A POEM, ON The KING'S most Excellent MAJESTY'S happy Progress into SCOTLAND, and much desired return.  
MAY. 1633.  
¶ Imprinted at LONDON, MDCXXXIII.   

To all Truehearted Subjects, that wish well to our Gracious Sovereign, His Royal Queen, Prince, Princess, and State: The Author, no Poet, but on this occasion, directs his ensuing Poem.  

HE's gone, the Sun goes Northward, and 'twas now  
Fit time of th' year; I'll tell you why, and how:  
Some in a Map do trace each step He makes,  
And with his Compass one the distance takes  
From town to town, and, guided by his sight,  
Dares to avouch that there He lay last Night,  
And here He dined this day, and then, amain,  
He and his Troops passed o'er such a Plain  
And such a Meadow green, and fields that lay  
Close to a River running by that way.  
Thus his Finger walks the journey thorough.  
Lastly he saith, This is Edinborough.  
Here must I point at things in general,  
For that were infinite to touch them all,  
Or to describe the ways, or Towns, or woods,  
Or Hills, or Dales, or Fields, or dainty Floods  
And Brooks that glide along, I leave that to  
Some other Muse, for mine hath much ado  
To find a Clew of thread to lead her out:  
Of this great Labyrinth she is about;  
Thus some take Pleasure, and Recreation,  
To see Him in Imagination,  
To think they see Him present, hear Him speak,  
As in a Dream, though absent when they wake:  
And whilst they this contemplate, thus they sing,  
No State so happy, ne'er so sweet a King.  
When they have done in speaking what they may,  
Unto His praise, with bended knees they pray  
For Him and all that his Attendants be,  
Praising, and wishing their Felicity,  
And that all blessings on His head may fall,  
To make His Royal race perpetual.  
Mark how He mounts higher than Cancers Sign,  
And walks with equal steps beyond that ● Line 
The Gests.   
Which Phoebus ne'er could pass, 
The Tropic.  His Tropics stand  
Before the Sun, take them by Sea or Land:  
Eastward He goes to France, and West to Spain, 
By Do●er.   
Northward to Scotland, Southward back again  
To England, Royal Traveller; See here,  
HE exceeds the Sun, quarter's the Hemisphere; 
The Sun's Summer beigne.   
Now in His Apogaeum doth He shine  
Nine days i'th' North, more than i'th' Sothern Clime.  
Astron'mers say 'tis common, yet mistake,  
'Twas never but for james and Charles his sake;  
See how Don Phoebus strives for to exceed,  
Breathless, and windless, till his Coursers bleed,  
Drinks up the Sea for thirst, and lets it fall  
In Tears, into the Earth's vast urinal,  
And when he cannot compass his desire,  
With burning heat would set the world on fire;  
He rises early, and goes late to bed,  
Yet ere one Month he yields, as vanquished,  
Stands, 
The ●●●stice.  gazing after him, and doth admire,  
But cannot move, is forced for to retire.  
The Sun, though glorious, needs must lay aside,  
During this Progress, all his glittering pride,  
Turns ● Phosphorus to our Phoebus all the way, 
The Day star.   
Serves for a morning Star unto the Day,  
And bears the Mace to Charles: See how goes  
And comes before his Majesty, and shows  
As he ascends to Northward, more and more,  
Great light to them that were all Night before. 
Dwellers under the North Pole.   
But when the King returns, the Sun with speed,  
Comes South again, as if 'twere so decreed,  
They of th' Orcadeses rise, and wondering say,  
They ne'er observed it so since jacobs' day. 
King ●ames.   
For when of light they saw such curious streams,  
They did suppose it had been Phoebus' beams,  
In hopes that he for his long absence might  
Give more than half year day; for half year night.  
Now they pluck on their clothes, awaked from sleep,  
Rejoicing much for to see the day peep,  
One for his doublet, one for his breeches calls,  
Rousing their Servants from their Funerals,  
Near dead asleep: they that dwell farthest North,  
That for six months at least ne'er ventured forth  
Of their own doors, in haste without dispute,  
Run to the tops of th' Hills for to salute  
The rising Sun: by use the case is clear,  
The first that sees him shall be King that year.  
'Tis not your usual Sun that now you see,  
But 'tis King Charles, a greater Sun than he.  
