Classic Poem

Great Mint of Beauties,
Though all Your Royall Burthens should come forth
Dischargd by Emanation, not by Birth;
Though You could so prove Mother, as the Soule,
When it doth most conceive without controule;
Though Princes should so frequent from You flow,
That we might thence say, Sun-Beames issue slow;
Nay, though those Royall Plants as oft should spring
From You, as great Examples from Your King;
None would repine, or, Narrow midst such Store,
Thinke the Thrones Blessing made the Kingdome Poore.
Graynes, which are singly Rich, become not Cheape
Because th' are Many: Such grow from the Heape.
Where Five would Each for Number passe Alone,
The Sixt comes Their Improvement, and it's Owne.
We see the Brothers Vertues, growing ripe
By just degrees, aspire to their Great Type;
We see the Father thrive in Them, and finde
W' have Heires, as to His Throne, so to His Mind:
This makes us call for More: the Parents Bloud
Is great security, They will be Good.
And These Your Constant Tributes to the State
Might make us stand up High, and trample Fate;
We might grow Bold from Conscience of just Good,
Had it the fortune to be Understood.
But Some, that would see, dazzled by much light,
View only that which doth confound their sight:
Others, darke by Designe, doe veyle their eyes,
For feare by their own fault they should grow Wise,
And, what they cannot misse, by chance should finde:
Injustice is, what Iustice should be, Blind.
Yet our Great Guide, carelesse of Common Voyce,
As Good by Nature rather, then by Choyce,
Sheds the same fruitfull Influence still on All,
As Constant Showrs on Thanklesse Desarts fall:
And, like the Unmov'd Rock, though it doth heare
The Murmurs of Rude Waves, whose Rage breakes there;
He still gives Living Gemms, and doth present
To Froward Nations Wealth, and Ornament.
Some Stones there are, whose Colours doe betray
The Face of Heaven, and that Scene of Day
That Nature shap'd them in, and thence come forth
Themselves th' Ingenuous Records of their Birth.
May then this Pearle ( Great Queene ) now bred from You,
Congeald, and fashiond of more Heavenly Dew,
Shew forth the Temper of the Present State,
And Himself be to his owne Birth the Date:
That, as the solemne Trumpet's publique Blast
At the same time proclaim'd both Warre and Fast,
He may, Devoutly Valiant, praying stand,
As' th' Ancient Hero's , with a Speare in's hand;
And, mixing Vowes and Fights in one Concent,
Divide Himselfe between the Church, and Tent.
But if He be, by Milder Influence, borne
The Sonne of Peace, the Rose without a Thorne;
What Once his Grand-sires Ripe Designes did boast,
And Now His Serious Father labours most,
Hee, as a Pledge sent to Both Nations, doe;
And cement Kingdomes, now againe call'd Two.
And here some Genius prompts me, I shall see
Him make Greeke Fables Brittish History;
And view, now such a Goddesse hath brought forth,
This Floating Island setled by the Birth.