Classic Poem

The State is now past feare, and all that wee
Need wish besides is perpetuitie.
No gaudy traine of flames, no darkned Sunne,
No change inverting order did fore-runne
This Birth, no hurtlesse Natalitious fire
Playing about Him made the Nurse admire,
And prophecie. Forc'd nature shewes these things
When Thraldome swels, when Bondmaids bring forth Kings.
And 'tis no favour: For Shee straight gives ore,
Paying these trifles, that She owe no more.
Here She's reserv'd, and quiet, as if Hee
Were Her Designe, Her Plot, Her Policie:
Here the enquiring busie Common-eye
Onely intent upon new Majestie,
Nere lookes for further wonder, this alone
Being sufficient, that Hee's silent showne.
What's Her intent, I know not: let it be,
My pray'r, that Shee'll be modest, and that Hee
Have but the second honour, be still neere;
No imitation of the Father here.
Yet let him, like to him, make Pow'r as free
From blot or scandall, as from poverty;
Count Blood and Birth no parts, but something lent
Meerely for outward grace, and complement;
Get safety by good life, and raise defence
By better forces, Love, and conscience.
This likenesse wee expect; the Nurse may finde
Something in Shape, wee'll looke unto his Minde.
The forehead, Eye, and lip, poore humble parts
Too shallow for resemblance; shew the arts
Of private guessings; action still hath beene
The Royall marke; those parts, which are not seene,
Present the Throne, and Scepter; and the right
Discoverie's made by judgement, not by sight.
I cannot to this cradle promise make
Of actions fit for growth. A strangled snake,
Kill'd before knowne, perhaps mongst heathen hath
Beene thought the deed, and valour of the Swath.
Farre be such Monsters hence! the Buckler here
Is not the cradle, nor the dart, and speare
The Infants Rattles: 'tis a Sonne of mirth,
Of peace and friendship, 'tis a quiet birth.
Yet if hereafter unfil'd people shall
Call on his sword, and so provoke their fall,
Let him looke backe on that admired Name,
That Spirit of dispatch, that soule of fame,
His Grandsire Henry , tread his steps, in all
Be fully like to him, except his fall.
Although in Royall births the Subjects lot
Be to enjoy what's by the Prince begot;
Yet fasten, C HARLES , fasten those eyes You owe
Vnto a People, on this Sonne, to show
You can be tender too, in this one thing
Suffer the Father to depose the King.
See what delight Your Queene takes to peruse
These faire unspotted Volumes, when She views
In Him that glance, in Her that decent grace,
In This sweet innocence, in All the face
Of both the Parents. May this blessing prove
A welcome Trouble, puzz'ling equall love
How to dispense embraces, whiles that Shee
Strives to divide the Mother 'twixt all Three.