Britannia Triumphans In Four Parts ... Sacred to XXVIII May; The Anniversary of the High and Mighty Prince's Birth, George Lewis, by the Grace of God, and Laws of Heaven and Earth, King of Great Britain, France and Ireland ... By Alexander Pennecuik |
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| A PANEGYRICK ON THE Royal Family. |
 | Britannia Triumphans |  |
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A PANEGYRICK ON THE Royal Family.
Semper honos nomenque tuum laudesque manebunt.
Uirg.
Uirg.
15
Angels and Saints, salute the blissful Morn,
On which Great George Britannia's King was born.
With him no impious Maxims do take Place,
No Rebel rules, no Loy'list in Disgrace.
Grateful to Heav'n, from whom his Mercies flow,
And scatters Favours 'mongst his Friends below.
O noble Stewart! Born for Britain's Good,
The best and bravest of the Stewart Blood.
Bad Stewarts did our Miseries advance,
Gave up the Keys, and sold us all to France.
Famish'd the House into a deep Decay,
Then, like th' unfaithful Stewart, run away.
Britain hath seen, thank God, these Days are gone,
When lawless Pow'r usurpt the British Throne.
And blind Obedience fill'd the holy Chair,
No Weapons then approv'd save Tears and Pray'r.
But when th' anointed Levie's Sons did touch,
They soon grew Whigs, join'd with the rebel Dutch:
Call'd Non-resisting Principles false Coin,
Drew Sword, and fought their Monarch at the Boyne.
Just George employs his Sword in Heav'ns Cause,
And wisely sways by Britain's sacred Laws.
He rul'd his German Subjects by our Law,
Ere yet the British Diadem he saw.
He did these native Principles maintain,
Which make a happy and a glorious Reign:
His steddy Temper to the World is known,
He makes a dazling Figure on the Throne.
Strong Penetration in his Schemes appear,
Tho' deep his Judgment, his Expression clear:
And boldly executes, incapable of Fear.
The Series of his Success who can tell,
His fam'd Atchievements would to Volumes swell.
He with unshaken Temper always rules,
And mocks the Projects of the giddy Fools.
He learn'd to love Britannia from his Youth,
Sage Counsels dropt from wise Sophia's Mouth,
Which taught him all the Rudiments of Truth.
The Fruit of these rich Prophecies appears,
His Mother taught him in his tender Years.
Fit Words like Lemuel's Mother she did choose,
To him her Son, the Son of many Vows.
His military Glories brightly shine,
He's more than Man, he's ev'ry Way divine,
His Valour which subdued the Force of Hell,
Let Hungary, and the Morea tell,
Where Cæsar like, he triumph'd o're the Foe,
Made trepide Troops to feel his weighty Blow,
Flanders and Germany, his Praise proclaim,
The German Eagle spreads his glorious Name;
True Heir of all his Predecessors Grace,
Virtues inherent in the Brunswick Race.
Three of his Brethren, whom the World admir'd,
Whom Courage, Zeal, and publick Sp'rit inspir'd,
In the Defence of their dear Country stood,
And died with Honour, in the Field of Blood.
On which Great George Britannia's King was born.
With him no impious Maxims do take Place,
No Rebel rules, no Loy'list in Disgrace.
Grateful to Heav'n, from whom his Mercies flow,
And scatters Favours 'mongst his Friends below.
O noble Stewart! Born for Britain's Good,
The best and bravest of the Stewart Blood.
Bad Stewarts did our Miseries advance,
Gave up the Keys, and sold us all to France.
Famish'd the House into a deep Decay,
Then, like th' unfaithful Stewart, run away.
Britain hath seen, thank God, these Days are gone,
When lawless Pow'r usurpt the British Throne.
And blind Obedience fill'd the holy Chair,
No Weapons then approv'd save Tears and Pray'r.
But when th' anointed Levie's Sons did touch,
They soon grew Whigs, join'd with the rebel Dutch:
Call'd Non-resisting Principles false Coin,
Drew Sword, and fought their Monarch at the Boyne.
16
And wisely sways by Britain's sacred Laws.
He rul'd his German Subjects by our Law,
Ere yet the British Diadem he saw.
He did these native Principles maintain,
Which make a happy and a glorious Reign:
His steddy Temper to the World is known,
He makes a dazling Figure on the Throne.
Strong Penetration in his Schemes appear,
Tho' deep his Judgment, his Expression clear:
And boldly executes, incapable of Fear.
