A POEM To His HIGHNESS, the PRINCE of ORANGE, To Welcome Him into the CITY of LONDON.  Written by a SON of the Church of England. 

IN Lawless Times, when Rome's devouring Jaws,  
Swallowed our Peace, Religion, and our Laws;  
When Subjects Rights lay crushed beneath the Throne,  
And that Debauched by th' Whore of Babylon,  
When Loyal Wits by Popish Knaves were fooled,  
And all the State by Rome's dark Counsels Ruled:  
When Lies confirmed were, and the Truth run down,  
And Beads became the Jewels of the Crown:  
When all the Nation in a deep Despair,  
Lay groaning, Crushed beneath a load of Care:  
When Legal Order was by Priests confused,  
The Laws corrupted, and the Just abused;  
The Crown and Cross in subtle Union joined,  
Made Private Leagues, for public Ills designed:  
Thus England lay expecting of its Doom,  
Exposed to all the Greedy Woolves of Rome.  
But Heaven, who their Black Stratagems had seen,  
With a Blessed Care divinely stepped between,  
Their close infernal Treacheries to prevent,  
Resolved to Choose some Humane Instrument;  
And none so fit on Earth, (could Heaven see)  
For this blessed Enterprise, Great PRINCE, as thou.  
O Mighty SAVIOUR, whom just Heaven has Chose,  
To keep Us from the Violence of our Foes:  
How shall we set forth Thy Immortal FAME,  
Or in fit Accents Celebrate Thy NAME!  
Humane Abilities it far exceeds,  

To speak at large, the Greatness of Thy Deeds:  
'Tis Thou (O PRINCE) has set the Nation free,  
Redeemed us all from Rome's vile Slavery,   
And Placed us in our Ancient Liberty.  
We through Thy Aid (by Heavens Decree employed)  
Possess those Rights we heretofore enjoyed,  
Religion, which the Good delights to see,  
Established in its splendid Property,  
By false Authority was Trampled down,  
And basely Worried 'twixt the Cross and Crown:  

But now behold Her foes Thy Justice shun,  
And into dark Obscurities they run,  
Like gloving mists disperse before the Sun.   
Great PRINCE! Thy Coming does no less presage,  
Than the Blessed Sunshine, of a Peaceful Age;  
Who would their Fortunes from thy Service spare,  
Since every one will the Advantage Share;  
Or who'd deny the Homage justly due,  
(For our Deliverance) Mighty PRINCE, to you;  
He deserves bondage who omits the pains  
Of struggling, to release himself from Chains.  
O Happy Albion, didst thou rightly know  
The Blessings Heaven upon Thee doth bestow;  
Thou'st pray His Power might as a Screen endure,  
Whose Potent Arm has kept our Peace secure;  

Who at one Blast has all our Cares o'erblown,  
Restored those Rights we Justly call our own,  
And frighted Rooms Black Agens from the Throne.   
Ye Sons of England's Church your fears destroy,  
For Heaven assures us of an Age of Joy;  
Let us a Cheerful Gladness now express,  
Due to the prospect of our Happiness:  
Welcome Great PRINCE, more welcome let us say,  
Than to the Persians is the Rising day.  
Long may He live, and ever youthful be  
With Honour Crowned, Clothed with Felicity;  
Pursued by Fame, by all Diversion met;  
Free from the least Misfortune or Regret:  
May all Prosperity His Life attend,  
And every Action with a Blessing end;  
May Heaven to each Adventure give Success,  
And all His Days and Undertake bless;  
And may He Crowned be, whensoe'er He dies,  
(For this Great Deed) with Everlasting Joys.    
FINIS.  

London, Printed for I. C. in Holbourn. 1688.