A Pandarique Ode ON THE Vice-Chancelor's RETURN TO OXON.
BEfore the early Sun can raise his Head,
Out of his Glorious Eastern Bed;
Each Persian seems with mournful eyes
To Beg, he would no longer stay;
And in Imagination flies,
At least, to Complement him half the way.
No less Ambitious for your sight, were we,
E're since your Grateful Mercury
Warn'd us that happy Day drew nigh,
That would our long-lost Joys restore,
Joys ev'n so Transcendent high;
Fates could not give, nor could we covet more.
VVho can compute how much to Heav'n we owe,
For those great Gifts it doth bestow!
Yet we, alas! small Thanks express,
But should it stop that Influence,
Oh! then we Prostrate would confess,
We had our Life, and Growth, and Vigour thence.
Thus now, your Absence taught us one thing more,
Then e're your Presence could before;
Continu'd Blessings made us grow
So Stupid, that we could not tell,
VVhence, how, or wherefore they did flow;
But loosing you, we soon perceiv'd it well.
Soon we perceiv'd 'twas you that mov'd this Sphear,
And order'd our VVill-Motions here:
VVhat other Atlas should we find,
For such a weighty Office meet?
Could Fortune stoop your gen'rous mind,
To stoop to Honours lying at your Feet:
But Her weak Stratagems successless prove,
For nought can your great Spirit move;
Oh strange Praepostrous Method! You,
Against your self must Int'rest use,
T'avoid what others most pursue,
And what they Court so bravely to refuse!
VVelcom'd by all, and wish'd for, you are come,
As Conqu'ring Caesar enter'd Rome:
But we'l a double welcome give,
And our vow'd Garlands gladly pay,
And with deserv'd' Encomiums, strive,
To Celebrate the Glory of this Day.
FINIS.
Printed for C. Corbet, in VVarwick-Lane. 1683.