The River of FORTH FEASTING: A Panegyrick to the High and Mighty Prince, James, King of Great Brittaine, France, and Ireland

WHat blustring Noise now interrups my Sleeps?
What ecchoing Shouts thus cleave my christall Deeps?
And seems to call me from my watry Court?
What Melody, what sounds of Joy and Sport,
Are convey'd hither from each Night-borne Spring?
With what loud Rumours do the Mountaines ring?
Which in unusuall Pompe on tip-toes stand,
And (full of Wonder) overlook the Land?
Whence come these glitt'ring Throngs, these Meteors bright,
This golden People glancing in my sight?
Whence doth this Praise, Applause, and Love, arise?
What Load-star East-ward draweth thus all Eyes?
Am I awake? Or have some Dreames conspir'd
To mock my Sense with what I most desir'd?
View I that living Face, see I those Looks,
Which with Delight were wont t'amaze my Brooks?
Do I behold that Worth, that Man divine,
This Ages Glory, by these Bankes of mine?
Then find I true what long I wish'd in vaine;
My much beloved Prince is come againe;
So unto them whose Zenith is the Pole,
When six black Months are past, the Sun doth roll:
So after Tempest to Sea-tossed Wights
Faire Helens Brothers show their clearing Lights:
So comes Arabias wonder from her Woods,
And far far off is seen by Memphis Flouds,
The feather'd Sylvans; Cloud-like by her flie,
And with triumphing plaudits beat the Skie,
Nyle marvels, Seraps Priests (entranced) rave,
And in Mygdonian stone her Shape ingrave;
In lasting Cedars they do marke the Time
In which Apollos Bird came to their Clime.
Let Mother Earth now deckt with Flow'rs be seen,
And sweet-breath'd Zephyres curle the Meadows green:
Let Heaven weep Rubies in a Crimson show'r,
Such as on Indies Shores they use to poure:
Or with that golden Storme the Fields adorne,
Which Jove rain'd when his Blew-ey'd Maid was born.
May never Hours the Web of Day out-weave,
May never Night rise from her sable Cave.
Swell proud my Billows, faint not to declare
Your Joyes as ample as their Causes are:
For Murmurs hoarse, sound like Arions Harpe,
Now delicately flat, now sweetly sharp;
And you my Nymphs, rise from your moist Repaire,
Strow all your Springs and Grots with Lillies faire:
Some swiftest-footed, get them hence, and pray
Our Flouds and Lakes come keep this Holy-day;
What e're beneath Albanias Hills do run,
Which see the rising, or the setting Sun,
Which drinke sterne Grampius Mists, or Ochels Snows:
Stone-rowling Tay, Tine Tortoise-like that flows,
The pearly Don, the Deas, the fertile Spay,
Wild Neve…ne, which doth see our longest Day;
Nesse smoaking-Sulphur, Leave with Mountains crown'd▪
Strange Loumond for his floating Isles renown'd:
The Irish Rian, Ken, the silver Aire,
The snaky Dun, the Ore with rushy Haire,
The christall-streaming Nid, loud-bellowing Clyde,
Tweed which no more our Kingdomes shall divide:
Ranke-swelling Annan, Lid with curled streames,
The Eskes, the Solway where they lose their Names,
To ev'ry one proclaime our Joyes, and Feasts,
Our Triumphs; bid all come and be our Guests:
And as they meet in Neptunes azure Hall,
Bid them bid Sea-Gods keep this Festivall;
This Day shall by our Currents be renown'd,
Our Hills about shall still this Day resound:
Nay, that our Love more to this Day appeare,
Let us with it henceforth begin our yeare.
To Virgins, Flow'rs, to Sun-burnt Earth, the Raine,
To Mariners, faire Winds amidst the Maine,
Coole Shades to Pilgrims, which hot Glances burne,
Are not so pleasing as thy blest Returne.
