UPON
HIS MAJESTIES
Going for
IRELAND.
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GO on, Great Prince, the mighty Work pursue,
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And reap the Laurels to your Vertue due.
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Go on, and let the sad Ierne share
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Your Glorious Triumphs, as it dos your Care.
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There Victory will on your Arms attend,
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(For Heaven must sure the Justest Cause befriend:)
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There urge the Fortune of your growing Fate,
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And kindly prop Iernes sinking State.
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Well, now hes Shipt! --- See how th obsequious Main
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And trembling Billows fear to entertain
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So Great a Pledge of Fortune, One to whom
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Fate owes so many Victories to come.
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Cease, cease, ye Winds, you need not send your Gales,
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His Subjects Loyal Vows will fill the Sails.
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The wondring Sea-gods on their Master gaze,
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And Reverend Triton on his Trumpet plays:
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No foamy Waves alarm the peaceful Deep,
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The Winds are husht, the very Tempests sleep;
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Till safely landing on the distant Shore,
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He views a Place he never saw before.
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Behold the Monarch walking on the Strand,
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Whilst mighty Crowds do blacken all the Sand:
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Guns, Trumpets, Drums, his Welcom all proclaim;
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Theres Soul, theres Life, nay, Magic in his Name.
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New Vigour from his Sight the Soldier draws,
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And through all Dangers boldly courts Applause;
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A nobler Warmth dos all the Men inspire,
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Their Breasts are heated, and they feel the Fire;
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While Peals of artful Thunder rend the Air,
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And their lowd Joy through the large Region bear.
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What Place will first our Caesars Arms employ,
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To give Presage of future Victory?
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Th unequal Force no meaner Town withstands,
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But beg their Peace with low submissive Hands.
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Cavan in vain relies upon its Strength,
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And views those Turrets which must fall at length.
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Where Valours wanting, what do Walls avail?
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Those may be stormd, but this can never fail.
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The English Youth, like a bold Torrent, run,
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And scorn the weak Attacks of Sword and Gun.
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Forthwith the dastard Irish quit the Place,
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And scarce dare look our Party in the Face.
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So when Great Josuah, by Gods Command,
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With his unconquerd Host ore-ran the Land,
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The trembling Canaanite, possest with Fear,
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Fled to the Hills, yet scarce found Safety there:
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In vain they sought to shun approaching Death,
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Beggd to protract a poor and shameful Breath;
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The fiery Jews destroy the timerous Race,
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And shew the hardned Canaanite no Grace.
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Tredagh dos next the English Arms oppose,
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Following the Counsel of her Gallick Foes:
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At last, when no Relief, no Hope is near,
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And Death dos in a thousand Shapes appear,
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Taught by Experience of former Time,
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When haughty Cromwel punishd her great Crime,
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To Article she wisely dos begin,
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And opes her Gates, and lets the Monarch in.
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Now Naked Dublin do our Troops survey,
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A cheap, unguarded, and defenceless Prey,
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Unless the French have labourd to destroy
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The Place they coud not any more enjoy.
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And who can tell? For Fear, with Malice joind,
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No Bounds, no Limits to their Fury find:
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But if those Blood-hounds thus do serve the Isle,
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All France next Year shall be its Funeral Pile.
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Tis far above the Meanness of my Verse,
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Such great Heroick Actions to rehearse:
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For, ah! what Tribe of all the Muse below
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Can our Great Prince in equal Numbers shew?
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But if the Great Apollo dos inspire
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My vigrous Mind with no fantastick Fire,
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Ireland will in a Years revolving Space
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Our Mighty Caesars Glorious Triumphs grace.
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Jove did the Isle from Toads and Spiders free,
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A puny Task, below a Deity:
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But you far greater Miracles renew,
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A larger Laurel to your Worth is due;
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For by the Influence of your careful Toil
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You free the Men, Jove only freed the Soil.
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