Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, "TROIA REDEVIVIA, OR THE GLORIES OF LONDON", by ANONYMOUS


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

"TROIA REDEVIVIA, OR THE GLORIES OF LONDON", by                    
First Line: When my parnassus vanisht quite away
Last Line: And may your happy days with good presage / equal in length the grecian nester's age
Subject(s): London;london Fire (1666); Great Fire Of 1666


When my Parnassus vanisht quite away,
And buried in her pretious Ruines lay,
Let Poetry, said I, and Verse expire,
'Tis Nero like to sing, whil'st Rome's on Fire.
Our better Rome, that hath inspir'd more quils,
And made more Poets than the Grecian Hills,
I thought there were not left enough of dayes
Or Art, again such Monuments to raise,
Than what could I expect to write upon
When all my glory and my Theam was gone.
But see what willing hearts and hands can do,
Out of the Phoenix ashes springs anew,
Nay what is more miraculous I'le tell,
It rose almost as quickly as it fell,
And look'd so bright and lovely that you'd swear
Though all the heat and scorchings vanisht were,
Yet all the brightness of the flames was there.
This minds me of the great and latter day,
When in bright flames we shall refine our clay,
When all the Universe shall thus expire,
And in more glorious Robes her self attire,
How well too doth the simile agree,
The wondrous change was almost instantly,
When all the Town ran to the fields for fear,
You'd think that they on purpose did go there
Brick's for another building to prepare;
Twas not for gain their goods they sav'd you'd say,
But that the Rubbish might be drawn away;
You'd think that they had left their former trade,
And now all Masons were, and Bricklayers made,
Or like the Theban Poet, they cou'd bring
The stones to follow the harmonious string,
Good lines, and brick, and verse do well agree,
Johnson did famous grow for all the three:
From Babel all the tongues and learning came,
And from this building my Poetique flame;
But stay my Muse, the whole too much delight
Doth bring, and thou wilt surfet with the sight,
Like Icarus thou striv'st to reach the Skyes
But never mind'st how high thy wing's will rise.
Look on that large and famous Arch, and see
Where ther's not subject great enough for thee.
This like the title page doth well express
In short the volume of the Universe,
Look through its Gates, where at first view you'l see
So much of splendor and of majesty,
That you wou'd think and have good reason for't,
Not through the barren Strand's the way to Court;
In such a spacious Entrance we n'ere find
Our triumphs to be stinted or confin'd,
Here well our pageantry may pass, nay here
An Army may in its full ranck's appeare;
The City could have nothing braver meant
For her necessity or Ornament:
Look on the Imagery, and two Kings view
Made livelier then a Painter e're cou'd do;
I then to mind did Ovids Fables call,
And thought his fancied stones begot us all:
Look with what Art and Majesty they stand,
Like the two Guardian Angels of the Land,
Surely said I a monument so fair
Show's well the work mans loyalty and care[.]
But cou'd the flames, cou'd the Rebellious fire
Against the sacred Temple e're conspire,
When that can all the Nation keep in awe,
How comes it that the fire resists its law?
What cou'd no writ of error or Demur,
No Habeas corpus make the flames to stire?
When goales and prisons all had felt their force,
The Law must needs forego her ancient course;
The Templers thought this was the dreadfull day,
And all were trying what they had to say,
They did in serious consultation sit
Whether 'twere best to traverse or submit,
Their Oratory to no purpose came,
Their breath did onely blow, not quench the flame,
The old and famous Knights did ope their eyes,
And from their Monuments and Graves arise,
But when they saw it was a false Alarm,
They did themselves the second time disarm,
The cold Grave's better than to live too warm;
But now to nobler forms the building's turn'd,
You'd say indeed the Bricks were newly burn'd,
You'd think that out of love the flames came here,
That it might far more gloriously appear:
Before the structure was too low and plain,
The noble Company to entertain;
See and admire, brave Spirits, what for you,
The Fates and generous elements vvill do.
Go now my Muse, along the Streets and see
How rich and stately all their buildings be,
AEgypt with all her glories now lies hid,
Each house is nobler than a Pyramid,
The Structures lustre all their Shops out-vies,
Though there the Beauties bring their glittering eyes.
The streets are spacious, nor do Trades-men care,
That a dark shop should recommend their ware,
Their gallant Spirits scorn their wealth should be
Gotten by fraud or servile flattery,
Let Rome this 'mongst her greatest honours bring,
That every Citizen's a petty King,
When all the wealth, that did her triumphs prop,
Was not so gallant as a Goldsmiths Shop,
Cou'd she such mighty contributions yield,
Or bring so great an Army to the Field,
Whose bands are Englands Fate, and may with ease
Resign the conquest unto whom they please,
They need no Sentinels to guard their wealth,
Each man sufficient is, to guard himself.
Cou'd she such Temples raise with Heaven that could
For Prayers and height communication hold?
Observe how each Society doth Reign,
What spacious Halls and Councils they maintain.
And tell me if the Roman Forums be
Above them in their trade or gallantry,
On whatsoe're thay lay their hands, as Old
King Midas did, they turn it into gold.
Look on their Hospitals, mark if before
You saw such stately lodgings for the poor
Strangers sometimes lay begging at their door.
Their Entertainments are so large and great,
When they their Royal Lord, and Court do treat,
Vitellius pride cou'd not such Feasts afford,
Though the whole world paid tribute to his board.
