CEDRUS BRITANICA ET LAURUS REGIA SIVE REX & CORONA A POETICAL HEXAMERON.  
Showing, 

1. The Invention,  
2. The Distinction,  
3. The Designation,  
4. The Necessity,  
5. The Dignity,  
6. The Perpetuity.   Of Crowns.  
Printed, Anno Dom. 1660.   

A POETICAL HEXAMERON.  

Should Juno now (as once she did he nine)  
Persuade my Muse to choose a theme divine;  
And dare, with the sweet Acheloiades  
To sing a parode, till she'd won the bays:  
I'd wish her take no other theme than this,  
Rex Coronatus, is a Kingdom's bliss.   

I. Of the Invention of Crowns.  
SUBTLE invention! pregnant womb of Arts!  
Which mad'st the Crown of such admired parts,  
And so stupendious, that 'tis hard to tell  
Whether thou show'dst an art or miracle.  
Man held the pencil, thou didst guide the hand:  
His was the motion, but thine the command.  
What e'er of solid matter framed we see,  
Was immaterially first wrought by thee.  
Invention made the Artist merit fame:  
She did the work, though he hath got the name.  
Who e'er it was, that found this royal art  
Of making Crowns; he wisely did impart  
His skill: Who would so rare an Art inter;  
And make its womb to prove its Sepulchre?  
Should not the fancy act by emanation,  
An Art would prove a bodylesse Creation.  
Th' idea of a Crown, that's forged and coined  
Only within the Mint-house of the mind,  
Is little worth, unless it serves to be  
Th' exemplar of some real Entity.  
What honour is't to think on Crowns? since Clowns  
May be Crowned with imaginary Crowns.  
That must have real worth, that's made to be  
The greatest Emblem of Supremacy.  
Here Art excelled: the Crown she did engage  
To be the wonder of the golden Age.  
'Tis soon resolved, whether more skill were shown  
When Nature wrought the Gold, or Art the Crown.  
Gold's but Mechanic trash that doth besmear  
First the Refiner, than th' Artificer:  
Nor is it fit for Crowns or Sceptres, till  
'Tis forged and furbisht by admired Skill.  
Admired Skill! that makest Crowns to be  
Like that Celestial-spangled Canopy,  
So full of Diamonds; as if Art thence  
Would cause not only light, but influence.  
O rare invention! thou such Skill hast shown  
In making, that thou best deserv'st the Crown.   

II. Of the Distinction of Crowns.  
Should Art, and Nature strive, and both disclose  
Their Glory; that the Crown, and this the Rose:  
The Rose no doubt would blush and shut her eyes,  
As guilty of her own deformities:  
Would throw herself, and all her beauty down  
Before the golden splendour of the Crown.  
Should Flora all the Glory of the Spring  
Gather into one heap, and proudly bring  
Her sweetest Flowers forth; they were not meet  
For Crowns, their beauty b'ing as short as sweet.  
What though the Ancients used such toys of old  
For Crowns and Garlands; shall we now slight Gold?  
Take all the Tulips, Roses, Lilies, Pines,  
Pinks, Poppies, Violets, and all that shines  
Or casts a fragrant smell: Cut branches from  
The Laurel, Myrtle, Olive, Ivy; some  
Of these perhaps may please the wanton sense,  
Yet not contain that worth and excellence,  
That grace and beauty, which ('bove nature's power)  
Is wrought by Art in her transcendent flower.  
Well then my Sophocleses sit down; be still;  
Make Crowns no more with his white Daffodil:  
Sapph that famous Poetresse may now  
Use Rubies 'stead of Roses: Juno's brow  
May scorn the Lily: may Diana be  
Ashamed to wear a Crown of Myrtle tree.  
Let sleeping Morpheus with his Poppy-crown  
Dream ne'er so much of flattering renown:  
Let Meleager boast himself the man  
That wore the Garland once Pancarpian:  
Let Bacchus wear (who makes the Tun his Throne)  
An Ivy Chaplet on his head, or none:  
Let Gamesters strive, and think it great renown  
To win the Olive, or the Laurel Crown:  
But what's all this? let Nature's rosary  
Exhaust her richest Treasures, and outvie  
The Triumphs of those ancient Roman plays,  
Wherein the Victors wore victorious Bayss:  
Yet these, because they fade as fast as spring,  
Are toys and shadows. Gold best Crowns a King.  
Whose durable and glittering matter speaks  
A long and glorious reign: Whose substance breaks  
Resisting metals: and whose worth and weight  
Do argue weighty cares, in worthy might:  
Whose All-commanding virtue lets us see  
The power of an earthly Deity:  
Whose estimate above inferior things  
Shows what esteem is due to sacred Kings.  
Gold than we see the chiefest Mineral,  
Must needs be best to Crown a King withal.   

