind, as largest Trusts do crave.  
So calm a Mind, as Equity should have.   

High Courtships construed in the present tense  
Laws Oracle without perplexed sense.  
A sober piety in a Virtuoso  
And an Orlando without Furioso.  
Whose judgement doth with legal measures side  
Yet moderate, where men differ, not divide.  
That temper now must bless us, we're undone  
Twixt two extremes, all Liberty and none.  
You have the happy mean, neither propense  
To scalding Zeal, nor cold Indifference.   

The Church's patronage, you do inherit,  
Both by a Claim of Birthright, and of merit  
The Reverend prelate long since gone to rest  
In after Annals shall be daily blest,   

As Bishop first, and next as parent too  
A Father both unto the Church and you.  
Yea twice the Church's Father, whiles his care  
Thereof descends on you, though not his Chair.  
Rome slander not our married Clergy, none  
Of thy Pope's Nephews matched a Bishop's son:  
Muster up all the Tribe, and we'el outvy'em:  
Although we have forgot how they came by'em.  
Yea those who cried down Prelate's branch and root  
May now repent each moiety of their Vote  
Sith howsoever the root displeased they see  
A Bishop's branch may make a noble Tree.  
And if such blossoms Aaron's rod will bare  
'Twould reconcile the Classis to the Chair.   

Nor is the law less honoured, whiles it sees  
Its Rigours softened, by your decrees:  
For whiles no point thereof escapes your Eye  
Its Guordian knots you cut not, but untie.  
So doth the learned Churchman, in perplexed  
Scriptures, unravel, not tear up the Text:  
Out laws the highest reason, 'tis confessed,  
Si'th now 'tis lodged in your learned Breast.  
Your Court a Cou●● 〈◊〉 〈…〉 y now,  
You 〈…〉 Judge in it, Conscience in you,  
Advanced by you to their ancient fame  
Chancery suits shall lose their Evil name.  
Nor shall the Client drained by Bills and Motions,  
With a new (Libera) charge his devotions.  
Nor shall the title burth'nd with decrees,  
Undo the Heir, and spend his Fee in fees:  
Or force him whiles he finds a suit in Tail,  
To sell to his Lawyer, to make good his Sale.   

But hold! me thinks I hear with what content,  
Your learned lips harangue the Parliament,  
So that whil's you Caress the learned throng,  
Never King spoke, by a more welcome tongue:  
Spare us good Sir, with moderation crave,  
Or we're undone, 'twill be but ask and have.   

Yea spare your worthies Sir, lest Sons debate.  
They give assent, and votes precipitate.  
Whiles stormed by your Rhetoric, they dispense  
With their own orders, and Enact the sense:   

Enough my muse, pack up now and away,  
To wait on's Lordship on next sealing day.  
If asked thy business, tell, but e'er he know it,  
Get him to seal a pardon for his poet.  
Then beg a grant, that though his name be Latent,  
He may have leave to make his Letters Patent.   

Licenced according to Order.    

Printed for William Cadman at the Pope's- head in the lower Walk in the New-Exchange near Durham-gate in the Strand.