JAN. 'Tis well an old age is out.
CHRO. And time to begin a new.
CHO. of all." All, all of a piece throughout; "Thy chace had a beast in view;
Thy wars brought nothing about,
"Thy lovers were all untrue, "'Tis well an old age is out,
"And time to begin a new."
Dance of huntsmen, nymphs, warriors, and lovers.
A PANEGYRIC ON HIS CORONATION.
IN that wild deluge where the world was drown'd,
When life and sin one common tomb had found,
The first small prospect of a rising hill
With various notes of joy the ark did fill;
Yet when that flood in its own depths was drown'd,
It left behind it false and slipp'ry ground;
And the more solemn pomp was still deferr'd,
Till new-born nature in fresh looks appear'd.
Thus Royal Sir, to see you landed here,
Was cause enough of triumph for a year:
Nor would your care those glorious joys repeat,
Till they at once might be secure and great;
Till your kind beams by their continu'd stay,
Had warm'd the ground, and call'd the damps away.
Such vapours, while your pow'rful influence dries,
Then soonest vanish when they highest rise.
Had greater hate these sacred rites prepar'd,
Some guilty months had in your triumphs shar'd;
But this untainted year is all your own;
Your glories may without our crimes be shown. 20
We had not yet exhausted all our store,
When you refresh'd our joys by adding more,
As Heav'n, of old, dispens'd celestial dew,
You gave us manna, and still give us new.
Volume 11.
Now our sad ruins are remov'd from sight,
The season, too, comes fraught with new delight:
Time seems not now beneath his years to stoop,
Nor do his wings with sickly feathers droop:
Soft western winds waft o'er the gaudy Spring,
And open'd scenes of flow'rs and blossoms bring
To grace this happy day while you appear
Not king of us alone but of the year.
All eyes you draw, and with the eyes the heart;
Of your own pomp yourself the greatest part.
Loud shouts the nation's happiness proclaim,
And heav'n this day is feasted with your name.
Your cavalcade the fair spectators view,
From their high standings, yet look up to you.
From your brave train each singles out a prey.
And longs to date a conquest from your day.
Now charg'd with blessings, while you seek repose,
Officious Slumbers haste your eyes to close :
And glorious Dreams stand ready to restore
The pleasing shapes of all you saw before.
Next to the sacred temple you are led,
Where waits a crown for your more sacred head:
How justly from the church that crown is due,
Preserv'd from ruin, and restor❜d by you!
The grateful choir their harmony employ,
Not to make greater but more solemn joy.
Wrapt soft and warm, your name is sent on high,
As flames do on the wings of incense fly:
Music herself is lost, in vain she brings
Her choicest notes to praise the best of kings:
Her melting strains in you a tomb have found,
And lie, like bees, in their own sweetness drown'd.
He that brought peace, all discord could atone,
His name is music of itself alone.
Now while the sacred oil anoints your head,
And fragrant scents begun from you, are spread 65
Thro' the large dome, the people's joyful sound,
Sent back, is still preserv'd in hallow'd ground:
Which in one blessing mix'd descends on you,
As heighten'd spirits fall in richer dew.
Not that our wishes do increase your store,
Full of yourself, you can admit no more:
We add not to your glory, but employ
Our time, like angels, in expressing joy.
Nor is it duty, or our hopes, alone
Create that joy, but full fruition:
We know those blessings which we must possess,
And judge of future by past happiness.
No promise can oblige a prince so much
Still to be good, as long to have been such.
A noble emulation heats your breast,
And your own fame now robs you of your rest.
Good actions still must be maintain'd with good,
As bodies nourish'd with resembling food.
You have already quench'd Sedition's brand;
And Zeal, which burnt it, only warms the land. 80
The jealous sects that dare not trust their cause
So far from their own will as to the laws,
You for their umpire and their synod take,
And their appeal alone to Cæsar make.
Kind Heav'n so rare a temper did provide,
That Guilt repenting might in it confide.
Among our crimes oblivion may be set
But 'tis our Kings perfection to forget.
Virtues, unknown to these rough northern climes,
From milder heav'ns you bring, without their crimes.
Your calmness does no after-storms provide,
Nor seeming patience mortal anger hide.
When empire first from families did spring,
Then ev'ry father govern'd as a king;
But you that are a sov'reign prince, allay
Imperial pow'r with your paternal sway.
From those great cares when ease your soul unbends,
Your pleasures are design'd to noble ends:
Born to command the mistress of the seas,
Your thoughts themselves in that blue empire please.›
Hither in summer ev'nings you repair
To take the fraicheur of the purer air:
Undaunted here you ride, when Winter 1aves,
With Cæsar's heart that rose above the waves.
More I could sing, but fear my numbers stays;
No loyal subject, dares that courage praise.
In stately frigates most delight you find,
Where well-drawn battles fire your martial mind.
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