VERSES Made upon the several FESTIVALS OF NOVEMBER, And Remarkable Days in the Whiggish-Calender, By Way of Remembrance to all Loyalists, and Caution to all Turks, Infidels, Jews, and other Dissenters.  By Merlynnius Redivivus. 
THou Sun that showest the Days, look down and see  
A Month more shining by Events than thee:  
Departed Saints and Souls, Signed it before, 
All Saints All Souls.   
But now the Living Sign it more.  
Bate us that Ushering Curse so dearly known,  
And then the Month is all our own:  
So at the first Darkness was thrown about,  
The unshaven Earth and Light was thence struck out. 
The 3d day, The Assembly of the unhappy Parliament.   
Draw the first Curtain, and the Scene is then,  
A triple State of culled and trusted Men.  
Men, 
Rump.  in whose hands 'twas once to have given us more  
Than our bold Fathers ever asked before.  
Who had they used their Prince's Grace, had got  
What no Arms could, and theirs shall not  
What more than Witchcraft did our Blessing curse,  
And made the Cure make evils worse;  
'Tis the third day, throw in the blackest Stone,  
Mark it for cursed, and let it stand alone.  
But hold! speak gentler things, this fourth was seen,  
The softest Image of our Beauteous Queen: 
The 4th day, The Birth of the Princess Mary.   
Bring me a Lamb not used to Elder Food,  
That hath as yet more Milk than Blood,  
That to the Honour of this early Bride,  
like Thetis joined to Peleus' side:  
Some tender thing may fall, though none can be,  
So white so tender as is she,  
Whilst we at home our little Turf debate,  
She spreads our Glories to another State.  
Next view a Treason of the worst intent, 
The 5th day, delivery from the Gunpowder Treason.   
Had not our own done more than others meant.  
Religion is the thing both sides pretend,  
But either to a different end;  
They out of Zeal labour to rear their own,  
These out of Zeal to pull all down:  
Bless us from these as them; But yet compare  
Those in the Vault, these in the Chair,  
Though the just Lot of unsuccessful sin,  
Fix theirs without, you'll find worse heads within.  
But hark! what Thunder's that, 
The 12th day King Charles the First, Victory at Branford.  who those Men  
Flying towards Heaven, but falling down again?  
Whose those black Corpse cast on the guilty Shore,  
'Tis sin that swim'd to its own Door.  
'tis the third scourge of Rebels, which allowed  
Our Army like the Prophet's Cloud,  
Did from an handful rear, until at last  
Their Sky was by it overeast.  
But as Snakes hifs after they have lost their Sting,  
The Traitors called this Treachery in the King.  
Away and view the Graces and the Hours, 
The 16th day The Birth of our Gracious Queen Mary King Charles the First his Queen.   
Hover aloof, and dropping mingled Flowers  
Upon a Cradle where an Infant lay,  
More Grace more Goddess than were they.  
Thrice did they destiny her to pass the Seas,  
Love made her thrice to passed with case:  
To raise a strength of Princes first, and then  
To raise another strength of Men;  
Most fruitful Queen, we boast both Gifts, and thus  
The Day was meant to you, the Joy to us.  
Next to this Mother stands a Virgin Queen, 
The 17th day The beginning of Queen Elizabeth's Reign.   
Courting and Courted wheresoever seen.  
The People's Love first from her Troubles grew,  
Her Reign then made that Love her due:  
That comely Order that did then Adorn,  
Both Fabrics now by Factions Torn.  
That form by her allowed of Common Prayer,  
Is styled now, Vain beating of the Air:  
How do they Honour, how forsake her Crown,  
Her times are still cried up, but practised down.  
Reach last the whitest Stone the World yet knew, 
The 19th day The Birth of our Gracious King Charles the First, that blessed Martyr.   
White as his Soul to whom the day is due;  
Son of the Peaceful James, how is he blest  
With all his Blessings, but his rest;  
Though undeserved times call all his Powers,  
And Troubles season other Hours,  
Let this day Flow to him as void of care,  
As Feasts to Gods and Poets are.  
The which is just, O Heavens! All our strife  
Hath added to his Glories, add ye to his life;  
And now since his large heart with hers is met,  
Whose day the Stars on purpose near his set.  
November shall to me for ever shine,  
Red in its Ink, Redder in its Wine;  
And since the Third, who almost hath made shift  
To absolve the Treason of the Fift,  
Cannot be well remembered or forgot,  
By Loyal hearts as if 'twere not,  
The last extreme against the first we'll bring,  
That gave us many Tyrants, this a King.  
FINIS.   

Printed in the Year 1685.