THE Poor Distressed People OF HOLLAND,  
Their humble Thanks and Acknowledgement for His MAJESTY'S Gracious Favours proffered them in His late Declaration.  

GReat Sir, whilst You these Favours do create  
For us, You do our Thanks Anticipate:  
There are no merits on our part, can claim  
The least from You, Ingratitude's our shame.  
What Poets talk Achilles' Spear could do,  
Jove's threats and smiles are verified in You;  
If You but say You'd kill or cure 'tis done,  
'Twixt Charles and Jove there's no comparison:  
You having Conquered by Your powerful Arms,  
Strait by Your kindness salve Your Captives harms;  
Making Your Conquests double, by these Arts,  
You've won the Field, and gained your Enemy's hearts.   

Had You dealt with us as th' Israelites of old  
With the deceitful Gibconites, have sold  
Us and our Families for slaves, than we  
Had known a precedent for Your Clemency.  
Our Lives and Liberties to You we owe,  
And You to us a Father's pity show,  
When we'd forgot those hands that did us feed,  
And gave's relief in greatest time of need.  
Yet whilst You such unheard of favours show,  
From guilty breasts some jealous fears do flow,  
And run in murmuring streams, these whine and cry,  
No favour's offered but there's reason why;  
But let such narrow souls repine in vain,  
We think Your grace as boundless as Your Main:  
Great Princes like to gods no merits know,  
From pity or their will their Favours flow;  
Since, Royal Sir, you're pleased to declare  
Us Your Free Subjects, it shall be our care  
To Render double Loyalty to you  
By our obedience, and our actions too.  
What our Industry hath brought from foreign 〈◊〉  
Is ready to attend Your Royal Commands,  
Each active hand prepared is to bring  
Their richest Treasure to Great Britain's King;  
No Bank, or Public Faith, being so secure  
As is the Faith-Defenders Promise, sure.   

Your Actions are so just, it may be said  
Astraea from this World to Yours is fled;  
So will Your Land e'er long be styled the Burse,  
And only Treasury of the Universe.  
Thus you'll by Chemic Policy attain  
What Lul and old Hermes ne'er could gain,  
Whilst the Elixir of Your favours can  
Attract the India's to Your Ocean,  
And make the Thames, influenced by Your beams,  
As once Pactolus, run in golden streams.   

Our Hoogen Moogen's too will think it meet  
To prostrate themselves and Ships before your Fleet,  
And lay their Treasures at Your Royal Feet.  
Thus with these Favours You the World affright,  
Conquering your Enemies, ere they come to fight;  
Each Monarch trembles, and of You's afraid,  
That with a word their Countries can invade:  
They oft have felt the force of Britain's Sword,  
But ne'er the power Magnetic of Your Word;  
The one at random strikes at any part,  
But this ne'er fails to force and win the heart:  
So shines Your Virtues that the whole world must own  
That You're both Charles le Grand, and Charles le Bone.   Nescit Fama Virtutis Mori.