Ephelia

England

A Poem Presented To His Sacred Majesty,1 On The Discovery Of The Plot.2

Hail Mighty Prince! whom Heaven has designed
To be the chief Delight of human kind:
So many Virtues crowd your Breast, that we
Do almost question your Mortality:
Sure all the Planets that o'er Virtue Reigns,
Shed their best Influence in your Royal Veins:
You are the Glory of Monarchial Pow'rs,
In Bounties free as are descending Show'rs,
Fierce as a Tempest when engaged in War,
In Peace more mild than tender Virgins are;
In pitying Mercy, you not imitate
The Heavenly Pow'rs, but rather Emulate.
None but your Self, your Suff'rings could have borne
With so much Greatness, such Heroic Scorn:
When hated Traitors do your Life pursue,
And all the World is filled with cares for you;
When every Loyal Heart is sunk with Fear,
Your Self alone doth unconcerned appear;
Your Soul within, still keeps its lawful State,
Contemns3 and dares the worst effects of Fate;
As the bright Majesty shot from your Eye,
Awed your tame Fate, and ruled your Destiny.
Though your undaunted Soul bear you thus high,
Your solid Judgment sees there's danger nigh;
Which with such Care and Prudence you prevent,
As if you feared not, but would cross th'Event.
Your Care so nobly looks, it doth appear
'Tis for your Subjects, not your Self you fear:
Heaven! make this Prince's Life your nearest care,
That does so many of your Virtues share:
If Monarchs in their Actions copy you,
This is the nearest piece you ever drew:
Blast every Hand that dares to be so bold,
An impious Weapon 'gainst his Life to hold:
Burst every Heart that dares but think him ill;
Their guilty Souls with so much Terror fill,
That of themselves they may their Plot unfold,
And live no longer than the Tale is told:
Safe in your Care, all else will needless prove,
Yet keep him safe too in his Subjects' love.
Your Subjects view you with such Loyal eyes,
They know not how they may their Treasure prize:
Were you defenseless, they would round you fall,
And Pile their Bodies to build up a Wall.
Were you distressed, 'twould move a gen'rous strife,
Who first should lose his own, to save your Life.
But since kind Heaven these dangers doth remove,
We'll find out other ways t'express our Love.
We'll force the Traitors all, their Souls resign,
To Herd with him that taught them their Design.
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