〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 OR, SELECT POEMS: BEING A Compendious and Methodical Remonstrance of such Passages in England, as have been most remarkable, as well before as since His GLORIOUS MAJESTY'S Most Happy and Joyful RESTAURATION. By J. P. Cantabr. — rediviva Monarchia floret Quip Britannorum Jubilaeus adfuit Annus. LONDON, Printed by T. Child, and L. Parry, for Edward Thomas at the Adam and Eve in Little Britain, 1661. To the Reader. THough I have journeyed (as each harsh line tells) Scarce through the Suburbs where choice learning dwells, Yet since men's fury and our Plagues do cease, And Love doth blossom on the stems of Peace, Let these distilled extracted dews engage A relish in the palate of this Age; Till larger Viols full be brought at last, Whereof this piece is served up for a taste; 'Tis the Primitiae of mine unripe years, The tree is known best when its fruit appears. J. P. A brief Relation of many horrid passages of the Rebels, and distress of Loyal Subjects, since the beginning of the late Wars in England; and likewise of the National Changes before his Gracious Majesty's providential and happy Restoration. UNpolisht lines show not those splendent Rays Of Britain's glorious State, * (that is) before the Wars. in former days, Nor can I show, since fate did cloud our bliss, England's most dismal * (that is) since the Wars began. Metamorphosis; I can't define those cruel Murderers Unless I writ in bloody Characters, I must implore Melpomene to come To act a part and write those Traitor's doom, To point out marks and then survey the bounds Of each man's Conscience filled with blood and wounds. Our Joy the fates to brinish tears did turn, When judgement perished then 'twas time to mourn; Men raged like wolves in every field and grove Waiting for blood, without a spark of love Which would enkindle friendship, and increase United spirits in the bonds of peace. What's piety, said some! we'll now possess The Land by force, or by perfidiousness: What perjured villain's treach'ry could not bring Their swords accomplished, made their Martyred King Like a John Baptist; England's bleeding heart When England's head was off, did feel the smart: Our fruits were blasted, brambles grew alone Instead of Cedars, in our Lebanon. Vineyards and palaces lay desolate, No pen could write, no tongue our grief could rate; As fountains flow, blood gushed from our wounds, Grief knew no limits, Sorrow knew no bounds. Our Church defaced, divested of its beauty, As if men's zeal obliged them and their duty, Forced them t' assume that monstrous privilege, Abhoring Idols, but not Sacrilege. it'h midst of tortures, and distracting cares They stroy'd each page of all our public prayers, Hoping to bring our souls into a thrall; But yet in private with a silent call, Each prayer went up to th'Heavens, and did cause Our David saved from Bears and Lions paws. What foul corrupt and treacherous disguise Did cloak their horrid acts? what villainies Did lurk within them, varnished over with many Fine gilded words? Nay there remained not any Of that base crew, which did not always bear In one part Honey, and a Sting elsewhere. They most rebelliously did disenthrone Their Sovereign King: in him they have plucked down True Honour's staff, Religion's prop and gem, His Sceptre ruined, and his Diadem. They butchered him, they brought him to the Bar, As if he'd been some Thief or Murderer. The Royal Prosapie they quite exiled When Charles the First was martyred, and then styled Angliae Tyrannus. I may fitly call All smooth-tongued Traitors, Honey mixed with Gall. How could men act such horrid things? We see What treacherous Infidels these worldlings be. Base rebels ruled the Land, all that seemed good Lay then entombed in Sepulchers of blood. Thus Naboth's blood was treacherously shed, And cursed Ahab after he was dead Enjoyed his vineyard, but 'tis well known how Providence soon rang the changes here below And whispered cheerful tidings to the world; Cromwell that perjured Ahab was soon hurled Into the earth, a place prepared of old To tame his rage, and keep his fury cold. Our proverb here, as 'twas in Babylon, Shall be, How is the Oppressor ceased and gone? Then we perceived that place fulfilled, which says, No bloody man