Not that our wishes do increase your store,

Full of your felf you can admit no more;
We add not to your glory, but employ
Our time, like angels, in expreffing joy,
Nor is it duty, or our hopes alone,

Create that joy, but full fruition:

We know those bleffings, which we must poffefs,
And judge of future by past happiness.
No promife can oblige a prince fo much
Still to be good, as long to have been fuch,
A noble emulation heats your breast,

And your own fame now robs you of your reft.

Good actions ftill must be maintain'd with good,
As bodies nourish'd with resembling food.
You have already quench'd fedition's brand;
And zeal, which burnt it, only warms the land.
The jealous fects, that dare not trust their cause
So far from their own will as to the laws,
You for their umpire and their fynod take,
And their appeal alone to Cæfar make.
Kind heav'n fo rare a temper did provide,
That guilt repenting might in it confide.
Among our crimes oblivion may be fet;
But 'tis our king's perfection to forget,

Virtues unknown to these rough northern climes
From milder heav'ns you bring without their crimes.
Your calmnefs does no after-storms provide,
Nor feeming patience mortal anger hide.
When empire first from families did spring,
Then every father govern'd as a king:
But you, that are a fovereign prince, allay
Imperial power with your paternal sway.
From thofe great cares when eafe your foul unbends,
Your pleasures are defign'd to noble ends?
Born to command the mistress of the feas,
Your thoughts themselves in that blue empire please.
Hither in fummer evenings you repair
To taste the fraicheur of the purer air:
Undaunted here you ride, when winter raves,
With Cæfar's heart that rofe above the waves.
More I could fing, but fear my numbers stays;
No loyal fubject dares that courage praife.
In ftately frigates moft delight you find,

Where well-drawn battles fire your martial mind.
What to your cares we owe, is learnt from hence,
When even your pleasures serve for our defence.
Beyond your court flows in th'admitted tide,
Where in new depths the wondering fishes glide:

Here in a royal bed the waters fleep;
When tir'd at fea, within this bay they creep.
Here the mistrustful fowl no harm suspects,
So fafe are all things which our king protects.
From your lov'd Thames a bleffing yet is due,
Second alone to that it brought in you;

A queen, near whose chaste womb, ordain'd by fate,

The fouls of kings unborn for bodies wait.
It was your love before made discord cease:
Your love is deftin'd to your country's peace.
Both Indies, rivals in your bed, provide

With gold or jewels to adorn

your bride. This to a mighty king presents rich ore, While that with incenfe does a god implore. Two kingdoms wait your doom, and, as you choose, This must receive a crown, or that must lose. Thus from your royal oak, like Jove's of old, Are answers fought, and destinies foretold : Propitious oracles are begg'd with vows,

And crowns that

grow upon

the facred boughs.

Your fubjects, while you weigh the nation's fate,

Sufpend to both their doubtful love or hate:
Chuse only, fir, that so they may possess

With their own peace their children's happiness.

TO THE

LORD-CHANCELLOR HYDE.

Prefented on NEW-YEAR'S-DAY, 1662.

MY LORD,

W

HILE flattering crouds officiously appear
To give themselves, not you, an happy

year;

And by the greatness of their presents prove How much they hope, but not how well they

love;

The Muses, who your early courtship boast, Though now your flames are with their beauty loft, Yet watch their time, that, if you have forgot They were your mistresses, the world may not: Decay'd by time and wars, they only prove Their former beauty by your former love; And now prefent, as ancient ladies do, That courted long, at length are forc'd to woo. For ftill they look on you with fuch kind eyes, As those that fee the church's fovereign rise; From their own order chofe, in whofe high state, They think themselves the second choice of fate. When our great monarch into exile went, Wit and religion fuffer'd banishment.

Thus once, when Troy was wrap'd in fire and fmoke,

The helpless gods their burning fhrines forfook;
They with the vanquish'd prince and party go,
And leave their temples empty to the foe.
At length the Muses stand, reftor'd again
To that great charge which nature did ordain
And their lov'd Druids feem reviv'd by fate,
While you dispense the laws, and guide the state.
The nation's foul, our monarch, does difpenfe,
Through you, to us his vital influence;