A TRANSLATION Of the Sixth Book of Mr. Cowley's PLANTARUM. BEING A Poem upon the late Rebellion, the Happy Restoration of His Sacred Majesty, and the Dutch War Ensuing.  
Bella per Angliacos plusquam Civilia Campos  
jusque datum sceleri canimus—  Lucan. 
— Crimine ab uno  
Disce omnes—  Virg. 
LONDON, Printed for Samuel Walsall, at the Golden Frying-Pan in Leaden-Hall-Street, 1680.   

The Preface.  
THis little Poem I have Collected and Translated from the Sixth Book of Mr. Cowley's Plantarum, being intermixed with other Matters and Circumstances. I am very sensible how ill this Piece represents the Life, for if no Copy was ever so good as the Original, (as the Divine Cowley himself says) how imperfectly must the greatest Master perhaps that ever the world knew (Virgil excepted) be copied by the Pencil of a Dauber? However this Translation may give you a tolerable Prospect of the Sense of the Author and the Beauty of his Thoughts, though divested of their Ornaments, and perhaps these ill-dressed Lines may at least be acceptable to those who have not the advantage of seeing them in their rich Habiliments. I have avoided a servile, verbal translation, observing that noted Rule of Horace: 
Non verbum verbo reddere sidus  
Interpres.—  the only way an Author can be rendered perspicuous, and (I may say) intelligible in another language.  
By a verbal Translation nothing almost can be rendered well, and some things not tolerably; As Mr. Dryden in his excellent discourse of Translations before Ovid's Epistles, observes.  
I will produce an instance out of the Sixth Book of Mr. Cowley's Plantarum here translated: 
Tergeminique eâdem fratres in morte Jacentes.   
The greatest Favourite of Apollo (I doubt) cannot render this well into English any way, much less by a literal translation.  
In some places of this Poem the sense is not determined at the end of the Stanza, which (though improper in Original Poems) I think an ill natured judge may excuse in a Translation, where a man has, at the best, but a limited, and no absolute power, being confined to the sense of the Author; which rather than pervert, I choose sometimes to be a little irregular in inconsiderable matters.   


1.  
WHen Charles the Pious, Son of james the Wise,  
In Peace and Plenty Britain's Sceptre swayed,  
His Subjects happy (if they knew to prise  
Their happiness) by his just Reign were made.   

2.  
Happy above all Kings, while Fate permits,  
Till the cursed Tempest of Rebellion came,  
Now he 'bove Envy blest securely sits  
Among the Gods, crowned with immortal Fame.   

3.  
For while the dreadful Storms of cruel War  
Did all the rest of Europe rudely spoil,  
Peace o'er the Ocean flew disturbed with fear,  
And built her warm Nest in the British Isle.   

4.  
Nor did the fruitful Goddess sit in vain,  
For straight, Faith, Justice, Plenty, (who's full Horn  
A Cure for most Diseases does contain)  
The golden Offsprings of rich Peace were born.   

5.  
Such I believe was Saturn's Golden Reign.  
So smoothly passed his quiet years away,  
Till Fortune her own weight could not sustain,  
Envied by Gods, by Men contemned, she lay:   

6.  
And rash inconstant men too happy made,  
Tired with the kindness of a lovely Wife,  
Exchange her for an ugly painted Jade  
Fickle and lewd; O blessed Change of Life.   

7.  
A seeming vigorous and luxuriant Health  
Death or Disease approaching still portends,  
When without cause apparent, and by stealth  
Languishing nature with it's own weight bends:   

8.  
Such was the Britan's fair and sickly State,  
Happy, if Happiness they could have known.  
Impute not yet their ignorance to Fate,  
Since it was wilful, and the crime's their own.   

9  
Forewarning Prodigies, alas! in vain  
The fatal Anger of the Gods proclaim;  
So is fierce Thunder (which big Clouds contain)  
Before it breaks, known by forerunning Flame.   

10.  
I saw, (and still, methinks▪ the horrid Sight  
I plainly see) sad Signs o'er all the Skies;  
Heaven seemed the Tragic History to write  
Of all our sad approaching Miseries.   

11.  
The Heavens (which I tremble but to tell)  
Which a bright Fiery Tempest did enfold,  
Did represent the Burning Face of Hell,  
And about waves of Flaming Sulphur rolled.   

