In honour of ABINGDON, OR ON THE SEAVENTH DAY of Septembers' solemnisation 1641.  
BY ●OHN RICHARDSON Sergeant of Abingdon in the County of Berks.  
Printed in the year 1641.   

TO THE WORSHIPFUL the MAJOR, BAILIFFS, and Burgesses of the Burough of Abingdon, in the County of BERKS.  
All Health, Happiness, & Prosperity.  
WOrthy Senators, and loving Master●. It is not unknown unto you, what great deliverances, what rich endowments (both natural and supernatural) and what Haltion days, the propitious hand of mercy hath continually conferred upon this our flourishing Nation. If I should endeavour to set forth the riches, or to give you a List of the number of them, I should swell this small Rivelet, into a boundless Ocean of substance, and matter: and indeed my insufficient undertake were not able to effect such an unconceavable task, and labour (the worth of them being not to be paralleled by any stranger Nation, and their number being not to be cast up by the art of any mental invention) But yet, I must not forget one, (and not the smallest) of our kingdom's benefits; namely, (the unexpected making up of great Britain's dangerous Breaches) The mercy was great, and the miracle wonderful. I need not further enlarge myself, for the several tongues of skilful Divines, have sufficiently dilated the story of this blessed pacification: neither indeed is it the main substance of the business I have in hand. It was the Kings, and court of Parliaments good pleasures to publish, and decree, that, on the seventh day of September last, every parish should keep a Festival (religiously to be performed) in honour of the great Peacemaker. And to show in what manner, fashion, and order it was, in your famous Incorporation, on that day celebrated, I have (in this small Poem) adventured to set forth to the view of this censuring age: And unto your Worships I humbly dedicate the same, whose patronising wings (I trust) will shelter it from the dangerous assaults of any carping, or detracting Zoilus. Your frowns will make me unfortunate; but your smiles will add an encouragement to my weak and illiterate studies. Let this harmless and small Pamphlet find acceptance, and favourable entertainment at your charitable censures, and you shall always find me (as in duty I ought to be)  
Your Worship's obsequious Officer & servant. JO. RICHARDSON.   

In honour of ABINGDON, OR On the seventh day of September's solemnisation. 1641.  