When the admiring world shall gaze upon,
What we do mean to do, and what we've done,
Just as the Guns scar'd Montezuma's Court
So this shall fright 'em with a meer report;
Rome brags she built our Churches first, 'tis true,
And so she did all our Religion to[o],
But if the matter was but rightly scann'd
They both do now on nobler Pillars stand.
But whilst I let my wandring fancy stray,
My hasty Muse had almost lost her way;
'Look back on Bridewel the Majestique place,
Where the Great Henries famous pallace was,
Look and admire how our great Monarchs cou'd
Resign their Courts to make their subjects good,
That they no more the idle drones might see
Rifle the treasure of the careful Bee,
But that to live they honestly should strive,
For which their bounty gave a Royal hive:
God gave to man an active soul, shall he
Sit sleeping then away his liberty;
When Jasons ship had seen the worlds vast bound,
At length a way unto the starrs she found,
There to she sayles, and nothing doth implore
For all her labours past, but to have more,
Just as the Heavens or years, so active men
After their periods turn about again;
You'd think that people willingly came there,
And did with joy their stripes and sufferings bear,
To be lodg'd all so bravely as they are,
Just so the martyrs do their paines embrace,
As the true Keys unto a nobler place,
And surely this, if rightly understood
As well is for their soul's, as body's good;
Penelope might here enjoy her sport,
And Use her distaff in a nobler Court
And had her husband such a pallace known
He ne're had travel'd but had stay'd, at home;
The kind and gentle Ladies of the Town,
That know the winning smile and feigned frown,
Say they were never bred to Spin, or made
To work at any low or servil Trade;
They think that sloth and a disdainful scorn,
Proves that they are soft, Court like, and highly born,
But 'tis Ariadnes thred, that they must spin,
To free them from the Labyrinths of sin.
But hold, methink's 'tis a great deal of pity
We see not here the Bullies of the City,
Who on the Liveing, vermin like, do prey,
Sons of Corruption, born as bad as they,
Men of a valiant tongue, without a heart,
The Nations excrementitious part,
Those that can cock their hats, look big, and say,
Foh, damn ye, and then proudly stalk away,
Though they'r abus'd, kick'd, cuft, yet every word
Shall mince the world to Attomes with their sword,
Those that do live and prey without pretence,
On boyish and on country innocence;
Who though unto no fortune borne they were,
Yet boast of Lands and Castles in the air,
Prince of that place although the Devil be,
Yet I dare swear they'r richer there then he;
If they were here they'd huff, and damn, and tell,
That they liv'd high and lodg'd most wondrous well,
For should I ask, well, how do'st like this place,
Faith, my gallants, I pity your disgrace,
One turns about and takes me up in short,
Courts make not Kings, but the Kings make the Court.
Like the Assyrian Monarch bravely we
Spin here amongst the little soules, and be
Beating of hemp, Boy, for such rogues as thee;
We live above the low and vulgar fry,
Henry was proud to sleep, where we do ly.
Thou that do'st fainting honesty restore,
And will not suffer any to be poor,
How great a work, brave City, woud'st thou do,
If thoud'st reform those Indian Devils too;
Take them though they with silk and ribbon shine,
For 'tis not bushes that commend the wine,
I've seen base Claret at a glittering sign,
The High-way-men on Travellers do prey,
These are the City Padds, and worse then they.
Lets now survey Fleet bridge, and view all o're,
How the kind water Kisses every door,
And vow's that fire shall tyrannize no more,
How gently in it comes, how smooth 'twill stay,
But murmurs when the Ocean calls away;
Look what great heaps of coals do there appear,
You'd think our seamen did Newcastle steer,
And like a floating Delos brought it here;
To see the doors where they put in their ware,
Twou'd make a Coward run away for fear
They were some towring vessels lower tyre,
For both a like doth send forth smoake and fire,
How willingly the waves do Northward flow,
That all their boundless Kindnesses may know,
See, Holeburn now a lasting trade maintains,
This water has quite wash't away her staines,
There a whole troop of Bailiffs liv'd before
Whose very neighbourhood makes people poor,
They fear their looks, and from their houses fly,
As if some deadly Basylisk was nigh,
Here, Here, sweet Fate, let those curst vultures prey,
For to the Gallows 'tis the ready way.
But hold, Gray's Inn doth all my rage beguile,
And forces on my Muse, a gentle smile,
Which like AEneas golden tree lookes well,
Amongst the melancholly shades of hell,
They Pump and wash the rogues, but 'twill not do
The Blackmore still retaines his dismal hew.
I know that some large soules live here, that be
The members of the great Society;
They like the heavenly lamps do shine more bright,
In the obscurest, and the darkest night,
Where shou'd a Magistrate or Justice be,
But where they might awe fraud and villany,
Of contraries we all do know thus far,
That they their own best illustration are;
So Lot amongst the Sodomites did dwell,
And in the greatest plagues was alway's well,
And if that there a few Such now had bin,
They had attonement made for Sodoms sin;
Barbers and Toothdrawers must away be hurl'd,
Holborn may hold commerce with all the world.
The whistle-makers shall pack up their ware,
And brag hereafter that they once were there,
Hucksters with Pears, and Apples, Nuts, and all
Their stinking trash, must leave the better stall,
Lemmons and Oranges shall keep their room,
To entertain the strangers when they come,
Those are that lovely golden fruit, which came
From the Hesperian Garden, we did tame
The Dragon first, and took the spoyl away,
Bringing in Tryumph home, the glitt'ring prey,
But hold, I back must to the water run,
This is my Muses spring and Helicon.