That Day (deare Prince) which rob'd us of thy sight,
[Day, no, but Darknesse, and a dusky Night]
Did fill our Brests with Sighs, our Eyes with Teares,
Turn'd Minutes to sad Months, sad Months to Yeares:
Trees left to flourish, Meadows to beare Flow'rs,
Brooks hid their Heads within their sedgie Bow'rs,
Faire Ceres curst our Fields with barren Frost,
As if againe she had her Daughter lost:
The Muses left our Groves, and for sweet Songs
Sate sadly silent, or did weep their wrongs;
You know it Meads, you murmuring Woods it know,
Hills, Dales, and Caves, Copartners of their Woe;
And you it know, my Streames, which from their Eine
Oft on your Glasse receiv'd their pearly Brine;
O Naïds deare (said they) Napaeas faire,
O Nymphs of Trees, Nymphs which on Hills repaire,
Gone are those maiden Glories, gone that State,
Which made all Eyes admire our Blisse of late.
As looks the Heaven when never Star appeares,
But slow and weary shrowd them in their Spheares,
While Tithons wife embosom'd by Him lies,
And World doth languish in a mournfull Guise:
As looks a Garden of its Beauty spoyl'd,
As Woods in Winter by rough Bore'as foyl'd,
As Pourtraits raz'd of Colours use to be:
So look'd these abject Bounds depriv'd of Thee.
While as my Rills enjoy'd Thy royall Gleames,
They did not envy Tibers haughty Streames,
Nor wealthy Tagus with his golden Ore,
Nor cleare Hydaspes which on Pearles doth roare,
Nor golden Gange that sees the Sun new borne,
Nor Achelous with his flowry Horne,
Nor Flouds which neare …lisian Fields do fall:
For why? Thy sight did serve to them for all.
No Place there is so desart, so alone,
Even from the frozen to the Torrid Zone,
From flaming Hecla to great Quinceys Lake,
Which Thy abode could not most happy make;
All those Perfections which by bounteous Heaven
To divers Worlds in divers Times were given,
The starry Senate powr'd at once on Thee,
That thou Exemplar mightst to others be.
Thy Life was kept till the three Sisters spun
Their threads of Gold, and then it was begun.
With chequer'd Clouds when Skies do look most faire,
And no disord'red Blasts disturb the Aire,
When Lillies do them deck in azure Gowns;
And new-borne Roses blush with golden Crowns,
To prove how calme we under Thee should live,
What Halcyonean Dayes Thy Reigne should give,
And to two flowry Diadems Thy right;
The Heavens Thee made a Partner of the Light.
Scarce wast Thou borne, when joyn'd in friendly Bands
Two mortall Foes with other clasped Hands,
With Vertue Fortune strove, which most should grace
Thy Place for Thee, Thee for so high a Place,
One vow'd Thy sacred Brest not to forsake,
The other on Thee not to turne her Back;
And that thou more her loves Effects mightst feele,
For Thee she left her Globe, and broke her Wheele.
When yeares Thee Vigour gave, O then how cleare
Did smothered Sparkles in bright Flames appeare!
Amongst the Woods to force the flying Hart,
To pierce the Mountaine-Wolfe with feather'd Dart;
See Faulcons climbe the Clouds, the Foxe ensnare,
Out-run the wind-out-running Daedale Hare
To breath thy fiery Steed on every Plaine,
And in meandring …yres him bring againe,
The Prease Thee making Place, and vulgar Things,
In Admirations Aire, on Glories Wings;
O! Thou far from the common Pitch didst rise,
With thy designs to dazell Envies Eyes:
Thou soughtst to know this Alls eternall Source,
Of ever-turning Heavens the restlesse Course,
Their fixed Lamps, their Lights which wandring run,
Whence Moon her Silver hath, his Gold the Sun,
If Fate there be or no, if Planets can
By fierce Aspects force the free-will of Man:
The light aspiring Fire, the liquid Aire,
The flaming Dragons, Comets with red Haire,
Heavens tilting Launces, Artillery, and Bow,
Loud-sounding Trumpets, Darts of Haile, and Snow,
The roaring Element, with People dumbe,
The Earth with what conceiv'd is in her Wombe,
What on her moves, were set unto thy Sight,
Till Thou didst find their Causes, Essence, Might:
But unto nought Thou so thy Mind didst straine,
As to be read in Man, and learne to raigne;
To know the Weight and Atlas of a Crown,
To spare the Humble, Proud ones tumble down.
