CALVERS ROYAL VISION.  
With his most humble Addresses TO HIS MAJESTY'S Royal Person.   

 man lying down daydreaming of a king, queen, and prince 
CALVERS ROYAL VISION   
Impartial Heavens, that never did despise—  
Poor silly Shepherds, more than sage and wise—  
In making them the Messengers to bring—  
Most blessed tidings, tunes that Angels sing:  
Glory to God, to God on high; and then—  
Peace upon Earth, and good will towards men—   

CALVERS Royal Vision.  

WHen Titan posting in his restless motion,  
Had cast himself into the Western Ocean,  
When sable shadows Phoebus' shop shut in,  
And lesser Tapers did their watch begin.   

Whiles silent Morpheus seized on every sense,  
Fettered affection choked intelligence,  
And charmed each Member: only in my head  
A glorious Vision thus my fancy fed.   

My thoughts presented my half waking eyes,  
With glorious objects where the Sun doth rise,  
Yea in the Sun, that Usher of our days,  
Who was arrived now in our Eastern bays,  
And with his beams our darkened Orb adorning,  
Set open the golden windows of the Morning.   

I saw the Sun most radiantly arise,  
And in its Circle, as I did surmise,  
I saw our Noble Sovereign's Arms appear  
Most richly, lively, truly drawn and clear.   

Whereat delighted to behold the sight  
Of such a Sun rise from so sad a night,  
My thoughts possessed me in my busied brain,  
Of now another Noble CHARLES his wain.   

Whereon a while my hungry fancy fed,  
And in this heavenly, hopeful figure read  
With much contentment, hoping now the day  
Was springing, should all shadows chase away.   

But whiles this Object thus my thoughts endeared,  
More cause of comfort suddenly appeared;  
For this rare Object offered to my view  
The richest pictures ever pencil drew.   

Three Royal Persons lively portraitured,  
The sun, the ground work, by no clouds obscured,  
Whose silver lustre gave these forms in gold,  
The most of beauty mortals may behold.   

Above King Charles sat in a Royal Chair;  
More low Queen Mary, smiling on her hair;  
Our noble Pince Charles, each in order sit,  
Where they, out shining crystal pearls in jet,  
Ascended in our hemisphere on high,  
With matchless splendour burnishing the sky.   

But over dazzeled by these Objects bright,  
I too much gazing, lost my too weak sight:  
And in this rapture, pleasures pleasant deep,  
My thoughts were drowned, fancy fest asleep.  
Thrice happy fancy that such prey obtained;  
But more unhappy, losing what you gained:  
Can you not wait with more respect and care  
Upon such Object as these Persons were?  
But in presumption must approach so near,  
To dim your Lanterns, by those lights so clear?   

Doubtless these wonders were not without weight,  
Not empty shadows only mere conceit;  
But had some substance, and presaged more  
Than Airy fancy ever had in store.    

Most humble addresses to His Majesty's Royal Person.  

MOst glorious Charles whom in heaven's chair of State,  
The Sun I mean I saw enthroned of late,  
Ascending in our Hemisphere or high,  
With objects dearest to Your Majesty.  
(Which here I have in a rude habit dressed,  
Which of all habits doth deserve the best.)  
My thoughts are fixed what ere is figured out,  
Or thus foreshown, time now will bring about,  
And unto all men make the substance known  
Of what to me was but in shadows shown.   

Those fatal vapours, which obscured your rays,  
And caused our night, or most prodigious days  
Begin to vanish, and some beams appear,  
As signs of a most happy sunrise near.  
The powers above prepare to see this sight,  
With drawing of the curtains of the night,  
To this the stars are in their course directed,  
The planets in their houses well aspected:   

Late angry Mars his fatal force abates,  
And Jupiter our joy predominates,  
Who moderating of the powers above,  
Presageth fair and happy days of love.   

Whiles mortals we, as lookers on below,  
Your fainting Subjects, who that duty ●ow,  
Are gazing, waiting, and entirely pray,  
As under an Antarctic night, for day.   

Bright Sun arise then, break those clouds asunder,  
And let the splendour of your rays like thunder,  
Disperse all vapours clearing up the skies,  
That so our Sun may without shadows rise,   

Blessed Sun our Sovereign, do not then disdain  
To shine upon your darkened Orbs again,  
Let not displeasure us deprive of day,  
That have loved darkness, though it justly may:  
But rather imitate the Sun, which still  
Vouchsafes to shine both on the good, and ill.   

What is the cause that we have winter here?  
When all things languish, and as dead appear?  
But only that by heavens ordained Laws,  
The Sun His fruitful Sovereign beams withdraws.   

And what dear Sovereign in the chiefest place,  
But the unhappy absence of your grace  
Hath been the reason that our Realm of late,  
Hath sat in darkness, and so sad a state?   

Doubtless full sad are the effects of night,  
In darkness wisemen lose or want their sight.  
And if Your Highness do not yet think well  
To rise and shine upon us, to dispel  
Those clouds of danger do us overcast,  
Our state will prove incurable at last.   