The Thames has more immortal poets known,
Than Danube, Nyle, or Tyber ere cou'd own,
Rich Tagus sands and old Pactolus streames
Are fancies, and the Idle Poets dreams,
If e're such rich and pretious streames there were,
If e're the sun saw golden sands 'twas here,
And if you look for beauty you'd suppose,
'Twas from our christal streames that Venus rose,
Look how the Bridges stride the River, see
How large and spatious all the Arches be,
Methink's they'r like to our terrestrial ball,
They'r prop't by nothing, nor can ever fall;
Some build them stately monuments, that may
Preserve their dust, and treasure up their clay,
Their name and honours they to marble trust,
Marbles that once shall crumble into dust:
The stones there stand as useless as they did,
When in the idle quarry they lay hid,
I like those men that have a large intent,
And care not for a Private monument,
But raise such stately Fabricks that may stand,
The Everlasting glory of the Land,
This will oblige Posterity to save
Their Name, and noble vertues from the grave,
Pass now the Bridge and view that plain which will
No more allow the name of Ludgate hill,
How did we strive before, the hill to gain,
Though the rich sight did recompence the pain;
He that wou'd bliss and happiness descry
With industry and toyl must upward fly,
But whatsoever the City undertakes
An universal happiness she makes;
Let Xerxes brag, that his almighty hand
Could level Athos, and the seas command,
And, like the great Colossus once again,
Cou'd leap o're Rivers and bestride the Main,
That he could easily its streames divide,
And into narrow channels force the tide,
I should be thought impertinent to tell
That story which he thought a miracle.
Thus long the body, hath my thoughts confin'd,
I now shall search the nobler part, the mind,
My former verse the husk and shell descries,
Here all the treasure, here the Jewel lies,
All that I saw before, methinks doth look
Just like a preface to some learned book,
Which does some small particulars recite,
To raise desire and whet our appetite;
Now shou'd I look for raptures, and grow wity,
But 'tis enough to say 'tis LONDONS City,
That powerful word that makes the nations run
Hither like Persians to adore the Sun,
The long mistaken Jew's did all draw near,
And thought the great Jerusalem was here,
And when they saw the richness of the place,
They all cri'd out, that this their Canaan was,
Here surely, without Map or travel we,
Judea and the Holy land may see,
Here doth the old religion flourish, here
The grapes, the milk, and honey do appear,
Here are not only rich, but good and wise,
Within their soules their noblest treasure lyes,
Not like the Indians, who posess the oare,
When the rich Arts are banish'd from their shore:
Their brave and wandring fleets, and boundless trade
Has more Geographers and learned made,
Than many Universities have done;
Those see abroad, what they but think upon;
Drake by his travells did more honour gain,
Then they by all their industry and pain,
Witness his sacred Reliques which I fear
Hath made poor Oxford Papist in her prayer,
Only in this she differs, far more great
She thinks her own, then the rich Papal Seat:
Behold how all their glories do begin,
And think what nobler things there are within,
Observe how the aspireing towers rise,
And hold a correspondence with the skyes.
Ludgate a Prison, no that cannot be,
Here they live bravely uncontroul'd, and free,
Not that I'de say, as Stoicks use to do,
That ther's no prisons really, nor woe,
But 'tis opinion that doth make it so;
I am not fond of poverty or paines,
Or dote upon the Musick of my chaines,
If that their fancy or their soul can Roam,
They say theyr'e not confin'd, or kept at home,
Here all the Prisoners have the common air,
And all their senses here delighted are,
Here they have all the prospect, all delight,
That often courts and ravishes the sight;
If men will raise their contemplation high,
Here's Subject great enough until they dye,
To touch and tast, platonicks think it poor,
They love not to enjoy, but to adore,
As the wise Bee's their several sweet's do take,
And Chymist like their fam'd Elixer make,
So they pick all the Beauties they can find,
And frame one great Idea in their mind,
Which is a subject great enough and fit
For all their contemplations and their wit:
Surely if Prisoners would but learn this way,
None would be less confin'd or vext then they.
My earnest Muse now wou'd her self delight,
And with those beautious objects feast her sight,
But as she passes through her curious Eye
Nothing but heap's of ruin doth descry,
Where the Great Pauls once stood, Pauls that was said
In spight of Rome, the universal head,
The rest like parish Churches were esteem'd,
Pauls the Cathedral of the world seem'd
And though she was by fire and fate supprest,
Yet still lifts up her high and lofty head above the rest,
When fate the worst had done that it cou'd do,
The workmen they are forc't to help her too;
The Ephesian Temple was of small renown,
When a poor private hand cou'd throw it down;
Were e're such sacrifices Known before
Whose loss can make the world feel she's poor,
Have you seen Churches on their Altars burn,
And the poor graves themselves to want an urn,
You whose obscure and narrow Acts can die
Must here for ever in oblivion lye,
Marbles wee see han't immortality;
Those are the men, whose vertues death outbrave
And Kept their name and Image from the grave,
That the proud steple fell, I don't admire,
I feared the sun wou'd set his head on fire,
And if't be true what Aristotle meant,
His Top was still within his Element,
And surely truth her self may own thus far,
She lifted many, 'bove the highest star,
The Gyants Mountaines upon mountaines lay'd,
And thought their bold attempts could ne're be stay'd[.]
