 | Poems on Affairs of State |  |
On the Marriage of the Prince and Princess of Orange.
Hail happy Warrior! whose Arms have won
The fairest Jewel in the English Crown.
Happy in th'horrid Dangers of the Field;
Happy in Courts, which brightest Beauties yield.
O Prince, whose Soul is known so truly great!
Whom Heav'n did seem to take time to create:
First the rich Ore refin'd, then did allay,
Stamp'd thee his own, not shuffled thee away.
With wonder thus we thy cool Temper prize,
Not but thou art as brave and bold as wise.
Like the true English, who approach their Fate
With Awe, and gravely first with Death debate:
They kindle slowly, but when once on fire,
Burn on, and in the Blaze of Fame expire.
The fairest Jewel in the English Crown.
Happy in th'horrid Dangers of the Field;
Happy in Courts, which brightest Beauties yield.
O Prince, whose Soul is known so truly great!
Whom Heav'n did seem to take time to create:
First the rich Ore refin'd, then did allay,
Stamp'd thee his own, not shuffled thee away.
With wonder thus we thy cool Temper prize,
Not but thou art as brave and bold as wise.
Like the true English, who approach their Fate
With Awe, and gravely first with Death debate:
They kindle slowly, but when once on fire,
Burn on, and in the Blaze of Fame expire.
Hail Princess! Hail thou fairest of thy kind!
Thou Shape of Angels with an Angel's Mind!
Whose Virtues shine, but so as to be borne,
Clear as the Sun, and gentle as the Morn.
Whose radiant Eyes like lambent Glory move;
And ev'ry Glance wounds like a Dart of Love.
How well, O Prince, how nobly hast thou fought,
Since to thy Arms such Charms the Fates have brought!
Methinks I hear thee in the Nuptial Bed,
When o'er the Royal Maid thy Arms were spread:
Thou Shape of Angels with an Angel's Mind!
Whose Virtues shine, but so as to be borne,
Clear as the Sun, and gentle as the Morn.
Whose radiant Eyes like lambent Glory move;
And ev'ry Glance wounds like a Dart of Love.
How well, O Prince, how nobly hast thou fought,
Since to thy Arms such Charms the Fates have brought!
Methinks I hear thee in the Nuptial Bed,
When o'er the Royal Maid thy Arms were spread:
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Enough, kind Heav'n! well was my Sword employ'd,
Since all the Bliss Earth holds shall be enjoy'd.
Pains I remember now with vast Delight,
Well have I brav'd the thund'ring French in Fight:
My Hazards now are Gains; and if my Blood
In Battel mix, and swell the vulgar Flood,
Her Tears (for sure she'll be so good to mourn)
Like Balm, shall heal the Wounds when I return.
Since all the Bliss Earth holds shall be enjoy'd.
Pains I remember now with vast Delight,
Well have I brav'd the thund'ring French in Fight:
My Hazards now are Gains; and if my Blood
In Battel mix, and swell the vulgar Flood,
Her Tears (for sure she'll be so good to mourn)
Like Balm, shall heal the Wounds when I return.
But hark! 'tis rumour'd that this happy Pair
Must go; the Prince for Holland does declare,
Call'd to the dreadful Business of the War.
Go then; if thy Departure is decreed,
Thy Friends must weep, thy Enemies shall bleed.
And if in Poets Minds, their vaster Souls,
Where all at once the whole Creation rolls;
To whom the Warrior is as much oblig'd,
As to Relievers, Towns that are besieg'd;
For Death would to their Acts an end afford,
Did not immortal Verse out-do the Sword:
If ought of Prophecy their Thoughts inspire,
And if their Fury give a solid Fire;
Soft shall your Waftage be, the Seas and Wind
Calm as the Prince, and as the Princess kind:
The World why should not Dreams of Poets take
As well as Prophets, who but dream awake?
I saw the Ship the Prince and Princess bore,
While the sad Court stood crouding on the Shore:
The Prince still bowing on the Deck did stand,
And held his weeping Princess by the Hand:
Which waving oft she bid them all farewel,
And wept as if she would the Ocean swell.
Farewel the best of Fathers, best of Friends,
While the mov'd Duke with a hurl'd Sigh commend
To Heav'n his Care; in Tears his Eyes would swim,
But manly Virtue binds them in the brim.
Farewel, she cry'd, my Sister, thou dear Part,
Thou sweetest part of my divided Heart:
To whom I all my Secrets did unfold;
Dear Casket, who dost all my Treasure hold.
My Sister, O!—her Sighs did then renew,
Once more, O Heav'n, a long and last Adieu!
Must go; the Prince for Holland does declare,
Call'd to the dreadful Business of the War.
Go then; if thy Departure is decreed,
Thy Friends must weep, thy Enemies shall bleed.
And if in Poets Minds, their vaster Souls,
Where all at once the whole Creation rolls;
To whom the Warrior is as much oblig'd,
As to Relievers, Towns that are besieg'd;
For Death would to their Acts an end afford,
Did not immortal Verse out-do the Sword:
If ought of Prophecy their Thoughts inspire,
And if their Fury give a solid Fire;
Soft shall your Waftage be, the Seas and Wind
Calm as the Prince, and as the Princess kind:
The World why should not Dreams of Poets take
As well as Prophets, who but dream awake?
I saw the Ship the Prince and Princess bore,
While the sad Court stood crouding on the Shore:
The Prince still bowing on the Deck did stand,
And held his weeping Princess by the Hand:
Which waving oft she bid them all farewel,
And wept as if she would the Ocean swell.
Farewel the best of Fathers, best of Friends,
While the mov'd Duke with a hurl'd Sigh commend
To Heav'n his Care; in Tears his Eyes would swim,
But manly Virtue binds them in the brim.
Farewel, she cry'd, my Sister, thou dear Part,
Thou sweetest part of my divided Heart:
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Dear Casket, who dost all my Treasure hold.
My Sister, O!—her Sighs did then renew,
Once more, O Heav'n, a long and last Adieu!
| Poems on Affairs of State | |