When from those piercing Cares which Thrones invest,
As Thornes the Rose, thou weari'd would'st thee rest,
With Lute in Hand, full of Coelestiall Fire,
To the Pierian Groves thou didst retire:
There, ga…landed with all Uranias Flow'rs,
In sweeter Layes than builded Thebes Tow'rs,
Or them which charm'd the Dolphines in the Maine,
Or which did call Euridice againe,
Thou sung'st away the Houres, till from their Spheare
Stars seem'd to shoot, thy Melody to heare.
The God with golden Haire, the Sister Maids,
Did leave their Helicon, and Temp's shades,
To see thine Isle, here lost their native Tongue,
And in thy world-divided Language sung.
Who of thine af…r-age can count the Deeds,
With all that Fame in Times huge Annals reads,
How by Example more than any Law,
This People fierce thou didst to goodnesse draw;
How while the Neighbour Worlds (toss'd by the Fates)
So many Phaëtons had in their States,
Which turn'd to heedlesse Flames their burnish'd Thrones,
Thou (as ensphear'd) keptst temperate thy Zones;
In Affrick Shoares the Sands that ebbe and flow,
The shady Leaves on Ardens Trees that grow,
He sure may cou…, with all …he waves that meet
To wash the Mauritanian Atlas feet.
Though crown'd thou we…t not, nor a King by Birth,
Thy Worth deserves the richest Crown on Earth.
Search this halfe-Spheare, and the Antartick Ground,
Where is such Wit and Bounty to be found?
As into silent Night, when neare the Beare
The Virgine Hunt…esse skīnes at full most cleare,
And strives to match her Brothers golden Light,
The Hoast of stars doth vanish in her sight,
Arcturus dies; cool'd is the Lions ire,
Po burns no more with Phaëtontall Fire;
Orion faints to see his Armes grow black,
And that his flaming Sword he now doth lack:
So Europes Lights, all bright in their Degree,
Lose all their Lustre parallel'd with Thee.
By just Discent Thou from more Kings dost shine,
Than many can name Men in all their Line:
What most they toyle to find, and finding hold,
Thou scornest, orient Gems, and flatt'ring Gold?
Esteeming Treasure surer in Mens Brests,
Than when immur'd with Marble, clos'd in Chests;
No stormy Passions do disturbe thy Mind,
No mists of Greatnesse ever could thee blind:
Who yet hath been so meeke? Thou life didst give
To them who did repine to see Thee live;
What Prince by Goodnesse hath such Kingdoms gain'd?
Who hath so long his Peoples Peace maintain'd?
Their Swords are turn'd to Sythes, to Culters Speares,
Some Giant Post their antick Armour beares:
Now, where the wounded Knight his Life did bleed,
The wanton Swaine sits piping on a Reed.
And where the Canon did Joves Thunder scorne,
The gawdy Hunts-man winds his shrill-tun'd Horne:
Her green Locks Ceres doth to yellow die,
The Pilgrim safely in the shade doth lye,
Both Pan and Pales (carelesse keep their Flocks,
Seas have no Dangers save the Winds and Rocks:
Thou art this Isles Palladium, neither can
[Whiles thou dost live] it be o're-thrown by Man.
Let others boast of Bloud and Spoyles of Foes,
Fierce Rapines, Murders, Iliads of Woes,
Of hated Pompe, and Trophees reared faire,
Gore-spangled Ensignes streaming in the Aire,
Count how they make the Scythian them adore,
The Gaditan, and Souldiour of Aurore,
Unhappy Boasting! to enlarge their Bounds,
That charge themselves with cares, their friends with Wounds,
Who have no Law to their ambitious Will,
But (Man-plagues) borne are humane Bloud to spill:
Thou a true Victor art, sent from above
What others straine by Force, to gaine by Love,
World-wandring Fame this Praise to thee imparts,
To be the only Monarch of all Hearts,
They many feare, who are of many fear'd,
And Kingdoms got by Wrongs, by Wrongs are tear'd,
Such Thrones as Bloud doth raise, Bloud throweth down,
No Guard so sure as Love unto a Crown.