He that to heaven wou'd mount, must not like they
Hill upon Hill, but Church on Church must lay,
Put Paul's on Faith's and that's the nobler way;
Where are the Nestor's 'gainst whose Eloquence,
Nor sin nor Devil cou'd have found pretence;
Those heavenly Orpheuse's whose tongues could draw
Deucalions stubborn stones, and give them law,
They like the learned charming Paul could thus
Subdue the Savage beasts of Ephesus[;]
Like Orpheus, so understood all how
To draw whole trees of Lawrel to their brow,
But they did scorn applause, and much did fear,
Least they Tarpeia's cruel fates should share,
And sink beneath the burthen they should beare;
Observe what place she fills, strangers wou'd say,
That there both Church and Parish ruin'd lay,
London, I'me sure, is truly pious found,
She consecrates the tenth part of her ground,
Methinks I cannot chuse, but call to mind,
How wisely this brave structure was design'd,
The first and noblest work that e're was done
Religion had, this first was thought upon,
And with what happy Omens do wee rise,
When God doth head us in our enterprize,
What though the Glories of our Paul's are fled,
And have with sorrow hid their mournful head,
Thy hands brave City makes our joyes return,
Thy pious Zeal shall make her Altars burn;
The fire that first did make this dismal wrack,
Repents, and now sadly mourn's in black;
She brings her wealth that it might rise with more
Glory and lustre then it had before,
'Twas fire did first destroy this beautious frame,
And shall Restore her buildings and her name,
Newcastle she sends away all her coales,
That She might have a hand in building Pauls;
Unhappy war, now let thy fury cease,
And restore home the little arts of peace;
Thou like the wormes on the dead doth prey,
And by corruption liv'st as well as they,
thou sure the only way has understood,
To make the old prodigious wonder good,
Thou turn'st not Rivers, but the sea's to blood,
I thought thy greedy rage wou'd now expire,
We've given thee more then thou coud'st e're desire,
Now let our Pauls, and stately buildings rise,
And be a terror to our Enemies;
Surely ambitious States will now despair,
When they shall hear how brave and rich we are,
For they will say, what if we chance to meet,
And with a smaller loss destroy their fleet,
Before that we a victors name can brag,
Another fleet shall make us strike our flag;
The damage that we bring to them's no more,
Then pruning to a tree, which makes it soare,
And Raise its head more lofty than before;
The next designe that London thought upon,
After this great religious work was done,
Was how she Schooles might build and learning raise,
Learning that props the Church, and Chisme stayes,
No blinded Zeal, or feign'd prophetique sights,
No Revelations, or misterious lights,
Wou'd with their slender sophistry delude
The factious and the giddy multitude;
If that we could these silly souls perswade,
That reason, or that Learning never made
Religion more contemptible, sure we
May hold this, and yet no Socinians be,
Some tow'ring wits, if ever in thy praise,
Most glorious City, they their fancy raise,
Streight way they mount and take so high a flight,
That nought but lofty Fabricks court their sight,
They think their brains and head wou'd dizzy grow,
Should they look down on any thing below;
But yet if inward bravery is more,
Then all those outward glories we adore,
This little School shall lift her head as high
As any Poets fancy e're could fly.
The wise and grave Philosophers of old,
Knew no rich purple beds, or roofes of Gold,
For to live well, they thought it more renown,
Then were the glit'ring Ariadne's crown;
All those great mysteries, of which Rome tells,
Came from the Cybells melancholy Cells,
And the poor Cynicks Tub shall live with fame
Longer then the Acropolis his name,
I do not brag so much of what is seen,
We are rich without, but richer far within,
Our stately City has without controul,
The noblest body and the noblest soul,
Surely a grateful Soul can never miss
So famous and so sweet a place as this,
By which our new Atlantis peopled is;
First in this Stock the happy seeds are sown,
Until to fresh and lively plants they'r grown,
Then being transplanted strait they higher grow,
And like to tall and mighty Cedars shew,
Which rule the Vegetable world below:
How doth the sacred Sisters strive to gain?
How do the Colledges to entertain
Those hopeful Souls, that shall their names transmit
To after Ages in eternal writ?
Just as the Infidels thought those inspir'd,
That to the famous Meccha had retir'd;
So to[o] on those, dear School, that come from thee,
Learning's entayl'd as sure as Land can be,
Who sayes the noise and tumult of the Town
Drives off the Learned and the peaceful Gown,
Did Learning live before at such a rate,
Or keep her Court in such great pomp and state,
She has got a Princely Title now of late;
Look on that Royal train, that hath done more,
Than the poor world has done so long before,
At hidden qualities the Ancients sticks,
Those Nature rob of all her cunning'st tricks,
Nothing shall now as hard and unknown come,
They follow her into her inmost Room,
In a great Circle first they ran about,
And with much pains found some small trifles out.
But these have found so strait and sure a way,
That though we go but slow and sometimes stay,
We'l find our journeys end as soon as they,
Nay I dare say that I have found from hence,
To know the difference betwixt words and sence,
And not from verbal Metaphysicks raise
T' inform my mind, but from what Reason sayes,
See what great Folio's Keckerman affords,
And troubles our brains with strange new minted words,
Let sence and reason go where e're they will,
He'l swear for plotting Aristotle still,
He gives us Nuts to crack, in which we gain
No happy Kernal to reward our pain;
The Brawney Dutch men here we soon confute,
We make their schools, but not their Cannons mute;
If on the Seas such wars the English found,
The Stagerite would once again be drown'd;
Here is no private happiness design'd,
Their Learning tends to enrich all mankind,
Let then no more those idle States-men prate,
That Learning ruins both the Church and State,
Those Royal Souls a braver way do shew,
That is the richest state, that most doth know,
And that the soundest Church, where learning most doth flow:
How like to Phaeton I please my sight,
With a too dazling, and too glorious light,
Away my Muse, this is above thy quil,
Here thou mayest shew thy zeal, but not thy skill.
