THE
TRIUMPHANT RECEPTION
Of His Most Sacred Majesty, King William III.
In His Passage through the City of London, to His Royal Palace, on His Return from Flanders, after a Firm Conclusion
of PEACE, November the 16th. 1697.
A HEROICK POEM.
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ILlustrious Triumphs now with Joy we sing,
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That welcome Home our Thrice Renowned King,
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Who after Toils of War, returns in Peace,
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And makes our Fears and Cares at once to cease
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Triumphant Glories do express his Praise,
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Whom Fame and Vict'ry Crowns with conqu'ring Bays,
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Whilst he stood Europes Champion in the Field,
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And shelter'd Nations fought behind his Shield.
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See the glad People crouding, to him run,
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Like Persians to adore the Rising-Sun:
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The Nations Darling all do him Proclaim,
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And with their Shouts exceed the Voice of Fame.
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Lovely in Lawrels, but in Palms much more;
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War brought Renown, but Peace adds to our Store
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A Thousand Blessings, to make England smile,
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And recompence her after Blood and Toil.
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See with what Pomp of winning Graces Crown'd,
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That through the World have made him so Renown'd,
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He comes, whilst gracious Looks and Gestures prove,
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He sees his Throne built on his Peoples Love:
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Sees how a willing Nation do's express
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A Gratitude for so much Happiness,
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As smiling Heaven has yet reserv'd for those
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Whom his Protection have so freely chose.
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He saw us sinking, and reviv'd our Fate,
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When first he took on him the Regal State;
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And to accomplish the main End he sought,
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In greatest Dangers has our Battles fought,
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Where Death in Triumph rode, he fac'd his Frown,
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And vanquish'd Terrors lead him to Renown;
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Whilst his Victorious Sword, cutting its way
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Beyond Wars Power, its mighty Force to stay,
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Call'd on calm Peace, who long had made retreat,
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And sigh'd once more to gain her former Seat,
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To bless those Nations who had banish'd her,
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And almost fainted under tedious War.
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This is the Prince old Prophesies presage,
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To England should restore the Golden Age,
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Whilst each in Quiet sits beneath his Vine,
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In Ease and Plenty, ceasing to repine.
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Religion, Laws, and Liberties secur'd
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And if more happpy things can be procur'd
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On this side Heaven, we may hope to see
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Under his Reign a lasting Jubilee.
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London the chief of Cities, well do's show
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Her Gratitude to him from whom do's flow
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So many Favours, and would prove ingrate,
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Should it be less, when he upholds her State:
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Which else again, perhaps, by Popish Ire,
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E'er this had sunk as low in conquering Fire.
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Great City then rejoice, thus freed from Rome,
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Think in this Prince thy Guardian Angel's come.
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Let Drums and Trumpets sound, in Verse Proclaim,
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With all thy Splendour, great King Williams Fame;
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Scarlet and Purple, Chains of Gold put on,
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To meet him whom the mighty Work has done.
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Let all thy Liveries in Pomp appear,
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And thy Militia freed from Fears of War,
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Rang'd in their Order, now receive their King;
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Let Bonfires blaze, and Bells melodious ring.
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All Harmony in every Place be found,
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Joy spread itself the Universe all round;
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Whilst Hills and Dales do eccho back the same,
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And the glad News from Shoar to Shoar Proclaim;
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Whilst flowing Crouds like Waves on Waves encrease,
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And sing the Triumphs of a happy Peace,
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That in much Honour to our Nation comes;
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Sound, sound again the Trumpets, beat the Drums,
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Whilst to the Royal Palace he do's ride,
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Who is not our's alone, but the World's Pride;
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Whom Moscovy, and Venice do adore,
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Drawn by his Fame from North and Eastern shoar,
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Whilst Italy, and farthest German Rhine,
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Sweden and Danemark do with them combine,
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To Grace our Caesar with Embassadors,
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Courting his Fortunes both in Peace and Wars,
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As the admired Hero of the Age,
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Born to great Actions: and all Hearts engage
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In Love to him, where Envy, that dire Bane,
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Vertue in Mankind basely don't Prophane.
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Let all our Prayers then join for his Success,
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To Crown him still with lasting Happiness;
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Long may he Reign, and Peaceful may he Live,
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By whom so many Blessings we receive:
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Whilst the united People loud do sing,
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God prosper long our Good and Gracious King:
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And Guardian Angels watch him Night and Day;
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So let us wish, and so let each one pray,
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That knowing what it is to be so blest,
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After long Toil we may sit down in Rest,
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Trading increase, that late was at a stand,
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And Milk and Honey flow this happy Land.
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