Up to your mountain tops therefore, and pry  
For to behold him first as narrowly  
As e'er you did your Sun; who can allege  
The Conquest, shall not lose his Privilege.  
When by God's grace He shall return, than we  
His loyal Subjects shall contend to see  
Our Sovereign first, no hills for this so high,  
As we desire, no Alps can satisfy.  
For when He took His Progress, than each one  
That could not Him attend where He was gone,  
Looks at his Coach wheels, as along they passed,  
Striving with greedy eyes to see him last.  
Those of the Antarctike Pole have cause to fear,  
The Arctic day will almost make a year;  
And they i'th' night must all that while abide,  
Whereas the Sun did commonly divide  
The Day and Night betwixt them, good success  
Be to the Northern world, th' Almighty bless  
Denmark and Swede, and all the rest that are  
Confederates for that League, and Germane war,  
The Sun comes nearer you, and gilds the Sky  
Till of your foes you get the victory.  
The birds most sweetly chant it all the way,  
Bid him good morrow and good night each day:  
Each Wood and Grove, each Tree, and each Briar  
Yield Choristers to make a dainty choir:  
Sometimes the Partridge one another call,  
Morning and Evening sings the Nightingale.  
'Twere endless to recount the Notes they sing,  
When all the birds do homage to the King;  
Under his window, ere the day appear,  
joying and clapping crows loud Chanticleer.  
Fishes and Beasts do th' like, but that my song  
Cannot assoord them room, 'twould be too long,  
And o'er the Hills and Valleys, with the bounds  
Of Horses and Coaches the Echo sounds,  
Repeating all that's done, or said, as crossed,  
That any word, or tittle should be lost.  
The end for brevity by her expressed,  
Shows that she keeps a journal of the rest.  
The highway Criples run by's Coaches side  
To ask an alms, which never is denied.  
You'd laugh, how some, at th'end of every town  
With wooden legs will put the Footmen down.  
The Majors and Aldermen of every place,  
And under-officers, for a great space,  
Come forth to meet him, and to offer up,  
Some silver Flagons, some a golden Cup,  
Some one thing, some another, any thing  
They judge to be most pleasing to the King.  
And thus in humble manner, as 'tis meet,  
Lay down their keys, and power at his feet.  
With them the rural Lads, and Lasses too,  
Staring and gazing to see what they do.  
He's a despised clown eternally,  
That comes not forth to see the King pass by.  
The Country Hoyden's gain thus much, they can  
That saw the King, writ always Gentleman.  
You'd wonder how they'll boast, 'tis their glory,  
When to their sweetheart's they tell this story.  
Sun stand thou still, and let thy Solstice be  
So long i'th' Heaven, till thou clearly see  
His safe arrival, and return again:  
Leave him not there, as once thou didst in Spain,  
Hoping to meet him, sent with swift career:  
Perchance, Express, to see how all did here.  
Our Sun to Scotland gone, doth make our night,  
Our Moon His royal Consort gives us light, 
Queen Mary.   
Two pretty Stars increase it, that stand by  
Conjoined with her, Venus and Mercury. 
Prince Charles. Princess Mary.   
Mark a Parhelium now, two Suns for one  
Do shine above our Northern Horizon,  
In Scotland one, in England one, yet the,  
So fare asunder make a goodly day:  
And if thus distant they can shine so sweet,  
How bright a Sky wilt be when they next meet  
His sacred head all happiness attend,  
The Queen, the Prince, the Princess, Subjects, Friend:  
Let Angels guardians, God Protector stand,  
By Sea His Pilot, and His Guide by land:  
By day His Cloud, by night His burning Torch,  
Nor cold by night, nor heat by day may scorch  
His royal Person; let His clothing be  
Eliahs' Mantle, and His company  
Eliahs' Chariot, Tobies Raphael  
Ith' way He goes; for thirst give jacobs' Well,  
For hunger jacobs' Venison, which may send  
A blessing to all those that Him attend;  
For sleep give jacobs' Pillow, at his head  
Set jacobs' Laddar, that which I have said,  
Give all those blessing which His convoy found,  
Unto our King for ●o begirt him round.  
O let His sleep be sweet, His dreams divine,  
Of heavenly angels, and his heart incline,  
Good God, that King Solomon's dream may be  
Confirmed to Him and His posterity;  
And that in full assurance God may please  
Conduct Him safe, and bring Him back in peace.   
Vivat Rex.  
J. R.