TO THE MOST ILLUSTRIOUS, JOHN Earl of Lauderdale, etc. His Majesty's High Commissioner for the Kingdom of SCOTLAND, HIS GRACE, A Congratulatory welcome of an Heart-well-wishing Quill: HECATOMB.  

AWake, dull Muses, from Lethargic Trance;  
Apollo calls, in Raptures to advance.  
Each Quill hath freedom; now is time or never  
The Treas'rie of Invention to discover.  
All Hopes are frustrate of Rebellions Band,  
Now manacled, in blood can no more stand.  
The venomed, waspish, mutinous Tongues are known;  
'Twill fruitless prove the language such have shown:  
Enigma Ridling-Satyrs, upon Stage,  
Self-ruine does to th'author's but presage:  
As Night- Owls dare in Day not show their faces,  
Repining State-Moths would destroy all Peace's.   

Behold! behold! comes th' Atlas of Our Crown,  
(Its Good, and Kingdoms Shield) foes to pull down:  
His PRINCE'S Thoughts, Wishes, Desires (expressed)  
Seal'd's in a Loyal Secretary's Breast:  
Nay more, His Royal Heart He doth present,  
To signify His Love to Parliament.   

What male-contented spirit can he be,  
Thee does not welcome with alacrity!  
While others sleeped, Thy Contemplation waked,  
Fearing Thy Country's glory should be shaked  
By Circumveening Counsels of strange Foes,  
Whose Vigilance all Machiavils outgoes.   

No Native, sure, can Thy Intents mistrust;  
Proved, by Experience, all along, Most just:  
'Twixt KING and Subject, betwixt Church and State,  
Impartial Umpire, reconciles Debate.   

In Albion's wildest, and remotest Ground,  
Makes Concord flourish, and in Fruits abound:  
A Sovereign Balm, (Men judging now supposes)  
Will cure all Jars 'twixt Thistle and the Roses;  
Yea, link Them fast into a Gordian-Knot,  
And make Amneste bypast wrongs out-blot:  
So by the Couching Lions 'twill be vaunted,  
The Rampant's Courage makes Them now undaunted:  
Then who dares touch the Rose to do it harm!  
Will find the Thistle a defensive Arm:  
Whose Pricking Valour, Fatal Chair, and Crown,  
A Birthright pleads: no Nation like can own.  
But who will judge who hes the prior Seat?  
‛ Gain when Renuptiat's Britain's divorced State:  
Thy Country's Honour late hath so preferred,  
(Unvoyced) Her Case may to Thee be referred:  
Her dearest Son of Merit, 'bove whose Head  
The Garlands of Her Throne ne'er withered;  
Whose Fragrant Leaves to Sceptre will, by Thee,  
As Verdant looks, as when first pulled from Tree:  
Strong, Stately Twist, does keep unrent asunder  
Th' unconquered Ophir Closs- Crown, (Ages Wonder)  
Whose Privileges Thy foreseeing Wit  
And Martial Prudence makes in safety sit.  
But mark! the Voice of Caesar's great Command,  
Hes measured Britain with His Mighty Hand,  
Surrounded with the Ocean (as a Wall  
Of Brass) whose force the World can not make fall:  
Without partition, th' undivided Centre,  
heavens Sey-piece of Creation's first adventure:  
Free from the Evah-bondage of that Tree,  
Tempted Man's freewill to infelicity:  
Where Providence hath fixed Her ruling Hand,  
Under one Head makes Britain's Body stand;  
Whileas of old upon Her shoulders stood  
Numbers of Kings, thirsting each others blood:  
Composed now in one fit Monarchy,  
Of Head and Members Glorious to see.   

May His Great World-terr'fying work go on,  
That Kings may become subjects to His Throne;  
Perplexed too long, by sad Intestine Broils,  
Which might have Conquered all resisting soils.   

O how in fear each Foreign State may stand,  
Left Britain's unknown strength shall Them Command,  
Thralled in past Ages, ne'er to light could come,  
Hid as twinn'd-childrens wrestling in one womb;  
The Mother's Bowels oft have almost burst,  
Striving who should the other first out-thrust:  
Whose succinct Laws (made from Corruption free)  
To Athens Schools will prove the Library;  
Nay, 'twill be found, Lacedemoneas Court  
Of Students, will to Britain's Coasts resort:  
Then by a common Freedom in This Union,  
Her Natives may Traffic in each Dominion  
With Canvas winged, beyond the Line may fly,  
And make our Britain Europa's Emporie:   

So may Thy splendour unto our Horizon  
The Sceptre sway, and Royal power Blazon:  
Calm stormy Clouds, dispel our Babel Tongues,  
Compesce Sedition and imagined wrongs:  
Let Britain become in one State Politic,  
And that Her Church be Scriptures Apostolic,  
That others may to Her Conformists be,  
Purged from th' impostumes of black Heresy:  
Thus hence our Law, Religion, and Commerce,  
Be one, and free throughout the Universe:  
Then Happy Thou This Union if prove wrought,  
Which former Time's ne'er to perfection brought;  
A future blessing to Thy Monarch's Line,  
Successful Heir t'an Hundred Kings and nine.   

heavens second Thee to Better CHARLES His Wain, 
JOHN MET●L●N Anag: THE ONLY MAN.   
Our Boreas Pole, for it THE ONLY MAN.   
M. M. * ⁎ *