CCC. The vent'rous merchant, who design'd more far, And touches on our hospitable shore, Charm'd with the splendour of this Northern star, Our pow'rful navy shall no longer meet From all the world shall vindicate her trade. And while this fam'd emporium we prepare, The British ocean shall such triumphs boast, That those who now disdain our trade to share, Shall rob, like pirates, on our wealthy coast. CCCIII. Already we have conquer'd half the war, And the less dang'rous part is left behind; Our trouble now is but to make them dare, And not so great to vanquish as to find. CCCIV. Thus to the eastern wealth through storms we go, But now, the Cape once doubled, fear no more; A constant trade-wind will securely blow, And gently lay us on the spicy shore. A POEM ON THE PRINCE, BORN 10th JUNE 1688. OUR 10 And sent us back to praise who came to pray. Last solemn sabbath saw the church attend, 15 20 So great a blessing to so good a King, Or did the mighty Trinity conspire, 25 30 35 Hail, Son of Pray'rs! by holy violence, Drawn down from heav'n; but long be banish'd And late to thy paternal skies retire; [thence, To mend our crimes whole ages would require; To change th' invet'rate habit of our sins, The sacred cradle to your charge receive, Our wants exact at least that moderate stay: 55 Thus, when Alcides rais'd his infant cry, To needful succour all the good will run, O still repining at your present state, 60 65 Like Jews, you munch, and murmur while you feed; May not your fortune be like theirs, exil'd, Yet forty years to wander in the wild; Or if it be, may Moses live at least, To lead you to the verge of promis'd rest. 70 Though poets are not prophets, to foreknow What plants will take the blight, and what will grow; By tracing heav'n his footsteps may be found: Behold! how awfully he walks the round! God is abroad, and, wondrous in his ways, The rise of empires and their fall surveys: More (might I say) than with an usual eye, He sees his bleeding church in ruin lie, And hears the souls of saints beneath his altar cry. 75 ? Which crown'd the conqu'ring armsof Constantine: The moon grows pale at that presaging sight, And half her train of stars have lost their light. 85 95 Now view at home a second Constantine; The former, too, was of the British line) Has not his healing balm your breaches clos'd, 90 Whose exile many sought, and few oppos'd? O! did not Heav'n, by its eternal doom, Permit those evils that this good might come? So manifest, that e'en the moon-ey'd sects See whom and what this providence protects. Methinks, had we within our minds no more Than that one shipwreck on the fatal ore, That only thought may make us think again, What wonders God reserves for such a reign. To dream that Chance his preservation wrought, 100 Were to think Noah was preserv'd for nought; Or the surviving eight were not design'd To people earth, and to restore their kind. When humbly on the royal Babe we gaze, The manly lines of a majestic face Give awful joy: 'tis paradise to look 195 |