Of all the kingly race: the cabinet
To all thy counsels; and the judging chair
To this thy special kingdom. Whose so
fair

And wholesome laws, in every court, shall strive

By equity, and their first innocence to thrive;

The base and guilty bribes of guiltier men Shall be thrown back, and justice look, as when

She loved the earth, and feared not to be sold

For that, which worketh all things to it, gold.

The dam of other evils, avarice, Shall here lock down her jaws, and that rude vice

Of ignorant and pitied greatness, pride, Decline with shame; ambition now shall hide

* Hor. Car. lib. 4, ode 9, Ducentis ad se cuncta pecuniæ.

For our more authority to induce her thus, see Fest. Avien. paraph. in Arat. speaking of Electra, Nonnunquam oceani tamen istam surgere ab undis, In convexa poli, sed sede carere sororum; Atque os discretum procul edere, detestatam: Germanosque choros sobolis lacrymare ruinas Diffusamque comas cerni, crinisque soluti Monstrari effigie, &c.

All comets were not fatal, some were fortunately ominous, as this to which we allude; and wherefore we have Pliny's testimony, Nat. Hist. lib. 2, cap. 25. Cometes in uno totius orbis loco colitur in templo Romæ, admodum faustus Divo Augusto judicatus ab ipso: qui incipiente eo, apparuit ludis quos faciebat Veneri Genetrici, non multo postobitum patris Cæsaris, in collegio ab eo instituto. Namque his verbis id gaudium prodidit. Iis ipsis ludorum meorum diebus, sydus crinitum per septem dies in regione cœli, quæ sub septentrionibus est, conspectum. Id oriebatur circa undecimam horam diei, clarumque et omnibus terris conspicuum fuit. Eo sydere significari vulgus credidit, Cæsaris animam inter Deorum immortalium numina receptam: quo nomine id insigne simulacro capitis ejus, quod mox in foro consecravimus, adjectum est. Hæc ille in publicum, interiore gaudio sibi illum natum

Her face in dust, as dedicate to sleep,
That in great portals wont her watch to keep.
All ills shall fly the light: thy court be free
No less from envy than from flattery;
All tumult, faction, and harsh discord

cease,

That might perturb the music of thy peace: The querulous nature shall no longer find Room for his thoughts: one pure consent of mind

Shall flow in every breast, and not the air, Sun, moon, or stars shine more serenely fair.

This from that loud blest oracle I sing, Who here, and first, pronounced thee Britain's king.

Long mayst thou live, and see me thus appear,

As ominous a comet,† from my sphere,
Unto thy reign; as that did auspicatet
So lasting glory to Augustus' state.1

1 There is a considerable degree of fancy as well as learning displayed in this laboured show, of which the reader has here but two-fifths. The remaining three may be found in Decker, who has also given an abridgement of Jonson's share of the pageant. We have heard much of the expenses incurred by the temporary erections for the celebration of the late peace [1814]; but they shrink to nothing before the cost of the "Entertainments" prepared for the reception of James.

Many of the platforms were of an enormous bulk and height, as were several of the arches. It appears that the citizens began their preparations immediately on the decease of Elizabeth: they were interrupted by the plague, but resumed as soon as the danger was over, and continued to the period of the royal entry. Exclusively of the moulders, plumbers, painters, smiths, &c., who were very numerous, there were employed 80 joiners, 60 carpenters, 30 sawyers, and about 70 common labourers, who wrought without intermission.

The whole of the machinery was under the direction of Stephen Harrison, the Chief Joiner, as he is called. The name of Inigo Jones does not occur in the list of architects given by Decker.

OF

to fill

With joys, but urgeth his full favours still.

Again the glory of our western world Unfolds himself; and from his eyes are hurled

To-day a thousand radiant lights that

stream

To every nook and angle of his realm.
His former rays did only clear the sky;
But these his searching beams are cast to
pry

Into those dark and deep concealed vaults, Where men commit black incest with their faults,

And snore supinely in the stall of sin:
Where murder, rapine, lust, do sit within,
Carousing human blood in iron bowls,
And make their den the slaughter-house of
souls:

From whose foul reeking caverns first arise Those damps that so offend all good men's eyes,

And would, if not dispersed, infect the

crown,

And in their vapour her bright metal drown.

