CHARITY TRIUMPHANT, OR THE VIRGIN-SHEW: Exhibited on the 29th. of October, 1655.  
Being The LORD mayor DAY.  
LONDON, Printed for Nath. Brooks, at the Angel in Cornhill, 1655.   

To the Right Honourable, Alderman DETHICKE, Lord Major of the City of LONDON.  
My Lord,  
VIEW the Roman State under which Government soever you please, whether in the beginnings, under many happy KINGS, or in its change from Monarchy to Democracy, or in its little resurrection to Aristocracy, under the Marian and Scyllan Tyranny, or then in its exaltation into Empire, and absolute sovereignty; you shall always find every Age, and sort of governors, adorning and exemplifying their several Authorities by Anniversary shows and Pomps to the People, who are naturally pleased with such gleams and Irradiations of their Superiors, and gains at once Honour to the Magistrate and effects content to the People.  
The severest and in other matters most rigid Policies or commonwealths( to wit the Spartan, and Lacedamonian, and Athenian) smoothed the rugged Front of their power in this Punctilio and reason of State, and Plato and Aristarchus, and Aristides( though never so just, never so strict) indulged always these Ingratiations to the People. It is the public Banquet, whereunto you invite the Commons of the City; who expect and rejoice always to see some of their money spent upon themselves, and so for Recreations, and other Permissions of supreme Governors, it was always thought a piece of prudential and warrantable licence and wise dispensation, to let the people spend their own time, and some of their money, where they pleased, especially in innocent and delightful diversions. I cannot here set forth the reason of the late extinguishing these civic Lights, and suppressing the Genius of our Metropolis, which for these Planetary Pageants and Praetorian Pomps was as famous and renowned in foreign Nations, as for their faith, wealth, and valour. The ingeny, Artifices, Mysteries, shows, Festivals, Ceremonies, and Habits of a State, being amongst the Decora, and unseparable Ornaments of it. Take away the Fasces, and the Consuls are no more feared, but scorned; Let fall the Noble Sword of the City in any place, and you are sure the Mayor has there no privilege, no Livery, no distinguishing of Societies, and Fraternities, no Caps( in days of old) no Prentices, no trunks, no Citizens, no Robes no Judges, no Maces, no magistrate: And so for Anniversary shows, and harmless and merry Recreations, without a moderate permission of them, very little content to the multitude. Right Honourable, I therefore, being the Son of a Citizen, Congratulate this Return of the City-Gallantry and manifestation of her several splendours in your Majority to your honoured self, it being most proper that the lost Beauty and Magnificence of the place, should be restored by One( if I mistake it not) a brother of the prime Company, and therefore most fit to lead, that so it being begun in the Virgin society; it may like vestal fire never go out: And because the scenical Contrivement & Pageant Bravery is but an Ephemeron, or diurnal birth and issue of one day, and so Exit till the next year. Poetical fancy does beg leave to supply that defect, and to enlarge the glory of your day( my Lord) to the period of your year; And because many a far off will be glad to hear what they could not see, and some would willingly retain and keep, what this day was seen by them. This short Poem shall be to those that saw it, a Remembrancer, or representation, and to the remote wellwishers of the city's honour, a written Pageant or Pegma Metricum, and so I address myself( my Lord) to your Virgin, whom I shall labour to make as famous, as your Honour has made her Dowagable; and by this Paper-work to give a procession unto your Nobleness and Piety beyond the Demeans of Cheapside.  
Your honour's Servant, Emd. Gayton.   


NO more let Perseus Noble Story  
Carry away the public Glory:  
Nor let Andromeda the fairt,  
With this our Virgin star compare,  
Nor Let St. George( though England's Saint)  
Of his Grand Legend longer vaunt:  
Nor let the Maid, whom Dragon green,  
( The fairest Monster ever seen)  
For killing Maids, and such prey stealing,  
If we may credit Doctor Heyling.  
Let not that Maid, nor any other,  
( Always except the Virgin-Mother)  
Stand in so great Italicâ  
As does the Virgin of this day.  
That Virgin Sacrifice that died  
With veil unveiled, and Zone untied, 
[ jepth.]   
Upon her father's Oath ill made,  
And worse performed, aside belayed;  
And that of Iphigenia  
( If those be two) they must give way:  
And Lipsius-Virgin in his Gown  
Is by our Virgins dress put down.  
( Alas his Gown could nought procure,  
Critics and Poets still are poor!)   

See how she rides! See how she comes!  
Alarmed in with Fifes and drums:  
Not Venus with the bribed Winds  
Blowing her Hair( the Snare of minds)  
And all her fluttring blind array  
Of Cupids, that forerun the way;  
Not in her richest Pearly Shell,  
Nor yet Proserpina for Hell  
When the great Lord of wealth( her love)  
Did all the entrails of his Earth improve,  
To catch( the not so taken Maid)  
In's Ebon Car made Light afraid,  
And richest Stones, benighted day,  
Did so much Gallantry display:  
As when our Virgin and her Pages,  
The Pride of this, the talk of Ages  
That are to come, did pass the street  
In satin all from head to feet;  
‛ And every Virgin who stood by,  
‛ wished secretly, O would that I  
‛ Were of the mercer's Company!   

The sight was rare, but envious clouds,  
The glorious day in showers beshrowds;  
And Winds in Malice, or in Love  
To sport or court her highly strove.  
Avaunt you hollow Issue of the Earth,  
And mountains vast unruly Birth,  
Play with our naval sights and toss 
The Ci●y Barges in the Thames.   
The Barges; there's the smaller loss:  
Prostrate yourselves before that Barge  
That carries now the Cities Charge;  
Those red white streamers now are come,  
And do command you to be dumb; 
The Lord mayor's Barge.   
Or if you'll blow, your breath dispose,  
To fill them like the red white Rose:  
That all the azure Thames may tell,  
The Mayor is coming by the smell. 
All the rest of the Barges in blue.   
Will you not cease? then Canons roar,  
And fire them off from Lambath shore.  
The Winds they are but four, and you  
Are thirty strong, in open view. 
Thirty Canons went off.   
Gunner the Lintstock straight prepare,  
And we will thin foul winds to air:  
Or if our Virgin do desire,  
we'll turn you all from air to fire.  
When so translated you will be  
More like unto Virginity.  
For Rain, and Earth, and Winds are gross,  
But rarified they lose their dross:  
Then you will proper Convoys be  
For this great Act of Charity:  
Which is of Love a grateful strife,  
To deck a Virgin for a Wife?  
And by the Trophies of an hour,  
To make her a perpetual Dower.  
‛ Which makes the Virgins who stood by  
‛ Wish heartily, O would that I  
‛ Were of the mercer's Company.   
FINIS.