shall live out half his days. Cromwell dies and his sons usurp the Kingdoms. No sooner th' old one dies but young ones come To take possession in their Father's Room, But England still did want its lawful King Some rise, some fall, and thus the changes ring. Then there was a Democracy, such a Government where many rule. When those were ruined, than some had, we know A Common Wealth but we a common wo. Thus we see Plagues and Wars are but the keys Unlocking doors to further Miseries. Meaning Sir George Booth, Sir Thomas Middleton, etc. * Then did a Blazing Star i'th' West appear Whose splendid lustre made our hemisphere Almost a Paradise: some thought the Sun Exchanged his wont course, and had begun Ith' West to rise; all they that loved the Crown, Rather than have the True old Cause go down, Jointly resolved they'd for it live and die; For Earls, Lords, Knights, the whole Nobility Were gathered to a head, in hopes to tame The rebels fury and so win the game, But their sword's edge was turned, all hopes did fail, No strength, no prayers, no wishes could prevail. Justly might daily bread be given to none That cannot truly say, Thy will be done. Our grief o'er night was sent to give us warning To be prepared to meet joy in the morning. For then the blustering North wind cold and fierce Shaking the pillars of our Universe Did drive the storms and dissipate each cloud, The Lord General Monk Duke of Albemarle did then rise in Scotland. Wherein the bloody Rebels sought to shroud: When trouble came in metamorphized times, But Heaven no longer would permit their crimes. No sooner clouds dispersed but there appears A star i'th' North then we cast off all fears, That is the Lord Monk. And by it guided straightway go to meet Charles wain with joy, all the noble fleet: Our glory in the West did set with th' Sun, What Zephyrus could not Boreas hath done. Now this rebellious crew in vain may call For Atlas or Mount Gargarus to fall And cover them, can man himself defend? If sin beginneth sorrow makes an end. A thousand worlds, what's that? can that condole, Or pay a ransom for a Traitor's soul? They can't convey themselves from Heavens view In spite of all that Hell or Earth can do. Each one reproached by th' open world appears Perplexed with grief and labyrinths of tears, Their present bliss did future woe portend, They were but fatted for a slaught'rous end. The sword was furbished, and the trumpet sounds Blood, blood, and death by terrifying wounds, And when they have received their fatal doom Judge you what Epitaphs will fit their tomb; They that escape the thunderbolts of woe Will follow them on earth where ere they go; The darts of envy, stings of all disgrace And vengeance ushers them in every place. The time will likewise come at last when they Shall to the wand'ring fouls become a prey, Though their fields were not like Mount Gilboa Accursed, nor turned into a Golgotha; Ezek. 21.26, 27. Yet was their Crown * thrice overturned, and then Restored again unto the best of men, Whose right it is; although none other things Can quench their thirst, unless the blood of Kings, And banishment to recompense their Love, Although the Serpent snared the modest Dove, Though England was like a Jerusalem, A second Sodom, though our Diadem Lay dashed upon the ground, we made their food That built their Cities up with sacred blood; Yet now once more we'll shout for joy, and sing With Lute & Harp; since CHARLES our gracious King Hastes to the British shore, let Organs play, Let Trumpets sound, Bells ring, keep Holiday. This Monarchy the world can't parallel, All candid virtues, Love and Friendship dwell In every corner of the perfumed Earth Garnished with all the quintessence of mirth, Which even as Cordials do revive men's hearts, And all their faculties: Here is no darts Of hatred, malice, and of treachery Shot to each other; But reality And true affection is the spotless Robe Which decks this polished, and effulgent Globe; Each Loyal Subject renders just and true Tribute to Caesar, Honour where 'tis due. Thus in due time th' Almighty, when he pleases, Heals all our wounds, and cures all our diseases: He hath accomplished our desires in peace, Now doth the Rebel's rage and our woe cease. I knew our sorrows to our gain would tend, As means