12.  
Straight then appeared within a broken Cloud  
A horrid beauteous Scene, two Armies placed  
And Marshaled in rare Order, ready stood  
For Fight, with shining Armour nobly graced:   

13.  
Not Monck himself, that Hero Monck, the Grace  
And Pillar of his falling Country named,  
In better order could those Army's place,  
Monk above all in War so justly famed:   

14.  
Who perhaps in some Figure then expressed  
In the Celestial Army fiercely rode,  
High mounted on a Noble, Fiery Beast,  
Gracing the Heavens, looking like a God:   

15.  
I heard (unless fear did my senses cheat)  
The Trumpets sound the Charge; here Wings of Horse  
With bodies bended forwards fiercely meet;  
The Foot their Spears brandish with mighty Force,   

16.  
They from aetherial Guns true Thunder send,  
Involving in dark Clouds the Heavenly Field,  
Which did the Cloud-begotten Men defend  
From mortal Eyes, and their brave Acts concealed.   

17.  
Yet a confused Prospect of the Fight  
And of the Sky with Bloody Rivers swelled  
We had by the Armours Brightness, and the Light  
Of the dire, threatening Flames the Guns expelled.   

18.  
At length the Army which the better showed,  
And Nobler both in Men and Armour, flies:  
But from the rest a dismal gloomy Cloud  
And Darkness of the future sealed our Eyes.   

19  
But nor these Prodigies, nor many more,  
Which at that time by Pious Men were seen,  
Did stupid England to its Sense restore,  
Careless, as if it had Lethargic been;   

20.  
Who then the Murmurs of the foolish Crowd,  
Or hidden Seeds of Zeal Phanatic, feared?  
Or Monsters of the Caledonian Wood?  
And impious Cromwell had not then appeared.   

21.  
First rose a Cloud from Caledonian ground  
Which did the North and gentle Tweed invade,  
Forgetting once he did two Kingdoms bound  
He thinks of one he is the Centre made:   

22.  
By popular Winds fiercely impulsed it flies  
To frighten England with its deadly Shade,  
First to move terror only Scotland tries,  
And in cool blood a Scene of War is played.   

23.  
A Silver shower soon put the Foe to flight,  
A sort of Weapon never understood  
By our Forefathers, who alone in Fight  
Profuse, bought Peace with the sole price of Blood.   

24.  
And yet this people prodigal and vain,  
Who did so dearly a short Peace create,  
Lasting Rebellion purchas't and Profane  
Dire Civil War at a much dearer rate:   

25.  
Now Peace itself with the first Blood was stained,  
(O dreadful Omen of ensuing Fate!)  
A purple Fountain opening she profaned,  
And in the Senate with the Furies sat.   

26.  
A great man falls by th' Envy of the Great,  
A just by th' unjust hatred of the Crowd,  
Noise does the wise and Eloquent defeat:  
Rivers of Blood (Strafford) thy sacred Blood  
Must expiate, which Miseries will bring  
Both to the guilty People and the guiltless King:   

27.  
Worcester condemned for the first seat of War,  
A mournful Victor her good fate deplores,  
Her Severn's Tears and Murmurings declare  
Her Grief; she rages, foams, and beats the shores;   

28.  
But she that now with so much grief and care  
The opening of the War does apprehend,  
(Who can believe it?) of this fatal War  
With much more sorrow shall behold the End;   

29.  
Methinks I'm mounted high on Kinton Hills,  
The Vale beneath with a red Sea of Blood  
Is overflowed, and dire Bellona fills  
With heaps of slaughtered Men, the sanguine Flood.   

30.  
What a prodigious Harvest through the Field  
Is reaped by Fiery Rupert's conquering Sword?  
What heaps are by the Pious Monarch killed?  
A mourning Conqueror: If the Fates afford   

31.  
Still a propitious Course, but this one Day  
To all that kind of Ills will put an End,  
Th' o'er hasty Conquest stumbling in the Way  
Fell e'er it had the Neighbouring Goal attained.   

32.  
Then Mars through all the British Empire raged;  
From the Lands-End to Orkney by the Sun  
Coldly obliged, no place is disengaged;  
Possess't with Fury all the Ruin run.   

33.  
What cruel Serpent of the Furies Brood,  
Unhappy England, did thy Health confound?  
All thy sick Members flow with poisoned Blood  
That thy whole Body seems but as one Wound.   

34.  
Thrice were thy Fields, unlucky Newberry,  
With Slaughter and Destruction covered o'er;  
And thy sad Fame in horror does outvie  
Philippi's Fields twice-dyed in humane Gore:   

35.  
Long was the Balance even held by Fate,  
Who did of Both the nodding Ruin poise  
With mutual Slaughter, and alternate Weight  
Of damage; Equal were their Griefs and Joys.   

36.  
First Yorkshire's cruel Fight severely shakes  
And turns the Scales of War, and Naseby's Field  
At last a Wound profound and mortal makes  
Never by Art or Fortune to be healed.   

37.  
The rest (ye Gods) permir me not to write;  
But Lo! a wondrous and deformed Heap  
Of Miseries at once invade my sight;  
What Spoils of War the Impious Victors reap.   

38.  
The King in a Poor rustic Habit dressed  
('Twas the first time he ever used Deceit;  
Though greatness still his sacred Looks expressed,)  
Flying the Foe, flies to a Foe as Great.   

39  
What place will to the Conquered help afford?  
A King, a Guest, a Suppliant in vain  
Of his own-Country-Subjects aid implored:  
Ungrateful men, perfidious and profane!   

40.  
So does the self-wracked Pilot freely leap  
Into the threatening Waves he feared before,  
From out the fierce Flames of his burning Ship,  
Whom cruel Waves again to Flames restore.   

41.  
With Prayers and Threats the Conquerors demand  
The King as a just Spoil of War, detained  
By fraud; such Seeming proofs of Love they give  
You'd think without their King they could not live.   

42.  
No less the Scots their zealous Love declare,  
They to restore their Royal Guest deny,  
And stiffly urge and claim their right and share  
He's not so vile, but England yet must buy,   

43.  
Or not possess him. O unheard of Shame,  
Which will in vain to Future Times be told!  
The Potent Lord, of Sea, and Land, became  
A Slave; the Master's to the Servant sold.   

44.  
Far be it that this great and horrid Crime  
On your whole Nation (Scotland) should be thrown;  
Your Virtue did the Sin of part redeem;  
And with much Blood for Crimes of Few atone.   

45.  
Scarce did the Arms hung up in houses rest  
But a long Course of Civil war returned;  
Who by base Tyrants saw the King oppress't,  
And made a Prisoner, but with Anger burned?   

46.  
Scotland, though late it did thy Anger move,  
And the just Rage of Generous Kent inflame  
Which above life itself does Freedom love;  
And Wales which still maintains the Britain's Fame.   

47.  
Why should I mention the unhappy Fights,  
The trembling Ribla stained with humane Blood,  
Or routed Scots who in their hasty Flights  
Did stop the very Current of the Flood?   

48.  
Why should I Medway swelled with Slaughter name  
Or Colchester's long cruel Siege relate,  
Whose Courage greatest miseries ne'er could tame  
And who deserved a more propitious Fate?   

49.  
Why should I recollect the Glorious Fate  
Of Lords who bravely fight died in Field?  
Or their sad ignominious Death relate  
Who to the cruel Victor's Mercy yield?   

50.  
After such Ruins, and such Miseries,  
So many Wounds by advers Fortune given,  
So much the Pious King did Life despise,  
That he thought Death the greatest gift of Heaven.   

51.  
But Oh! the impious and tremendous Deed  
Can ne'er be cursed enough by aftertimes;  
It Hells most sharp Invention does exceed  
To find a Torment equal to their Crimes.   

52.  
I'th' People's sight, the King from Prison led,  
On a High Scaffold, just before the Gate  
Of his chief Palace, bows his Sacred Head  
To the Hangman's hands—   

53.  
Wounded on all sides now poor Britan dies  
Drowned in the Blood which from herself did flow,  
A Headless, nameless, deformed Carcase lies,  
A Monstrous, Lifeless, Trunk which none could know.   

54.  
Who would not hope (though there was nothing less)  
In Death soft Quiet, and eternal Rest!  
Lo! numerous vile Souls in Tumults press,  
And ('stead of One to rule) the Limbs infest.   

55.  
Vile Sons of Earth by base Corruption bred,  
Worms, poisonous Infects, and black Serpent's crowd,  
And Cromwell, greatest of the Serpents fed  
Upon the very Marrow and the Blood.   

56.  
A noisome Odor's through the World diffused.  
Sin and Injustice Justice then became,  
No Rains Impiety now Reigning used  
To Fury, having passed the Bounds of Shame.   

57  
'Twas counted Sport to see the Scaffolds fixed  
In every Street bedewed with noble Blood;  
To see in Pairs hangmen and Worthies mixed  
O Gods! as Shows presented to the Crowd.   

58.  
The good man's standing Mansion was the Gaol,  
Th' Access to which with Crowds was early pressed;  
But wearied Cruelty at length did fail,  
And was compelled a while to breath and rest;   

59  
Insatiate Avarice no Cessation makes;  
No Limits to its violent Rage appear;  
The Warrior often willingly forsakes,  
But the Proscriber hardly quits the Spear.   

