Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

Inspir'd by what melodious Hughes has sung,
I'll tune a Lyre, that long has lain unstrung:
Awak'd from drowsy Sloth, and soothing Rest,
Poetick Transports fire my ravish'd Breast!

What Pleasure must retiring Dryden find,
To see that Art his skilful Muse refin'd,
So much improv'd by those he leaves behind?
So when a Father sees a careful Son
Enlarge those Coffers, which were first his own,
With Joy to Heav'n he lifts his aged Eyes,
Blesses his prosp'rous Heir, and calmly dies.

May all your Fortune, like your Numbers, shine,
And smoothly flow, without one rugged Line!
'Till we confess the Genius is the same,
That guides your Fortune, and Poetick Flame.

So when of old some sportive Amorous God,
Vouchsaf'd awhile to leave his blest Abode,
In whatsoever Form the Guest appear'd,
His heav'nly Lustre shone, and was rever'd.

Catharine-Hall, Cambridge.

W. Worts. February, 1697.

THE Triumph of Peace: Occasion'd by the PEACE of RESWICK, 1697.

Hear, Britain, hear a rough unpractis'd Tongue!
Tho' rough my Voice, the Muse inspires the Song,
The Heav'n-born Muse; e'en now she springs her Flight,
And bears my raptur'd Soul, thro' untrac'd Realms of Light.
We mount aloft, and, in our airy Way,
Retiring Kingdoms far beneath survey.

Amid the rest a spacious Tract appears,
Obscure in View, and on its Visage wears
Black hov'ring Mists, which thick'ning by degrees,
Extend a louring Storm o'er Earth and Seas.
But, lo! an Eastern Light, arising high,
Drives the tempestuous Wreck along the Sky!
Then thus the Muse—Look down, my Son! and see
The bright Procession of a Deity!
She spoke; the Storm dispers'd; vanish'd the Night;
And well-known Europe stands disclos'd to Sight.

Of various States, the various Bounds appear;
There wide Hispania, fruitful Gallia here;
Belgia's moist Soil, conspicuous from afar,
And Flandria, long the Field of a destructive War.
Germania too, with cluster'd Vines o'erspread;
And lovely Albion from her wat'ry Bed,
Beauteous above the rest, rears her auspicious Head.
Beneath her chalky Cliffs, Sea-Nymphs resort,
And awful Neptune keeps his reedy Court;
His darling Thames, rich Presents in his Hand
Of bounteous Ceres, traverses the Land;
And seems a mighty Snake, whose shining Pride
Does thro' the Meads in sinuous Volumes glide.

Ah, charming Isle! fairest of all the Main!
Too long thou dost my willing Eye detain.

For see a Heroe on the adverse Strand!
And, lo! a blooming Virgin in his Hand!
All hail, Celestial Pair!—a Goddess She,
Of Heav'nly Birth confest, a more than Mortal, He!
Victorious Laurels on his Brows he wears;
Th'attending Fair a branching Olive bears;
Slender her Shape, in silver Bands confin'd;
Her snowy Garments loosely flow behind,
Rich with embroider'd Stars, and ruffle in the Wind.
But once such diff'ring Beauty met before,
When Warrior Mars did Love's bright Queen adore;
E'en Love's bright Queen might seem less winning fair,
And Mars submit to his Heroick Air.
Not Jove himself, Imperial Jove, can show
A nobler Mien, or more undaunted Brow,
When his strong Arm, thro' Heav'n's Ætherial Plains,
Compels the kindled Bolt, and awful Rule maintains.

And now embark'd they seek the British Isles,
Pleas'd with the Charge, propitious Ocean smiles.
Before, old Neptune smooths the liquid way;
Obsequious Tritons on the Surface play;
And sportful Dolphins, with a nimble Glance,
To the bright Sun their glitt'ring Scales advance.
In oozy Beds profound, the Billows sleep,
No clamorous Winds awake the silent Deep;

Rebuk'd, they whisper in a gentle Breeze,
And all around is Universal Peace.

Proceed, my Muse! The following Pomp declare;
Say who, and what the bright Attendants were!
First Ceres, in her Chariot seated high,
By harness'd Dragons drawn along the Sky;
A Cornucopia fill'd her weaker Hand,
Charg'd with the various Offspring of the Land,
Fruit, Flowers, and Corn; her right a Sickle bore;
A yellow Wreath of twisted Wheat she wore.
Next Father Bacchus with his Tigers grac'd
The Show, and, squeezing Clusters as he pass'd,
Quaff'd flowing Goblets of rich-flavour'd Wine.
In Order, last succeed the tuneful Nine;
Apollo too was there; behind him hung
His useless Quiver, and his Bow unstrung;
He touch'd his Golden Lyre, and thus he sung.

