Britains Jubilee, Text
BRITAIN'S JUBILEE.
A Congratulatory Poem on the Deſcent of His Highneſs the Prince of Orange into England; and Their Highneſſes Acceſſion to the Crown; and Solemn Coronation April 11. 1689.
(1)
AM I awake, or in a dream?
Are all Ideas real as they ſeem?
If ſo; from whence the change? what mighty voice
Could ſtill the dreadful Hurricans loud noiſe,
And calm the raging Billows of the Sea?
Who could he be,
Who with a look, who with a frown could tame
Th'unruly Main,
And with a ſmile bring back our Peace again,
Making our ſhipwrackt State redound unto our gain?
(2)
T'was but th'other day that all our Hopes were fled,
By unruly Fear miſled.
Grief drew his aged Furrows on our Brow,
And Joy almoſt we bid adieu:
When lo a Divine Whiſper comfort ſpoke,
And bid us look above, the day was broke.
Scarce did we hear it, when the illuſtrious Rays
Of a bright Riſing Sun
Upon our long benighted Horizon,
Broke open all our Eyes with great amaze.
But ſtill ſo dull and feeble is our ſight,
Uſed ſo long to the dark ſhades of Night,
That we're not able to behold this bright
And glorious Light.
(3)
But now the Sun is up, the Clouds are gone;
The frightful Meteors fled, which lately ſhone;
The chearful Birds do chant upon the wing,
And morning Larks ſalute the welcom Spring.
Ev'n Kites and Crows do ſmile to ſee
Th'weather fair to be.
All but the diſmal Owls, do ſing and play,
And welcom in the Spring and Day.
(4)
Shall every one his Joys then rehearſe
In Proſe or Verſe?
Shall ev'ry Poetaſter try
To write, and ſhall not I?
Shall the Pindarique Swan be only found
To give no grateful ſound?
Shall not our Heroe be by her renown'd?
No, no, Great Prince, if none be found but I, to claim
Th' honour of that Name,
Your deeds ſhall ever live i'th'book of faireſt Fame.
And though, 'tis like, I ſeem obſcure and low;
Yet know,
'Tis not th'deepeſt flood that with moſt noiſe doth flow.
Howe'r, th'Ocean never doth upbraid
Th'ſmalleſt Tribute that by Brooks is paid.
What then, although obſcure I be?
Such diff'rent Notes, it is, makes all our harmony.
(5)
Long had our Iſle put on
The mourning Veil of Grief;
And hopeleſs of Relief,
Forgot almoſt her Name of Albion.
Black mid-night deeds each place did fill,
And miſchief did diſtil
Down from the Throne on all that ſate below,
And Juſtice and Religion both did overthrow.
Th' Atheiſt, Debauchee, and Sycophant,
Then to themſelves did all their wiſhes grant;
Whilſt ſober virtuous Souls did groan
Under moſt ſad oppreſſion,
Whilſt few ſo much as did their caſe bemoan.
Th' Orphans caſe, the Widdows cries and tears
Did pierce our hearts, our eyes and ears,
Each Object helping to augment our fears.
(6)
The varniſhed pretence of Liberty,
Though ſpecious to the vulgar Eye,
Prov'd but a veil, tranſparent, and too thin
To hide the movement and the ſpring;
We ſee the wheels and all their motions within.
We ſee the hook through all the garniſht bait:
But here did ſeem to lye our fate;
We knew not how to ſhun what did for us await.
For lo, t' compleat our Miſery,
And give the fatal blow to Law and Liberty,
Religion and Property;
A luſty Babe doth ſuddendly creep out;
But whatſoever way he's Born,
Though equally our Grief and Scorn,
He is a Noble Prince of Wales no doubt.
Thus Popery, being on the Throne, it's will the Law,
All thinking Men the Conſequences ſaw.
(7)
The generous Dutch did ſoon perceive our caſe,
And did the Motion of the Prince embrace,
With greateſt Charge and greateſt Care,
Their Land and Naval Force they do prepare,
And nothing needful ſpare.
Unto Religions ſucceſs they poſtpone
That of their own,
Reſolved either all to loſe, or that to carry on.
(8)
Thus aided, does our Noble Prince Embark,
With all his gen'rous Train,
But hark!