To this so clear and sanctified an end, I saw, when reverend Themis did descend Upon his state: let down in that rich chain,

That fast'neth heavenly power to earthly reign:

Beside her stooped on either hand a maid,
Fair Dice and Eunomia, who were said
To be her daughters; and but faintly
known

throne.

Her third, Irene, helped to bear his train; And in her office vowed she would remain, Till foreign malice or unnatural spight (Which fates avert) should force her from her right.

With these he passed, and with his people's hearts,

Breathed in his way; and souls, their better parts,

Hasting to follow forth in shouts and cries,

Upon his face all threw their covetous eyes,

As on a wonder: some amazed stood, As if they felt but had not known their good.

Other would fain have shewn it in their words;

But when their speech so poor a help affords

Unto their zeal's expression, they are mute;

And only with red silence him salute. Some cry from tops of houses; thinking noise

The fittest herald to proclaim true joys;
Others on ground run gazing by his side,
All as unwearied as unsatisfied:
And every window grieved it could not

move

Along with him, and the same trouble prove.

They that had seen but four short days before

His gladding look, now longed to see it

more.

And as of late, when he through London went,

The amorous city spared no ornament, That might her beauties heighten; but so drest,

As our ambitious dames, when they make feast

And would be courted: so this town put on
Her brightest tire; and in it equal shone
To her great sister; save that modesty,
Her place, and years, gave her precedency.
The joy of either was alike and full;
No age, nor sex, so weak, or strongly dull,
That did not bear a part in this consent
Of hearts and voices. All the air was rent,
As with the murmur of a moving wood;
The ground beneath did seem a moving
flood;

Walls, windows, roofs, towers, steeples, all were set

With several eyes, that in this object met. Old men were glad their fates till now did last;

And infants, that the hours had made such haste

To bring them forth: whilst riper aged, and apt

To understand the more, the more were rapt.

This was the people's love, with which did strive

The noble's zeal, yet either kept alive
The other's flame, as doth the wick and

Betrayed to fame, should take more care and fear

In public acts what face and form they bear.

She then remembered to his thought the place

Where he was going; and the upward

race

Of kings, preceding him in that high court;

Their laws, their ends; the men she did report:

And all so justly, as his ear was joyed To hear the truth, from spight or flattery void.

She shewed him who made wise, who honest acts;

Who both, who neither: all the cunning

tracts

And thriving statutes she could promptly note;

The bloody, base, and barbarous she did quote;

Where laws were made to serve the tyrant's will;

Where sleeping they could save, and waking kill;

Where acts gave licence to impetuous lust
To bury churches in forgotten dust,
And with their ruins raise the pander's
bowers :

When public justice borrowed all her powers

From private chambers; that could then

create

Laws, judges, counsellors, yea, prince and

state.

All this she told, and more, with bleeding

eyes;

For Right is as compassionate as wise."
Nor did he seem their vices so to love,
As once defend what Themis did reprove.
For though by right and benefit of times,
He owned their crowns, he would not so
their crimes.

He knew that princes, who had sold their fame

To their voluptuous lusts, had lost their name;

And that no wretch was more unblest than he

Whose necessary good 'twas now to be
An evil king: and so must such be still,
Who once have got the habit to do ill.
One wickedness another must defend;
For vice is safe, while she hath vice to
friend.

He knew that those who would with love command,

Must with a tender yet a steadfast hand Sustain the reins, and in the check forbear

To offer cause of injury, or fear; That kings, by their example, more do sway

Than by their power; and men do more obey

When they are led than when they are compelled.

In all these knowing arts our prince excelled.

And now the dame had dried her dropping eyne,

When, like an April Iris, flew her shine About the streets, as it would force a spring

From out the stones, to gratulate the king. She blest the people, that in shoals did swim

To hear her speech; which still began in him,

And ceased in them. She told them what a fate

Was gently fall'n from heaven upon this state;

How dear a father they did now enjoy, That came to save, what discord would destroy,

And entering with the power of a king, The temperance of a private man did bring,

Which when time, nature, and the fates denied,

With a twice louder shout again they cried,

"Yet let blest Britain ask, without your wrong,

ground:

And was not hot, or covetous to be crowned

long."

Solus rex et poeta non quotannis nascitur.1