Eye of our westerne World, Mars-daunting King,
With whose Renowne the Earths seven Climates ring,
Thy Deeds not only claime these Diadems,
To which Thame, Litty, Taye, subject their Streames:
But to thy Vertues rare, and Gifts, is due
All that the Planet of the Yeare doth view;
Sure if the world above did want a Prince
The world above to it would take Thee hence.
That Murder, Rapine, Lust, are fled to Hell,
And in their Rooms with us the Graces dwell,
That Honour more than Riches Men respect,
That Worthinesse than Gold doth more effect,
That Piety unmasked shows her Face,
That Innocency keeps with Power her Place,
That long-exil'd Astrea leaves the Heaven,
And turneth right her Sword, her Weights holds even;
That the Saturnian world is come againe,
Are wish'd effects of Thy most happy Raigne.
That dayly Peace, Love, Truth, Delights encrease,
And Discord, Hate, Fraud, with Incumbers, cease,
That Men use strength not to shed others Bloud,
But use their strength now to do others Good;
That Fury is enchain'd, disarmed VVrath,
That (save by Natures Hand) there is no Death,
That late grim Foes, like Brothers, other love,
That Vultures prey not on the harmelesse Dove,
That VVolves with Lambs do friendship entertaine,
Are wish'd effects of thy most happy Raigne.
That Towns encrease, That ruin'd Temples rise,
That their wind-moving Vanes do kisse the Skies,
That Ignorance and Sloath hence run away,
That buri'd Arts now rowse them to the Day,
That Hyperion far beyond his Bed,
Doth see, our Lions rampe, our Roses spred,
That Iber courts us, Tyber not us charmes;
That Rhein with hence-brought Beames his bosome warmes;
That Ill doth feare, and Good doth us maintaine,
Are wish'd Effects of thy most happy Raigne.
O Vertues Patterne, Glory of our Times,
Sent of past Daies to expiate the Crimes,
Great King, but better far than thou art great,
VVhom State not honours, but who honours State,
By VVonder borne, by VVonder first install'd,
By VVonder after to new Kingdoms call'd;
Young kept by VVonder from home-bred Alarmes,
Old sav'd by Wonder from pale Traitours Harmes,
To be for this Thy Raigne which VVonders brings,
A King of VVonder, VVonder unto Kings.
If Pict, Dane, Normane, Thy smooth Yoke had seen,
Pict, Dane, and Norman had thy Subjects been:
If Brutus knew the Blisse Thy Rule doth give,
Even Brutus joy would under Thee to live:
For Thou Thy People dost so dearely love,
That they a Father, more than Prince, Thee prove.
O Daies to be desir'd! Age happy thrice!
If you your Heaven-sent-Good could duly prize,
But we (halfe-palsie-sick) thinke never right
Of what we hold, till it be from our sight,
Prize only Summers sweet and musked Breath,
VVhen armed VVinters threaten us with Death,
In pallid Sicknesse do esteeme of Health,
And by sad Poverty discerne of Wealth:
I see an Age when after some few yeares,
And Revolutions of the slow-pac'd Spheares,
These daies shall be 'bove other far esteem'd,
And like Augustus palmy Raigne be deem'd.
The Names of Arthur, fabulous Paladines,
Grav'n in Times surly Brows in wrinckled Lines,
Of Henries, Edwards, famous for their Fights,
Their Neighbour Conquests, Orders new of Knights,
Shall by this Princes Name be past as far
As Meteors are by the Idalian Star.
If Gray-hair'd Proteüs Songs the Truth not misse,
There is a Land hence-distant many Miles,
Out-reaching Fiction and Atlantick Isles,
Which (Homelings) from this little World we name,
That shall imblazon with strange Rites his Fame,
Shall reare him Statues all of purest Gold,
Such as Men gave unto the Gods of old,
Name by him Temples, Pallaces, and Towns,
With some great River, which their Fields renowns.