accomplishing an happy end; Floodgates of joy are opened, and we know Streams of felicity on us shall flow. England through bribes was ruined, but once more, Our King by judgement shall our bliss restore. The foregoing Copy PARAPHRAZED Into a most Compendious Rapture IN a Charybdis lay this fatal Realm, A bloody Ocean did it overwhelm; We were made slaves to please men's crooked wills, Which said they'd heal us all with wholesome pills, And we, what game so ere was played, should win, But yet their sweet baits had sharp books within. Those horrid Plot-contrivers pleased to term, Their Agents Saints, and they themselves t' affirm The Keepers of our Liberties, 'tis true They kept them close, nay, imprisoned them too, So we could not enjoy them; they profess They walked in paths of truth and righteousness; Yet had of Justice neither branch nor root, Walk in't, that is, they tread it underfoot. Most horrid villainies were in our City Wrought by a dangerous, yet called Safe Committee. Each Supreme Head was like the cunning fox, Wolves were made shepherds t' oversee the flocks. What strange game's this that Kings must not stay in't? How is it possible that we should wined, When nothing's left but packs of crafty Knaves, Pikes, clubs to kill's, and spades to dig our graves. We that escaped all in Booths did dwell, When they were ruined by each infidel, Then we no longer could inhabit here Till Monck did like a Star i'th' North appear Enlightening England, which so long had been Dark as a dungeon, like a jail within. That Blazing Comet which did soar so high Seemed to portend our future misery, But turned to ignis fatuus at last, The ravening pack of bloodhounds being fast Linked up with chains, and others noosed with cords; Thus ends the Glory of their upstart Lords. That grand Sorites of those mercies we Received from heaven's liberality Should ravish all our thoughts, and wean our joys From trivial objects, and inferior toys. Now tyranny shall cease, and peace shall reign The wheel's turned round, and in its place again; For now their Land-Lord's come to's pleasant Mount, The Steward calls the Rebels to account, And since none dare his Majesty control Perfumes of pleasure do dilate my soul, Filled with delight; an Ecstasy of joy Shall make men cry aloud, Vive Le Roy. Upon His GLORIOUS MAJESTY'S Most Happy Retire into ENGLAND. LEt's bid adieu to that black dismal age Wherein did murder and Rebellion rage, (that is) In Cromwell. Mars, Nero, Judas centred all in * one Who would have Britain made a Babylon. But now our stormy Winter's overpast, Our sighs and tears turned into joy at last, Our confused Chaos brought to a right line, Our clouded bliss doth now begin to shine, Our figtrees bud, our clust'ring vines increase, England first blossoms, then yields fruits of peace. Our Jubilee returns, our Glorious Lamp Spreads its effulgent beams and doth encamp Our rural plains, which the right Heir inherits; These cordials add life to our dullest spirits. Each glittering Star, whose aspects like darts pierce Our foggy air and cloudy Universe, Ushers the Sun in its Horizon, going To meet Charles Wain with glory overflowing. Hark how each Trumpet joyful triumphs sounds, Since Peace inhabits our rich Eden's bounds The silent Fishes wanton in the deep, Wild beasts wax tame, all fury's laid asleep, The chirping Birds do with their warbling throats Give such an Emphasis to their sweet notes As ravish Souls, all former hideous cries Are changed into harmonious melodies, Perfumed with pleasure, sugared with delight, Since Britain's Glory now enjoys his Right. The florid Spring with liberal increase Augments our joy once more revived in peace; The lofty Mountains, Valleys, our whole Globe, Completely decked with a Majestic Robe; All things do smile, since virtues sacred gem Revives our late oppressed Jerusalem. In which few lines I must acknowledge this, There's no Auxesis but a Meiosis. Nature's whole frame resolves to welcome home Charles our Great Monarch, Joy of Christendom. Whose merits claim an everlasting story, Which is his own and also England's Glory; His Coronation day we'll solemnize With joyful triumphs and Doxologies. heavens prosper him with trophies of renown, Then turn his earthly t' a celestial Crown. An Elegy upon the Death