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Already has he lifted high the sign
Behold another Sylvester, to bless
Now view at home a second Constantine ;
When humbly on the royal Babe we gaze,
If the first op'ning page so charms the sight,
Fain would the fiends have made a dubious birth, †
Not great Æneas I stood in plainer day, When the dark mantling mist dissolv'd away, He to the Tyrians shew'd his sudden face, 130 Shining with all his goddess-mother's grace, For she herself had made his count'nance bright, Breath'd honour on his eyes, and her own purple light.
† Alluding to the temptations in the wilderness.
If our victorious Edward, as they say, Gave Wales a prince on that propitious day, Why may not years, revolving with his fate, Produce his like, but with a longer date? One who may carry to a distant shore The terror that his fam'd forefather bore. But why should James or his young hero stay 140 For slight presages of a name or day; We need no Edward's fortune to adorn That happy moment when our Prince was born: Our Prince adorns this day, and ages hence Shall wish his birth-day for some future prince.
Great Michael ! prince of all th' ethereal hosts, And whate'er inborn saints our Britain boasts ; And thou th' adopted patron of our isle, With cheerful aspects on this infant smile; The pledge of Heav'n, which, dropping from above, Secures our bliss, and reconciles his love.
151 Enough of ills our dire rebellion wrought, When to the dregs we drank the bitter draught; Then airy atoms did in plagues conspire, Nor did th' avenging angel yet retire, But purg'd our still-increasing crimes with fire. Then perjur'd plots, the still-impending test, And worse---but charity conceals the rest.' Here stop the current of the sanguine flood; Require not, gracious God! thy martyr's blood; 160
But let their dying pangs, their living toil,
Enough of early saints one womb has giv'n;
Enough already has the year foreshow'd;
180 Heav'n, to reward him, makes his joys sincere ; No future ills nor accidents appear To sally and pollute the sacred infant's year. Five months to discord and debate were givin; He sanctifies the yet remaining seven.
+ Alluding to the passage in the first book of Kings, chap. xxiv.
Sabbath of months! henceforth in him be bless'd,
Let his baptismal drops for us atone,
Unnam'd as yet, at least unknown to fame, Is there a strife in heav'n about his name, Where ev'ry famous predecessor vies, And makes a faction for it in the skies? Or must it be reserv'd to thought alone? Such was the sacred Tetragrammaton. Things worthy silence must not be reveald, Thus the true name of Rome was kept conceal'd, To shun the spells and sorceries of those Who durst her infant majesty oppose: But when his tender strength in time shall rise To dare ill tongues and fascinating eyes, This isle, which hides the little thund'rer's fame, Shall be too narrow to contain his name; Th' artillery of heav'n shall make him known: Crete could not hold the god when Jove was grown.
As Jove's increase, who from his brain was born, Whom arms and arts did equally adorn, Free of the breast was bred, whose milky taste Minerva's name to Venus had debas'd; So this imperial Babe rejects the food That mixes monarchs' with plebeian blood: