A POEM ON St. James' PARK As lately improved by his MAJESTY.  
Written by EDMUND WALLER, Esq   Tudor rose 
LONDON, Printed for Gabriel Bedel and Thomas Collins at the Middle-Temple-Gate. 1661.   

ON St. James' PARK As lately improved by his MAJESTY.  

OF the first Paradise there's nothing found,  
Plants set by heaven are vanished, & the ground;  
Yet the description lasts, who knows the fate  
Of lines that shall this Paradise relate?   

Instead of Rivers rolling by the side  
Of Eden's garden, here flows in the tide;  
The Sea which always served his Empire, now  
Pays tribute to our Prince's pleasure too.   

Of famous 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 then to build a Town.  
For future shade young Trees upon the banks  
Of the new stream appear in even ranks:  
The voice of Orpheus or Amphion's hand  
In better order could not make them stand.  
May they increase as fast, and spread their boughs,  
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 see the love that shall be made,  
The Lovers walking in that Amorous shade,  
The Gallants dancing by the River's side,  
They bath in Summer, and in Winter slide.  
Methinks I hear the Music in the boats,  
And the loud Echo which returns the notes,  
Whilst over head a flock of new sprung fowl  
Hangs in the air, and does the Sun control:  
Darkening the air they hover o'er, and shroud  
The wanton Sailors with a feathered cloud.  
The Ladies angling in the Crystal lake,  
Feast on the water with the prey they take.  
A thousand Cupids 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 Alleys 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;  
There Ice like Crystal, firm and never lost,  
Tempers hot July with December's frost,  
Winter's dark prison; whence he cannot fly,  
Though the warm Spring, his enemy grows nigh:  
Strange! that extremes should thus preserve the snow,  
High on the Alps, and in deep Caves below.  
Here a well-polisht Mall gives us the joy  
To see our Prince his matchless force employ;  
His manly posture and his graceful mine  
Vigour and youth in all his motion seen,  
His shape so comely 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 has got  
As from a smoking Culverin 'twere shot:  
May that ill fate my enemies befall  
To stand before his anger or his ball.  
Near 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 th' 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, White-Hall,  
Built with the fortune of Rome's Capitol;  
Both disproportioned to the present States  
Of their proud founders, were approved by Fates.  
From hence he does that Antique Pile behold,  
Where Royal heads receive the sacred gold;  
It gives them Crowns, and does 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 ours ills were shaped;  
Th' Auspicious Temple stood, and yet escaped.  
So snow on Aetna does 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 does for Justice come:  
Under whose large roof flourishes the Gown,  
And Judges grave on high Tribunals frown.  
Here he does like the people's Pastor go,  
His flock subjected to his view below:  
On which reflecting in his mighty mind,  
No private passion does indulgence find;  
The pleasures of his youth suspended are,  
And make a sacrifice to public care.  
Here free from Court compliances He walks,  
And with himself, his best adviser, talks;  
How peaceful Olive 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 meditates,  
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 bend  
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 did smile,  
Born the divided World to reconcile:  
What ever Heaven or high extracted blood,  
Could promise or foretell, he will make good:  
Reform these Nations, and improve them more,  
Then this fair Park from what it was before.    

Of our late WAR with SPAIN And first VICTORY at Sea near St. LUGAR.  

NOw for some ages had the Pride of Spain  
Made the Sun shine on half the world in vain,  
Whilst she bid War to all that durst supply  
The place of those her cruelty made die:  
Of Nature's bounty men forbore to taste,  
And the best portion of the Earth lay waste.   

From the new world her silver and her gold,  
Came like a tempest to confound the old;  
With these accomplishing her vast designs,  
Europe was shaken with her Indian mines.   

When Britain looking with a just disdain,  
Upon this guilded Majesty of Spain,  
And knowing well that Empire must decline,  
Whose chief support and sinews are of coin,  
Her native force and virtue did oppose  
To the rich troublers of the world's repose.   

And now some months encamping on the main,  
Our naval Army had besieged Spain,  
They that the whole world's Monarchy designed  
Are to their ports by our bold fleet confined,  
Frown whence our Red-crosse they triumphant see,  
Riding without a rival on the Sea:  
Others may use the Ocean as their road;  
Only the English make it their abode:  
Our Oaks secure as if they there took root;  
We tread on billows with a steady foot.   

Mean while the Spaniards in America,  
Near to the line the Sun approaching saw:  
And hoped their European Coasts to find  
Cleared from our ships by the Autumnal wind:  
Their huge capacious Galleons stuffed with plate,  
The labouring winds drive slowly towards their fate:  
Before St. Lugar they their Guns discharge  
To tell their joy or to call forth a Barge:  
This heard, some ships of ours, though out of view,  
And swift as Eagles to the quarry flew:  
So heedless Lambs which for their mothers bleat▪  
Wake hungry Lions and become their meat.   

Arrived, they soon begin that tragic play,  
And with their smoky Cannon banish day;  
Night, horror, slaughter with confusion meets,  
And in their sable arms embrace the fleets;  
Through yielding planks the angry bullets fly,  
And of one wound hundreds together die,  
Born under different stars one Fate they have,  
The ship their Coffin, and the Sea their grave.   

Bold were the men who on the Ocean first  
Spread their new sails when shipwreck was the worst;  
Moore danger now from man alone we find  
Then from the rocks, the billows or the wind;  
They that had sailed from near th' Antartique pole,  
Their treasure safe and all their vessels whole,  
In sight of their dear country ruin'd be,  
Without the guilt of either rock or Sea;  
What they would spare our fiercer Art destroys,  
Surpassing storms in terror and in noise:  
Once Jove from Ida did both Hosts survey,  
And when he pleased to thunder part the frey;  
Heaven here in vain that kind retreat should sound,  
The louder Canon had the thunder drowned.   

Some we made prize, while others burnt and rend  
With their rich lading to the bottom went,  
Down sinks at once, so fortune with us sports,  
The pay of Armies and the pride of Courts:   

Vain man! whose rage buries as low that store,  
As avarice had digged for it before!  
What earth in her dark bowels could not keep  
From greedy hands, lies safer in the deep;  
Where Thetis kindly does from mortals hide  
Those seeds of luxury, debate and pride:  
And now into her lap the richest prize  
Fell with the noblest of our enemies.   

The Marquis glad to see the fire destroy  
Wealth that prevailing foes were to enjoy:  
Out from his flaming ship his children sent  
To perish in a milder element:  
Then laid him by his burning Ladies side,  
And since he could not save her, with her died;  
Spices and Gums about them melting fry,  
And Phoenix like in that rich nest they die;  
Alive in flames of equal love they burned,  
And now together are to ashes turned  
Ashes, more worth than all their funeral cost,  
Then the huge treasure which was with them lost.   
The Reader is desired to take notice, that a false Copy of these verses on St. James' Park was surreptitiously and very imperfectly printed in one sheet, without the Author's knowledge and consent, several lines being there left out.  
FINIS.