Go to Cheapside, and see who dares deny,
The City doth not love Conformity,
Here all ambitious thoughts are laid aside,
They build their houses with an Equall pride,
They'l all, or none, Surpass the world beside;
In some great Cities, we some buildings see,
Look with the greatest pride and Majesty,
But here, ten thousand pallaces are shown,
Here, nought but universal glories known;
See how all countryes here their presents send,
That London still may thrive and be their friend,
See how that India sends away her gold,
See how she beggs and Courts, that she may hold
A correspondence with her, as if trade
Thriv'd with her smiles and with her frownes did fade,
Observe what stately pieces dayly come
From the ingenious Babylonish Loome,
In all their Arras they this City frame,
And with their own, love to preserve her name;
Sometimes they make her in bright flames to burn,
You'd think the hangings wou'd to ashes turn,
Trembling far off the weeping women get,
I thought the Arras with their tears was wet,
Here they make some stand grapling with the fire,
Here some in hast for water do retire,
To see with what great speed they seem to run,
Turn but your back, you'd think the men are gone,
Here comes the usurer with some pretious pack,
Groaning beneath the burthen of his back,
He who a crutch did long before uphold,
Now carries that and a great weight of gold;
Money like weights ty'd to a Jack had done
They stop not but they make him faster run,
Chariots and Coaches here their burthens take,
Whil'st the rich Gallant doth his pomp forsake,
Now are honours forc't to foot the street,
Justled and thrown by Porters that they meet,
This and much more their Kindnesses impart,
Varyed with all their colours and their Art,
But shou'd I all those curious figures name,
I should forget the place from whence I came.
Some now will say, why doth his fancy Roam,
And pass by Mortlack's far more stately loom,
We rich and glorious by our selves are made,
'Tis Charity makes England use her trade,
'Tis true; all that my careful Muse hath done
Is but to show, what fame abroad we'v won,
How all the world doth to this City flock,
How she fills all, yet ne're exhausts her stock,
Now willingly my curious Muse wou'd stop,
And tell the glories of each private shop,
But least my swelling book to[o] bigg should grow,
Pass now along the streets and look at Bow;
Great Bow, that through the world as well known was,
As Parian Marble, or Corinthan brass,
No verse was crav'd or any Trump of fame,
In its own Thunder, it proclaim'd its name,
Some Countries for their chamber musick are
The viol, Lute, Trumpet Marine, Guittar,
With this they court some melting Ladies sence,
And have nought else indeed, but impudence,
England did think she cou'd do nothing well,
Until Church Musick and the sacred Bell
Were well restor'd, nothing she thought compleat,
Till they had repossest their ancient Seat,
That Parish did religiously grow proud,
When theirs above the rest did sound aloud
Their Zeal, and would not give the least pretence
To sleeping idleness or impudence,
If that a Drum a Coward can excite,
He that before dar'd not to say he'd fight,
Pray, why then may not Bells too go as far
In Christian Battles, and our Holy War,
See to what bounds it doth extend its power,
It seems more like a mountain than a Tower,
Should Country Bells here all their clamours bring,
Without these walls we should not hear them ring;
My Verse doth only guess what it will be,
They that come after nobler things may see,
I've left too much for any pen to say,
The gleaning's more than I have drawn away,
He that shall hear those bells to ring aloud,
And see its Top still darken'd in a cloud,
He that shall see Pauls now thats mean and poor,
Rise far more glorious than she was before,
Must say my modesty did well submit,
And left a subject for a higher wit,
I would have staid, but it had been too bright
An Apparition for so weak a sight.
The next great thing, that to my view appears
Is the Law writ in golden Characters,
Guild-Hall, where the rich company resort,
Where still magnificence doth keep her court,
Justices pallace, all thats great and good,
Westminsters model, much more understood[.]
If that Astrea unto heaven be gone,
This is the last ground that she stood upon[;]
From hence she took her mournful flight, for here
Her Image and her footsteps still appear,
No sure she's here, the Beauties of this place
Have call'd her down again from whence she was,
When with such cost we shew our Zeal and Love
Unto her name, how can she stay above,
How doth my Muse admire and gaze about,
At all those Beauties which she sees without?
How doth its gold reflect the suns bright flame?
And sends it back far brighter then it came,
Look on its Imagery, look on it's hight,
See how it dazles the Spectators sight,
When a far off such lustre I had seen,
I thought it one intire light had been,
I fancy'd 'twas Authentick, what of old
The fabulous and the pleasant Poets told,
Some Magick touch had turn'd the house to gold,
Here all the Countrey multitude draw nigh,
And stand astonisht at its gallantry,
When they go in with reverence and fear,
One say's good me, our County Judge is here,
And when they see the paint so lively show,
They lore their hats and make an humble bow,
But when their ey'es the King and Prince survey,
They blush, look down, and softly steal away,
And in their country brag, that they were where
His Majesty, the Duke, and Judges were;
When I my self the Royal piece did see,
I scarce forbore to bend my humble Knee,
Here Majesty and vertue both appear,
Wisdome, and Power, and all thats good stands here;
I thought that Art had found some unknown way,
And in its colours cou'd the soul display;
The Pencil, then our verse, doth draw more true,
We cannot write, as well as that can do,
We every image here more lively find
Imprinted then they'r in the clearest mind,
Is not that Image which stands next, the Dukes,
For it like Mars and fates commander lookes,
Yes sure it is; the Pencil here proves true,
This is the utmost that it e're shall do;
If that the Dutch men chance to wander here,
How do they quake and tremble all with fear?
