A poem to His Sacred Majesty, on the plot. Written by a gentlewoman Ephelia, fl. 1679. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A54713 of text R218925 in the English Short Title Catalog (Wing P2031A). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 3 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A54713 Wing P2031A ESTC R218925 99830476 99830476 34928 2240879072

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Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A54713) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 34928) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 2074:11) A poem to His Sacred Majesty, on the plot. Written by a gentlewoman Ephelia, fl. 1679. 1 sheet ([1] p.) printed for Henry Brome at the Gun in St. Paul's Church-yard, London : [1678] By Ephelia. Attributed by Wing to Mrs. Joan Philips. Dated at end: Nov. 23. 1678. Copy torn, slightly affecting text. Reproduction of the original in the Bodleian Library. eng Popish Plot, 1678 -- Early works to 1800. Great Britain -- Politics and government -- 1660-1688 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. eebo A poem to His Sacred Majesty, on the plot. Written by a gentlewoman. Ephelia, 1678 1 511 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2006-11 Assigned for keying and markup 2006-11 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2006-12 Sampled and proofread 2006-12 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2007-02 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
A POEM TO His Sacred Majesty , ON THE PLOT . Written by a Gentlewoman . HAil Mighty Prince ! whom Providence design'd To be the chief delight of Humane Kind : So many Virtues crowd Your Breast , that we Do almost question Your Humanity : Sure every Planet that o're Virtue Reigns , Shed it's best Influence in Your Royal Veins . You are the Glory of Monarchal Pow'rs , In Bounties free , as are descending Showrs ; Fierce as a Tempest , when engag'd in War , In Peace more mild than tender Virgins are ; In Mercy , You not only Imitate The Heav'nly Pow'rs , but also Emulate . None but Your Self , Your Suff'rings could have born With so much Greatness , such Heroick Scorn : When hated Traytors do Your Life pursue , And all the world is fill'd with Cares for You , When every Loyal Heart is sunk with fear , Your Self alone , does unconcern'd , appear , Your Soul within still keeps its awful state , Contemns , and Dares , the worst effects of Fate ; The Majesty that shoots from Your bright Eye , Commands Your Fate , and awes Your Destiny . And yet thô Your brave Soul bear You thus high , Your solid Judgment sees there 's Danger nigh , Which with such Care and Prudence You prevent , As if You fear'd not , but wou'd cross th' Event : Your Care so Nobly looks , it doth appear , 'T is for Your Subjects , not Your Self You fear : Heavens , make this Princes Life Your nearest Care , That does so many heavenly Virtues share . If Kings may be allow'd to Copy You , CHARLES is the likest , Nature ever drew : Blast every hand , that dares to be so bold An impious weapon 'gainst His Life to hold ; Burst every heart , that dares but think Him ill , Their guilty Souls with so much Terror fill , That of themselves they may their PLOT unfold , And live no longer , when the Tale is told : Safe in your Care all else would needless prove , Yet keep Him safe too in His Subjects Love ; Your Subjects view You with such Loyal Eyes , They know not how they may their Treasure prize . Were You defenceless , they would round You fall , And pile their Bodies to build up a wall . Were You oppress'd , 't wou'd move a generous strife Who first should lose his own , to save Your Life : But since kind Heaven these Dangers doth remove , We 'll find out other wayes to express our Love . We 'll force the Traytors all , their Souls resign To herd with them , that taught them their Design . FINIS .

Lcensed

Nov. 23. 1678. Roger L' Estrange .

LONDON : Printed for Henry Brome at the Gun in St. Paul's Church-yard .