Ρ̓ΥΘΜῸΣ ΒΑΣΙΛΙΚῸΣ:  
Being an HEROIC POEM, Humbly Offered to His Most Sacred MAJESTY WILLIAM the III. KING OF Great Britain; Upon his Arrival from HOLLAND.  
By the Honourable E. H. of Suffolk.  
Arma Virumque cano— Virg. AEn. Lib. I.  
LONDON, Printed for Richard Baldwin, near the Oxford Arms Inn in Worick Lane, 1696.   

Ρ̓ΥΘΜῸΣ ΒΑΣΙΛΙΚῸΣ:  
AN Heroic Poem, etc.  

HAil! Heavenborn Prince, o'th' Gods the chiefest Care;  
Mirror of Kings, the Life and Soul of War:  
Thy numerous Triumphs to the World proclaim,  
That Nassaw's Deeds, are equal to his Name.  
Where e'er the Hero moves, he fills the sight,  
At once with Wonder, and a blessed Delight.  
A Prince endued with more than mortal Fire,  
Whose valorous Acts, even Gods themselves Admire.  
Flame to his Army Great Nassaw does give,  
And weakened Troops by him Subdue, and live.  
Hail! August Sir, whose Mild, but Potent Arm,  
In Battle seems, the very Dead to warm.   


The Senate bends before your Radiant Throne,  
Where Seven great Lords bear to Nassaw that Crown,  
Which He so Nobly to their Trust lay down.   
As when bright Sol to some new Clime does go,  
And there amidst the shades his warmth bestow;  
The unfrequented Groves to Deserts turn,  
For whose blessed Rays the Springs and Fountains Mourn:  

Flowers hang down their drooping Heads and fade;  
The truest Emblems of a Virgin Maid,  
Which oft by them are in their Bosoms laid.   
So, Glorious Sir, since you have left this Isle,  
No Beauteous Nymph would e'er vouchsafe to Smile;  
Because Nassaw shined not in Person here,  
Summer to us but faintly would appear:  

Yet now when you your Royal Beams display,  
Time's Circle seems but one continued Day,  
And the glad Hours in Bliss dissolve away.   
Long has Britannia wished her Lord's Return,  
Oft to the Gods would Holy Incense burn.  

Much the Nymph mused on Nassaw's Noble Race,  
Pleased with each Feature of his Godlike Face,  
His Generous Mien, and every Martial Grace.   

William was All, which did her Thoughts employ,  
OEnone like, when Paris went to Troy,  
Albion's Delight, and chaste Britannia's Joy.   
To distant Waves many a Look she made,  
Which from the Shore her Heavenly Prince conveyed.  
Hero † could not Leander more bewail  
That Night, when forced her longing Arms to fail:  
In vain she called on Dear Leander's Name,  
When the Suns-beams put out the Taper's flame.  
Often the Nymph heaved up her naked Breast,  
And to the Winds and Seas much care expressed:  
Nassaw by Day was ever in her sight,  
Who bore his Image in soft Dreams by Night.  
Dido to 
* Virg. Lib. 4.  Anna weeping did impart  
Like Grief, when Love reigned Monarch of her Heart:  

The Tyrian Queen could no free passage find,  
Through which to vent the Anguish of her Mind,  
The God as Cruel, as her Sister, kind:   
Not that the shining Sword, or glittering Spear,  
Raised in Britannia's Mind this Virgin fear.  
Wondrous Nassaw can of himself Alone  
Slay † Elephants, and throw strong Castles down:  
But that which Robbed this Beauteous Nymph of rest,  
l Wounding with Tears and Sighs her Snowy Breast;  

Who on a Couch would lean Oppressed with Care,  
In look, than the bright Paphian Queen more fair;  
With Mantle lose, dischevelled all her Hair:   
Were Thoughts the Pious Nymph did entertain,  
Lest a Ravillac her loved Prince had slain.  
'Twas not the Fate of War, or Villeroy's Fame,  
Which blew the Fuel of her inward Flame.  
Nassaw in Arms, Superior is to all,  
And at the Hero's Feet, whole Armies fall.  
Nought but vile Plots increased Britannia's Pain,  
Working through all her Limbs and every Vein.   

Poison and Dagger are Rome's Instruments,  
By which She Blood through the wide Orb torments:  
Renowned as much for her unbounded Lust,  
As France more false than Carthage to her Trust.  
Rome, Mother is of all the blackest Vice;  
Tho' sure St. Peter never taught Her this:  
Witness ye Gods, when Hell with Jesuits joined,  
And Him to Murder in cold Blood combined.   

Yet Heaven, Great Sir, indulgent to the Brave,  
Is fixed in her Decrees your Life to save:  
Nassaw, who has in War so often stood,  
With Angel's Face, 'midst Storms of Fire and Blood;  
Who Cannon-Balls Serenely does despise,  
Dashed on the Earth with Lightning from his Eyes.  

The Gods that from above, look down and see,  
Thy Brow adorned with Crowns of Victory,  
Will Guard your Sacred Breast from Treachery.   
By impious Hands William's too brave to Die;  
Yea, Nassaw may the Rage of Hell defy.  
Those Laurels which from Foreign Lands 've boar,  
Surpass what e'er Old Rome's famed Counsuls wore.  
The Wreaths which round Great William's Temples shine,  
Declare his Person, as his Soul, Divine.  
Urged by the matchless Trophies of Nassaw,  
Who with his Conquering Sword keeps France in awe.  
Apollo now, Inspire my Muse with Verse,  
That I once more, may William's Praise Rehearse:  
Tune then Thalia thy Harmoninous Lyre;  
Raise thy low Voice, and mount to Heaven for Fire.   

