UPON THE MARRIAGE OF
Prince George of Denmark WITH THE LADY ANNE: And his being Install'd Knight of the Garter.
A Pindarick POEM.
Ʋt gaudent pater AEneas & avunculus Hector.
Virg.
I.
ALmighty Love! who can thy Ways define?
Thou small Intreaguing God, thou'rt all Design;
Thy Quiver and thy Darts are farther known
Than the gay wandring Bow w
ch in the Clouds is shewn;
Thou keep'st the Gods themselves in awe
By thy Universal Law.
Jove, though amidst his stores of Rain and Hail,
Against thy Secret Flames can nought prevail;
Thou breakest through his Guards, and with thy Dart
Dost pierce the groaning Monarch to the Heart.
[Page 2]
Neptune, though all around with Waves opprest,
Yet by the Ocean finds his Love increast,
Like Water which on Fire's cast.
Nay, thou beyond the Tropicks canst approach,
Where
Sol in all his Journey dare not touch,
Let it be Torrid, or the Frigid Zone,
There an Empire thou dost own,
Which wou'd both Temperate be,
Were it not, bold God, for Thee.
Denmark, which lies remoter from the Sun,
With as brisk Flames, we find, as
Britain burn:
Thou first didst fire the Prince's Heart,
Then to Her Breast the Message streight impart;
He own'd thy Power, and never stay'd,
But thy Godship soon obey'd:
Led by thy Light through rowling Seas he mov'd
To meet his Royal Love.
He fear'd no Rocks that lay between,
So that within her Breast none cou'd be seen.
He fear'd not what from Seas and Winds cou'd come,
So that her Breath did not pronounce his fatal Doom.
Thus
Vesta's Flame it self did once maintain
Through the black Deep, till it the Port did gain,
Till it at
Rome had reach'd the Sacred Fane.
Nor did he long expect his Doom,
He did but
Come, and
See, and
Overcome.
By Parlee and Capitulation
In ten days space her Virgin Fort he wone.
An easier Conquest
Jove cou'd never boast,
No Mistress ever stood him in less cost,
When Cloister'd
Danae he wou'd gain,
To bribe her Keepers he was fain;
With Gold his Godship then was forc'd to buy
New Morsels and Supplies for his Almighty Luxury.
II.
Pardon, Blest Pair, these rude unpolisht Lines,
With which a Loyal Muse wou'd now approach your Shrines;
Like some young Virgin, who when half undrest,
(Around her loosely cast her Vest)
Into the Croud with eager steps does goe
To gaze and wonder at the pompous Show.
Wellcome, Great Prince, to our
Once happy Shore
(For this one time, dear Land, thy pardon I implore)
For many years the Pride of all the Floud,
The Envy of the Western World it stood;
In this our Isle, as once of
Rhodes was said,
The Sun was never thought to hide his Head:
Antiquity with all its searching eyes,
Cou'd never fancy or devise,
That once in
Aegypt, or in
Albion Clouds cou'd rise.
Let Fortunate or Happy now no longer be its name,
But style it henceforth
Europe's shame:
As in Greek Story, we of Countreys reade,
That for their Sins have often chang'd their Breed;
Of Men or Manners, so, no more appears,
But all are here transform'd to Lions, Dogs and Bears
III.
But the Mistaken World may fancy yet
That Happiness here keeps her peacefull Seat,
Who see our thronged Streets still ebb and flow
With Waves of people crowding to and fro;
Who with such artfull beauty and surprise
See all our Palaces and Temples rise,
Who see our Navies daily plow the Main,
With a full Harvest blest of dear-bought gain;
Some fraighted with the Golden Spoils o'th' West,
Some with the shining Entrails of the East:
So a poor Swain viewing a Tyrant's state,
With secret envy does applaud his fate,
But yet ne'er learns to prize his own dear peacefull Rest,
Nor sees those inward flames that wrack the gaudy Pageant's Breast.
Thus
Aetna to the distant Sailers fight.
Shews with a Top that's verdant, flourishing and bright,
But yet within its burning Womb contains
Nothing but Brimstone, Lime, and scorching sulphurous Veins.
IV.
Yet from these Mists, Great Sir, that darken all the Air
A sudden Joy does dart, and scatter our despair,
When thus by you a way we open'd find
How the Fates may still be kind,
How by your Royal Progeny
We and our Sons may ever happy be.
So have I seen a kind auspicious Star
Shine forth, and guide the wandring Traveller,
While all else stood with thickest Night beset,
This sparkled like a Diamond set in Jet.
So from two warring Clouds black teeming Womb
Oft have I seen the frisking Lightning come,
And trembling run o'er all the Azure way,
And with its Light create a short-liv'd Day.
Th'unruly Many now shall cease to rage,
Or ever more disturb the Age.
No more shall
Schism, and bold
Anarchy
Among our English Manufactures numbred be;
Pale
Faction now shall hang its drooping head,
It shall be through the World exprest
That Oracles are once more ceas'd,
That the
Old Cause, the mighty
Pan is dead.
These curst heart-burnings and ill-boding Flames
Shall hence be exorcis'd by your Illustrious Name,
As Culinary Fire,
In the Sun's beams does lose its force; and streight expire.
The giddy Rabble, and the Beasts of Prey,
Shall by your Nuptial Fires be scar'd away,
As men in
Africa do Bonfires rear,
To keep 'em from the Lion and the Savage Bear.
Then let our Brittish Annals talk no more
Of one St.
George, his Deeds, and wondrous Power,
This is the Man; him the Great
ORDER shall
In future times their Saint and Patron call,
And what before was Legend, Fable, Lie,
Shall pass for current and Authentick History.
London, Printed for Walter Davis. 1683.