chapter  83
A CONGRATULATORY POEM TO HER MOST Sacred Majesty, ON THE UNIVERSAL HOPES OF ALL LOYAL PERSONS FOR A PRINCE OF WALES.
Pages 3

The Mighty BLESSING is at last arriv’d; Heav’n has, at last, the Wond’rous WORK achiev’d. Long did th’ ALMIGHTY pause, and long debate; For MONARCHS are not fashion’d at a Heat. 5 So the first Nations, that were bless’d by Heaven, Had the Eternal WORD by Promise given. The Faithful did the Coming GOD believe, And ev’n that Faith alone had Pow’r to save. If Gods we may with Humane Things compare, 10 (For Gods and Kings ally’d most nearly are) This is the Second Birth the World e’er knew, So long Expected, so much Wanted too. Like the first sacred Infant, this will come With Promise laden from the Blessed Womb, 15 To call the wand’ring, scatter’d Nations home. Adoring PRINCES shall arrive from far, Inform’d by ANGELS, guided by his Star, The New-born Wonder to behold, and greet, And Kings shall offer Incense at his Feet. 20 Hail, Royal BOY! whose Coming is design’d To calm the Murmurs of all Humane Kind. On thy great Birth, Depending-Monarchs wait: From thee the Universe expects its Fate. This glorious PROSPECT, like the sacred Law, 29525 Stints factious Crouds, and keeps the World in awe; Breaks their consulted Measures, and o’erthrows All the Designs aspiring STATES propose; Arrests the Wheel, in spight of Fortune’s Hand, And leaves the World’s vast Bus’ness at a Stand. 30 And you, bless’d QUEEN, to whom ALL HAIL belongs From Angels, rather than from Mortal Tongues; Whose Charms of Beauty, Wit and Vertue join’d To chuse you Second Bless’d of Woman-kind. ALL HAIL, ——— 35 O Sacred VESSEL, fraught with England’s STORE; (A PRIZE more valu’d, ATLAS never bore;) Guard safe our TREASURE to the wish’d for Shore. And you, Immortal Pow’rs, who have begun Your Noblest FABRICK; let your WORK go on: 40 The Royal YOUTH with all those Charms adorn, The World adores in his bright MOTHER’s Form: His Soul, by his Illustrious SIRES, compleat: All Hero, all Resolv’d, Divinely Great. Where are ye, O ye once officious NINE, 45 That on a Theam so glorious, and sublime, Your Voices are not tun’d to noblest Song? But, Oh! your Lutes are on the Willows hung: Your lov’d BRITANIA listens now no more; MARS frights her from the soft Castalian Shore; 50 Upon whose Banks, beneath your Shades, each Day, The ravish’d Nymph, charm’d with your Numbers, lay. But from your Groves the fickle Maid is gone, And all your boasted Harmony’s undone. But once more tune your Lutes and Voices high; 55 Your tenderest Strains, and noblest Numbers try: Raise those dejected Eyes, in Sorrow dress’d, And view the PROSPECT of the dawning East. A young APOLLO, rising from the Gloom, Dress’d in his Father’s brightest Rays, shall come; 60 (Dispersing all the baneful Mists of Night) And bless the Earth with New-created LIGHT; Make all the Face of Nature sweet and gay, Revive her Birth, and triumph o’er the Day. 296Beneath his Feet Eternal Spring shall spread, 65 And blossom from the Lustre round his Head. He the faint Muses shall a-new inspire, And from his Beams, kindle their useful Fire: His Right Hand Crowns, his Left shall Lawrels give; And POETS shall by Patron PRINCES live: 70 On all shall scatter Plenty, Joy and Peace, Unite the World, and make Dissention Cease. And you, Dread Monarch! ne’er to be confin’d In any glorious Act you have design’d; Who, like wise Heaven, need but decree alone, 75 And with the Thought, the mighty Task is done: Who for a stubborn Nation’s Glory toil, And court her to be Great against her Will. When you esteem’d her worth your Royal Care, You gave her this last Blessing, of an HEIR. 80 O happy KING! to whom a Son is born! What more can Fortune, Heaven, and You perform? Behold, with Joy three prostrate Nations come: ALBION, HIBERNIA and old CALEDON Now join their Int’rests, and no more dispute, 85 With sawcy Murmurs, who is Absolute; Since, from the Wonders of your Life, ’Tis plain, You will, you shall, and must for ever Reign.