Streams from Helicon Or, Poems On Various Subjects. In Three Parts. By Alexander Pennecuik ... The Second Edition. Enter'd in Stationer's Hall |
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 | Streams from Helicon |  |
“The Ashes of our King are now interr'd.
“And you, to the high Office are preferr'd:
“For to be bury'd, Curse (the Bramble says)
“On such damn'd Laws, to cut a Subjects Days.
“No, no, replies the honest Pom'granate,
“You're call'd to wear the Crown, to rule the State,
“The Little Bramble shall be very great.
“That's Right, quoth the Bramble, I'm to hold the Reins,
“The Giants with long Arms did fright the Plains;
They'll all be safe when the Dwarff Bramble's King,
“Bless'd be the Tree that doth the Tidings bring.
“I need an Assessor, know Pom'granate,
“That you shall be my Secretar of State;
“O 'twill be humbling to the Cedar Tree,
“It will disjoint his Back to bow to me.
“O what a Weight is on my Shoulders laid,
“What Honours to the Bramble will be paid,
“The Bramble's Fame will fly beyond the Seas:
“Both Poles shall hear the Bramble rules the Trees
“The Royal Oak my Edicts will fulfill,
“I'll order all the Wood by my own sov'reign Will;
“Exalted on the Throne I'll proudly sit,
“Trampling upon the Cedars with my Feet.
“I know the Rebells of the Woods will hope,
“The Government will sink with such a Prop;
“No, my devouring Sword shall make them bleed,
“My Fury stamp them down, my Wrath shall strike them dead.
“Go Pom'granate, swift as the Lightning move;
“Acquaint each Hill and Plain, and Wood and Grove,
“That I'm the kingly Regent on the Throne,
“And these who do th'Authority disown,
“My Arms shall shake, until they totter down.
“My Wrath inflam'd, shall plague the scoffing Crew,
“The disobedient Trees shall either burn or bow.
Thro' thorny Roads with Spirits tir'd and faint,
The Pom'granate back to the Senate went;
Who told the august Court what he had done,
“My Lords, the Bramble doth embrace the Throne,
“His Government already is begun.
“Nay, I'm convinc'd, before the setting Sun,
“(For Magazines of Plagues are in his Blood,)
“His raging Fire will burn half the Wood.
“Wild and unwholsome as the Root, will all high Branches be,
“How can we hope for living Fruit from such deadly Tree.
The Senate mourn'd when this sad News was told,
They order'd that his Power should be controul'd,
Wise Limitations crush'd his proud Intent,
(For all our Safety's in a Parliament,)
An Oak brought in an Overture for Cess,
Which pass'd, and they prorogu'd to—Nevermass.
“And you, to the high Office are preferr'd:
“For to be bury'd, Curse (the Bramble says)
“On such damn'd Laws, to cut a Subjects Days.
“No, no, replies the honest Pom'granate,
“You're call'd to wear the Crown, to rule the State,
“The Little Bramble shall be very great.
“That's Right, quoth the Bramble, I'm to hold the Reins,
“The Giants with long Arms did fright the Plains;
They'll all be safe when the Dwarff Bramble's King,
“Bless'd be the Tree that doth the Tidings bring.
“I need an Assessor, know Pom'granate,
“That you shall be my Secretar of State;
“O 'twill be humbling to the Cedar Tree,
“It will disjoint his Back to bow to me.
“O what a Weight is on my Shoulders laid,
“What Honours to the Bramble will be paid,
98
“Both Poles shall hear the Bramble rules the Trees
“The Royal Oak my Edicts will fulfill,
“I'll order all the Wood by my own sov'reign Will;
“Exalted on the Throne I'll proudly sit,
“Trampling upon the Cedars with my Feet.
“I know the Rebells of the Woods will hope,
“The Government will sink with such a Prop;
“No, my devouring Sword shall make them bleed,
“My Fury stamp them down, my Wrath shall strike them dead.
“Go Pom'granate, swift as the Lightning move;
“Acquaint each Hill and Plain, and Wood and Grove,
“That I'm the kingly Regent on the Throne,
“And these who do th'Authority disown,
“My Arms shall shake, until they totter down.
“My Wrath inflam'd, shall plague the scoffing Crew,
“The disobedient Trees shall either burn or bow.
Thro' thorny Roads with Spirits tir'd and faint,
The Pom'granate back to the Senate went;
Who told the august Court what he had done,
“My Lords, the Bramble doth embrace the Throne,
“His Government already is begun.
“Nay, I'm convinc'd, before the setting Sun,
“(For Magazines of Plagues are in his Blood,)
“His raging Fire will burn half the Wood.
“Wild and unwholsome as the Root, will all high Branches be,
“How can we hope for living Fruit from such deadly Tree.
99
They order'd that his Power should be controul'd,
Wise Limitations crush'd his proud Intent,
(For all our Safety's in a Parliament,)
An Oak brought in an Overture for Cess,
Which pass'd, and they prorogu'd to—Nevermass.
| Streams from Helicon | |