ALBION'S Elegie: OR, A POEM, Upon the High and Mighty Prince JAMES Duke of ALBANY and YORK, His Departure from SCOTLAND.
Presented to His Royal HIGHNESS, By M. L.
ALBANƲM toto resonabunt littore ripae,
Et tristes Elegos,
te decedente, canemus.
Edinburgh, Printed by the Heir of Andrew Anderson, Printer to His most Sacred MAJESTY. 1680.
TO His Royal Highness, JAMES, Duke of
ALBANY and
YORK.
ALBION'S Elegie:
WHat to Depart, the
DƲKE? such News ye bring,
As use t'assume the preying Eagle's wing:
It's like the uncouth Accent ye mistook,
Or Read the Thing in a Demurring look;
Else pensive Thoughts possess my sleepy Head
With th'Object, which awake to lose, I dread:
But sure, no Dream my Fancy thus deludes,
Upon my Watch such Jealousie intrudes,
These Flames dispers'd offend my tender Eyes,
My Ears do itch with such nois'd
Homilies;
So that incens'd
Eolian Thunder-clap,
Had sure prognosticate this Dismal Rap:
So
Syren-pleasures Fatal events Form,
And
Halcyon Calmness hatch a future Storm.
But whither this gay Navie Lee-ward Glides?
Like Stately
Genets Prauncing on the Tides,
Doth kind Enamour'd
Paris hither Sail
To steal our Sparkling
Helen, and prevail?
These Beautie's darts may, with the
Grecian State,
Enflame us to Rescue, but with worse Fate.
Or, here dare these light sportful Yachts arrive,
And of our Isle's
Palladium us deprive
[...] ▪
Let's shun
Ʋlysses Guile, the Fate of
Troy,
To steal our GODS, and then our Isle destroy:
The breach, if great
Apollo once depart,
May scarce prevent Politick
Sinon's Art,
For tho' repair'd, and fenc'd gainst Forreign Ginn,
The
Grecian Horse may lurk secure within.
Will this Abortive
Exit leave a doom?
As
Caesar's sad recluse had done to
Rome,
The smooth-tongu'd Hostage to the Oil of
Greece;
Shall we let
Jason steal our Golden Fleece,
With fond
Medea? rather let's implore
Neptune, to ward the
Argonauts from shore:
Or if arriv'd, the
Lion rampant Arm,
Lest they the watchful Dragon learn to charm.
But why, Great
Sir, Desert you us so soon?
Abridge our Year, and leave your Task undone?
Doth not the
Sun through the whole
Zodiack reign?
Before he Mount on
Aries Horns again;
Whereas you in the
Archer but begun,
And scarce through Winter's Scaly Signe have run;
But also
Flora's fragrant prime leapt o're,
With
Ceres verdant Robes, and
Liber's store,
While our obscure
Horizon you decline,
And in the Noon-tide intermits to shine:
O! to
Cimmerian darkness not expose
Us, like those whom the Frigid
Zone enclose,
Or in the same Estate with those enroll,
Whose direct
Zenith is the
Artick Pole:
Nay worse, while they enjoy
Phoebus pow'r,
His beams six Months display'd, and we but four.
O let not
Thetis Bow'rs our
Titan shade,
His flammed Chariot with her Mantle spread,
Until another
Phoebus sway the Rains,
Which our Lent
Titan soon by course resigns:
So
Pylades is call'd
Orestes Brother,
Prompt to Die for, and Represent each Other;
So it's betwixt fair
Leda's Twins agreed,
When one descends, the other to succeed;
So the great Luminaries straight appear,
Or hold Empire in either
Hemisphere.
Stand then, Our
Sun, or let the posting Ships
Embark another, else a long Eclipse
We suffer, and without a misty Trope,
Grim
Saturn seems to cast our
Horoscope.
Her Golden Leaves the
Marigold at Night
Wraps up, and griev's her
Sun's deprived sight,
But to his early Rayes she doth display
Her cheerful Banners; yet both night and day
Our Hearts must Frieze, our Eyes be Shut, and Swell
With Tears, untill your Glad arise dispell
Our Sight's black Cloud, grief's Dew drink up, and drive
Love's frost away, each Sense decay'd revive.