The Series of his Success who can tell,
His fam'd Atchievements would to Volumes swell.
He with unshaken Temper always rules,
And mocks the Projects of the giddy Fools.
He learn'd to love Britannia from his Youth,
Sage Counsels dropt from wise Sophia's Mouth,
Which taught him all the Rudiments of Truth.
The Fruit of these rich Prophecies appears,
His Mother taught him in his tender Years.
Fit Words like Lemuel's Mother she did choose,
To him her Son, the Son of many Vows.
His military Glories brightly shine,
He's more than Man, he's ev'ry Way divine,
His Valour which subdued the Force of Hell,
Let Hungary, and the Morea tell,
Where Cæsar like, he triumph'd o're the Foe,
Made trepide Troops to feel his weighty Blow,
Flanders and Germany, his Praise proclaim,
The German Eagle spreads his glorious Name;
True Heir of all his Predecessors Grace,
Virtues inherent in the Brunswick Race.
Three of his Brethren, whom the World admir'd,
Whom Courage, Zeal, and publick Sp'rit inspir'd,
In the Defence of their dear Country stood,
And died with Honour, in the Field of Blood.
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Britain, thrice tristed with a barren Reign,
Doth now enjoy a rich prolifick King;
When full of Years, and Honours, he is dead,
His Son, the great Augustus, shall succeed,
O Heav'n, rain lasting Honours on his Head.
Indulgent Heav'n, on the dear Hero smile,
The rising Glory of the British Isle:
Guard Europe's Genius, all ye heav'nly Powers,
In War protect him, for his Cause is yours;
He'll raze the Babel Monster to the Ground,
With Lawrels let the Hero's Head be crown'd.
At Aud'nard he did lasting Trophies gain,
His Country's Good fermented ev'ry Vain,
He look'd like Eugine in the red Campaign.
Sweet Olive-Branches do his Table grace,
The fertile Wilhelmina's lovely Race,
In her fair Face, a Heav'n of Beauty lies,
Bright as the Beams, which gilds the Eastern Skies;
With thousand Charms, blooms like an Eastern Bride,
Britannia's Glory, and her Sexes Pride:
Homer records in never dying Song,
A Troop of Godesses, a sacred Throng,
Whose dazling Beauty struck the wond'ring Croud,
Jupiter's Virgin Daughter 'mongst them stood,
Distinguish'd by her Stature, and her Air,
Of th' aimiable Circle, none so fair;
No Wonder, Walias Princes was not there.
When 'mongst the British Ladies she is seen,
The Strangers Lips, proclaim her lovely Queen:
When the King's Daughter, the Illustrious Fair,
'Mongst her honourable Women doth appear,
Each Eye beholds her, and it fixes there.
Whilst in her greener Years, and Father's Court,
Her Rays of Beauty, and Majestick Port,
A Troop of Royal Lovers to her drew,
And made the Empire at her Feet to bow.
Doth now enjoy a rich prolifick King;
When full of Years, and Honours, he is dead,
His Son, the great Augustus, shall succeed,
O Heav'n, rain lasting Honours on his Head.
Indulgent Heav'n, on the dear Hero smile,
The rising Glory of the British Isle:
Guard Europe's Genius, all ye heav'nly Powers,
In War protect him, for his Cause is yours;
He'll raze the Babel Monster to the Ground,
With Lawrels let the Hero's Head be crown'd.
At Aud'nard he did lasting Trophies gain,
His Country's Good fermented ev'ry Vain,
He look'd like Eugine in the red Campaign.
Sweet Olive-Branches do his Table grace,
The fertile Wilhelmina's lovely Race,
In her fair Face, a Heav'n of Beauty lies,
Bright as the Beams, which gilds the Eastern Skies;
With thousand Charms, blooms like an Eastern Bride,
Britannia's Glory, and her Sexes Pride:
Homer records in never dying Song,
A Troop of Godesses, a sacred Throng,
Whose dazling Beauty struck the wond'ring Croud,
Jupiter's Virgin Daughter 'mongst them stood,
Distinguish'd by her Stature, and her Air,
Of th' aimiable Circle, none so fair;
No Wonder, Walias Princes was not there.
When 'mongst the British Ladies she is seen,
The Strangers Lips, proclaim her lovely Queen:
When the King's Daughter, the Illustrious Fair,
'Mongst her honourable Women doth appear,
Each Eye beholds her, and it fixes there.