The ſwelling and unſtable Main,
Proud of th' Glorious Load
Which on its rough-hew'd Surface r…
Engag'd them in a Fight with Wind and Wave before,
And drove them back again unto the Belgick Shore.
(9)
This might have dampt, ev'n gallant Souls, to be
By Providence thus croſt,
As a Preſage of their being loſt;
But our brave thinking Hero further in it ſee
He in it ſee and underſtood
As a bleſt Omen for his good,
That this would but increaſe th' haughty Pride
Of the oppoſing Side,
As a ſure Praelude of their fall;
He in it ſee the Divine Jonathan's Call.
Th' Enemies Pride, Come o're to us, did ſay;
He ſee it was God's Call, and did obey
(10)
His floating Caſtle he again does enter;
And who would fear with him to venture
In whom th' Proteſtants Hopes and Prayers all do cen…er?
Now, now, at length, the Sign is given
Of Victory from Heaven.
The Wind ſtands Eaſt, and whiſtling fills the Sail,
The Fiſhes play, and Waves do ſmile to ſee them ſail.
In State they through the Channel thus do ride,
Gladding th' one, frighting th' other ſide;
Till in glad Tor-bay's boſom they do reſt,
Cauſing a day-ſpring in the long benighted Weſt.
And when the Sun doth in the Weſt ariſe,
No wonder, if we're ſeized with ſurprize.
(11)
Now Exeter doth joyful ope her Gates;
Each other City the ſame fate awaits.
All ſtrive to harbour him, who s labouring Breaſt
Extenſive is for all our hopes to reſt.
Hell only and its Darkneſs ſtrive t' oppoſe
Th' Light which now aroſe.
Sarum's wide Plain is choſen for the Fight,
Where all prepare for to behold the ſight.
But when th' Heav'ns for one Side give aſſent,
Who needs to fear th' event?
(12)
Come on, Brave Prince, diſpel the cloudy Night,
By the approach of Day, and Light
Thy Sun-like vertue doth diffuſe each where,
And each Heart is its medium free as Air
Thou need not fear that State can thee oppoſe,
For whoſe help thou ſo ſeaſonably roſe.
Thou need not fear that Church a Church can be,
Who ſhall oppoſe their God and thee.
Thou need not fear that Souldiers can pretend
To bear that name, and not become thy friend.
When hearts fly open, all things elſe do yield,
Th' incloſures all are broak, and do become one field,
What need we tell, who then unto the came?
Since ev'n all abſent did the ſame.
(13)
Now into London thou directs thy Face
That elſe unhappy place.
London of blood the deſtin'd Stage;
London of Rogues become th' Cage;
London full of Villains, Tories,
London fill'd with Lies and Stories.
But lo, to it as thou approaches nigh,
Hurries ceaſe and Rogues do flie;
Villains hence do run their race;
Truth ſucceeds in Errors place;
Griefs and Fears do fly away;
And Joys and Comforts in their room do ſtay.
(14)
The Nobles now conſult, and meet,
How beſt they may our happineſs compleat.
But what, alaſe! is left for them to do,
Except more fully us to ſhew,
What God already does declare,
That the Fair Vertuous Pair
Are Britain's true undoubted heir?
Old Saul already forfeited his place;
But, bleſt be God, we need not ſeek
A David from amongſt the Sheep,
We have one ſtill left of the Royal Race,
(15)
We have a David, whom loud Fame does Crown
With higheſt Titles of Renown.
In whom all Graces center, and do meet,
And all the Virtues make compleat.
Who Virtues race hath equally begun
With that of days and years to run.
We have a comely Michal ſweet and fair,
In Beauty chief, in Virtue rare,
Adorned with each lovely Grace
And all as charming as her Face.
Who though ſhe might a ſnare by Saul be given,
Yet is to David and to us a ſacred gift from Heaven.
(16)
Lo now the long'd for day is come,
The fame whereof is loudly rung;
Lo, lo, the Muſick ſweet almoſt my Muſe ſtrikes dumb.
See, the Nobles paſſing by,
See, the glorious Company,
See, what Crouds are looking on,
See, what State attends th' throne,
But what of all this glorious ſhow
Is th' center of each eye,
As of all hearts it was long, long ago,
See tis th' glorious Pair draws nigh.
(17)
But why do we thus look and gaze,
On Shadowy grandeur far below your praiſe?
Could we but the Scales diſpel,
From the Eye and from the Ear,
The Scales which hinder Spirits to be viſible,
Another ſight would ſoon appear.