The
Sun emits most Force, when most remote,
When he aloft the
Crab's Aspect hath got;
Then if our
Sun Ascend, let's but Intreate
For the Reflexions of his absent Heat.
Hath ALBANY set Sail still to remain
Abroad, or shortly to come Home again?
Yes, to Return, like those, who to desire
The City more, to Rural Farmes retire,
Could he forsake that Kindly Plot of Ground?
Which his
Ancestor's Fame, and Temples Crown'd,
Through whole five hundred, three
Olympiad's hinge,
A
Century, and
Decad strong of Kings;
And which as many
Monarchs counts, as are
Dayes, when four Moons have couch'd their watry Care,
Or Years, in full five
Golden Numbers fixt,
Lacking but Five
Kings to compleat the Sixt.
But your Abode some
Mystery Imports,
I cannot Circumscribe it Long nor Short:
If with the number of your Vertuous Acts,
Through all thy sweet Deportment's Lively tracts,
We Scan your Presence, and your Stay Compute,
It might with Aged Tim's large
Annals sute:
But if your Stay We ballance with the Joy,
And Balmy pleasures which our Senses Cloy,
Ah too abrupt! nay it as brief appears,
As these Delights which so transport the Ears,
Or of a well-tun'd Lyre the warbling Note,
Which hath an
Obit with its Audience got.
As if, when first an hopeful Youth the stage
Had entred, and shown Wit more ripe than Age,
The Courtain fell, the
Scene became his Urne,
The plotting
Prologue to th'
Epilogue turn;
Sure it would move th' amaz'd Spectatours more,
Then his aspiring Sp'rit made glad before:
Ev'n so,
Most Royal Sir, you first let's taste
Your Lips delicious Fruit, unlocks the Breast
Where we Contemplate
BRITAIN'S Paradise,
Elysium's rare Abstract; then in a trice
Excluded from this
Eden, all Afloat
We're left, reflecting on the curious plot:
What have we done? Omitted to effect?
Did any Rules our Tasting e're direct?
Or Caveats starve? No, here the Serpent lurks,
We could not Feed, unless wee'd swell'd like
Turks.
Our charmed Eyes, O had you never cloy'd,
Our Palate tickled, or we still enjoy'd
That pleasant prospect, this
Soul-raping Guest,
That Royal fare, we had been always Blest.
But since you Vaile anonthat splendid Face,
The
Diapason of
Majestick Grace,
Whose
Symmetry had once the
Cynick seen,
It
Tub and
Sun, and
Aliment had been;
You ev'n retract our Joy begun, and so
Your
Advent frames the
Epoch of our
woe;
Here I could in the Adamant infuse
A Melancholick Fit, the Flow'r
de Luce
Force in a stone to weep, in this Comprise
All former woe, make
Nature sympathise
With her condoling Quire, but that my Grief
Exceeds all these as far, as they belief.