I'th' Glorious Tracts of an Eternal space,  
Where none Ascend but of Angellick Race.  
Seraphs and Cherubs all about they fly,  
The Winged Powers o'th' Imperial Sky.  
Encircled with the Radiant Beams of Light,  
Where wakeful Day secludes the sleepy Night;  
The Majesty of Heaven Serenely sat,  
Pondering which way a Hero to Create;  
Whose Warlike Deeds all Aeras might survive,  
And Sons of Mars in him be taught to live:  

Which Image we, in Great Nassaw behold,  
Numbers too weak his Virtues to unfold;  
As Nestor Sage, and as Achilles' Bold.   
Sparta nor Thebes could ever Parallel  
His Acts, which even Demigods excel.  
In Albion's Prince kind Heaven is pleased to show,  
What, at her Will, Infinity can do.  
The Best of Kings in whose mild Breast is All,  
That Man, or truly Brave, or Good can call:  

'Gainst Gallic Troops himslelf Person goes,  
Who to his Captives Royal Pity shows,  
And Generously treats the worst of Foes.   

Justly might William Rule this Orb alone,  
While Eastern Kings turn Vassals to his Throne,  
And him great Monarch of the World do own.    

From the blessed Womb of a Celestial Dame,  
Immense in all the Rudiments of Fame,  
Great Nassaw Sprung: To whom all Homage's due;  
Kin to the Gods, and to his Country True.  
Bounded are Monarches in their Sovereign Rule;  
Yet Nassaw seems wide Europe to Control:  
Upon his Sword vast Empires do depend,  
And Valiant Prince's Court him for their Friend.  
William, when but a Youth, did Glory seek,  
As Marius' brave, and as † Timoleon meek:  
Gallant Marcellus! who the Gauls o'erthrew,  
And with his Lance 
* 〈…〉 the 〈…〉  Viridomarus slew,  
Unto Nassaw in Arms inferior was;  
His Deeds all humance Courage do surpass.  

† 〈…〉  Emilius could ne'er such victories boast;  
Nor he who overcame the Punic Host.  
Agis, Numa, 
* … two …  Furius, great Men they were,  
Tho' they to William no Resemblance bear.  
At Cannae Hannibal the Romans fought,  
And by his Sword Immortal Glory got.  
emperors and 
* Colon …  Tribunes fell by's single Hard;  
Where he the Legions charged, there none durst stand:  
Who e'er with him in Battle did Engage,  
Was sure to fall a Victim to his Rage:  
Yet could this Chief, Life in himself Renew,  
Might his great Actions, see outdone in you.  
The 
* Alexa●●●● Surnam●● 〈◊〉 Great.  Macedonian Prince, more Rash than Brave,  
Countries Destroyed; but You, whole Kingdoms save:  
Locusts, which did of late this Land Infest,  
Working their Poison in the Infant's Breast;  
Like Birds of Night, when you appeared by Day,  
Fled to their Cells, nor would no longer stay.  
Proud Caesar who let the brave 
* Pomp … Pennus  Pompey kneel,  
That he to Rome his † Slipper might Reveal:  
Like thine, his Breast could ne'er such Ardour feel;  
No, not when Caius sat Enthroned in State,  
And Haughtily Survived his Captive's Fate.   

When All-Just Heaven Nassaw's large Soul did frame,  
Double the Portion of Celestial Flame,  
Great Jove infused; in whom we clearly see,  
The bright Impresses of Divinity.  
On Earth, no Monarch can with him Compare,  
Like to the Gods, his Breast exempt from Fear.  
Ambitious Lewis * Holland did Invade, 
In the 〈…〉 72   
And Cities all around in Ashes laid;  
Temples Destroyed, nor would the Altars spare,  
Tho' to the Gods they Consecrated were:  
War and Distress throughout the Land was spread;  
In every Place lay mighty heaps of Dead.  
Gray-headed Senators of Reverend Mien,  
A tropid Horror in their Looks were seen;  
The tender Virgins, with Heartrending Cries,  
And Sighs of Aged Matrons pierced the Skies.  

Nassaw, then from his Throne of State arose,  
In Person went the Tyrant to Oppose;  
And rescued weeping Belgia from her Foes.   

† A Town in Holland, where his present Majesty King William, with no more than two Hundred Burghers, and an hundred Garrison Soldiers, twice Repulsed above Five Thousand of the French, from before the Walls of Ardenburg; and besides the Slain, took five Hundred Prisoners, with several Commanders and Persons of Quality. This Great Action was performed in or about the Year, MDCLXXII.  Bodegrave will e'er Adore Great William's Name,  
And Altars raise to his Eternal Fame:  
When to their Troops, Nassaw Advanced near,  
He struck the Gallic Generals with Fear;  
Even Conde himself durst not appear.   

Descend my Muse, and leave Great William's Praise  
To them of skill in Sophoclean Lays:  
Him, who Prince Arthur Sings in lofty Strain;  
Or 
* Dorset.  he, who Lord of Wit, and Verse does Reign.    
FINIS.