A Congratulatory POEM Presented To the Right Honourable S r. JOSEPH SHELDON Knight and Baronet. LORD MAIOR Of the City of London.
BRave
Walworths Dagger, Worthy Lord,
Rebuds and
blossoms in your Sword:
Lop the
first Letter in his
Name,
Your self and
he will be the
same:
Nature and
Grace to You impart,
An
Aspect grave, a Loyal
Heart;
A
Spring-tide-Purse, an
Ebbing passion;
Rigour allay'd with
Moderation;
A
Still Voyee in a
Thunder-clap,
Where
Mercy sits in
Justice Lap:
With all
ingredients that compleat
A
Perfect Christian Magistrate.
The more's the Pi
[...]ty! some have made
Their
Pow'r a Pander to their
Trade:
And when the people would be heard,
Have
measur'd causes by the
Yard:
For Equity but blundr'ing at it,
More by the
Shop-book then the
Statute:
These
Animals if you would know,
They now and then i'th
Country grow:
And may be Pickt up here and there,
In half the
Towns of ev'ry
Shire.
But never did so Vile Disgrace
Bespot
Fitz-Allens Nobler Race;
Whose Antient
Honours here we View,
By Providence,
transfer'd to
You,
Whose
Port, and
presence well may show,
Whom You do
Represent below:
That
Auful Mildness Writ upon it,
Might make the
Quaker Vail his
Bonnet:
And him that hopeth a
Reprieve,
Not onely
Tremble but
Believe;
Considering how your
Smile or
Frown
Can
raise him
up, or
cast him
down.
Here we may see (to
Londons pride)
Lambeth and
Pauls afresh
ally'd;
The
Church and
City joyntly share
A
Metropolitan, and
Mayor
Of the
same stock; whose Name shall last
Till
deep-lung'd fame hath
spent her
blast,
Great
Joseph! with thy
Brethrens leaves
Accept due
homage from their
Sheaves;
And be to
us as
much or
more
Then that blest
Patriarch was
before
Amongst the old
Egyptians, who
Endear'd the
Prince and
people too:
So our wise
FORD, with
Prudence sweet,
Made
both ends of the Town to
meet:
So noble
VINER hath likewise
Caus'd
Conduits run, and
Churches rise;
And in his
Soveraigns statue shown
A
lasting Monument of his
own.
Oh pious pomp! of all the rest,
These
Following pageants are the
best,
Which
Triumph over
Death, and save
Th'
Embalmed memory from the
grave.
Whose
Aqueduct's, when e're he dye,
Will
weep forth his
best Elegy.
Pardon, my Lord, although to you
Our
pray'rs, not our
Advice is
Due;
Let your
Heav'n-granted power pursue,
The
Hectring, and the
Damning crew,
Blasphemous Tongue, and
Bloudy Hand
Cuts out new mourning for the
Land:
Superfluous Trees, by
pruning, thrive,
And
Laws by
Execution live:
We'r subject unto your commanding,
Like
Phineh as do Justice
Standing:
For if this be your
Honours Way,
Factions will of themselves
Decay.
My Lord,
Your Honours Most Humble Servant.
Printed in the Year, 1675.