TO His Sacred Majesty, CHARLES The Second, ON HIS HAPPY RETURN.   

TO HIS Sacred Majesty.  

DRead Sir, whilst in a pleasant ecstasy  
Your Sacred Majesty returned we see,  
We personate th' Old mimic; with a Tear  
One Cheek is washed, while Smiles the Other clear.  
For our Rebellion, we repent with One,  
'Gainst th' Glorious Father, and the Pious Son;  
The Other joys, nor is their reason small,  
Who joy in Vision Beatifical.  
Nay, we outgo the mimic: from One Eye  
There flows an Io and an elegy,  
Each Tear like to a Heat-drop falls to th'Earth;  
The moisture speaks our Grief; the Brightness, Mirth.   

Whilst, 'fore You rise here, we did view your Beam,  
(As Ida does the Sun, ere that his Team  
Be harnessed) whilst great Waters did refract  
Your Influence, and Britain's Bliss protract;  
Even then at distance did Your powerful rays  
Inflame our Hearts, make all with Joy to blaze;  
So that th'whole Isle a Pharos was become,  
Ambitious to light her sou'raign home:  
Thus we rejoycd in hopes of Your Return,  
And for Your Absence did in th' Ashes mourn.   

But being from Your desert come, where You  
With Patience Wandered, and did never Bow  
To any Golden Calves, nor turn aside  
To False Gods, but did still the Same abide;  
Where You were fed, and Your small Royal Band,  
If not with angel's Food, with angel's Hand;  
where, if we count Your Dangers, and Our Fears,  
You were in Pilgrimage too, Forty Years;   

Thence come, and by heaven's Conduct having gained  
This promised, which You make the Holy Land,  
We're at a loss, and with the Queen o'th'South,  
We must confess, we heard not Half the Truth:  
So great a Magazine of virtues throng  
Your Soul, that Praises charitably wrong.   

whilst that Your solid Piety we view,  
Your Generous and Extensive Charity too,  
We find that Title never was more true,  
Kings are God's Image, than it is in You.   

And as when Man ate the forbidden Fruit,  
GOD set an Angel for to keep him out  
Of Eden; so Your Majesty has done,  
Setting a Flaming Proclamation  
To keep back Vice from making its resort  
Unto the Paradise of Your blessed Court.   

But Oh! our Narrow Souls can't comprehend  
The Vast Perfections of Your Royal mind;  
So many vigorous Graces You express,  
You overburden us with Happiness:  
Thus Objects that more lightsome rays dispense,  
Do Darken quite, and surfeit the weak sense.  
Well, since we can't express, Admire Thee more  
Than e'er we used to Praise Thee heretofore.   

And only add, The Church that long time groaned,  
Does now Triumph, that angry heavens' atoned;  
That she can see Your Majesty past Harms,  
Returned by Virtue of her Peaceful Arms;  
Rejoicing that her Mourning-April-Showers  
Have brought to these three Kingdoms such May-Flowers.   
Tho. Edwards. A. M. Joan. Oxon.