He that was the Grand Cause hearer,
Now no longer makes Decree:
Nay, to prove her wavering evil,
And that Fortune is the Devil,
The Hero leading our Arms abroad,
Whom they late did Celebrate like a God,
Scarce has any to Drink his Health,
If a Friend does not kindly put it round by stealth;
A Whigg is out of grace,
And a Tory in his place:
Riddles all, and something is amiss,
What a Whimsical world is this.
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A Pindarick Ode, on New Years-Day:
Perform'd by Vocal and Instrumental
Musick, before their Sacred Majesties
King William and Queen Mary. Set
by Dr. John Blow.
BEHOLD, how all the stars give way;
Behold, how the Revolving Sphere,
Swells to bring forth the Sacred Day,
That ushers in the mighty Year;
Whilst Janus with his double Face
Viewing the present Time and past,
In strong Prophetick Fury sings,
Our Nation's Glory and our King's.
See England's Genius, like the dazling Sun,
Proud of his Race, to our Horizon run
To welcome that Cœlestial Power,
That of this Glorious Year begins the Happy Hour:
A Year from whence shall Wonders come; }
A Year to baffle France and Rome, }
And bound the dubious Fate of Warring Christendom. }