For though much sweetness in his lookes they see
With Coesars courage, Coesars clemency,
Yet they can ne're forget that dreadful day,
Where millions ruin'd with great Opdam lay;
Look how his highness stands in Robes of peace,
How did the Painter wish that war should cease,
That he might not that pretious life expose
That is worth millions of his humble foes.
But can I pass by that great prop of state,
The guardian Angel that did Rule our fate,
Great and wise Bridgeman who did all things well,
He that did more then a poor Muse can tell,
When that his merits and his Masters love
Had rais'd him up on high, he from above,
Did look with such a steady head and eye,
That all things, like course pictures he'd descry,
Better far of[f], then when they stood to[o] nigh,
What history hath such men understood,
Who layes down honour when he's great and good;
Who did so well obey his Princes will,
Yet ne're did any thing the world calls ill:
With what great credit did this man retire,
How did this Nation and the world admire,
His vertue and his wisdome, to what age
Did he with great applause still keep the stage
And at the Play's conclusion found far more,
And truer plaudits, then he had before.
I know each Picture here doth well propose
A subject great enough for verse or prose,
He that grave learned periods wou'd create,
May out do Fuller in a holy state,
He that to Raptures and to verse would fly,
Let his loose fancy run up e're so high,
Here he may write, yet not like poets lie,
He that shall meanly but their Acts rehearse
Shall never write a low or humble verse,
All the great Plots that do in verse appear,
Are some small merits, or a Ladies haire,
Wisdome and wit stands here to every view,
You can't write dully if you write what's new,
Indeed I'm forc't to leave this glorious sight,
Least too much fulness should retard my flight,
If I should pamper up my Muse too high
She wou'd from gross and humble viands fly.
But hold what miracle doth now appear;
Who saw the law and Gospel e're so ne're;
The Prophet's great command is here made good,
Here the most sacred lines are understood,
Here we see Justice down, like water glide,
And righteousness run with a mighty tide,
Methinkes they like the sacred volumne look,
Two Testements make up the heavenly book;
The old though it takes up the larger ground,
Yet all the riches in the new are found;
In this we've pardon promised and grace,
Judgements and threatnings in the other place,
There God the Almighty Lord of host doth prove,
But here the God of comfort peace and love.
When the Royal Imagery I find
Plac't o're the door methinks 'twas well design'd,
For all pretentions unto Zeal are vain,
If that we do not Loyalty maintain;
When that a stubborn soul sees his King there,
He enters in and joynes with us in prayer;
This is the only light by which we see,
The way to union and conformity,
Thy love, brave City, and thy Artful hand
Hath made him truly faith defender stand,
When thou such Chappels giv'st, how can'st be poor
Heaven much greater doth thy gifts restore,
A pious usury thy Tenants prove
They'l flourish here, and richer be above.
But now I do intend to stint my praise,
See what a noble private hand can raise,
See Viners monument, how in each thing
Doth he indeavour to preserve his King;
If that this statue was of no Renown
Can we forget 'twas he that made the Crown,
Where a more Publick Spirit shall we see,
Where more magnificence or Loyalty,
Look what is that that crowns the Royal brow,
Surely 'tis his hair, and there doth grow,
Can that a stone or stubborn marble be
Where we such aiers and curious features see;
I think like Orpheus, some have touch't their lier,
And made the stones to do what they require,
Look on the horse whereon the King doth sit,
You'd think He foam'd and champ't upon the bit,
Indeed I thought that he did fret and fume,
Because they gave his pride too little room,
See how he stands, see how his feet he rears,
As if he proud was of the load he beares,
When Pallas, the great Patroness of Art,
Wou'd to the Graecian counsellers impart
A way to ruin Priams house, and Troy,
And take revenge of the ambitious boy,
She makes a high and towring horse of wood,
This was the hight of all she understood,
And yet so well she could not make this out,
But that it made the Trojan Sages doubt,
What then are our Mechanicks? if this be
The utmost pitch of their Divinity,
If that their eyes this noble Statue had
Survey'd, who woud they think had made
The marble bend to any form, their Eyes
Ne're saw so great a work come from the skies,
All that their Gods, and they did understand
Was less misterious than our Artists hand,
What is that Image? What's that suppliant Stone?
That seems beneath its weight to sigh and groan,
That prodigy of old I'le now believe,
That Statues can a vocal Musick give,
Surely no Trope or Figure would appear,
If I should say the marble sheds a tear,
I thought that he as the old Poets meant,
When they sad Niobe did represent,
Had wept himself into this monument;
But can he beg so long, Doth this agree
With Charles his mercy, and his Clemency?
No sure he would have hearkened to his moan,
But that he was converted into stone:
With what sweet musick doth the water play,
Whilst that their Royal Lord will please to stay,
The Main not onely feels his influence,
But all the Rivers that do come from thence,
Neptune his tributary Prince, doth bring
His presents and pays homage to his King,
Look on the Fishes did you ever know
An Artful hand such prodigies to show,
Nature's Inverted and the stones do flow,
I wou'd have put my hand in and have took,
A pretious banquet from the Christal brook,
But that I thought them priviledged fish;
And ne're condemn'd but to some Royal dish;
In vain indeed from hence I hop'd content,
That still disdain'd the watery Element,
'Tis wine that lifts my soul unto the skies,
Which the dull man's ne're doth until he dies,
And then 'tis with a dram with which his wife
Indeavours to recall his wandring life,
Viner forbids me longer here to stay
His nobler structures call my Muse away[.]
