 | Poems on Affairs of State |  |
A Congratulatory Poem to King William, on his Return from Ireland, 1690, after the Battel of the Boyne.
1
Welcome, Great Monarch, to the Throne we gave!A mean Reward for those you came to save;
And yet in That we gave you all we have.
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2
The Gods our Offerings ne'er the more do prize,When Clouds of Smoke obscure their brighter Skies;
A grateful Heart commends the Sacrifice.
3
We'll spare no labour to enlarge your State,And do not yet our forwards Pains regret,
Tho disappointed Kindness turns to Hate.
4
You have enough your Skill in Battel shown,Your Courage and your Conduct all must own;
Pray let your Foresight once at home be known.
5
In open Field with open Foes you've met,Take either side it is an equal Bet;
But here your Enemies dance in a Net.
6
Your Valour shone, when you your Army led,And dar'd the numerous Foe with Colours spread;
But where's your Guard against an Ambuscade?
7
Your handy-work does all Mankind surprize,Each fresh Remembrance still new Praise supplies;
But pray, Sir, let us once adore your Eyes.
8
You've Enemies in private, who besetYour Path to Glory, undiscover'd yet;
And till you've conquer'd them, you'l ne'er be great.
9
No End you'l find to your laborious Work,(Tho with the Irish you could rout the Turk)
While Gallick Locusts in your Councils lurk.
10
Wherefore to Foreign Dyets shou'd you go,To undertake a Task you can't go thro,
While those at home unravel all you do?
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11
Unkennel those State-Foxes first, who spoilAnd counterwork the Virtue of your Toil,
And Heaven it self shall on your Labour smile.
12
Let proud C---n your just Vengeance find,And N---m to his Behaviour bind;
'Tis unsafe marching with two Foes behind.
13
Teach L--- how to mind his Diocess,To make his Parish-Priests and Curates wise,
And not presume to give the Queen Advice.
14
Let not the Men, who would your Wants supplyWith Blood and Mony, unregarded lie,
Because a self-advancing Fop cries, Fie!
15
Nor let your self be so impos'd upon,To fancy those were Commonwealths-men grown,
Who tugg'd so hard to place you on the Throne;
16
On whose Support the Monarchy relies,Who have no other Aim before their Eyes,
But that your Greatness with their Wealth may rise.
17
When these and some few other things are done,Your growing Glory like the Rising Sun,
Shall (bright as that) an endless Circuit run.
18
To certain Conquests your swift Arms shall speed,From those debarring Remora's once freed;
You shall want nothing that you truly need,
Our Purses and our Veins shall freely bleed.
| Poems on Affairs of State | |