







 
   
     
       
         A poem on the present assembly of Parliament, November 9th. 1685
         Waller, Edmund, 1606-1687.
      
       
         
           1686
        
      
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         A67341
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         ESTC R889
         12241408
         ocm 12241408
         56785
         
           
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             A poem on the present assembly of Parliament, November 9th. 1685
             Waller, Edmund, 1606-1687.
          
           [2], 6 p.
           
             Printed for George Powell ...,
             London :
             1686.
          
           
             Reproduction of original in Huntington Library.
             An alteration and adaptation of the author's A poem on the present assembling of the Parliament, March the 6th, 1678.
             Advertisement: p. 6.
          
        
      
    
     
       
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         eng
      
       
         
           Political poetry, English.
        
      
    
     
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           A
           POEM
           ON
           THE
           Present
           Assembly
           OF
           PARLIAMNT
           ,
           November
           9
           th
           .
           1685.
           
           Licensed
           ,
           November
           7
           th
           .
           1686.
           
           
             Ro.
             L'Estrange
          
           .
        
         
           LONDON
           ,
           Printed
           for
           
             George
             Powell
          
           over
           against
           Lincolns-Inn-Gate
           .
           1686.
           
        
      
    
     
       
         
         
         
           A
           POEM
           ON
           THE
           Present
           Assembly
           OF
           PARLIAMENT
           ,
           November
           9th
           .
           1685.
           
        
         
           
             BReak
             sacred
             Morn
             on
             our
             expecting
             I
             'le
             ,
          
           
             And
             make
             our
             
             Albion's
             sullen
             Genius
             smile
             ;
          
           
             His
             brightest
             Glories
             let
             the
             Sun
             display
             ,
          
           
             He
             rose
             not
             with
             a
             more
             auspicious
             Ray
             ,
          
           
             Since
             God-like
             IAMES
             receiv'd
             *
             Imperial
             State
             ,
          
           
             Our
             only
             recompence
             for
             CHARLES
             his
             Fate
             .
          
           
           
             A
             joyful
             Bridegroom
             then
             ,
             our
             Eyes
             he
             drew
             ,
          
           
             And
             now
             seems
             wedded
             to
             his
             Realms
             anew
             :
          
           
             Since
             when
             our
             panick
             Fears
             are
             quite
             o're-blown
             ,
          
           
             And
             on
             our
             Enemies
             Coast
             the
             Terror
             thrown
             .
          
        
         
           
             Ye
             ancient
             Bards
             that
             
             Britain's
             Glory
             wrought
          
           
             As
             warmly
             as
             our
             British
             Heroes
             fought
             ,
          
           
             Be
             still
             assisting
             to
             your
             Country's
             Fame
             ,
          
           
             And
             in
             my
             daring
             Song
             revive
             your
             Flame
             .
          
        
         
           
             Behold
             ,
             behold
             ,
             the
             bright
             Assembly
             plac'd
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             our
             Monarch's
             Sacred
             Presence
             grac'd
             :
          
           
             Transported
             with
             a
             Vision
             so
             sublime
             ,
          
           
             Our
             thoughts
             review
             the
             Infant-Pride
             of
             time
             ,
          
           
             We
             think
             how
             at
             the
             New
             Creation
             sate
          
           
             Th'
             Eternal
             Monarch
             in
             his
             Heavens
             fresh
             State
             ;
          
           
             The
             Stars
             yet
             wondring
             at
             each
             others
             Fires
             ,
          
           
             And
             all
             the
             Sons
             of
             Glory
             rank'd
             in
             Quires
             .
          
        
         
           
             As
             various
             Streams
             from
             distant
             Regions
             fall
             ,
          
           
             And
             in
             the
             Deep
             their
             gen'ral
             Counsel
             call
             ,
          
           
             Conveying
             thence
             supplies
             to
             ev'ry
             source
             ,
          
           
             And
             fail
             not
             to
             maintain
             the
             rowling
             Course
             ;
          
           
           
             Our
             Senate
             thus
             from
             ev'ry
             Quarter
             met
             ,
          
           
             And
             with
             our
             Peers
             in
             awful
             Council
             set
             ,
          
           
             Dispense
             their
             Influence
             to
             each
             Province
             round
             ,
          
           
             And
             in
             our
             I
             'le
             no
             barren
             spot
             is
             found
             .
          
