An anniversary poem on The Sixth of May His Royal Highness miraculous Deliverance, then at Sea, from the Shipwreck of the Glocester [by John Phillips] |
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 | An anniversary poem on The Sixth of May |  |
AN ANNIVERSARY POEM
ON The Sixth of May. His Royal Highness miraculous Deliverance, then at Sea, from the Shipwreck of the GLOCESTER.
Jamque Dies (ni fallor) adest quem semper acerbum
Semper honoratum (sic Dii voluistis) habebo.
Semper honoratum (sic Dii voluistis) habebo.
No Art, no change of Pencils can display
The Checquer'd Fate of this important Day;
Nor knows the Muse what Numbers to imploy
Sufficient for its Grief, and for its Joy.
Consulting Heaven determin'd to restore
Our Royal Heroe to the longing Shore,
Which fixt Decree no Chance could countermand,
Nor Wind, nor Wave, nor more destructive Sand,
Nor all the crying Guilt and impious Rage
Of a most factious and ingrateful Age:
Which yet in part the Blessing did destroy,
Nor could our Crimes admit the perfect Joy;
But while we triumph in his wisht Return,
Are forc'd his Follow'rs dismal Wreck to mourn.
Vain were the Muse would labour to express
That fatal Hours unspeakable distress;
Besides if any Words such Grief could fit,
At best 'twere impious Art, and cruel Wit,
'Twere sin to bring the mournful Scene in view,
And wound our pious Heroes Heart anew.
Too much the pangs that then did rend his Brest,
Ev'n by his savage Foes must be confest!
Such Agony that minute seiz'd his mind,
He thought the Care, that sav'd his Life, unkind!
Ye mighty Spirits, you that then expir'd,
With Minds for any brave Adventure fir'd,
Let not your Ghosts repine that you did yield
To such tame Fate, without a Foe in Field,
Without a Price for such Heroick Breath,
And Standards seiz'd to signalize your Death,
Without the Trophees of the Souldiers Toil,
Whole Groves of Ensigns gain'd, and Hills of Spoil;
Let no such thought, great Souls, your joys suppress,
Or make the happy Fields delight you less,
Such Honours were to former Worthies known,
And every Age has Spoils and Trophies shown;
But this new silent Method of your Fate,
Renown yet unrecorded does create.
While you from thence unequall'd Glory claim,
And stand unrivall'd in the Roll of Fame.
Let then, bright Minds, Applause so vast as this,
Reach to your World of Joy, and raise your Bliss.
Rest pleas'd, that ere you perish'd, you could see
Your Royal Master from the Wreck set free,
That you his safety hail'd with latest Breath,
And had his Tears to consecrate your Death.
The Checquer'd Fate of this important Day;
Nor knows the Muse what Numbers to imploy
Sufficient for its Grief, and for its Joy.
Consulting Heaven determin'd to restore
Our Royal Heroe to the longing Shore,
Which fixt Decree no Chance could countermand,
Nor Wind, nor Wave, nor more destructive Sand,
Nor all the crying Guilt and impious Rage
Of a most factious and ingrateful Age:
Which yet in part the Blessing did destroy,
Nor could our Crimes admit the perfect Joy;
But while we triumph in his wisht Return,
Are forc'd his Follow'rs dismal Wreck to mourn.
Vain were the Muse would labour to express
That fatal Hours unspeakable distress;
Besides if any Words such Grief could fit,
At best 'twere impious Art, and cruel Wit,
'Twere sin to bring the mournful Scene in view,
And wound our pious Heroes Heart anew.
Too much the pangs that then did rend his Brest,
Ev'n by his savage Foes must be confest!
Such Agony that minute seiz'd his mind,
He thought the Care, that sav'd his Life, unkind!