NOt fare from fair 
a OXFORD  Calena placed is  
A pleasant Town, near silver Thamisis;  
Where you may view the ruin'd Battlements  
Of old king Cissas' ancient Monuments  
Where struts th'unparalleled, harmless, threatened Cross  
(Yet lately blest from Babylonish dross)  
Where Aaron's bells in Helen's Church do ring  
Peals, that do bless us from the poisoned sting  
Of death eternal. near the Churchyard Wall  
Stands the fair structure of Christ's Hospital.  
Where Royse his fruitful Nurseries supply  
Great Pembroke's Gardens insufficiency.  
Of things of late, that in this Town befell,  
Something my obliged Muse is forced to tell;  
(Though but in rustic phrase) yet I'll express  
To ABINGDON my love and thankfulness:  
Yet I'll not Barber-like hyperbolise,  
And sell my Customers a Chest of Lies:  
No this I'll banish, thus I will not sin,  
I'll write no more but truth, and now begin.  
Tuesday (the seventh day of this last September,)  
(Which day I'm sure our Children will remember  
Was by the King, and Court of Parliament  
Proclaimed a Festival, and to be spent  
In sacred wise; because 'twixt Scots and Us,  
A joyful peace is now concluded thus.  
So soon this welcomed news was heard off here,  
Grief Shrunk aside, no sorrow did appear;  
Each Man by's Cheerful Visage, you would think  
Nought but Nepenthes liquor than did drink.  
The day being come, (I'll bar to compliment)  
And tell you briefly how the time we spent.  
Ith'dawne of day, before Hyperious son  
Bridled his horses, or his Course begun,  
Old Helen's trolling Bells such peals did ring,  
And to our drowsy ears such tunes did sing,  
(When honest Nick began to sympathize,  
Striking up's Lowbells in melodious wise)  
That we no longer in our beds could lie,  
But each prepared for this day's jubilee.  
To Helen's Courts (i'th' morn) at seven o'th' Clock,  
Our Congregation in great numbers flock:  
Where we till Twelve our Orisons did send  
To him, that did our Kingdom's Quarrels end.  
And there two Sermons two Divines did preach,  
And most divinely gratitude did teach.  
At twelve the Priests lips blest us; home we came,  
And sung sweet Anthems to Iehovah's name,  
At Two again (in Clusters) we did pack,  
And filled the Church as full as it could thwack.  
Till four we stayed, and Sermon being ended,  
Towards our triumphant Cross our course was bended.  
And thus we marched. First with my golden Mace  
('Tis fit I put myself i'th' foremost place)  
I paced along, and after followed me  
The Burgesses by seniority.  
Our Praetour first (let me not miss my Text)  
I think the Clergymen came marching next;  
Then came our justice, with him a Burger sage,  
Both marched together in due equipage:  
The rest o'th' Burghers, with a comely grace,  
Walked two, and two along to th' Marketplace;  
And after them, hundreds both young and old  
Crowding along, that time you might behold.  
(Being come to th' famous Cross, our journey's end)  
Her mounting Stairs in state we did ascend;  
The Clerk was called, and he a Bible took,  
The hundred and sixth Psalm he out did look,  
Two thousand Quoristers their notes did raise,  
And warbled out the great Creators' praise:  
Their thundering Echo gave so great a shout.  
Nicklas and Helen were quite baffled out.  
Over my head I saw King David stand,  
Listening toth'Musick, with his Harp in hand,  
Sure when the Psalmist lived, with's sacred Lyre,  
He seldom played, or sung to such a Choir,  
If either King could speak, he'd swear by's Crown  
No haire-braind Separatist would pull him down:  
For why, this heavenly joy, we had so late,  
Did seem, in part, the Cross to consecrate.  
The Psalm is ended: but the Folk begin  
Louder, and louder cry, God save the KING,  
While Bonfires blaze, their caps are thrown away,  
All to express the triumph of the day.  
The Helvian liquor, and rich Maligo,  
And English beer, our Senate did bestow:  
No cost was spared, and yet I must confess,  
I saw no show of brutish drunkenness:  
Sure some diviner hand, that day did guide  
The Vulgar, that they should not slip aside,  
And f●●ther to set forth a greater joy,  
Out comes the skilful Sergeant Corderoy,  
With's his rattling Drums, and Fife, and Colours flying,  
With's Musketteeres (and yet there's none feared dying)  
Bravely they marched about; but made a stop,  
When they drew near the well known Antelope;  
A fiery peal they rung i'th' Senate Ears,  
(Gallantly done by warlike Musketteeres)  
Anon they made a Guard, my noble Master  
Marched through them to the front, (out yet no faster  
Than my Mace and I) safely did they guard  
The King's Lieutenant home, when in his yard,  
Or Court, another peal they out did thunder,  
Which made the thronging people shout and wonder▪  
Their Muskets having shot out all their powder,  
They made their Throats their Muskets, and shot louder;  
Such was their joy (a Barrel being spent)  
In sober manner every man home went.  
And them with speed followed my Muse and I,  
To learn what further news we could descry.  
And now 'tis supper time. In every street  
Neighbours with Neighbours at some house did meet  
Their moneys joined together for a Feast,  
And each to other is a welcome Guest.  
(Supper being done) anon they begin to sing.  
Some joyful Hymn (a joyful revelling)  
Travel my Muse, go, wander up and down,  
Search into City, Village, Hamlet, Town,  
Tell me at thy return (if thou canst tell)  
Where any Feast with ours could parallel.  
And yet this was not all; for what was spent  
On Irus Crew, made the full compliment  
Of this day's jubilee, this was the best  
Of Sacrifice, this seasoned all the rest.  
Upon this day the ●oore were not neglected,  
Thirteen or Fourteen pounds were here collected▪  
And some (not question) out of Charity,  
In private gave to their necessity.  
Thus have I showed you in a home spun way,  
(Yet true enough) how we this happy day  
Did from the morning to the evening spend;  
But I am weary, and I'll make an end.    

POSTSCRIPT.  

THus to th' general view a Sergeant's quill,  
Ventured at last to show her weaker skill.  
Such friends, that at her Errors will connive,  
Humbly to thank, and gratify she'll strive.  
But let detracting fools about them look,  
Her Master is a subtle Tenter-hook;  
he'll quickly snap them, if such chance to be  
Within the Verge of his authority.  
But if sh'ath written any blameful act,  
'Twas her dull ignorance, and no wilful fact.   
Sic ex officio allusit IOH: RICHARDSON Serviens ad Clavam Burgi de Abingdon in Com● Berks.   
FINIS.