To the best of monarchs His Maiesty of Great Brittain, &c. Charles the Second, a gratulatory poem on the most happy arrival of his most Excellent Majestie Charles the second, by the grace of God, King of England, Scotland, France and Ireland, who landed at Dover Friday, May the 25. to the most unspeakable joy of his subjects. Holland, Samuel, gent. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A86461 of text R212410 in the English Short Title Catalog (Thomason 669.f.25[42]). 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. 5 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 A86461 Wing H2444 Thomason 669.f.25[42] ESTC R212410 99871035 99871035 163847 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. A86461) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 163847) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 247:669f25[42]) To the best of monarchs His Maiesty of Great Brittain, &c. Charles the Second, a gratulatory poem on the most happy arrival of his most Excellent Majestie Charles the second, by the grace of God, King of England, Scotland, France and Ireland, who landed at Dover Friday, May the 25. to the most unspeakable joy of his subjects. Holland, Samuel, gent. 1 sheet ([1] p.) Entered according to Order, and printed by S. Griffin for Matthew Wallbancke, [London] : 1660. Place of publication from Wing. Verse - "Heav'n at the Last hath heard my Prayers I stand". Annotation on Thomason copy: "June 14". Reproduction of the original in the British Library. eng Charles -- II, -- King of England, 1630-1685 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Great Britain -- History -- Charles II, 1660-1685 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. A86461 R212410 (Thomason 669.f.25[42]). civilwar no To the best of monarchs His Maiesty of Great Brittain, &c. Charles the Second, a gratulatory poem on the most happy arrival of his most Exce Holland, Samuel, gent. 1660 833 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. 2007-09 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2007-11 Aptara Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-12 Emma (Leeson) Huber Sampled and proofread 2007-12 Emma (Leeson) Huber Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion To the best of MONARCHS HIS MAIESTY OF GREAT BRITTAIN , &c. CHARLES THE SECOND , A GRATULATORY POEM On the most happy Arrival of his most Excellent Majestie Charles the second , by the Grace of God , KING of England , Scotland , France , and Ireland , who landed at Dover Friday , May the 25. to the most unspeakable joy of his SUBJECTS HEav'n at the Last hath heard my Prayers I stand Full of fair Hopes to kiss my Princes hand , And need no flames that may new Heats in fuse Zeal can create a Verse without a Muse , The wounds I have receiv'd , the yeers I 've spent The Months Iv'e told in long Imprisonment , I look on now with Joy , who would not be One day in Chains to be for ever free , My Prayers are heard , the King himself is come The Grace , and Glory of all Christendome , 'T is he repairs our Breaches , and restores The Land to safety , and doth heal our sores , 'T is he that stroaks our Griefs , and wipes our eyes , Sets us in order , and doth make us wise , For ne're was Nation so before misled To court the Tayl , and make the Rump their Head , Where are the Saints now that would fayn be known To have no other Holydays by their own : Where are our cruel Regicids and all That petulant Crew , we Anabaptists call , Whose wild Religion and whose zeal doth Border , On Faction , Ruine , Falshood , and Disorder , Whose Gospel speaks it is too hard a thing , To honour God , and to obey the King , And from their Bibles do expunge that Text As too obliging , or too much perplext ; The day is now at hand that will declare What men of Conscience , and what Saints they are , Who still pursue ( oh most inhumane wrongs ) The Lords anoynted with their threatning tongues , As if the Father slain , they had not done Enough , unless they Massacred the Son , This to prevent , the King himself draws nigh Full of his Cause , his Eye with Majesty , His Brow with thunders arm'd , and on each hand The Youth of Heav'n in files unnumberd stand , His glorious Guard , for to the world be 't known That Heav'n is pleasd to make this Cause his own , For who the King affront , the like would do To th' King of Kings could they come at him too ; Now as the Sun when his absented light Approacheth neerer Day doth smile out right And the thick vapours of the night do fly In guilty Tumults from his searching Eye ; So now the King in person hath begun To show himself like the Meridian Sun To shine in all his Glories , and dispence Throughout the Land his powerfull Influence The clouds of bold Rebellion , the false light Of falser zeal , and Meteors of the Night , The sullen Vapours , and the Mists that made A great Confusion in so great a shade , Shall wast before him , as he comes our States Extreams to temper , for it pleas'd the Fates , Though others travaild in the work , yet none Shall heal our Griefs but who our hearts did own , Nor shall the North regain their antient worth But by that Monarch whom the North brought forth : And Fame no sooner to our ears did bring The welcome story of our landed King , But all the Lords and Gentry of the Land Made hast to waite upon his high Command , So full their trayn , so gallant their Array As if their splendor would outshine the day , Who all as soon as they the King displayd Who can imagine what a shout was made , The glittering of their cloaths outvy'd the Suns Hats in the Ayr flew up , Guns roard to Guns , And Trumpets deafned Trumpets , who would have thought These ere in arms 'gainst each other fought , Th' outlandish that did mark it , and stood by In our behalf all out aloud did cry , Was never Nation now more blest than we , Nor ever Monarch more admir'd then He. How great will be our growing Joys we may Presume will Crown his Coronation Day , For to his matchless merit t will be more Then ever King of England had before , At which since Heav'n and Earth with shouts do ring , Let Heaven and Earth say both , God save the KING . S. HOLLAND Entred according to Order , and Printed by S. Griffin for Matthew Wallbancke , 1660.