This is that King who should make right each wrong,
Of whom the Bards and mystick Sybills sung,
The Man long promis'd, by whose glorious Raigne,
This Isle should yet her ancient Name regaine,
And more of Fortunate deserve the Stile,
Than those where Heavens with double Sūmers smile.
Run on (Great Prince) Thy Course in Glories way,
The end the Life, the Evening crowns the Day;
Heape worth on worth, and strongly soare above
Those heights which made the World Thee first to love;
Surmount thy selfe, and make thine Actions past
Be but as Gleames or Lightnings of thy last,
Let them exceed those of thy younger Time,
As far as Autumne doth the flowry Prime.
Through this thy Empire range, like worlds bright Eye,
That once each yeare surveyes all Earth, and skie,
Now glaunces on the slow and resty Beares,
Then turnes to dry the weeping Austers teares,
Hurries to both the Poles, and moveth even
In the infigur'd Circle of the Heaven.
O long long haunt these Bounds, which by thy sight
Have now regain'd their former Heat and Light.
Here grow green Woods, here silver Brooks do glide,
Here Meadows stretch them out with painted Pride,
Embroyd'ring all the Banks, here Hills aspire
To crown their Heads with the aethereall Fire:
Hills, Bulwarks of our Freedome, giant walls,
Which never friends did slight nor Sword made thralls;
Each circling Floud to Thetis Tribute paies,
Men here (in Health) out-live old Nestors daies:
Grim Saturne yet amongst our Rocks remaines,
Bound in our Caves, with many Mettal'd Chaines:
Bulls haunt our shades like Ledas Lover white,
Which yet might breed Pasiphae delight,
Our Flocks faire Fleeces beare, with which for sport
Endimion of old the Moon did court,
High-palmed Harts amidst our Forrests run,
And, not impall'd, the deep-mouth'd Hounds do shun;
The rough-foot Hare safe in our Bushes shrowds,
And long-wing'd Hawkes do pearch amidst our clouds.
The wanton wood-Nymphs of the verdant Spring,
Blew, Golden, Purple Flow'rs shall to thee bring,
Pomonas Fruits the Panisks, Thetis Gyrles,
Thy Thulys Amber, with the Ocean Pearles;
The Tritons, Heardsmen of the glassie Field,
Shall give thee what far-distant shoares can yeeld,
The Serean Fleeces, Erythrean Gems,
Waste Platas Silver, Gold of Peru Streames,
Antartick Parrots, Aethiopian Plumes,
Sabaean Odours, Myrrhe, and sweet Perfumes:
And I my selfe, wrapt in a watchet Gown
Of Reeds and Lillies, on mine Head a Crown,
Shall Incense to thee Burne, green Altars raise,
And yearly sing due Paeans to Thy Praise.
Ah why should Isis only see Thee shine?
Is not thy Forth, as well as Isis Thine?
Though Isis vaunt she hath more Wealth in store,
Let it suffice Thy Forth doth love Thee more:
Though she for Beauty may compare with Seine,
For Swans and Sea-Nymphs with imperiall Rheine,
Yet for the Title may be claim'd in Thee,
Nor She, nor all the World can match with me.
Now when (by Honour drawn) Thou shalt away
To Her already jealous of Thy Stay,
When in Her amorous Armes She doth Thee fold,
And dries thy Dewy Haires with Hers of Gold,
Much asking of Thy Fare, much of Thy Sport,
Much of Thine Absence, Long, how e're so short,
And chides (perhaps) Thy comming to the North,
Loath not to thinke on Thy much-loving Forth:
O love these Bounds, whereof Thy Royall Stem
More than an hundred wore a Diadem.
So ever Gold and Baies Thy Brows adorne,
So never Time may see Thy Race out-worne,
So of Thine Own still mayst Thou be desir'd,
Of Strangers fear'd, redoubted, and admir'd;
So Memory Thee Praise, so precious Hours
May character Thy Name in starry Flow'rs;
So may Thy high Exploits at last make even,
With Earth Thy Empire, Glory with the Heaven.