Whilst in her greener Years, and Father's Court,
Her Rays of Beauty, and Majestick Port,
A Troop of Royal Lovers to her drew,
And made the Empire at her Feet to bow.
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Fall whorish Babel, fall, to lowest Hell,
King George's House doth ring thy funeral Bell;
These rising Stars shall bless Britannia's Isle,
And Torches prove to light thy funeral Pile.
King George's House doth ring thy funeral Bell;
These rising Stars shall bless Britannia's Isle,
And Torches prove to light thy funeral Pile.
Near Ocker's christal Streams, and pearly Sands,
Where Bruno's Buildings, beauteous Brunswick stands,
(Like ancient Antioch, famous thro' the Earth,)
Reforming Luther's Principles, took Birth:
Heav'n and Duke Brunswick, on the Saint did smile,
And sent the Gospel, to the British Isle;
Shiloch on Albion's Clime darts Rays of Light,
A blooming Morn succeeds the dusky Night;
Heav'n waters Luther's Evangelick Seed,
Manna drops down, to bliss the Banks of Tweed.
Rome storm'd, and strove to quench the Altar Coal,
Pull down the Sun, which lights our Northern Pole,
She struggled long in vain, Heav'n blasts the black Designs,
Still Salem's Courts with Orient Lusture shines.
But when ungrateful Britain did rebel,
She from her Beauty, and her Grandeur fell;
Sathan and Rome her Captive make again,
Till Heav'n-born Nassau broke th' Usurper's Chain;
Conquer'd our Foes, became our sovereign Lord,
Religion, Laws, and Liberties restor'd:
He sway'd the Scepter with immortal Fame,
Gray Hairs, and stam'ring Babes, shall bless his Name.
Legions of burning Seraphs watch his Dust,
Until the Resurrection of the Just:
His precious Dust, who Britain's Isle did save,
Let all the Earth pay Homage to his Grave.
He dies! whom Heav'n approv'd, and Earth admir'd;
And with him all our Hope and Joy expir'd.
We droop the Head, the fatal Loss bemoan,
Who'll fight for Britain, when her William's gone?
And Death hath pull'd mild Anna from the Crown:
Lo, mighty Brunswick mounts the British Throne,
Defended by the Magick of his Rays,
We'll sing beneath our Vines with chearful Lays,
Long live King George, and still thy Power advance,
Till you make good your Title, King of France;
Still greater grow, till all the World see,
No other Monarch of the Earth, save thee.
Where Bruno's Buildings, beauteous Brunswick stands,
(Like ancient Antioch, famous thro' the Earth,)
Reforming Luther's Principles, took Birth:
Heav'n and Duke Brunswick, on the Saint did smile,
And sent the Gospel, to the British Isle;
Shiloch on Albion's Clime darts Rays of Light,
A blooming Morn succeeds the dusky Night;
Heav'n waters Luther's Evangelick Seed,
Manna drops down, to bliss the Banks of Tweed.
Rome storm'd, and strove to quench the Altar Coal,
Pull down the Sun, which lights our Northern Pole,
She struggled long in vain, Heav'n blasts the black Designs,
Still Salem's Courts with Orient Lusture shines.
But when ungrateful Britain did rebel,
She from her Beauty, and her Grandeur fell;
Sathan and Rome her Captive make again,
Till Heav'n-born Nassau broke th' Usurper's Chain;
Conquer'd our Foes, became our sovereign Lord,
Religion, Laws, and Liberties restor'd:
He sway'd the Scepter with immortal Fame,
Gray Hairs, and stam'ring Babes, shall bless his Name.
Legions of burning Seraphs watch his Dust,
Until the Resurrection of the Just:
His precious Dust, who Britain's Isle did save,
Let all the Earth pay Homage to his Grave.
He dies! whom Heav'n approv'd, and Earth admir'd;
And with him all our Hope and Joy expir'd.
We droop the Head, the fatal Loss bemoan,
Who'll fight for Britain, when her William's gone?
And Death hath pull'd mild Anna from the Crown:
Lo, mighty Brunswick mounts the British Throne,
19
We'll sing beneath our Vines with chearful Lays,
Long live King George, and still thy Power advance,
Till you make good your Title, King of France;
Still greater grow, till all the World see,
No other Monarch of the Earth, save thee.
The Saphick MUSE.
The matchless Virtues of Britannia's King,
My Muse shall in strong Saphick Numbers sing.
My Muse shall in strong Saphick Numbers sing.
