Classic Poem

TO THE KING .

Look back, old Janus, and survey
From Time's birth till this new-born day,
All the successful season bound
With laurel wreaths, and trophies crown'd;
Turn o'er the annals past, and where
Happy auspicious days appear,
Mark'd with the whiter stone, that cast
On the dark brow of th' ages past
A dazzling lustre, let them shine
In this succeeding circle's twine,
Till it be round with glories spread,
Then with it crown our Charles his head,
That we th' ensuing years may call
One great continued festival.
Fresh joys, in varied forms, apply
To each distinct captivity.
Season his cares by day with nights
Crown'd with all conjugal delights;
May the choice beauties that inflame
His royal breast be still the same,
And he still think them such, since more
Thou canst not give from Nature's store.
Then as a father let him be
With numerous issue blest, and see
The fair and god-like offspring grown
From budding stars to suns full-blown.
Circle with peaceful olive boughs
And conquering bays his regal brows;
Let his strong virtues overcome,
And bring him bloodless trophies home;
Strew all the pavements where he treads
With loyal hearts or rebels' heads:
But, Bifront, open thou no more
In his blest reign the temple door.