Is
Caledon's
Sun fled? Life of the
nine,
Of Honour, Pleasure, Fame, and Vertu's Shrine;
Fly hence Refreshing Pastime, and all Sport,
Here let no active Exercise Resort:
The Fields as
Paralytick nod about,
Clubs take the Cramp, and Gamesome-Balls the Gout;
No more their Lungs the coursing Horses waste,
But, by the slowest pace, strive to be last;
Let Foot-men to their flight add Breath, and feel
A change, to lose the prize, tho'gain the heels,
The trained Hounds all Discipline disdain,
And at the Quest, or Hollow bark again;
No search the Hare disclose, no fear her wake,
While she the Plains, and they the Mountains take:
And let no Gun with th'eager Sports-man frame,
But wrest the
Artist's Skil, and Master's Aim;
Let no Inclosure, Grove, or Walking-plain
Invite to Recreate, or
Love entertain;
Let no
Heroick Vertue here Reside,
Nor pompous Honour in proud Triumph ride,
No gen'rous
Soul, here no good
Genius haunt,
The Valiant
SCOTS of their
Achilles Vaunt,
Nor
Mars Disciples speak, but Silence deep
Like Punies of the
Samian Wise-man keep;
Affected Smiles no more
Comedians Ape,
Or wanton Looks invest; be forc'd to shape
Their Mimick gesture, not to Passions shown
In other Minds, but squared to their own,
Let
Tragick ends, and Interludes beguile
The
Comick-muse, in a
Drammatick-stile;
No Beauteous
Madam more, or Courtly
Wench
Let moderate a Jig, or
Galliard-French,
But
Chorus-like, to Vary with the Time
And tune her feet proportion'd to a Chime:
Let neither
Court nor
Courtier stay behind,
Since swelling Waters, with the justling Wind
Contending for Supremacy, through pride,
Give the Advantage both of Wind and Tide;
Let both unite to heave them to the Port
Now most desir'd, where they Saint
James his Court
Preparing with all Vines, and various Cates,
All solemn Pomp, and Ornament of States,
With Purple, Porphery, and
Turkie-work,
May welcome, and receive, the Duke of
York,
Whose mild Aspect, and Influence on
CHARLES,
May Introduce the
Barons, Lords, and
Earls
Of th'Ancient Kingdom, joint to represent
Their equal-pressing Grievance, and Dissent
Of ALBANIE's dire
Exodus; their Eye,
VVhose sad Privation nothing can supplie,
But
Talion Justice; or to reinstall
The
Head-stone, snatch'd away from ALBION's wall.
Jove's Sacred Brood no more a drop distill
Of fluent
Nectar, in a
Poet's Quill,
Through the
Castalian Chrystal Limbeck Strain'd,
From
Helicon's adjacent Fountain drain'd,
Whereby in
Lyrick, or in
Epick Verse,
He may a
Hero's Praise, or Acts rehearse,
But
Elegies compile, since
Sir, to you,
Poets all kinds of
Panegyricks Ow,
And when done all that Art, or thought can Vent,
But patcheth Chinks of the old Argument.
Lo what Distress I grasp with in extream
Lost both my sole
Moecenas, and sole Theam,
Nay to enlarge my Grief, compleat my loss,
I cannot by Retail Trade, nor in Gross:
I henceforth bid to thee, fond
Muse, adieu,
To all the Whinning and the Bankrout Crue;
No more thy rambling
Phantasies suggest,
As pass'd a feign'd
Enthusiastick test:
I'le no more chew the cud, and beat my brains,
In hot persuits not empty all my Veins,
For lo the trump that hug'd thee from the Womb,
The same repon'd, shal drag thee to thy Tomb.
Thou mad'st me twice the Feet of ROYAL
JAMES
Salute, as Rivers usher'd in by
Thames
To
London's Streets, and Wellcome did'st afford,
Without exchange of a superfluous word:
And wilt thou Train me in, Commence my fee?
To consummate my
Climacterick three,
Which sure proves Dismal, since I'm forc'd to spell,
And openly pronounce to Both,
Farewell;
Then Farewell
Muse the Patrone of my Crime,
Thrice to accost a
Prince with scantling Rhime,
Twice to present
Tongue's Noble
Architect,
The Gleanings of his own rich
Dialect.
Thou might'st have rather stiffled doting
Love,
Then the entrusted Talent not Improve.
But Faith I'm loath that Bratt to disinherit,
Which Homage payea by
Zeal, and not by
Merit,
And prompt his
Clemency to interpose
'Twixt
Poet's Wrath, and her insipid Dose:
Come truck along, and rather chuse one Doom,
To Hope abroad, than still Despair at home;
Come let's attend the
Ocean's Crowned Glore,
And wast him safe unto the
English Shore.
FINIS.
ALBION'S Farewel: OR, POEM, Presented to his Royal Highness returning to COURT.
By the same Hand.
ALBANƲM en oculis abeuntem prosequor udis, Et dixit tenui murmure Lingua, VALE.
Ovid.
Edinburgh, Printed by the Heir of Andrew Anderson, Printer to His most Sacred MAJESTY. 1680.
TO His Royall Highness.
ALBION'S Farevvell.
1.
