 | A Pindarick poem on the happy coronation Of His most Sacred Majesty James II
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I.
Arise my Muse! Advance thy Mourning Head!
And cease lamenting for the Mighty Dead!
Quench all the Funeral Tapers in your Tears,
And as the fainting flames expire,
Let your soft falling Tides retire;
While you behold the Prospect that appears
In the vast Glories of succeeding years!
Advance! and throw thy sable weeds away!
And string thy Lyre for some Harmonious Lay,
Worthy the Celebration of this Mighty Day!
Come ye soft Angels all, and lend your aid,
Ye little Gods that tun'd the Spheres,
That wanton'd, sung, and smil'd and play'd,
When the first World was by your Numbers made;
And Danc'd to order by your Sacred Ayrs!
Such Heavenly Notes as Souls Divine can warm,
Such wond'rous touches as wou'd move
And teach the Blest to Sing and Love!
And even the Anger of a GOD wou'd Charm!
O Tune it high, and strike with bold success,
But sweet and gentle, every strain,
As that which once taught by the Charming Swain,
By its soft force the Spirit disposest
From the great King and Prophets raging Breast.
| A Pindarick poem on the happy coronation Of His most Sacred Majesty James II
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