‘Lead on, great William! in thy happy Reign
‘Peace and the Muses are restor'd again.
‘War, that fierce Lion, long disdaining Law,
‘Rang'd uncontroul'd, and kept the World in Awe,
‘While trembling Kingdoms crouch'd beneath his Paw.
‘At last the reeling Monster, drunk with Gore,
‘Falls at thy Feet subdu'd, and quells his Roar;
‘Tamely to Thee he bends his shaggy Mane,
‘And on his Neck admits the long-rejected Chain.

‘At thy protecting Court, for this blest Day,
‘Attending Nations their glad Thanks shall pay:
‘Not Belgia, and the rescu'd Isle alone,
‘But Europe shall her great Deliverer own.
‘Rome's mighty Grandeur was not more confest,
‘When great Antonius travel'd thro' the East,
‘And Crouds of Monarchs did each Morning wait
‘With early Homage at his Palace-Gate.
‘Haste then, bright Prince! thy Britain's Transport meet;
‘Haste to her Arms, and make her Bliss compleat!
‘Whate'er glad News has reach'd her list'ning Ear;
‘While her long-absent Lord provokes her Fear,
‘Her Joys are in Suspence, her Pleasures unsincere.
‘He comes, thy Heroe comes! O beauteous Isle!
‘Revive thy Genius with a chearful Smile!
‘Let thy rejoicing Sons fresh Palms prepare,
‘To grace the Trophies of the finish'd War;
‘On high be hung the martial Sword insheath'd,
‘The Shield with Ribbons dress'd, and Spear with Ivy wreath'd!
‘Let speaking Paint in various Tablets show
‘Past Scenes of Battle to the Croud below!
‘Round this triumphant Pile, in rustick Dance,
‘The shouting Swains shall, hand in hand, advance;

‘The wealthy Farmer from his Toils shall cease;
‘The Ploughman from the Yoke his smoking Steers release,
‘And join to solemnize the Festival of Peace.
‘No more for want of Hands th'unlabour'd Field,
‘Choak'd with rank Weeds, a sickly Crop shall yield:
‘Calm Peace returns; behold her shining Train!
‘And fruitful Plenty is restor'd again’.—
Apollo ceas'd;—The Muses take the Sound,
From Voice to Voice th'harmonious Notes rebound,
And echoing Lyres transmit the volant Fugue around!

Mean while the steddy Bark, with prosp'rous Gales,
Fills the large Sheets of her expanded Sails,
And gains th'intended Port; thick on the Strand,
Like swarming Bees, th'assembled Britons stand,
And press to see their welcome Sov'reign land:
At his Approach, unruly Transport reigns
In ev'ry Breast, and Rapture fires their Veins.
A general Shout succeeds, as when on high
Exploded Thunder rends the vaulted Sky.
A short Convulsion shakes the solid Shore,
And rocks th'adjacent Deep, unmov'd before;
Loud Acclamations thro' the Valleys ring,
While to Augusta's Wall, the Croud attend their King.

And now behold a finish'd Temple rise,
On lofty Pillars climbing to the Skies!
Of Bulk stupendous, its proud Pile it rears,
The gradual Product of successive Years.
An inner Gate, that folds with Iron Leaves,
The charm'd Spectator's ent'ring Steps receives,
Where curious Works in twisted Stems are seen
Of branching Foliage, vacuous between.
O'er this a vocal Organ, mounted high
On Marble Columns, strikes the wond'ring Eye;
And feeds at once two Senses with Delight,
Sweet to the Ear, and splendid to the Sight.
Marble the Floor, enrich'd with native Stains
Of various Dye, and streak'd with azure Veins.
E'en emulous Art with Nature seems to strive,
And the carv'd Figures almost breathe and live;
The painted Altar, glorious to behold,
Shines with delightful Blue, and dazzling Gold.
Here first th'illustrious Three, of Heav'nly Race,
Religion, Liberty, and Peace embrace;
Here joyful Crouds their pious Thanks express
For Peace restor'd, and Heav'n's Indulgence bless.
Auspicious Structure! Born in happy Days,
Whose first Employment is the Noblest, Praise!

So, when by just degrees th'Eternal Thought
His six Days Labour to Perfection brought,
With Laws of Motion first endu'd the Whole,
And bade the Heav'ns in destin'd Circles roll,
The polish'd Spheres commenc'd their Harmony;
All Nature in a Chorus did agree,
And the World's Birth-Day was a Jubilee.

Printed in 1697.

The Choir of St. Paul's was first open'd on the Day of Thanksgiving for the Peace.