But so may he live long that Town to sway, Which by his auspice they will nobler make, As he will hatch their ashes by his stay, And not their humble ruins now forsake. CCLXXXIX.
They have not lost their loyalty by fire;
Nor is their courage or their wealth so low,
That from his wars they poorly would retire, Or beg the pity of a vanquish'd foe.
Not with more constancy the Jews of old, By Cyrus from rewarded exile sent,
Their royal city did in dust behold,
Or with more vigour to rebuild it went. CCXCI.
The utmost malice of the stars is past,
And two dire comets, which have scourg'dthe Town, In their own plague and fire have breath'd their last, Or, dimly, in their sinking sockets frown. CCXCII.
Now frequent trines the happier lights among, And high-rais'd Jove from his dark prison freed, (Those weights took off that on his planet hung) Will gloriously the new-laid works succeed. CCXCIII.
Methinks already, from this chimic flame, I see a city of more precious mold : Rich as the town which gives the Indies name, With silver pav'd, and all divine with gold.
Already, lab'ring with a mighty fate,
She shakes the rubbish from her mounting brow, And seems to have renew'd her charter's date,
Which Heav'n will to the death of Time allow. CCXCV.
More great than human, now, and more august, New deified she from her fires does rise,;, Her widening streets on new foundations trust, And, opening, into larger parts she flics. CCXCVI.
Before she like some shepherdess did show, Who sat to bathe her by a river's side; Not answering to her fame, but rude and low,
Nor taught the beauteous arts of modern pride. CCXCVII.
Now, like a maiden queen, she will behold, From her high turrets hourly suiters come: The East with incense, and the West with gold, Will stand, like suppliants, to receive her doom, CCXCVIII.
The silent Thames, her own domestic flood, Shall bear her vessels, like a sweeping train; And often wind, as of his mistress proud, With longing eyes to meet her face again, CCXCIX.
The wealthy Tagus, and the wealthier Rhine, The glory of their towns no more shall boast, And Seine, that would with Belgian rivers join, Shall find her lustre stain'd, and traffic lost.
The vent'rous merchant, who design'd more far, And touches on our hospitable shore,
Charm'd with the splendour of this Northern star,
Shall here unlade him, and depart no more.
Our pow'rful navy shall no longer meet
The wealth of France or Holland to invade:
The beauty of this Town, without a fleet,
From all the world shall vindicate her trade. CCCII.
And while this fam'd emporium we prepare, The British ocean shall such triumphs boast, That those who now disdain our trade to share, Shall rob, like pirates, on our wealthy coast.
Already we have conquer'd half the war, And the less dang'rous part is left behind; Our trouble now is but to make them dare, And not so great to vanquish as to find.
Thus to the eastern wealth through storms we go, But now, the Cape once doubled, fear no more;
A constant trade-wind will securely blow, And gently lay us on the spicy shore.
Our vows are heard bytimes, and Heav'n takes care To grant before we can conclude the pray'r: Preventingangels met it half the way,
And sent us back to praise who came to pray. Just on the day, when the high-mounted sun Did farthest in its northern progress run, He bended forward, and ev'n stretch'd the sphere Beyond the limits of the lengthen'd year, To view a brighter sun in Britain born; That was the business of his longest morn; The glorious object seen, 'twas time to turn. Departing spring could only stay to shed Her gloomy beauties on the genial bed, But left the manly summer in her stead, With timely fruit the longing land to cheer, And to fulfil the promise of the year. Betwixt two seasons comes th' auspicious heir, This age to blossom, and the next to bear.
Last solemn sabbath saw the church attend, The Paraclet in fiery pomp descend; But when bis wondrous octave roll'd again, He brought a royal infant in his train.
So great a blessing to so good a King, None but th' eternal Comforter could bring. Or did the mighty Trinity conspire, As once in councilto create our sire? It seems as if they sent the new born guest To wait on the procession of their feast; And on their sacred anniverse decreed To stamp their image on the promis'd seed. Three realms united, and on one bestow'd, An emblem of their mystic union show'd: The mighty Trine the triple empire shar'd, As every person would have one to guard. Hail, Son of Pray'rs! by holy violence, Drawn down from heav'n; but long be banish'd
And late to thy paternal skies retire;
To mend our crimes whole ages would require; To change th' invet'rate habit of our sins, And finish what thy godlike sire begins. Kind Heav'n, to make us Englishmen again, No less can give us than a patriarch's reign. The sacred cradle to your charge receive, Ye Seraphs, and by turns the guard relieve; Thy father's angel and thy father join, To keep possession, and secure the line; But long defer the honours of thy fate : Great may they be like his, like his be late; That James his running century may view, And give this son an auspice to the new.
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