           
             Justice
             as
             freely
             as
             our
             Thames
             shall
             flow
             ,
          
           
             In
             Peace
             the
             Sailer
             steer
             ,
             and
             Peasant
             plow
             ,
          
           
             Our
             Publick
             safe
             from
             foreign
             Wrongs
             shall
             be
             ,
          
           
             And
             private
             Rights
             from
             Home-oppressors
             free
             .
          
        
         
           
             Proceed
             brave
             Worthies
             then
             to
             your
             Debates
             ,
          
           
             And
             by
             your
             Counsels
             to
             direct
             our
             Fates
             .
          
        
         
           
             Thus
             ,
             IAMES
             the
             pious
             ,
             valiant
             ,
             wise
             and
             just
             ,
          
           
             Performs
             not
             only
             yours
             ,
             but
             
             Europe's
             Trust
             ;
          
           
             Whose
             Power
             or
             Prudence
             makes
             their
             Discords
             cease
             ,
          
           
             Where
             he
             perswades
             not
             ,
             he
             commands
             a
             Peace
             .
          
           
             So
             (
             if
             small
             things
             with
             great
             may
             be
             compar'd
             )
          
           
             We
             oft
             have
             seen
             two
             Monarchs
             of
             the
             Herd
             ,
          
           
             Upon
             some
             long-disputed
             Plain
             engage
          
           
             With
             equal
             Vigour
             ,
             and
             with
             equal
             Rage
             ;
          
           
             Their
             goring
             Horns
             are
             in
             the
             Contest
             worn
             ,
          
           
             The
             harrass'd
             Earth
             is
             in
             the
             Combat
             torn
             ;
          
           
             But
             if
             a
             Lion
             from
             the
             Hill
             descends
             ,
          
           
             Their
             Fury
             ceases
             ,
             and
             the
             Battel
             ends
             .
          
           
           
             What
             though
             the
             Gallick
             Pride
             has
             swell'd
             so
             high
             ▪
          
           
             A
             war-like
             Empires
             Forces
             to
             defie
             ,
          
           
             To
             crush
             united
             States
             ,
             confederate
             Powr
             ,
          
           
             And
             quite
             suppress
             the
             Belgian
             Lions
             roar
             ;
          
           
             Yet
             let
             their
             Troops
             in
             silent
             Triumph
             come
          
           
             From
             conquer'd
             Fields
             ,
             and
             steal
             their
             Trophies
             home
             .
          
           
             Take
             care
             their
             Cannon
             at
             just
             distance
             roar
             ,
          
           
             Nor
             with
             too
             near
             a
             Volley
             rouze
             our
             shore
             .
          
           
             The
             Terror
             still
             of
             our
             Third
             
             Edward's
             Name
          
           
             Rebukes
             their
             Pride
             ,
             and
             checks
             their
             towring
             Fame
             :
          
           
             Nor
             can
             the
             Tide
             of
             many
             rowling
             Years
             ,
          
           
             VVash
             the
             stain'd
             Fields
             of
             Cressey
             and
             Poictiers
             .
          
           
             A
             conscious
             Terror
             strikes
             their
             Bosoms
             still
             ,
          
           
             VVhen
             they
             behold
             that
             famous
             fatal
             Hill
             ,
          
           
             Where
             Edward
             ,
             with
             his
             Host
             ,
             Spectator
             stood
             ,
          
           
             And
             left
             the
             Prince
             to
             make
             the
             Conquest
             good
             .
          
        
         
           
             Such
             was
             the
             Vertue
             of
             our
             Ancestours
             ,
          
           
             And
             such
             ,
             on
             due
             resentment
             ,
             shall
             be
             ours
             ;
          
           
             Averse
             from
             acting
             ,
             as
             receiving
             wrong
             ,
          
           
             VVeak
             States
             support
             ,
             and
             Terror
             to
             the
             strong
             ;
          
           
             VVhose
             temper'd
             Vallour
             just
             Pretence
             requires
             ,
          
           
             As
             Flints
             are
             struck
             before
             they
             shew
             their
             Fires
             .
          
