The winds, that never moderation knew,
Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew;
Or out of breath with joy could not enlarge
Their strait'ned lungs, or conscious of their charge.
The British Amphytrite, smooth and clear,
In richer azure never did appear;

Proud her returning Prince to entertain

With the submitted fasces of the main,

245

250

AND welcome now, Great Monarch! to your own;
Behold th' approaching cliffs of Albion;
It is no longer motion cheats your view,
As you meet it the land approacheth you.
The land returns, and, in the white it wears,

The marks of penitence and sorrow bears.
But you, whose goodness your descent doth shew,255
Your heav'nly parentage and earthly too;

By that same mildness which your father's crown
Before did ravish, shall secure your own.

Not tied to rules of policy, you find
Revenge less sweet than a forgiving mind.

Thus, when th' Almighty would to Moses give
A sight of all he could behold and live,
A voice before his entry did proclaim
Long-fuffering, Goodness, Mercy, in his name.

260

Your pow'r to justice doth submit your cause, 265 Your goodness only is above the laws;

Whose rigid letter, while pronounc'd by you,
Is softer made: so winds that tempests brew,
When through Arabian groves they take their flight,
Made wanton with rich odours, lose their spite: 270
And as those lees, that trouble it, refine
The agitated soul of generous wine;
So tears of joy, for your returning spilt,
Work out, and expiate our former guilt.
Methinks I see those crowds on Dover's strand, 275
Who, in their haste to welcome you to land,
Chok'd up the beech with their still-growing store,
And made a wilder torrent on the shore;

While, spurr'd with eager thoughts of past delight,
Those who had seen you court a second sight; 280
Preventing still your steps, and making haste
To meet you often wheresoe'er you past.
How shall I speak of that triumphant day,
When you renew'd th' expiring pomp of May!
(A month that owns an int'rest in your name; 285
You and the flow'rs are its peculiar claim.)
That star that at your birth shone out so bright,
It stain'd the duller sun's meridian light,
Did once again its potent fires renew,
Guiding our eyes to find and worship you.
And now Time's whiter series is begun,
Which in soft centuries shall smoothly run:
Those clouds, that overcast your morn, shall fly,
Dispell'd to farthest corners of the sky.

290

Our nation with united int'rest bless'd,

Not now content to poise, shall sway the rest.
Abroad your empire shall no limits know,
But, like the sea, in boundless circles flow.

295

300

Your much-lov'd fleet shall, with a wide command,
Besiege the petty monarchs of the land;
And as old Time his offspring swallow'd down,
Our ocean in its depths all seas shall drown.

Their wealthy trade from pirates' rapine free,

Our merchants shall no more advent'rers be;

Nor in the farthest East those dangers fear,

305

Which humble Holland must dissemble here.
Spain to your gift alone her Indies owes ;
For what the pow'rful takes not, he bestows:
And France, that did an exile's presence fear,
May justly apprehend you still too near.
At home the hateful names of party cease,
And factious souls are weary'd into peace.
The discontented now are only they,

Whose crimes before did your just cause betray:
Of those your edicts some reclaim from sin,

313

315

But most your life and bless'd example win.
Oh happy prince, whom Heav'n hath taught the way,
By paying vows, to have more vows to pay!

Oh happy age! oh times like those alone,
By fate reserv'd for great Augustus' throne!
When the joint growth of arms and arts foreshew
The world a Monarch, and that monarch You.

320

THE YEAR OF WONDERS, M.DC.LXVI.

AN HISTORICAL POEM.

AN ACCOUNT OF THE

ENSUING POEM,

In a Letter to the

HON. SIR ROBERT HOWARD.

SIR,

I AM SO many ways obliged to you, and so little able to return your favours, that, like those who owe too much, I can only live by getting farther into your debt. You have not only been careful of my fortune, which was the effect of your nobleness, but you have been solicitous of my reputation, which is that of your kindness. It is not long since I gave you the trouble of perusing a play for me, and now, instead of an acknowledgment, I have given you a greater, in the correc tion of a Poem. But since you are to bear this persecution, I will at least give you the encouragement of a martyr; you could never suffer in a nobler cause. For I have chosen the most heroic subject which any Poet could desire : I have taken upon me to describe the motives, the beginning, progress, and successes,

of a most just and necessary war; in it the care, management, and prudence of our King; the conduct and valour of a royal admiral, and of two incomparable generals; the invincible courage of our captains and seamen; and three glorious victories, the result of all. After this I have, in the fire, the most deplorable, but, withal, the greatest argument that can be imagined; the destruction being so swift, so sudden, so vast and miserable, as nothing can parallel in story. The former part of this Poem, relating to the war, is but a due expiation for my not serving my king and country in it. All gentlemen are almost obliged to it; and I know no reason we should give that advantage to the commonalty of England, to be foremost in brave actions, which the nobles of France would never suffer in their peasants. I should not have written this, but to a person who has been ever forward to appear in all employments whither his honour and generosity have called him. The latter part of my Poem, which describes the fire, I owe, first to the piety and fatherly affection of our Monarch to his suffering subjects; and, in the second place, to the courage, loyalty, and magnanimity of the City; both which were so conspicuous, that I have wanted words to celebrate them as they deserve. I have called my Poem Historical, not Epic, though both the actions and actors are as much heroic as any poem can contain. But,

nce the action is not properly one, nor that accom