The muses congratulatory address to his Excellency the Lord General Monck T. B. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A76410 of text R38564 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.24[54]). 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. 7 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 2017 A76410 Wing B191 Thomason 669.f.24[54] ESTC R38564 99872517 99872517 163785 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A76410) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 163785) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 247:669f24[54]) The muses congratulatory address to his Excellency the Lord General Monck T. B. 1 sheet ([1] p.) s.n., [London : 1660] In verse. Signed at end: T.B. Imprint from Wing. Annotation on Thomason copy: "April 5 1660". Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Albemarle, George Monck, -- Duke of, 1608-1670 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Great Britain -- History -- Commonwealth and Protectorate, 1649-1660 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. A76410 R38564 (Thomason 669.f.24[54]). civilwar no The muses congratulatory address to his Excellency the Lord General Monck. T. B 1660 1045 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. 2008-07 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2008-08 SPi Global Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-09 Mona Logarbo Sampled and proofread 2008-09 Mona Logarbo Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion The Muses congratulatory Address to his Excellency the Lord General MONCK . AWake ye sacred Quire the night is past , Auroras Mantl 's spread , hast , hast Your early ioys to this Triumphant fate , Of the great Rescuer our Albian Advocate At heavens iust bar , whence he receiv'd command , T' advance to th' stiffned Pharo'hs of the land . The peoples suffrages in 's hands he brought , 'T is Moses they cry'd by whom we 'r taught The way from Egypts task 's , thus heav'nly arm'd , H' approacht their Courts , 't is Monck , who soon alarm'd Their fatted souls , th' Locusts and Flyes saith he . The giddy factions that spread th' Isle may be Good tests of heavens dislike , your troops of oaths , Are muster'd all against you , yet here 's those , Would feign raise more , such Saints in armour they Would beat God with 's own weapons , and would pray Him from his throne . Having now corrected These hard Task-masters , he soon directed To th' weary'd People , his Message was ease , In th' room of civil war to bring them peace , Th'unlimited bounds of ioy at this great change , Had soon arriv'd th' Senate , th' events were strange , And dreadful there , hard hearts would not relent , But streight two forc'rers with their Tackle were sent , To countermiss this truth , t' possess the world , These were but knacks in State , we must be whirld , With various streams , but streight were their charms , By all reiected , ne'r the Churches arms More cheerfully embrac'd her fathers , then th' people him , Who brought their news of freedome which had been So long an exile , nor did this prophet faile , In his Embasage , for soon the black veil Of horrid Tyrarany's withdrawn , th' chains gone , The prison doors stand open ; th' Iesuits run To Rome again , and shiftless here have left Their new rais'd force , Infant Schisms bereft Of Parents , whose errors be confuted , Enough with silence , ne'r points were thus disputed , Yet reason t is , no argument needs the Sun , T' disperse contracted vapours , appear , t is done , The Pulpits and the Press of late have been Fild with learn'd arguments against their sin , But all in vain , Divine and savory reason That taught obedience , was soon made treason , By th' law of armes ; The Counsells and Synodds all Of former Churches gave rules to call , Such heritiques to answer but we broke , Our Fathers rules , we gave the fatal stroke , To pious order , our zeal was sacriledg , In State , our tenures all turned villanage , These Tories of the Church he quickly tames , Swarm'd legions of furies he soon reclaim's His holy soul abhorr'd to hearken to , Phanatique dreams , he chast the dreamers too , Nor is this heart without attendants fit . His valiant hand , and prudent head may sit , In th' chair of presidents , records must be Great George bigbelly'd with thy history , How innocently subtle hast thou wrought . Thy iust atcheivments , wisely hast thou caught Our Israels foes , insnares and chaind them fast , From preying on their brethren , thou dost cast , Their darts in their own breasts , thus by thy hand Our twenty years red sea , is now dry Land . The Royal and the Noble blood was spilt , A sacrifice for sin , yet O their Guilt . Restless it was until inferiour veins . Had giv'n attendance in their Masters trains , Our hands besmear'd with blood our hearts all filld ; With mortal Feud ; our word , Kill or be killd . Thus foundst thou us ; readier to devour Then spare , Alas wee 'd lost all legal power , Lo Moses in the Gap here timely stood , Three Nations conquered , vvithout stain of blood , This great Physitian stopped our bloody stream , And no vein prickt , hath subtly cull'd the Gem , And not defac'd the shell , his valiant hand Still vvas of th' Lifeguard to his hearts command , The Danish and the Norman conquests were Founded in blood , great Princes to their Chair Have stept on slaughtered Subjects , but records Yeeld not thy equall , yet no bloody swords Were ere ta'ne from such valiant cruel hands But rivers of blood fell : Th' world amazed stands At thy great acts which yet receive this Crown , T is in the Kingdoms right not in thy own : Go on great Statesman get eternal praise , Thy hand , the sword ; thy head shall wear the Bayes . Could thy just soul dispence with others right , All Nations sure would covet thee , how light Thy Scepter would be thought ; Here 's bound in thee Volum's of Government , in Epitomee Treasured all earthly thrones , what more 's in art Thy head 's the Senate-house , thou Senate art Now in thy journey by the Angel led We leave thee with thy Israelites ; they 're fled By divine hand in this great streight of time ; And if they murmure , think , t is the old crime Bright Moses saw , to Canaan must they go Their Fathers rights and freedoms must enjoy . Great Deliverer speed on thy numerous fame Vast Pyramids support the Ensigns of thy name , Hast through the Desart and yet timely stay At Sina's Mount , and there thy tribute pay To Heavens great seat ; All finish'd , thou wilt find Heroick soul , thou hast pleas'd thy Makers mind , And pregnant fame in all age shall shall be proud To aggravate thy Name , no sullen cloud Dare to eclipse it , unless 't suspected be Apostate England near kept such Loyalty . April .5 . 1660 T. B.