Britains
Blessing, Faiths Defender,
Thee we'll hearty Homage render;
And Abjure black Romes Pretender,
And the Tory;
Thee we'll hearty Homage render;
And Abjure black Romes Pretender,
And the Tory;
Let the Rebels still be snarling
Round thy Brows, we'll wreath the Garland:
Thou art Heav'n and Europe's Darling,
And our Glory.
Round thy Brows, we'll wreath the Garland:
Thou art Heav'n and Europe's Darling,
And our Glory.
Thou'rt our Guardian under God,
Thou has fought for Peace abroad,
Rome hath felt thy conquering Rod,
By Correction.
Thou has fought for Peace abroad,
Rome hath felt thy conquering Rod,
By Correction.
Thou art sprung of noble Race,
Majesty is in thy Face,
Thou possesses ev'ry Grace,
In Perfection.
Majesty is in thy Face,
Thou possesses ev'ry Grace,
In Perfection.
Fierce Courage sits upon thy Brow,
And the Father's Smilings too:
Streams of Wisdom flow from you,
To direct us.
And the Father's Smilings too:
Streams of Wisdom flow from you,
To direct us.
Kings submit their Claims to Thee,
(Author of our Libertie;)
Thy Decisions Heavn's Decree,
Thou'lt protect us.
(Author of our Libertie;)
Thy Decisions Heavn's Decree,
Thou'lt protect us.
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Still with unrival'd Glory shine,
Gallick and Belgick Pow'r do join,
To support thy Royal Line,
With Grandure.
Gallick and Belgick Pow'r do join,
To support thy Royal Line,
With Grandure.
Great Standard-Bearer of th' Empire,
(Valour doth thy Breast inspire)
Warlike Nations thee admire,
'Bove Alexander.
(Valour doth thy Breast inspire)
Warlike Nations thee admire,
'Bove Alexander.
ANNEXA.
In him three glorious Dukedoms reunite,
Brunswick, Hanover, and by Nuptial Rite,
Zell calls him Master, and her dear Delight.
To make the good, the gallant George rise higher,
His Breman and his Osnaburg conspire.
Three mighty manly Nations him obey,
O're them the imperial Scepter he doth Sway;
His numerous Subjects scatter'd thro' the Land,
Are like the Sars of Heav'n or th' Oceans Sand:
Scotland, England, Ireland owns his Pow'r,
His Seed shall Reign whilst Sun and Moon endure.
My Muse doth this prophetick Vision sing,
From Fredrick's Loins a numerous Race shall spring,
Who shall in Europe and in Asia Reign.
Fredrick the Grace, and Glory of the Age,
His buding Youth doth Miracles presage.
Brunswick, Hanover, and by Nuptial Rite,
Zell calls him Master, and her dear Delight.
To make the good, the gallant George rise higher,
His Breman and his Osnaburg conspire.
Three mighty manly Nations him obey,
O're them the imperial Scepter he doth Sway;
His numerous Subjects scatter'd thro' the Land,
Are like the Sars of Heav'n or th' Oceans Sand:
Scotland, England, Ireland owns his Pow'r,
His Seed shall Reign whilst Sun and Moon endure.
My Muse doth this prophetick Vision sing,
From Fredrick's Loins a numerous Race shall spring,
Who shall in Europe and in Asia Reign.
Fredrick the Grace, and Glory of the Age,
His buding Youth doth Miracles presage.
Prince Fredrick, visit Scotia, on her Smile,
Thy Presence shall her Poverty beguile.
Let Fredrick's Feet th' Ult'ma Thule tread,
Her frozen Checks shall glow with Crimson red,
Nor envy England with her Indian Trade.
Rude England doth, thy Royal Parents keep,
Let Scotia have Thee for a Royal Type,
Shine on us blazing Star, or we're undone,
For half an Age we have not seen the Sun,
Warm'd with the distant Rayes, we're still alive,
A Royal Stem would surely make us Thrive.
Thy Presence shall her Poverty beguile.
Let Fredrick's Feet th' Ult'ma Thule tread,
Her frozen Checks shall glow with Crimson red,
Nor envy England with her Indian Trade.
Rude England doth, thy Royal Parents keep,
Let Scotia have Thee for a Royal Type,
Shine on us blazing Star, or we're undone,
For half an Age we have not seen the Sun,
Warm'd with the distant Rayes, we're still alive,
A Royal Stem would surely make us Thrive.
FINIS.
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