Ye mighty Spirits, you that then expir'd,
With Minds for any brave Adventure fir'd,
Let not your Ghosts repine that you did yield
To such tame Fate, without a Foe in Field,
Without a Price for such Heroick Breath,
And Standards seiz'd to signalize your Death,
Without the Trophees of the Souldiers Toil,
Whole Groves of Ensigns gain'd, and Hills of Spoil;
Let no such thought, great Souls, your joys suppress,
Or make the happy Fields delight you less,
Such Honours were to former Worthies known,
And every Age has Spoils and Trophies shown;
But this new silent Method of your Fate,
Renown yet unrecorded does create.
While you from thence unequall'd Glory claim,
And stand unrivall'd in the Roll of Fame.
Let then, bright Minds, Applause so vast as this,
Reach to your World of Joy, and raise your Bliss.
Rest pleas'd, that ere you perish'd, you could see
Your Royal Master from the Wreck set free,
That you his safety hail'd with latest Breath,
And had his Tears to consecrate your Death.
Next for the scatter'd Remnant scarce secur'd,
From that sad Lot their Noble Mates endur'd,
While lab'ring Heav'n no Miracles did spare
To second their indulgent Masters Care,
Let Angels sing the Goodness he exprest,
Condol'd their Suff'rings and their Wants redrest;
While such Supplies his Bounty did convey,
As almost heal'd the Ruines of the Day.
From that sad Lot their Noble Mates endur'd,
While lab'ring Heav'n no Miracles did spare
To second their indulgent Masters Care,
Let Angels sing the Goodness he exprest,
Condol'd their Suff'rings and their Wants redrest;
While such Supplies his Bounty did convey,
As almost heal'd the Ruines of the Day.
Such Virtue did Æneas Brest imploy,
Once more preserving the Remains of Troy,
His scatter'd Troop collecting on the Shore,
Sav'd now from Flouds, as from the Flames before.
O for a Maro of this Age, to raise
With equal Verse our equal Heroes praise!
Nor shall succeeding Times the Work disclaim,
That speaks great JAMES his Suff'rings and his Fame.
How do I curse the Muse my Youth withdrew
From gainful Science to the Chiming Crew:
Yet when on his lov'd Name she lends her Aid,
I bless my Lot, and think my Griefs repaid!
Soon as you please, ye Pow'rs, my Frame confound,
Blend me with Brother-Insects in the Ground;
Dissolve your Wretch, the Times and Fortunes Slave,
O'r-prest with Wrongs, and stretching for the Grave:
For ever shroud me in the silent Clay,
No more the Scorn of Fools, and Villains Prey;
Forgetting and Forgotten by Mankind,
Giv'n All to Fate, no Atom left behind,
But oh! whatever Songs of mine are grac't
With JAMES his Deeds, let their Remembrance last!
To them, kind Heav'n, immortal Ages give,
Let me be lost, but let those Numbers live.
Once more preserving the Remains of Troy,
His scatter'd Troop collecting on the Shore,
Sav'd now from Flouds, as from the Flames before.
O for a Maro of this Age, to raise
With equal Verse our equal Heroes praise!
Nor shall succeeding Times the Work disclaim,
That speaks great JAMES his Suff'rings and his Fame.
How do I curse the Muse my Youth withdrew
From gainful Science to the Chiming Crew:
Yet when on his lov'd Name she lends her Aid,
I bless my Lot, and think my Griefs repaid!
Soon as you please, ye Pow'rs, my Frame confound,
Blend me with Brother-Insects in the Ground;
Dissolve your Wretch, the Times and Fortunes Slave,
O'r-prest with Wrongs, and stretching for the Grave:
For ever shroud me in the silent Clay,
No more the Scorn of Fools, and Villains Prey;
Forgetting and Forgotten by Mankind,
Giv'n All to Fate, no Atom left behind,
But oh! whatever Songs of mine are grac't
With JAMES his Deeds, let their Remembrance last!
To them, kind Heav'n, immortal Ages give,
Let me be lost, but let those Numbers live.
| An anniversary poem on The Sixth of May | |