of that most eminent and Gracious Prince HENRY Duke of GLOUCESTER APproach Melpomene, I must implore Thine aid t' assist me to unlock the door Of my imprisoned Genius, cold, benumbed, And slumbering in my half dead Corpse entombed. My brain's so frozen that it stops the stream Of my affections, and an Icy cream Doth Christallize my tears; I sigh, I mourn, And melt away as metals in an urn, Perish I must like carcases enshrined In monuments, unless I speak my mind. Phoebus withdraws his beams, his race is run, His course is finished, and no more our Sun Sends forth its candid aspects, but doth call The lesser lights t' attend his funeral. Then pardon weakness, I must beg supplies To be my conduct at such obsequies, To guide my steps, whose infant years do want A crutch to hold by; I am bound to grant That my dumb lips and tongue-tied wit affords Nothing but folly and abortive words, Therefore my Muse assist and help to rouz My drowsy faculties, and randivouz My frozen fancy and disbanded spirits, Because he's dead whose vast unfathomed merits Invite thy help to show them to the world, That they may be recorded, and enrolled In everlasting registers, for he Did ne'er deserve a blot of Infamy; Woe mixed with tears would move an Adamant, Burden our souls which as in travail pant. My mind's blocked up with grief, I can't restrain My soul from sorrow, nor my heart from pain; For we were guided by that sparkling Star As Cynosures direct each Mariner But ridged fate deprived us of those rays But yet we still can whisper out his praise. He was a modelled pattern so divine, That all might square their actions to his line, His heart bedecked with flourishes of Grace And beauty's picture limned in his face; Nursed with the milk of sacred Eloquence, In's brain lay treasured wit; the quintessence Of heavenly gifts was centred in that Gem Whose virtues claimed a costly Diadem. My tongue must needs interpret all my fears, Mine eyes are limbicks to extract my tears. Since pale faced Death surprised and snatch away A Jewel decked with wise Apollo's ray; Judgements Grand Atlas, and support; but sure That famous structure cannot long endure Whose chiefest Pillar's fallen; how soon are we Almost astonished and amazed to see The hungry Earth swallow up the best of Men, All things that smiled begin to mourn again, The busied fowls began to build their nests, But now they shroud their heads within their breasts, Each lesser bird recalls her pleasing note, And bids it harbour in her silent throat, Under each branch they rest, and there they grieve, Lament, and seem to wish they could relieve England's necessity, and want of him Whose death brought sorrow and made each eye dim, Drowned in tears; what soul would it not pierce To view a ruin'd Land, a Universe Clouded with folly? Reason being dead Our blessed estate is metamorphosed. Yovogest die first, Nature and reason jar, Hysteron proteron seems irregular. Nay all things change their wont course, the woods Cast of their florid vestures, and the floods Do sometimes rage, and then stand still to view How Phoebus is eclipsed, the earth would show Itself unwilling t' inter him whose breath Was stopped i'th'morning of his age, by death, How pale the Mountains look? how fierce and grim The craggy rocks appear? me thinks they seem To burst into a sweat; Had I my will I'd die with grief like Niobe, and fill Thy tomb with tears; or had I Argus' eyes Each one should help to weep thine obsequies; Thus men shall say, and give thee but thy due Here lies great Caesar, and Maecenas too. Though Nature strives to make me cast an oar Into my boat, and launch out from the shore Into a Sea of tears, yet Reason says Th' unruly waves shall cease, the fates shall raise No more shipwrecking storms; but shall conspire To make that brinish raging Sea retire. we'll not be still in Sorrow's bounds confined, Though some were martyred, some the earth enshrined Yet most choice souls still uphold the name Renowned and Crowned with sempeternal fame. Britain's bright splendour shall not melt away, After a shower comes a clearer day, Retreats sometimes Deathlike a trumpet sounds, And is most tragical with blood and wounds; But he whom we lament did live in peace, And so he died whose bliss may never cease, For he that sent