60.  
All that preceding glorious Kings had heaped  
With a Magnificent and Sparing hand,  
The noble Spoils in bloody Battle reaped,  
And all the Riches by long Peace attained;   

61.  
What our Forefathers generous Piety,  
And rich Religion in a splendid Dress  
Did to the Sacred Altar's Use apply;  
All the Estates the Nobles did possess;   

62.  
And those whoever of Loyalty and Lands  
Were Guilty found, O wretched Avarice!  
Not all these Riches could the Harpy-hands  
Of the Tyrannic Sons of Earth suffice.   

63.  
Nor is't enough alone to take the Spoils  
Of Gods, and the King's Houses; these unjust  
And impious Men destroy the stately Piles.  
Of very Ruin there's a wicked Lust.   

64.  
In every place the groaning Carts are filled  
With Beams and Stones, so busy and so loud  
Are the proud Victors, as they meant to Build,  
But they to Ruin and Destruction crowd:   

65.  
Timber, which had been buried many Years  
Under high Royal Towers, they invade.  
'Tis sure that Hand the Living never spares  
Which is so wicked to disturb the Dead.   

66.  
Then all the Woods the barbarous Victors seize,  
(The noble Nursery of the Fleet and Town,  
The hopes of War and Ornaments of Peace)  
Which once Religion did as Sacred own.   

67.  
Now Public Use and great Convenience claims  
The Woods from private Hands inviolate;  
Which greedy men to less devouring Flames  
Do for sweet Lucre, freely dedicated.   

68  
No Age they spare, the tender Elm and Beach  
Infants of thirty Years they overthrew,  
Nor could old Age itself their Pity reach,  
No Reverence to hoary Barks they know.   

69.  
Th' unhappy Birds, an ever-singing Choir,  
Are driven from their ancient shady Seats,  
And a new Grief does Philomela inspire  
With mournful Notes, which she all night repeats   

70.  
Let them the Woods and Forests burn and waste,  
There will be Trees to hang the Slaves at last;  
And God, who such Infernal men disclaims,  
Will root 'em out and throw 'em 〈…〉 es.   

71.  
Mean while expelled his cruel Country's Shores  
The great Carolides through foreign Lands  
Wanders, and Aid, alas! in vain implores;  
Still cruel Fate his Happiness withstands.   

72.  
How did he suffer both by Sea and Land,  
That Pious Son of an immortal Saint!  
Cheerful he bears the troubles Fates command  
Till they grew weary, though he ne'er did faint:   

73.  
The Reverend Young Man made Fortune yield,  
And in due Course of time by Fate designed  
His Sceptre which so fast a Tyrant held  
At last was gently to his Hands resigned.   

74.  
But before Fate the happy Signal makes,  
Fierce and impatient unto Arms he flies,  
Despising Life, and courting Fame, he breaks  
Through Seas blocked up with hostile Ships and Ice.   

75.  
To a late hostile, still suspected Land  
He goes; The Oliverian Powers of Hell  
And Furies trembling and confounded stand,  
To see great Charles to his own Kingdoms sail:   

74.  
Impetuous Waves and raging Storms they raise,  
In vain to sink the Sacred Ship they strive,  
Their Thunder cannot violate his Bays,  
In vain they stop the Ship which Fate does drive:   

77.  
Vain is their Fear, since Caesar it Conveys  
Safely conducted by the Almighty's Hand,  
But yet not Caesar's Fortune; which to raise  
Does other Arm's (and yet scarce Arms) demand.   

78.  
In vain the Scots (now changed) invite the King,  
Though They some Honour for that Action bore,  
And thence a Man (by happy Stars) did spring,  
Who did in Arms with Peace the King restore.   

79.  
In the mean time Great Fergus greater Heir  
(Who's Right is from a hundred Kings derived,)  
Did to the Reverend Church of Scone repair,  
And there the Ancient Scottish Crown received,   

80.  
With an unlucky Sign, though great Applause,  
The Crown not being in due manner placed;  
The Insulting conquering Foe did rage, and cause  
Disturbance, and the Solemn Rights infest.   

81.  
But now his Royal Father's Murder fires  
Charles with Revenge, Just Indignation stings  
His Breast, Virtue incensed a Soul inspires  
Worthy the Offspring of a hundred Kings.   

82.  
He scorns to be by an inglorious Siege  
In the utmost Limits of his Kingdom shut  
Nor shall the coming Winter's Aids oblige  
Him, whose great Faith is not in Mountains put.   

83.  
Wholly resolved for War, He gives the Rains▪  
To Fortune and his Courage, distant Tay  
As his Confinement nobly He disdains,  
But even with Death to Thames designs his way.   