        
         
           
           
             Once
             more
             great
             Patriots
             in
             the
             Nation
             's
             stead
             ,
          
           
             VVith
             due
             respect
             ,
             the
             Loyal
             Muses
             plead
             ,
          
           
             Since
             from
             your
             gen'rous
             Trust
             our
             Peace
             did
             spring
             ,
          
           
             Joyn'd
             with
             the
             matchless
             Conduct
             of
             our
             King.
          
           
             Secure
             the
             Blessing
             you
             so
             well
             begun
             ,
          
           
             And
             take
             for
             Pattern
             what
             your selves
             have
             done
             .
          
           
             So
             Albion
             to
             her
             ancient
             Fame
             shall
             grow
             ,
          
           
             By
             Heaven's
             Decrees
             above
             ,
             and
             yours
             below
             .
          
           
             Nor
             shall
             your
             Influence
             in
             our
             lesser
             world
          
           
             Lie
             pent
             ,
             but
             through
             the
             Universe
             be
             hurl'd
             :
          
           
             Thence
             Christian
             Leagues
             shall
             firmly
             be
             combin'd
             ,
          
           
             While
             Turks
             and
             Rebels
             equal
             Fate
             shall
             find
             .
          
           
             Thus
             Earth
             and
             Seas
             with
             safety
             shall
             be
             blest
             ,
          
           
             And
             Peace
             as
             calm
             as
             their
             great
             Masters
             Breast
             .
          
           
             Heaven
             to
             our
             I
             'le
             this
             Priv'ledge
             does
             allow
             ,
          
           
             Besides
             her self
             to
             have
             no
             pow'rful
             Foe
             .
          
           
             By
             Rocks
             and
             Seas
             fenc'd
             round
             from
             foreign
             Harms
             ,
          
           
             And
             only
             liable
             to
             in-bred
             Arms.
          
           
             Such
             shocks
             (
             alas
             !
             )
             too
             oft
             we
             have
             endur'd
             ,
          
           
             But
             ev'n
             from
             home-bred
             Rage
             are
             now
             secur'd
             :
          
           
             No
             Storm
             can
             rise
             while
             Caesar
             guides
             the
             Helm
             ,
          
           
             While
             you
             support
             the
             Throne
             ,
             and
             He
             the
             Realm
             .
          
           
             Our
             Faith
             and
             Freedom
             trusted
             in
             his
             Hand
             ,
          
           
             Immoveable
             as
             Fate
             's
             Decrees
             must
             stand
             .
          
           
           
             Usurpers
             from
             their
             Promise
             may
             retreat
             ,
          
           
             And
             Common-wealths
             their
             publick
             Trust
             defeat
             ,
          
           
             While
             each
             his
             private
             Interest
             does
             pursue
             ,
          
           
             But
             Heaven's
             and
             
             Britain's
             Monarch
             must
             be
             true
             .
          
        
         
           FINIS
           .
        
      
    
     
       
         
           ADVERTISEMENT
           .
        
         
           A
           Devout
           Exercise
           for
           every
           day
           of
           the
           Month
           ,
           together
           with
           Meditations
           upon
           the
           most
           important
           Truths
           of
           the
           Gospel
           ,
           translated
           from
           the
           last
           Edition
           of
           the
           Original
           ,
           enlarged
           by
           the
           Author
           .
           Sir
           Tho.
           Moor's
           Vtopia
           in
           English.
           All
           sorts
           of
           Law-Books
           printed
           for
           ,
           and
           sold
           by
           
             George
             Powel
          
           over
           against
           
             Lincolns-Inn
             Gate
          
           .
        
      
       
         Notes, typically marginal, from the original text
         
           Notes for div A67341-e120
           
             *
             The
             Coronation
             ,
             April
             23
             ,
             1685.
             
          
        
      
    
  