III. Of the Designation of Crowns.  
Crowns are for Kings, and Kings alone for Crowns:  
When these two meet and join, Rebellion frowns;  
Dissension frets; and Treason stops her mouth;  
The Monsters of a Kingdom lose their growth,  
Go backward (that's their proper motion  
To walk like Crabs 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉.)  
King's then have greatest honour, when they wear  
That which commands the Subjects dread and fear.  
The Motto of a Crown should always be  
Rex & Corona, joined eternally.  
Et, like a Gordian knot, should stand so stout  
'Twixt both, that nought but death should cut it out.  
For in the Union of those Delian-twins,  
Concord in state, and Truth in Church gins.  
Crowned, is a concrete, proper unto none,  
But those, whom right exalts unto the Throne.  
Here Subjects are not Subjects, Kings must be  
The only Subjects of this Property.  
England hath oft been sick, but yet not dead;  
Because she had a Crown to bind her head.  
Preserve the head, wherein the senses lie,  
And then no fear, the body cannot die.  
Give that the Crown, and Diadem to boot:  
Less pompous Ornaments will serve the foot.  
It cannot be, but that a Kingdom reel,  
Which takes her Crown, and wears it on her heel.  
What e'er is so preposterous as this  
To order, carries an Antithesis.  
Look round about, behold what Symmetry,  
And sweet convenience in the world we see:  
Nature distributing her Gifts to all,  
Keeps a proportion Geometrical.  
And shall not man in imitation, thus  
Observe a Prius and Posterius?  
Should we not own some Power imperial,  
The wild and savage beasts would shame us all:  
For they consent the Lion still should reign;  
Because by nature made their Sovereign.  
The Crown, which all admire, and some adore,  
Is that, which none but highborn Princes wore.  
The tallest branch upon that Royal stem,  
Is only fit to wear the Diadem.  
Should Peasants rule, and keep their Princes under,  
'Twould put the seven wonders out of wonder.  
Of all Monstrosities, not one like these,  
To see a Nation walk Antipodes;  
To see the Sun devested of its light,  
And made inferior to the guide of night;  
To see a Dunghill mounted to the Sky,  
There placed to be the Day's illustrious Eye;  
To see a Swine wear Jewels in his snout;  
To see the Lilies cropped, whilst Briers sprout:  
Yet these, and many more were found wrapped in  
That late Apostrophe of Crown from King.  
Crowns therefore are the great Prerogative  
Of sacred Kings: Flowers that will not thrive  
Or grow on Sordid shrubs; but made to be  
The highest Glory of the Cedar-tree.   

iv Of the Necessity of Crowns.  
When that the Sun shall cease to guide the day;  
When Moon and Stars shall need no borrowed Ray:  
When Kings and Government shall be no more;  
Then Crowns shall cease as needless: not before.  
The States (as Stars take from the Sun their light)  
From Crowns receive both Majesty and might.  
These only can the Kingdom's Peace defend,  
And make the sturdy'st Tyrants break or bent:  
These only can with their victorious Rays,  
Dispel our storms, and give us halcyon-days.  
When the late Crown did fall, such Tempest's rose,  
As if the Centre would itself disclose:  
Such Hero-canes did then disturb our ease,  
As if Old-England were an Indies.  
Cyclopian Darts did wound and kill so fast,  
As if the World would then breathe out its last.  
It was an Age that well might weary out  
The Cyclops, Vulcan, Mars, and all that rout.  
The Sword struck off our head without control,  
And made the Palace like a Capitol.  
And shall not future Ages weep the tale,  
And story of that Monarch's Funeral?  
There needs must follow darkness, tumults, war,  
When that the Sun became a falling Star.  
'Twas then the Horses ran where  they list  
To fi●e the World, when their own guide was missed.  
Posterity shall mourn to hear what fate  
Hung o'er this doleful, this distrackted State.  
But we may now rejoice. There comes at last  
A sweet forgetfulness of sorrows past.  
May that once Captive, now triumphant Crown  
Conquer its foes, and throw Rebellion down:  
Restore this Palsie-Nation to its health;  
And Monarchy prefer to Commonwealth.  
So shall we ever jo-paeans sing,  
And make the World with acclamations ring:  
So shall our words with choicest accents be  
Raised up to such Seraphic harmony;  
That every single Vowel shall rebound,  
And like a Diphthong give a double sound;  
Nothing shall pass out through our lips, that is  
Not uttered with a cheerful Emphasis.  
Without the Crown all other things are toys:  
The crowning of the King crowns all our joys.  
O may it therefore never more be known  
Ourselves to want a King, our King a Crown.   