him will to him apply A Crown of Glory to Eternity. Shall we say, Stay, when Heaven bids him come? Or shall we murmur if Heaven calls him home? Oh no! forbear, for he's not dead, but gone T' inhabit life and true perfection; Here upon earth each echoing Bell doth toul, And sounds a farewell to his pious soul; In heaven Cherubims with sweet Anthems cry Welcome Choice soul, we'll sing thy Lullaby. Shall we be grieved or sorrowful at this, Because he's crowned with everlasting bliss, And freed from this perverse world's slavish fears, From anguish, sorrow, and distracting cares? Shall we despair? can't Providence afford Blessings more choice by speaking half a word? No fears shall therefore my firm hope destroy, Neither anticipate my future joy: Blame me not, Reader, if I rather choose To close this Poem with a cheerful Muse. AN EPITAPH Upon the most Illustrious Prince HENRY Duke of GLOUCESTER. WIthin this Monumental fabric lies A pearl whose rays did dazzle each man's eyes. Whose vigorous Lustre did extract and draw The subtle Vapours from our heads, and thaw Each Frozen brain, whose Icy drops did turn To tears, to fill each Vacuum of this Urn. In him was Virtues microcosm heaped, In him Austria Courts of Justice kept: 'Cause his unparallelled endowments were Perfumed with Heavenly odours, and too rare, Too great, too good to beautify this Nation, Therefore did he remove from's Earthly Station, To dwell 'mongst Cherubims, that Glorious Train, For he that sent him, called him back again. Palma repressa resurgit. AN ELEGY Upon the Death of that most Renowned and Virtuous Lady MARY Princess of AURANGE. OUR flashy sparks of joy are quenched with tears, My soul embarked with grief, like Atlas, bears A Firmament of sorrow; we'll no more Anchor our leaking Vessels near the shore, But rush into the gulf, and there shall lie The Muse's flames of Ingenuity, Striving with boisterous waves; yet if Heaven please To fuel them with Faith which may appease All wrath, and make us unto bliss arrive, Then shall triumphant joy once more revive. But since my tears are broached, I can't refrain From sighs, 'tis hard to bridle and restrain The course of Nature, Is the Phoenix gone From our Arabia, leaving us alone Like Pelicans in deserts? she's enshrined, But leaves her fragrant spices still behind. There was in her a pearly Cabinet, A costly Treasury in order set With pure refined sweets, enriched with gems, And garnished with enamelled Diadems. I mean her sacred gifts, transcendent merits, Who now eternal joy and bliss inherits: we'll keep the records of her memory, And own all virtue as her Progeny. Me thinks I hear the thundering Heavens groan, The whispering air doth breath sighs, and bemoan The world's lamented loss: methinks I hear Each groan with echoes doubled in mine ear. A Cloudy darkness over shades our Globe, The sky divested of each Starry Robe, Each spangled dazzling Lamp, in black appears, Heaven seems to mourn, and showers down its tears. The more I weep, those tears which I effuse, Water the Garden of my doleful Muse; And all my dried up faculties do nourish, ('Tis known all watered Plants will spread and flourish) Therefore I Journey further, and my Quill, Though weary, makes a further progress still. I can't detract my thoughts, I must retain A true Idea of her in my brain; Whose dust shall be dissected into pure, Nay golden Atoms; who 'mongst men can cure Great Britain's wounds, or bring a remedy To a diseased Widowed Monarchy, Whose feeble head can scarce bear up the Crown; Two branches of our Laurel are blown down By Heaven's breath, which doth another bring Out of that flock where blooming virtues spring. Thus we see how the scales of Providence Weigh out each mortals fate, which humane sense Cannot foresee: all honours, riches, health, Consume and vanish as it were by stealth; Fame is a shadow, each accomplishment Is but a separable Accident. Therefore let's trust in him who can turn gall, Woes, Plagues, and chast'ning to a cordial; we'll Wave the Ocean of grief and fears, The flux and reflux of this Sea of tears, For now methinks the circled Rainbow says, Our tears shall not another deluge raise. She wading through a Brinish Sea, went where She now doth shine in a Seraphic Sphere; She passed the lower Olympic Pyramid, To