84.  
The amazed Enemy is left behind,  
Who of the Horror of this Action speak  
With Trembling and Confusion of mind;  
But Valour is without good Fortune weak:   

85.  
At length arrives the long, long wished for Day  
For which with Prayers and Tears the Britain's sued▪  
The King through thousand Dangers of the Way  
On Severn's Banks with a good Army stood;   

86.  
Thus far a Victor, better had it proved  
If He Advances to the Thames had made;  
The King himself this sounder Counsel moved,  
But powerful Votes, with Counsels mixed, dissuade.   

87.  
Now, Warlike England, now's the time; To Arm's,  
Defend the Son, revenge the Father killed,  
(If Piety has yet prevailing Charms)  
And your poor ruin'd Country now rebuild.   

88  
England's ill Genius now alarmed with Fears,  
Who on the Ruin of Good men did dwell,  
More vigilant than Cromwell's self, prepares  
A Cruel Poison by the Arts of Hell;   

89.  
One of the sleepy, cold, and fearful Snakes,  
Sloaths Opium, which binds the Nerves with Cold,  
Poison of griping Avarice he takes,  
Which close (Torpedo-like) the Hand does hold:   

90.  
He Drops of Lethe mixes, every Breast  
With these he sprinkles, straight moist Poison came  
Upon them, and deep Lethargy possess't  
England forgetting her own Health and Fame.   

91.  
Yet here true Courage did not Charles forsake,  
Whom Fortune and his People now desert;  
Innumerous Foes surrounding could not make  
Him yield, or Conquer his Heroic Heart;   

92.  
Witness, Ye Hills, not since called Red in vain,  
And Severn's Waters stained with humane Blood,  
And fatal Worcester which did first sustain  
The War, and to its Course a Limit stood.   

93.  
The last unwillingly he quits the Field  
After a cruel Slaughter and the Flight  
Of th' Army, last the Captive Town does yield;  
And from near Hills looks back with Rage and Spite▪   

94.  
In haste he recollects his scattered Men  
(But few so great a Shipwreck 'scaped) to try  
His extreme Fortune, and at last regain  
The Day he lost, or in it Nobly die:   

95.  
The Valiant Derby, faithful Wilmot famed  
For Arms, who both the King and Charles did love,  
And Buckingham with Honour always named  
Prepared for both, this Generous Vote approve.   

96.  
Buckingham Valiant, Beautiful and Young,  
A benign Star at home, and in the Field  
Like violent Lightning, an Achates strong  
Worthy to bear his great Aeneas Shield.   

97.  
there's no Delay, with Fury they return;  
Nor is it Hope so much their Minds alarms,  
But a brave generous Despair does burn  
Their Hearts, and drives them to unfortunate Arm   

98.  
Thus does the King with a Few more, who know  
(By Glory taught) that Death can never prove  
Or to the Wretched or the Brave a Foe:  
The rest such Noble Knowledge could not move;   

99  
Trembling their King and Leader they forsake,  
Who in vain the Deaf does court and animate,  
In hasty Flight they all disperse, and take,  
Inglorious Life before a Glorious Fate:   

100  
Now, brave young Man, alas! in vain so brave,  
Who can preserve Thee every where beset?  
What God himself can extricate and save  
Thee (Sacred Charles) from Fortune's Cruel Net?   

101.  
Yes, this great Miracle to Charles the Saint  
The Eternal God who is Omnipotent  
As a Reward for Martyrdom will grant,  
And even his Prayers for Mortal Charles prevent.   

102.  
There stands in th' utmost limits of the East  
Of rich Salopia, a Wood fair by Name;  
Now (though 'twas once obscure and humbly blest)  
No place is Brighter with the Beams of Fame:   

103.  
Hard by, a sacred and auspicious Pile,  
White Ladies called, did the poor King invite  
To Bread and Refuge (mighty gifts!) a while,  
And here his growing Fate became more Bright.   

104.  
But not before he had put off the King;  
Here weeping he dismissed his weeping Friends,  
No Tears do from his own Misfortune's spring,  
Upon their Dangers all his Grief depends.   

105.  
The Gems and Gold which did so much adorn,  
The Garter, and all Objects of Delight  
He leaves, nor is St. George's Image worn,  
The Dragon vanquishing the Sacred Knight.   

106.  
His long, black, graceful Curls by Scissors fall,  
Nor is't enough his Crown fell from his Head.  
A poor Cloth Suit he wears, nor is that all,  
He acted Poverty, and was poor indeed.   

107.  
Alas! too strictly the great Monarch bears  
Th' old Slavery of this House; for he forsakes  
All worldly Pomp, poor sordid clothes he wears,  
He cuts his Hair, of Friends sad leave he takes.   

