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Already has he lifted high the sign

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Which crown'd the conqu’ring arms of Constantine ;
The moon grows pale at that presaging sight,
And half her train of stars have lost their light.

Behold another Sylvester, to bless
The sacred standard, and secure success;
Large of his treasures, of a soul so great,
As fills and crowds his universal seat.

Now view at home a second Constantine ;
(The former too was of the British line)
Has not his healing balm your breaches closid, 90
Whose exile many sought, and few oppos'd ?
0! did not Heav'n, by its eternal doom,
Permit those evils that this good might come ?
So manifest, that e'en the moon-ey'd sects
See whom and what this Providence protects.
Methinks, had we within our minds no more
· Than that one shipwreck on the fatal ore,
That only thought may make us think again
What wonders God reserves for such a reign.
To dream that chance his préservation wrought, 100
Were to think Noah was preserv'd for nought;
Or the suryiving eight were not design'd
To people earıh, and to restore their kind,

When humbly on the royal Babe we gaze,
The manly lines of a majestic face
Give awful joy: 'tis paradise to look
On the fair frontispiece of Nature's book ;

If the first op'ning page so charms the sight,
Think how th' unfolded volume will delight !
See how the venerable infant lies
In early pomp ! how thro' the mother's eyes
The father's soul, with an undaunted view
Looks out, and takes our homage as his due.
See on his future subjects how he smiles !
Nor meanly flatters, not with ctaft beguiles;
But with an open face, as on his throne,
Assures our birth-rights, and assumes his own.
Born in broad day-light, that th' ungrateful sout
May find no room for a remaining doubt. .
Truth, which itself is light, does darkness shun,
And the true eaglet safely dares the sun.

Fain would the fiends have made a dubious birth, †
Loath to confess the Godhead cloth'd in earth;
But sicken'd after all their baffled lies,
To find an heir-apparent in the skies :
Abandon'd to despair, still may they grudge,
And, owning not the Saviour, prove the judge.

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.

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† Alluding to the temptations in the wilderness.
# Virg. Eneid. I.
Dryden.]

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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

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But let their dying pangs, their living toil,
Spread a rich harvest thro' their native soil;
A harvest rip'ning for another reign.
of which this royal Babe may reap the grain.

Enough of early saints one womb has giv'n;
Enough increas'd the family of Heav'n:
Let them for his and our atonement go,
And reigning bless'd above leave him to rule below

Enough already has the year foreshow'd;
His wonted course the sea has overflow'd; 170
The meads were floated with a weeping spring,
And frighten'd birds in woods forgot to sing :
The strong-limb'd steed beneath his harness faints,
And the same shiv'ring sweat his lord attaints.
When will the minister of wrath give o'er ?
Behold him at Arauna's threshing-floor! |
He stops, and seems to sheath his faming brand,
Pleas'd with burnt incense from our David's hand.
David has bought the Jebusite's abode,
And rais'd an altar to the living God.

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.

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Sabbath of months! henceforth in him be bless'd,
And prelude to the realm's perpetual rest !

Let his baptismal drops for us atone,
Lustrations for offences not his own.
Let conscience, which is intérest ill disguis'd, 190
In the same font be cleans'd, and all the land baptizd.

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:

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