A panegyric ON HIS EXCELLENCY The LORD GENERAL GEORGE MONCK: Commander in Chief of all the Forces IN ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, AND IRELAND.  
LONDON, Printed for Richard Marriot in Fleetstreet, 1659.   

A panegyric ON HIS EXCELLENCY The Lord General GEORGE MONCK.  
IF ENGLAND'S bleeding Story may transmit  
One renowned Name to Time, Yours must be it:  
Who with such Art dost heal, that we resound▪  
Next to our Cure, the glory of our Wound.  
Thou savest three shattered KINGDOMS gasping Life,  
Yet from our desperate Gangrene keep'st thy Knife▪  
And though each searching Weapon rallied stand,  
And all Fates keen artillery wait at hand:  
Thou curbest those Terrors from inflicting harms;  
Swords are Thy Instruments, but not Thy arms.  
Thou with Thy Pause and Treaty routest Thy Foes;  
And Thy tame Conference a Conquest grows.  
With the Great Fabius then advance Thy bays,  
Who sinking Rome restored by wise delays.  
Let other Victorscount their Dead, and lay  
Sad Wreaths of conscious laurel, where they slay;  
Whilst Thou alone Dry Trophies dost assume;  
They know to Kill, but Thou to Overcome.  
Hence, though some foaming spleens and working hates  
Make Thee the Samson to our city Gates;  
At length Thou introducest cooler Votes,  
To be the temper to impetuous Throats.  
Choosing that safe Sobriety of thy way,  
Not to Eject their fury, but alloy.  
With like inspired Prudence didst Thou guide  
Thy doubtful Answers, when their fears applied  
Their subtlest Emissaries to disclose,  
Which struggling Cause Thy Courage would oppose.  
When though Thy innocent breast resolved stood  
The steady bulwark of the General Good;  
Thy then unripe Affairs left them such scope,  
That who deserved no help, might still have hope.  
The Superstitious thus returned of old  
From their consulted Oracles, that unfold  
Two-handed Fates, which when they false appear,  
Delphos spoke true, false the Interpreter.  
Apollo's awful Tripos would not lie,  
Yet the Receivers sense might misapply.  
So Thy Consultors from their proud hopes fell:  
They gave Delusion, Thou gav'st Oracle.  
Hence secret trains and snares Thy steps pursue▪  
So dangerous 'mongst the False 'tis to be True.  
Return, Return! and shroud Thy envied Name,  
In those glad Roofs thy sole arm skreened from flame.  
Thus threatened TROY no stronger Fortress seeks▪  
Than her Palladium, 'gainst the treacherous Greeks.  
And that Palladium ne'er was seen no more,  
When once by Rapine from the Temple tore.  
What she to Troy, Troy did to her become,  
And was the Pallas to Palladium.  
Thence did their mutual Protections start▪  
Together both, neither were safe apart.  
So Thou without Us safe canst hardly be,  
And we despise all safety without Thee.  
Return, Return! Enshrine Thy Glories here;  
Thou, whom both Seas and Shore do love and fear.  
'Midst Triumphs great, like those, Thy valour stood,  
Whilst Holland's faithless Gore did stain the flood:  
When Thy bold Shot made their proud Vessels creep▪  
And cleanse their guilty navy in the Deep.  
Let Land and Waters yet thy Deeds proclaim,  
Till Nature mints more Elements for Thy FAME.  
FINIS.