Some fear to flatter, but I fear to praise
When private hands such monuments can raise,
Can, nay that will, for if we any find
That have the power they want the generous mind,
I thought that some vast contributions might
Raise up this Church and make it look so bright,
But when great Viners hand was only there,
I thought that heaven had made him oversee'r
Of all its sacred works, and did bestow
Those many Talents for its use below[.]
Surely his soul shall with his mony rise
And from his heaps of gold ascend the skyes,
Viner the only way hath understood
How wealth may make men eminently good,
When as I saw the grapes hang o're the door,
And view'd the Conduit which he rais'd before,
He imitates, said I, the Power divine,
And hath converted water into wine,
The Fathers heavenly grapes I dare alledge,
Shall never set his childrens teeth on Edg,
These shall with after Ages raise his fame,
And stand a lasting credit to his name,
Some Chappels for their families provide,
Not out of Zeal, but out of pomp and pride,
Preaching is there a secret, and No more
They'l spare that, then their victuals to the poor,
They think that raggs disgrace and taint their door,
But Viners favours, are, as they should be,
Sincerely good, diffusive, large, and free;
Some for the poor do Hospitals prepare,
He of the soul, the nobler part takes care,
His generous Spirit flies still at the best,
His glorious object's far above the rest,
They that to paines and poverty are driven,
Begin to think on happiness and heaven,
And least behind their lingring soul's shou'd stay,
His noble hand hath shown a certain way,
Some care not by what Arts or Plots, they thrive,
Though the disgrace shall after death survive,
The grave, say they, ne're hear's the angry breath,
Ther's nought but peace and quietness in death;
But he not any thing but good e're knew,
His leaves are water'd all with heavenly dew,
Surely this water sooner makes them spring,
Then that which any artful hand can bring,
How at the head of Lumbard street he stands,
And like a general all the place commands,
That place that doth outvie the Indian mine,
They bring the dross, but we the dross refine,
When honesty and riches both appear,
Who wou'd not say the golden age was here.
But now my fancy must away be hurld
To view the eighth great wonder of the world[.]
This is the Centre of commerce for here
Nations from the circumference appear;
Here we see, point and meet and worlds extream's,
Just like the lines we see in printed schemes,
Pardon the word, the exchange is truly made
The golden university of trade;
The Irish, when they see that we provide,
A walk great as O Neal's or Barry's pride,
Great as that Nation, where each man doth bring
His Pedigree from some old Irish King,
Who have a holy land and nation been
Before old Adam had the new world seen,
The Pope, say they, that doth of us take care
Hath rais'd this noble structure by his prayer,
Or else St. Patrick by the selfsame way,
By which he did the poisnous creatures slay
Hath made the stones, his great commands obey,
Thus they nor I can't rightly understand,
How this could rise by a Mechanicks hand,
The Spaniard and the French, when here they come,
Are entertain'd more nobly then at home,
The great ESCURIAL, or the famous LOURE,
Can't show such walks, such buildings[,] such a tower,
Whose head like Atlas seem's to prop the skye
And is as glorious, and as rich as high;
It seem'd unnatural that all the year,
The Grashopper should on the topp appear,
Until my sence and reason made it good,
That 'twas still hot and Summer where it stood,
The stones are so well polisht and so fair,
You'd think that they all perfect mirrours were,
That did reflect their own and th' others light,
And with a thousand lustres court our sight.
But wher's the Imagry that should come next,
That Chronicle writ in AEgyptian text,
Great Bakers Book in short where we might see,
Our Kingdom's Royalest Antiquity:
Sure 'twas a wicked and presumptuous fire,
That cou'd against our sacred Kings conspire,
Whose Royal power tam'd where e're it went,
And conquerd the most stubborn Element,
But stay my Muse observe what riches dwell,
And lye enclos'd within this glorious shell,
Observe how from each Lady's charming eye,
Cupid) Doth let ten thousand arrow's fly,
I gaze and look although they wound my heart,
Tis an alluring and attractive smart,
I pluck't the quill to write from off the dart,
When from the first great conqueror I fly
Straight I am wounded by some other eye.
So when by change I think my self to please,
The Remedy is worse then the disease,
But why do I only of eyes complain,
Each words an arrow and each hay'r a chain;
It seem's impossible to me, that men
Should enter their, and e're come out again;
When those sweet Syrens tongues ask what you lack,
How can you chuse but [stop?] and here turn back,
Had I good store of gold heare wou'd I stay,
Buying and Gently arguing all the day.
One single look wou'd all my charge repay,
I'de buy out all her shop, and when that's past,
I'de buy her sweet and beautious self at last,
I Know their shops are gaudy, rich, and fair
But 'two'd be idely done if I should dare,
To name them when those beautious soules are there[.]
Lumbard street gold and Jewels I despise,
Compar'd with those more glorious Gemms their eyes,
Those the true lively sparks of heaven do prove
And represent those glorious lights above[.]
Man doth to us a little world seem;
Beauty a little heaven I esteem;
To this and Musick doth my fancy fly
When that I'de raise my contemplations high,
They explain best what is above the skye.
By them as some superior being, we
Are driven to Reptures and an extasie,
And by a serious contemplation may
Forget, we'r circl'd with a piece of clay;
This the Religious lovers us'd to do
And told us by experience that 'tis true.