th' Empyreum with transcendent bliss; Let's with Sabaean incense Crown her Hearse, Whose spreading fame perfumes the Universe. A POEM Concerning those Fanatic Contrivers of the late Horrid and Bloody Plots against his SACRED MAJESTY, etc. Being Providentially discovered and prevented. WHat still perplexed with Rebels? what? still bound In sorrow's chains? lay balsam to the wound, And fix a period to our soul piercing woe; Can florid Roses bud, or Cedars grow Where thorns and brambles are? the choking weeds Devoured the Crop, and spoiled the choicest seeds. But now we'll fan and winnow Chaff from Corn, None but selected Flowers shall adorn Our Polished Eden; all the spurious race Shall be cut off, or banished with disgrace. We from a British, they a Brutish line Deduce their Pedigree; we must refine Such drossy metals; It a hazard were For us to dwell where Asps and Scorpions are. Though you pretend, and Piety profess, Your Actions say you're guilded Rottenness. You seemed to be adorned, as if you were Gods Servants, with his Livery, but are Like Hypocrites with Leopard's spots, and blurs, Like whited walls, and painted Sepulchers. Thiefs, Rebels, Murderers, will soon be ganging To ruin those that saved them first from hanging: Ingrateful Worldlings! did our teeming Earth Give to this sordid Hellbred crew a Birth? Can you expect your fury long should last, Whose Wind-mill-brains are turned with every blast? And like the Weathercock with every wind; Who for your wavering and unconstant mind, With all your Treacherous deal, i'll compare To Janus, and Chameleons in the air. That Honour which you to your King profess, Your hearts allow not, but your tongues express: How can you Plot such cursed Villainy 'Gainst him, when none's so merciful as he? Is this th' requital you on him bestow, Who might have looked with a severer brow? But scorns revenge, obeying him that says, Vengeance is mine, I'll recompense their ways. Methinks I see in your fierce Cruelty, Insulting Herod's bloody Tyranny. You Swore you'd ruin Church, and State withal, Never were Murderers so Tyrannical. Slaying Men, Women, Children, who but them Should make the world a stroyed Jerusalem? So they might but their sovereign disenthrone, They'd cross the torrid, and the frozen Zone. They'd fear no swallowing gulfs, nor blasting winds, No storms nor tempests should disturb their minds; They'd bridle Fortune, and beat back the thunder, Batter stone walls, burst iron chains in sunder. But Providence, and heavens impartial eye Would not bring us to such Adversity: Their fiery darts are Quenched, each Temple stands Not yet destroyed by Sacrilegious hands. Their horrid Plots are crossed, cursed and confounded, Their hopes are Shipwrackt, all their Forces wounded▪ This dismal, Hellish Plot that's now betrayed, Was but a noozing snare which they had laid To catch themselves, who now may weep and howl, Like Perillus in's Brazen Bull; their soul May grieve to think how all their winged fame Is fled away, and now their Noisome name, Odious to all men, must for ever be Branded with Characters of Infamy. When Overton is Overtured, and all The rest that have been most Tyrannical, Then we'll rejoice in truth and peace, we'll render True Loyalty to our true Faith's Defender. In reditum Serenissimi Regis nostri CAROLI II. Felicissimè reducis. AUreum tandem properavit aevum, Quisque prestanti procreatur astro, Fata subrident meliorà nobis Fronte politâ; Dissipat Sidus Boreale nubes, Turpium crassos scelerúmque nimbos, Stricta vaginis latitant atrocis Tela ruinae. Lauriger Phoebus radias micantes Sparsit in cunctos alacres Britannos; Interit Sevus Nero: jam crueris Flumina stagnant. Sponte, Neptunus pelagi furentis Rector, Inspicet fidei tenaci, Turbidis nondum Gelidae tumescant Fluctibus undae. Nostra Regalis fugiat carina Prorsus ingentes scopulos; nec ipse Naufragus sit Rex Carolus serena Gloria mundi. Dirigat Nautam Cynosura fulgens, Obrutus nec sit graviore Syllâ, Mersa nec forsan rapidâ Charybdi Inclita puppis. Aeolus ventos reprimat minaces, Voce diffundant tacitâ susurros; Affluat nobis pretiosa velis Aura secundis. Sit throno noster Carolus beatus, Aureum dextro positúmque sceptrum; Sit stolis cultus, caput & corusco Stemmate cinctum. Pace tunc omnes placidâ triumphent, Quisque tunc plaudens statuat trophaea: Belluae gaudent volucrésque amicti Gramine montes. Terra, florentes inarata fruges Pinguis, ut gramen segitémque fundet, Incidat Nemo miseri cruento Gurgite damni. Splendidus nunc sol nitidè resurgit; Nobiles sanè meritò remordent Perfidos, ut pax modò Gente nostrâ Florida regnet. Est Deus in monte. TUrgida cùm rapidos commovit turbatumultus, Iran cùm fastu stygiam vomuêre tumenti, Dextram protendit Rector radiantis Olympi, Fulmina fortunae jactans, rutilísque sagittis▪ Vulnere dispersos fatali perdidit hostes; Nec pestes patitur posthac, regnante tyranno. Est Deus in Monacho. STellato Numen Monachum splendore coronet, Quòd, quae decrevit, peragit miracula, Coelum; O mihi post nullos haeros memorande! manebit Prorsus in aeternum meritò Indelebile nomen. Stridula vivaces cantabunt organa laudes, Laurigeri stirpis nunquam monumenta peribunt. Est Deus in Monarcho. VIvat Rex, regnet Carolus quasi Magnus Apollo; Ac vigeat sceptrum, vortex Diademate cinctus Fulgeat; Et Libani fructus, florésque virescent; Florida purpurei frondescent gramina veris, Aurea profundis jactantur munera gazis Quippe tryumphantem decoravit Gloria REGEM. Upon his GRACIOUS MAJESTY'S Most Joyful and Glorious CORONATION. WEre my lips swelled in drops of Helicon, And deluged in those streams, this Theme alone Would drink the watery dews, though they were all Glossed with their tincture and Rhetorical. Now since our tedious gloomy winter's frowns, And storms of woe are gone, the spring-time Crowns Our works with vernal smiles; the day is come That gives Great Britain's Crown a welcome hope TO its Royal Seat, with such pomp, lustre, glory, As th' amazed world may ground each lofty story Upon that Thesis, which I can't erect Within the confines of mine intellect. Much less expressly show what Gallantry Ushers and Guards his Sacred Majesty, At this great days Solemnities; each gem And ruby shines in's pearly Diadem. Attendants do their brandishments display, As if they had surprised Jove of is array; How can my mean endeavours then aspire The Culmen of that richly wrought attire? Nor can my towering thoughts span those vast bounds Of this days matchless splendour, which redounds To England's Glory; my Quill can't explain The radiant lustre of that Noble Train, But should my barren pasture yield no fruit, Well might I be recorded for a Mute. Showers o'er night cleared Heavens face, A Description of the weather. that then It might send brighter aspects unto men; As soon as night took wing and fled away, The morn avvaked and budded into day, Then th' early Larks, and all the warbling Choir, Did sing melodious Anthems, and inspire With harmony that Great days timely birth, Whose shrill-tongued echoes overflowed the Earth. Then did Aurora with her morning smiles, Open her Rosy casements to these Isles, And in the People's Universal view, Unlocked her Cabinet of Rubies too. Then Sol (whose heat and vigour ratifies The mislie fogs, and clears the cloudy skies) Shot all his rays to crispe the frizzled air, All that day long he road in's stately Chair. The sky did need no beauty-spots to grace Add show the lustre of its smiling face; Nor did it wear a Mask, but when ' 'ttwas late, Jove called a Synod, and the Heavens sat In Counsel, then immediately did join In triumphs with us, and the cheerful Nine; Th' Olympic spheres were put in tune, to show How thunder answered our great guns below, Whose intermixed Volleys, and shrill tones, Were not like doleful murmur and groans; Light'ning were Heavens Bonfires to our view, All things did triumph, and had Trophies too. Since Supreme providence hath made Peace rise, Let not the Adamantine destanies Send us Usurping Tyrants any more, To gild their Swords in Royal Blood and Gore. If Iron Sceptres come to rule again, Swords points must write the Tragic Dooms of men. But Heavens grant those days may never come, To lead our Christian Kings to Martyrdom. Now we'll wipe all our floating tears away, Shall their drops count each minute of the day? No, nor impetuous Rebellion rage, Nor swell hereafter, for our golden age Yields bloomy joys; that day of Coronation Shall be observed throughout each Generation: The rest I leave for others to rehearse, Gracing the Fabric of the Universe. FINIS.