108.  
Now he's a Monk; soon after cruel Fate  
Not even a House to cover him allows;  
Then he's a Hermit; in a wretched State,  
Alone, he hides among the shady Boughs;   

109.  
Yet even this cursed Fortune too denies;  
From him the very Earth the Tyrant takes,  
Scarce to the Fugitive a Tree supplies  
A Seat, and in the Air safe Harbour makes.   

110.  
Under a cruel Sky in Wind and Rain,  
With sordid Hair and a more sordid Dress  
He sits; great signs of Grief, but more of Pain  
And extreme Labour his sad Looks express;   

111.  
His Face a little too with Smutch is died,  
Yet in his Looks does Sacred Brightness dwell,  
Nor can his Majesty disguises hide,  
Whose Beams all Darkness and vain Clouds dispel.   

112.  
Some body comes, ye Gods, preserve the King;  
O all is well! the Gods to men are just,  
No Traitor, but a Royalist they bring,  
The valiant Carlos, faithful in his Trust;   

113.  
He happily with Want and Danger pressed  
Is on this Coast by the same Shipwreck cast.  
O happy! O much more than Cromwell blessed,  
On whom ill Fortune so much Honour placed!   

114.  
He informs the King, that all the Country's filled  
With the Enemy's Troops, in every House and Grove  
His Sacred Head at a set Value held  
They seek, and near, now very near they move;   

115.  
What should they do? They from the Danger ta  
Rash, hasty Counsel, yet from Heaven inspired.  
A spacious Oak he did his Palace make,  
And safely in its hollow Womb retired.   

116.  
The Loyal Tree it's willing Boughs inclined.  
Well to receive the climbing Royal Guest,  
(In Trees more Piety than Men we find)  
And it's thick Leaves into an Arbour pressed.   

117.  
A rugged Seat of Wood became his Throne,  
The bending Boughs his Canopy of State;  
With bowing Tops the Trees their King did own,  
And silently adored Him as He sat:   

118.  
Hail, Heaven's Care, and greatest now of Kings,  
A horrid Crowd of saddest Miseries  
From Thee no undecent Tears or Sorrow brings,  
Or makes thy Reason Captive by Surprise.   

119.  
He's truly Great, who could at such a time  
Neither fear Death, nor yet of Life despair.  
This is a Work so Noble and Sublime,  
It chiefly does a Royal Soul declare.   

120.  
If Fortune did your Kingdom basely seize,  
You Fortune's Kingdom from her Nobly gain.  
A Just Revenger: she will now have Peace  
With him who conquered Triumphs does obtain.   

121.  
The Gods are pleased so great a Pair to Join  
But you will be discharged the happy Birth  
Of that fair Year is nigh; from Heaven 'twill shine  
Lighting with happy Stars the peaceful Earth.   

122.  
That glorious Star the shining Pomp does lead  
Than all the starry Host more gay and bright,  
Which thirty Years before did Wonder breed,  
And signalised your Birth with sacred Light.   

123.  
Daring at Noon to exert the Lamp of Night  
Boldly i'th' open Face of Day it rose,  
New Light portending by unusual Light  
Did at Midday Phoebus himself oppose.   

124.  
Now once again with wondrous Light adorn  
The Heavens, rise at noon, Auspicious Star,  
Behold! your Royal Charles again is born  
To vital Life, and to a pleasant Air.   

125.  
Behold! how gently Monck's strong artful Hand  
The labouring Prince delivers, and removes  
All Stops, he best this Art does understand,  
And to deliver troubled Monarches loves.   

126.  
Great generous Prince, return to life again,  
The beauteous golden May does now arrive  
And your Birthday, so long desired in vain;  
Live, Generous Prince; again, Great Monarch, Live.   

127.  
O Joyful, Charming, and Propitious Day!  
Triumph of conquering Peace! when you most blessed  
Of Kings, through London made your glorious Way,  
Midsed of three great Heroic Brothers placed,   

128.  
Attended by a Noble splendid Train;  
So many came this Triumph to behold  
You'd think the whole World London did contain;  
Numberless Leaves in Woods as soon are told.   

129.  
First all cry out, He comes; with one Consent▪  
Long live, King Charles, than the vast Tumult cries;  
Methinks their Joys (which with such noise they vent)  
In Whirlwinds drove, should Foreign Lands surprise.   

130.  
Joys make us mad; Stoics, permit our Cares  
Now to be drowned, and let short cheerful Folly  
At length impose an end to twenty Years  
Of wretched Rage, and dismal Melancholy,   

131.  
Nor will the Island, which all o'er does burn  
With festival bright Flames, now suffer Night  
Succeed this Great Day in its usual Turn;  
All the Island burns, the Seas a round are light.   