SInce Fates our pleasures thus disjoyne,
Out of one Mass two Bodies coine,
yet with one breath inspir'd,
We will the rigid Section find,
Or can one half survive behind,
when th'other hath retir'd;
But we must now our half resign,
So Honour bids, and we incline;
The shrubs yeeld to the lofty pine.
2.
Should we your Sympathy augment
By grudge? and be as impudent
as him who chides his Friend,
By some Emergent call'd away,
And forced to abridge his Stay,
as if Guests were consin'd;
So
Honour calls you to set Sail,
Your Tide, our Good, le'ts not bewail!
But heartily impart all hail.
3.
Then
Farewell MONARCH of one Heart,
Whereof all
SCOTLAND claims a part,
except some clownish Boo'rs,
Whose savage Breasts no Law can tame,
Or
Stars have influence to inflame,
who feell no
Higher Pow'rs,
Farewell our Hope's betrothed
Dove,
Darling of Thoughts, Load-stone of
Love,
Like
Aristotle's Quadrate prove.
4.
To th'midle Region of the Air,
May all the blustring Winds repair,
But as much gentle Gale,
Let
Eolus send from his Cave,
As him to port in Waine may heave,
Or chariot under sail.
To tread the Sea when you're descri'd,
The gods their Fish-tail'd Steeds bestride,
And summon all their Host to ride:
5.
In Honour gladly to attend,
From Fear release, from Harm defend
your welcome
Laureat-Train.
Let
Neptune all Sea-passions curb,
Which may obstruct, or dare disturb
The
Caesar of the main;
Or which may move in any sort
The second Column of the
Court,
And render it to need support.
6.
O! let's not this Occasion slip,
Of reering up our selves the Ship,
wherein,
Great Sir, secure
You may all Storms out-ride, and cast
Safe
Anchor on our Breasts; the Mast
shall
Valour's proof endure,
Experience shall the Rudder steer,
Sound
Resolution Top-sail bear,
Our
Loyalty the Flag appear;
7.
The full-spread Sails, enlarged
Hope,
Our hearty
Wishes Teloscope,
The Badge our
Lyon shew;
The Soul's
Cinque-port shall Compass be,
And to the Needle
(Love) agree,
As always fixt on you.
Farewell Elected
Admiral
Of CALEDON's high
Brazen wall,
Which will all Hostile force appall:
8.
Nor
Competition dare invest
Her outward dress, and tho' possess
[...]
with hidden flames, yet must
In her own ashes straight consume,
Or otherwise produce but fume
the Honour to adjust.
Farewell the most advent'rou
[...] Prore,
That e're cut Sea, or
Jason bore,
Your fraught without exchange restore.
9.
Ʋnless supream great
Caesar please,
To prove thy Conduct in the Seas,
to whose Empire most pure
Strick sail, and all Obedience shew,
Crave humbly home to steer, and view
his Primogeniture.
Farewell the most renowned Pair,
That e're tread Land, or Main did square,
This yeelds to
You, that vails to
Her.
10.
Lo how the Fishes
[...]
As if they did more pleasure
[...]
from
her
[...]ing eye,
Then Rocks from
Amphion's w
[...]rlding
[...]
Or that Fish which his back did
[...]
for
Arion's melodie.
Farewell bright Lamps, and all your Train,
Your Luster always to retain,
Long both in
Love, and Honour raign.
11.
Let SCOTLAND penetrate the Skies
By suffrage, and Heart-sacrifice,
Jove's Herauld to employ;
That he their voyage a sweet sleep
Make seem, time with the
Sea-gods keep
t'afford a safe Convoy.
Let
England Neptune's
[...] pay
Their
other Hope de
[...]d with the Bay
Receive, and solemnize the day
12.
Of his long wish'd retur
[...], while we
Long for the same, and so may
He,
by visiting once more
This loving Clime, and tender Nurse,
His presence hath remov'd the curse
entail'd on SCOTLAND
poor.
The very thought doth sweetly smell,
Our
Love return Glad-news; to dwell?
He's on the rode,
[...]y do I add?
FAREWELL.
FINIS.