V Of the Dignity of Crowns.  
Read over the World's Alphabet, the story  
Of sage Antiquity: there's not that Glory  
In all the Feats of Art, which here is shown  
In this her Masterpiece, the Royal Crown.  
Those golden Apples, which brave Hercules  
Took by his valour from th' Hesperideses,  
Were fair without, and beauteous to the Eye,  
Whilst all within did rot and putrify  
The Golden Fleece, which Jason took such pain  
To steal from Colchos, was but wool in grain:  
'Twere grains of Gold that made it such a piece,  
B'ing first a Sheeps-skin, than a golden fleece.  
The golden Crown hath more of worth than these,  
Or any jewel from the Indian Seas.  
It needs no varnish outwardly to hid  
Its inward blemishes; it needs not pride  
Itself in painted shows; it needs no foil,  
Unless it be its Diamends to spoil.  
Which sparkling Gems, like eyes set round, do well  
Denote a King the Kingdom's Sentinel;  
Who with more care his Subjects fortifies,  
Then Argus Io, with his hundred eyes.  
It's matter is by Chemists so refined,  
The Quintessence is only left behind:  
So strange and admirable is its frame,  
The Artist scarce believes he made the same.  
Who would to all its excellencies come,  
Must with the golden number count their Sum.  
Wouldst in a word know what this Circlet is?  
Thou canst not without a Periphrasis.  
It doth in its Superlative degree,  
Transcend the reach of an Hyperbole.  
there's more contained in that one word, Crown;  
Then ever was or fully can be known.  
Crowned, that's enough itself; there needs no more  
Be said, to make the Subject to adore  
His lawful Prince; or make his Prince to be  
Entitled to a just Supremacy.   

VI Of the Perpetuity of Crowns.  
If that an humble Verse could reach the Sky,  
Or meeter could meet out Eternity:  
Then might perhaps to every eye be shown  
The vastness of the Crowns duration.  
Time may unglosse the Flourishes of Art,  
But can't annihilate the smallest part  
Of massy Gold. Crowns shall out-wrestle all;  
Yea, time itself at last, and give't the fall.  
When these (like timely fruit from off the Tree)  
Do fall away, they do not cease to be:  
Nor shall they die at Nature's Funeral,  
But shall be changed, and made perpetual.  
O may Great Britain's Monarch many years  
Reign here below, and then above the Spheres:  
And when these golden Shadows all are gone,  
May there for ever wear a real Crown:  
May, when his Princely Race is finished here,  
Pass from his own to Heaven's Star-Chamber.  
May factious Comets never more presage  
To Peace a Period, Prince a Pilgrimage:  
Till that time comes, when time itself shall die,  
And shall lie buried in Eternity.    

An Ardent wish for the Coronation of his sacred Majesty CHARLES II.  
Are Crowns so useful to maintain  
The People's safety, Prince's reign?  
And made for none  
But Kings alone?  
Then why doth not that Royal head  
With its own Crown (that is so dread)  
Itself adorn,  
Since't must be worn?  
Why do our greatest joys come on  
With such a slow gradation,  
As if delay  
Would bid us nay?  
Why doth delay thus rack our hope,  
Making us run beside the scope,  
And happy end,  
To which we tend?  
Why don't our eyes behold and see  
The joyfull'st contiguity  
That e'er was known  
'Twixt head and Crown?  
Come quickly than thou joyful day,  
Come swifter than a darted Ray  
Out from the Sun  
When clouds are gone,  
Outrun our thoughts: with nimble speed  
Anticipate the time decreed.  
Let haste prepare  
Against despair.  
Our minds with expectation led  
Would languish, if not pullyed  
And still drawn up  
With cords of hope.  
And hope itself would fail at last,  
Should it not see that day make haste,  
Which doth attend  
Its hoped end.  
Let's wait a while. We shall ere long  
Shut up all Sorrows with a Song.  
When Charles is crowned  
Joys shall rebound.  
FINIS.