I could speak more but I am call'd away,
This is a dangerous Theme whereon to stay,
Now doth my lingring Muse begin to tire[,]
Her spirits are exhal'd with too much fire,
But I will on, for no man ere shall say,
In storm's far off from shore I softly lay,
And now just at the shore am cast away,
How hard's my fate if that like Moses I
Do see my journey's end and then I die,
Thus long my careful verse hath trac'd the fire,
And shall I now ingloriously retire,
Now I have found its head, this I'le survey,
And then I'le end the business of the day;
Look on that Pyramid; that there shall stand
A long memorial to our mournful land,
When that with gold we've guilded o're our woe,
We soon forget what heaven's strong hand can Doe;
We Scarce believe how that one word or breath,
Can cloud our glories, and our pride with Death,
Under his Lawrels who can safely lie,
When thunder or the angry flames shall fly;
No darksom holes or Iron coverts may
Hide from the all seeing eye our golden clay,
When lightning comes this needs must melt away;
Since Heaven hath made us richer then before,
Let's not forget but that we once were poor;
I thought the ashes like to graines were sown,
And from the seed this monument had grown,
He that the fire and London ruines Knew
And now just after well rebuilt shalt view,
You'd say that stones, And heavy marbles grew;
Some curious Reader now might well require
That I should tell how high this will aspire,
With all the Hyroglyphick's of the fire,
But troth my muse hath got a heavy pack
One pound weight more wou'd break her tender back,
I knew at first the subject was too great,
Which made me not of some rich structures treat,
I could have spoke of Suttens stately house,
What great respect his Charity allow's
Unto the Reverend grey, that it might come
With joy and not with sorrow to the Tomb,
This building teaches those that are to dye,
That they to happiness and heaven draw nigh,
Those that just at the gates of heaven stay,
And carry on their head the milky way.
Look there the fair and hopeful Youth appear,
What happy Omens crown their growing years,
They'r taught how from this place and glorious seat
To think on nothing, but what's good and great,
I coud some curious observations draw
From the wise Doctors, of the worlds great law,
I cou'd have mention'd too that learned train
That do perpetual war with fate maintain,
Death feares that they the conquerours would be,
But that their generous love and Piety
Wou'd not the Soul that noble lodger wrong,
And keep her in this Earthen goale too long[.]
I cou'd have nam'd that nursery of war
In which our sprightly Youth instructed are,
That company, where you each man may call
A Captain, Leader, or a General.
I coud have said that I the Tower had seen[,]
The Crown, the scepter, and the magazine,
The Gunnes, and Lyons wou'd my fancy store,
Those two great Engines which we hear to roar:
I cou'd have nam'd the fleet, told who was made
The Mistress and the Patroness of trade:
I could have told how the kind Thames doth flow,
What boundless Kindnesses she doth bestow
On all the Towne, But I must leave the Shoar
Now for the wherry, and the merry oare:
The time and tide I must now obey
And thus from Helicon I launch away[.]

I could have told how the kind Thames doth flow,
What boundless Kindnesses she doth bestow
Upon this Noble City; she that is
The Grand Emperium and Metropolis
Of Christendom; that hath the usual Fate
Of Conflagrations to arise in State,
From calcin'd ashes, Phaenix-like, much more
Glorious and Youthful, than she was before;
Who now may safely challenge and defie
Old Rome in all her Glory; nay outvie
Her, when her conquering Eagles did expand,
Their fatal Wings over the Sea and Land,
As Monarch of the World: Happy in all,
That we poor Mortals, Happiness may call;
Happy in Plenty, and in Health no less,
The Crown of sublunary Happiness,
Happy in Wealth (bar but Domestick Jars)
The binding Sinews of disjoynting Wars:
Happy in all things, cou'd we all agree,
In a Religious Uniformity.
We need not then startle at Foreign Foes,
Invasions fear, or all their downright blows,
Or Masked Pious Frauds, though Hell shou'd be
The damn'd assistant to their Policy.
But thrice thrice happy London in this thing,
That an incensed and provoked King,
By stubborn Subjects is now reconcil'd,
Like an indulgent Parent to a Child,
That once did erre. Happy in one Lord Mayor,
Right Honourable Sheriffs too, a pair;
With many Corporations, who now see,
Their Ancient Privilege and Property
Restor'd, the Laws in their old Channel flow,
Heaven continue it for ever so.
Your Royal Predecessors heretofore
Did Ratifie, Confirm, Renew, Restore
This Charter to your Subjects, as they saw
Occasion by their Acts and Statute-Law:
And you, dread Soveraign, have thought fit to do
The same in confirmation of them too.
In gratitude for your indulgent Care
Of all your Subjects, I put up this Prayer
To God, That he may please, hoping he will,
All Blessings on your Royal Head distil.
May Love and Charity, with downy Peace,
Within your Kingdoms more and more increase,
May all Dissention, both in Church and State
Be banish'd; may the stubborn Reprobate
Be undeceived, and go no more astray;
May all the Natives of this Land obey
(As long as our most Sacred James shall sway
These Sceptres) Passively, in all things still
Subscribe to your Most Just and Royal Will:
Fear God, Honour their King, and live to see
The recompence of Blessed Unity;
Abandon Animosity and Heat;
Malice and Rancour, may they have no seat
Within your Subjects breasts, but live sedate,
And may Affairs continue in this State,
Until the Sun gild's with his splendid Rays,
The winged Hours of the last of Days.
Being thus obliged by a Most Gracious King
To Duty and Obedience, which shall bring
Me to this Close. And all can do no less,
Than at your Feet submissively confess
That you in whom we all Confide and Trust,
Merit the Title of Great, Good and Just;
And may Your Happy Days with good presage
Equal in length the Grecian Nester's Age.





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