Lo, lo, how the Angels come,
Bright and flaming as the Sun.
Lo, their Trains I do eſpy
Hov'ring through th' ſmiling Sky.
Their length from heav'n to earth doth reach,
And yet an Army each.
Robes of pureſt light they wear;
A Starry Crown their hands do bear.
A Scepter, not of Gold, but Golden righteouſneſs,
Made to grow and to increaſe.
Inſtead of Oyl, they heavenly Nectar ſhed
Upon your Sacred Head.
Lo how gently down it flows,
Smelling ſweeter than the Roſe;
Lo, it trickling doth diſtill,
And ev'ry Soul with fragrant Odour fill.
(18)
Ariſe, young Hero, from thy Throne,
Thy Robes lay by, thy Sword gird on,
Wars Rumors call thee to be gone.
But fearleſs go, for Angels guard thy way,
And ev'ry Saint does for thy Succeſs pray.
The Footſtep of thy great Ancestors Trace
In their Illuſtrious Race.
Illuſtrious all; but far too ſhort they be
Compar'd, Great Prince, with thee.
For all the Virtues, wherein each excel,
In thee alone concenter, and united dwell.
(19)
Thy Ancient Scotland doth prepare,
With greateſt love and greateſt care,
To fix thy Scepter there.
Religions intereſt and that of Thine,
Which are indeed the ſame,
Do equally there now begin to ſhine.
And who can elſe that Country claim?
'Tis thou, that from oppreſſions rage,
Whereof it was of late the diſmal ſtage,
Haſt reſcu'd all its Laws, Religion, Liberty,
Which ſhackl'd were before, and ready to expire and die.
(20)
Poor mad-brain'd Ireland dreams it can withſtand,
Alone, that conqu'ring hand;
Which every where victorious doth prove
By force, if not before by love.
Ariſe, Great Prince, here is a ſecond ſtep
Another victory to get;
A vict'ry not of Hearts, but cruel Foes,
Who God and thee do equally oppoſe.
That curſed Canaanitiſh Crew,
Let's ſeriouſly but view,
And ſure we muſt confeſs,
A fatal instinct doth their mind poſſeſs.
God doth them for the ſlaughter-houſe prepare,
That Iſrael may inhabit there.
Long have they Pricks and Thorns to us been,
As at all times we've ſeen.
Wherefore let not a cruel mercy ſpare
One Agag there,
Which after may draw curſes on us from our Heir.
But if a Gibeonite we ſave,
Forever let him be the Church and Country's Slave.
(21)
This is not all, a higher ſtep remains,
Which fully will reward the pains.
France calls thee o're, Great Prince, and groans to ſee
It ſelf a Slave, and us at Liberty.
That Foe to God and Man, doth by his actions call
Aloud for vengeance for his fall.
His cup grows full, and the Almighty God
Doth ſeem to call thee forth to burn th' rod.
Thy old Poſſeſſion, Orange, baſely ſnatcht away:
This ſeems to ſay;
Thy new acquired Title points thee out the way,
And all th'Oppreſt and Martyrs for it pray;
Turn thy juſt Claim into Poſſeſſion,
Juſtice, as well as Mercy, bids thee take thy own.
(22)
Go on, Brave Prince, thy after days are all ſerene,
And Summer will ſucceed a Winters Scene.
To tott'ring Rome thy arms extend,
And bring that Sodom to an end.
Its end draws on apace, and we await,
To ſee its long expected Fate.
Already ſure its ruine were begun,
If Proteſtants ſhould once as one become.
And ne're more hopeful this did ſeem to be,
Since now we're all as one in thee.
We'll march with thee, where e're thou ſhalt command;
To any place, to any Land,
From utmoſt India, to th' American Sand.
Let thy juſt Arms ever but purſue
The Babyloniſh Crew,
And ſure God then will fight for you.
With curſed Am'lek wage perpetual War,
Until at length thou prove the Morning Star;
To uſher in the glorious promis'd Reign
Of Chriſt, till he do come again.
Then ſhall thy Name endure, and ever fragrant be,
Till Time yields up That Truſt to bleſt Eternity.
FINIS.
London. Publiſht by Randal Taylor near Stationers-Hall, 1689.
End of the text · Robert Flemming, Britains Jubilee (1689)