132.  
I omit the People's Banquets, Songs and Sports  
Their boundless Laughter and their Tears to write,  
For extreme Joy, which not itself supports,  
With Pleasure gently sheds Tears sweet and white.   

133.  
The Wines which from the Conduits freely run  
Why should I name? Rivers themselves should pour  
(Since the true golden Age is now begun)  
God Wine, far richer than Jove's golden Shower.   

134.  
Now golden Months, and a bright Chain of Years  
Advance. Behold! from part of Heaven serene  
Peace scattering the Clouds at length appears;  
Long Peace which had so long an exile been,   

135.  
Clapping her white Wings Albion she embraced,  
With her returned Shame, Plenty, and Good Fame,  
And Piety in decent Habit dressed,  
And justice, which did Britain long disclaim,   

136.  
Wit, and Good Arts, and charming Liberty  
Which best does flourish under Pious Kings.  
To these the Royal Mother does apply  
As great a Blessing; for Herself She brings.   

137.  
Great Mary comes after a Banishment  
In her own Country long and sad, 'tis strange;  
Love to her Husband was the Crime they meant,  
Now Heaven does Her reward, and Him revenge.   

138.  
Hail, Queen! your Sex's Ornament and Pride,  
And Shame of ours, you both in prosperous Fate  
And adverse decently your Passions guide;  
Your pious Tears Envy in Gods create,   

139.  
Your Husband Charles alone they envy, Heaven  
Thinks him to highly with those Offerings blessed;  
You (while the World's Wheel is a round you driven)  
Remain unmoved, in Virtue's's Centre placed.   

140.  
Now the most just of Kings applies his Mind  
To Government, the gaping Wounds of Wars  
With a sure gentle Hand to close and bind,  
And by degrees to hide the very Scars.   

141.  
To restore Laws their Force and Majesty,  
To polish rusty Manners, and redeem  
The ancient Faith, and sincere Honesty,  
And the old Glory of the English Name:   

142.  
Such is the lately returned Masters Care  
Of his neglected Garden, which he finds  
O'errun with Ruin, he does gently pair  
Luxuriant Plants, the Loose and Wand'ring binds:   

143.  
He the Dejected raises and sustains,  
Much sets, and much extirpates, all's redressed,  
Vast is the Work, but sweet; for all his Pains  
By growing Beauties are repaid and blest.   

144.  
Great King, your Gardens, Towns and Cities are,  
To these you good and artful Culture give,  
All in fair Order you dispose with Care,  
And even the Woods your Favour too receive:   

145.  
You raise their Kingdoms wasted and oppress't  
Young Plants the places of the Old supply,  
Posterity beneath thy Shadows blessed  
(Thou best Protector) will securely lie.   

146.  
To you with cheerful Gratitude they'll owe  
Their Winter Fires, their summer Shades and Ease;  
Their fixed Houses too, and those which flow  
In water, th' Ocean's wooden Palaces.   

147.  
You now perhaps for Future Ages lay  
Of Towns and Fleets Foundations strong and deep,  
Living great Triumphs you will reap, and may  
Sow Triumphs which Posterity shall reap.   

148.  
You forcing first your Way to Honour's name  
Up the steep Hill where Glory does proceed  
To the bright Temples of exalted Fame  
Your Britain's, then from night exempt, shall lead.   

149.  
You shall the Watery World command, the Mild  
And Quiet loose, and bind the raging Sea,  
By the whole World the Ocean's Neptune styled,  
And your three Kingdoms shall your Trident be.   

150.  
What Madness is it, Holland, to contend  
With England for the Watery World's Command?  
That Sceptre nature did to her commend,  
In vain you strive to wrest it from her Hand.   

151.  
With Waves by nature Sovereign Britain's crowned,  
And Amphitrite, which another place  
Only salutes in part, does flow around,  
And her beloved Albion embrace.   

152.  
Can you to th' Empire of the Sea pretend  
Who scarce with artificial Banks resist  
Th' insulting Ocean's Fury, and defend  
Your Towns, with his continual Siege oppress't?   

153.  
The High and Mighty Lords of Bogs and Fens  
(See how Ambitions foolish Hopes aspire!)  
Would on the Sea impose, but this Pretence  
The brave Carolides with Rage does fire.   

154.  
Lo! a Dutch Fleet cutting the empty Main  
Triumphs o'er the absent as a vanquished Foe:  
He'll soon be there, (fierce Dutch) and then in vain  
That you rejoiced, you to your Grief will know.   

