C. R. In a Cloud.  
IT is no strange thing  
To hear that the King  
Hath made his escapes;  
For Jove did the same,  
And got him a name  
(For shifting and Rapes.)  
What he did for Lust  
(For Jupiter must  
With a fair one sport.)  
King Charles did not do,  
His Juno's no shrew,  
he's not gone to Court.  
No Danae's Power  
In a Brazen Tower  
Hath made him turn shower,  
You know well of old  
That he had no Gold,  
C. R. was too poor.  
Nor ever did low  
For Europa-Cow,  
And feed among Beasts,  
Nor deceived the herds  
In a Goatish Beard,  
So quaint he was dressed.  
But he is retired,  
As he was desired,  
For sweet Liberty.  
When every man claims,  
And makes her his aims,  
Won't you have Princes free?  
Away with such Knaves,  
Who Liberty craves,  
For their own pure trains  
Yet would environ  
Their King, and in Iron  
Bind him, and in chains.  
We have heard in a manner  
Of the King and Tanner,  
But the King was first:  
But these Translators  
Of the State-matters,  
Make the King the worst.  
Instead of a crown,  
They'll pull him down,  
As not fit for trust;  
Instead of God save,  
His life they will have,  
And's Honourith'dust.  
Salt peter's, and del,  
You have preached well  
To your Auditory:  
This Doctrine you may  
Read in Loyola;  
Here's a fine story.  
Would any man think,  
The Agitators drink  
Of the waters of Tiber?  
Or that Babylon's whore  
Were Peter's Paramour,  
Or Dell's next Neighbour?  
Protestant God night,  
Welcome Jesuit,  
Welcome pretty Nuns,  
Our Daughters shall be  
Whores of piety,  
And rebels our Sons.  
Charles keep in thy Cloud,  
And there safe thee shrewd,  
Nor break, but as Day.  
The mid Region be  
Thy artillery,  
Where Clouds bear the sway.  
Peep a little from thence,  
And list to what sense  
We make of thy Letters,  
Every one doth think  
That great Caesar's ink,  
Never wrote better.  
And as for the matter,  
We cannot here flatter,  
The royal Inditer,  
But say, as true 'tis,  
Thy Pen (as was his)  
Is of a ready Writer.  
We're sorry to see,  
That such treachery  
Should be in our Land;  
Or that any thing  
Should force our good King  
To his running hand,  
His Letters he throws,  
Like Parthian arrows,  
And Conquers flying.  
Ten thousand are sold,  
They will never be old.  
New, new news they're crying.  
D' you see, do you see,  
How the presbytery  
Joy their f●●●t named,  
The Assembly men prinke  
Up their ears; I think  
They were near maimed.  
But be not too crank  
In the second rank,  
The Independents  
Will look to your waters,  
And then follow after  
Th' Army their defendants.  
Satisfaction's next,  
To his party perplexed,  
And gone to the Pot,  
'Cause th' have adhered,  
And are to be feared,  
And even the Scot.  
Now mark his Len voy,  
And cry Vive-le-Roy;  
Can any think so,  
God will bless those peers  
Who refuse to hear  
Their King? Surely no.  
As he's royal to all,  
So he personal  
Is honest, and just,  
In his care you see  
For delivery  
Of his Pictures in trust.  
There's none but a King,  
Could do such a thing,  
Who is Princely bent,  
Truly to restore,  
(Who can do any more?  
What the Ladies lend.  
O most gallant Prince,  
Whose free Conscience,  
No evil shall clog,  
He does Whaly beseech,  
To send home the Grew Bitch,  
Before he will jog.  
And his deportment  
Shows afore he went,  
Him a Gentleman much;  
Who would not neglect  
His civil respects  
To Whaly and such.  
So did he think fit,  
Montague to greet.  
And's fellow's, whose fames  
Were good, and discourses  
And so were the horses,  
He sent his son James.  
His Letters all done,  
Away he is gone,  
And leaves these Papers.  
To be read in the night,  
(But not without light,)  
For by them was Tapers.  
Or if so before,  
They broke up the door,  
To look for C. R.  
The Tapers went out,  
In his Cloak without doubt.  
There was a bright star.  
What wonders are here?  
Yet we do not fear,  
High-minded and proud;  
Nor our sins revoke,  
Yet see Stars in a Cloak,  
And Kings in a Cloud.  
Now we're all at a gaze,  
To discover which ways  
This angel was gone,  
Where more him attend,  
God did his Guards send,  
And ease those at Hampton.  
God keep our C. R.  
From Martin-king-mar,  
And such evil sprights,  
Who have late brought in  
That cursed Doctrine,  
With their new-found lights,  
But thou blessed Isle,  
That preservest a while  
Thy King, be thou wise,  
Do not thou betray,  
Nor open thy Bay,  
Nor suffer surprise.  
Our Isles shall be glad.  
The Isle of Wight had  
The keeping our Pan;  
And England will be  
In Unanimity.  
As the Isle of one Man.  
FINIS.   

Printed in the year MDCXLVII.