155.  
No sooner did swift Fame the rumour raise  
But Valiant james to Sea the Navy led,  
(Profuse of Life, and only fond of Praise)  
With as much Hast as after Fight they fled.   

156.  
When first the English at a distance spied  
The Belgic Fleet, they raised a mighty Shout,  
As when they long in furthest parts reside,  
At their return their Country they salute.   

157.  
The foremost squadron with a prosperous gale  
Brave Rupert led, (his Valour long had won  
Renown by Sea and Land) who did prevail  
And break the Naval Horns o' th' Belgic Moon.   

158.  
Straight james opposes to his trembling Foes  
The middle Squadron, standing high in Sight  
I'th' Royal Charles, a round his Head he throws  
His naked Sword, and Opdam calls to Fight;   

159.  
Nor does brave Opdam the dire Honour shun  
Here fiercely the Dutch Admiral, and there  
The English Admiral the Fight begun,  
And horrid Shows for both the Fleets prepare.   

160.  
Why do you, Opdam, to your Ruin run?  
This frantic Valour Heaven does not allow,  
Is it Ambitious Pride that spurs you on  
To he glorious Death by such a noble Foe?   

161.  
You by a greater Hand shall suffer Death,  
Heaven a Reward for all your Crimes will send,  
And will itself revenge your broken Faith,  
Heaven which always does its Charles defend.   

162.  
The great Ship which of Guns a Hundred bore  
Of men Six Hundred, free from hostile Harms,  
Blown up into the Clouds, did loudly roar,  
Scattering Flames, burnt Fragments, Legs and Arms.   

163.  
Perhaps Just Heaven with true Thunder struck  
The perjured Wretches, with revenging Hand;  
Amboyna's Crimes, and Peace so often broke  
No gentler Expiations did demand;   

164.  
Or else some accidental Fire did move  
The Powder with resistless Fury driven;  
But Chance itself directed from Above  
Must be accounted as the Act of Heaven.   

165.  
A Burning Shipwreck in the Sea does float,  
Terrible even to a pious Foe,  
And to be pitied; but they can denote  
But little time to tender Pity now;   

166.  
Now in both Navies nothing does appear  
But horrid Tumult, all Confusion seems;  
They Board; and the Orange nothing moved with Fear  
By Opdam's Fate, encounters Conquering james.   

167.  
Bold above all, and worthy Opdam's Fate  
Did not the English Bravery require  
The Action of its own Revenge and Hate;  
Down, down it sinks hissing with human Fire.   

168.  
Three Ships the Fame, much by the Goddess Fame  
To be renowned, and three the Dolphin burns  
With a fierce Shower of Sulphur and of Flame,  
Which in a moment Ships to Beacons turns;   

169.  
There seems a Captive Town in Flames by night,  
So many Fires from several Places broke  
At once, such Pyramids of horrid Light  
Pierced through the Clouds and Darkness of the Smoke   

170.  
Who would imagine Fire so great a Sway  
Should in the Empire of the Water bear?  
Justly for Shame concealed the Waters lay,  
They hid with Heaps of scattered Ruin are.   

171.  
With Sail-yards, Masts, Planks, broken Beaks, and Sails  
Ropes, Flags, and Arms, and Carcases of men,  
And men half dead, a Purple Dye prevails  
(Where the Sea's open) and conceals the Green.   

172.  
It were an endless Labour to relate  
All the Ships sunk and taken in the Fight,  
To tell the many kinds of various Fate  
Which were in that one Day exposed to Sight;   

173.  
In various ways Address, and Wit appear,  
Almost Poetical Variety  
Of ways, by which Chance uses Mercy here  
To some, and there to many Cruelty:   

174.  
Three young men Noble both in Parts and Blood  
A brave Example to the World did give,  
Who at once fell as they together stood,  
And by one Bullet did their Death receive;   

175.  
All three almost but the same Carcase were,  
Three Brothers lying in Death's fertile Womb  
Together; Now who would not Fate declare  
Cruel, and Barbarous, in this monstrous Doom?   

176.  
But she is kind withal; for next 'em stood  
(Joys so near Danger trembling I declare)  
The Royal Admiral sprinkled with their Blood,  
As free from Wounds, as he was free from Fear?   

137.  
With greater Vigour he the Foe pursues  
Burning with Grief and new-excited Rage,  
At length the Dutch though truly brave, refuse  
The English, with just Fury fired, to ' engage.   

138.  
The broken Remnants of the cruel Fight  
Fly scattering through the Sea, whom Rhine admits  
At length, and seeing ours pursue their Flight,  
Trembles with Horror, and his Horns submits:   
FINIS.   

An Erratum.  
PAge the 23d. For Sloaths Opium, read Opium of Sloath.