Let pity then Your Royal heart inspire  
To shine upon us, shadows may retire,  
And men in danger may their danger see,  
And shun the same, and not consumed be.   

Most gracious Sovereign, if you should ' 'tis true,  
Proceed in Justice and no mercy show,  
You might in justice leave that Land in night  
Which hath endavoured to eclipse your light.   

But acts above do most from bounty flow:  
And pardons best befit the Gods below;  
Then pass by Justice, and in mercy act,  
The Sun by shining only doth attract.   

Your Kingdoms shaking do already stand,  
And force we find, sometimes confounds a Land:  
Much more revenge, whiles clemency and love  
Engender Peace, and jealousies remove.   

The breaches which infortunate debate  
Hath brought to pass already in our state  
May still grow worse, if still we disagree;  
But without concord never made up be:  
The Sea assoon may empty as that blade  
May cure the Kingdom, which its wounds hath made.  
Your Subjects now in general begin  
To see and fear the dangers they are in,  
And therefore with unanimous consent,  
(And surely with a Loyal hearts intent)  
Consult, resolve, petition and desire  
As men inflamed with a quenchless fire,  
The speedy safe returning of Your Grace  
With joy and honour to Your former place.   

What though Your Subjects were a while dissenting?  
Behold them now, as people now repenting;  
And let them see your tender bowels yearning,  
Upon such humble prodigals returning;  
Remembering still when Shepherds are a way,  
Their sheep are left or like to run astray.   

As 'tis its said, a glory unto Kings  
To pass by Subjects failings in some things:  
So sure in matters without danger held,  
Your Majesty may conquer whiles You yield,  
And bow those hearts by clemency and love,  
Which frowns would burst or make more flinty prove:   

For sure most safe and double blessed are they,  
Who by the sceptre not the sword do sway.   

Great Prince, and gracious both with God, and men,  
Put on the bowels of compassion then,  
And show yourself by heavens assigned that Sun.  
Which can revive; when all the stars have done.   

Address Your person, thoughts, affections all;  
God, men and Angels for Your aid do call:  
Do not dread Sovereign, do not then deny,  
To tender what befits Your Majesty.   

Let it be no impediment to Peace,  
To treat with Subjects for a King's release;  
Or to compound for that which is well known  
To be, or hath been ever thought Your own.   

But rather look beyond the deeds of men,  
And view a hand of providence herein;  
And to that secret hand of heavens submit  
So far as heavens revealed have, is fit.  
Doubtless the work here which implores Your aid,  
Ought not through small things to become delayed,  
It being of a consequence so great  
That being undone, it undoes the State.   

Unless Your greatness, Royal Majesty  
Shall with Your Grace's Parliament comply,  
No sound Religion can established be:  
No Peace be settled in a safe degree:  
No glory in the Crown of England had,  
Nor hope of future glory; which is sad:  
No Laws ordained which will ever stand:  
No love, no joy, no plenty in the Land:  
No freedom to the Subject given: no ease  
Of any present burden, but increase.   

Besides that sore, that present bloody vent  
will run 'tis like, until the stream be spent,  
And England made the scorn of future days,  
Which hath so long been Europe's highest praise.   

All which considered, and a thousand ills  
Which hence would follow, past the art of quills  
To figure fully will my Liege, I know  
Incite Your Highness, though you should stoop low;  
To put your sacred saving hand to stay  
Our dreadful ruins, and your Lands decay.  
In that sad posture yet your Realms are in,  
You are the loser whosoever win.  
And though my duty shall be kept in store;  
Yet I am doubtful heavens will call no more,  
If You hold back now from Your Parliament,  
When heavens hath for you such a chariot sent.   

But sure Your Highness will not so decline,  
Not hazard so the tempting powers divine,  
Lest when Your Grace and Subjects would agree,  
By Heavens displeased, should prevented be;  
Those powers above, by whom Kings reign below,  
And fade and flourish, as seas ebb and flow.   

Arise, arise, then glorious Sun arise,  
And let your rays illuminate our eyes,  
And warm our heavy chilled hearts to see  
You in Conjunction with your stars, that free  
From opposition, while the skies are fair,  
You may ascend to your meridian chair.  
Your lofty throne which is your due, and thence  
Your healthful beams on us below dispense,  
That underneath your footstooll, we may sit  
A loyal, joy full, happy people yet.   

Hark hark, than England, dying England here  
Are hopes of comfort, helps for cure appear:  
Lift up thy head, though heavy and thy heart,  
And out of duty, having done thy part  
In begging pardon, for thy follies past,  
Thou may'st expect a joyful day at last.   

Thy Sun will now arise, thy stars give way,  
As lights too feeble to produce a day:  
And out of duty will resign the right  
Unto the fountain of their borrowed light.   

Upon petition by me made I find  
Both Jupiter and Mars are thus inclined;  
Whence all the order of those lights above  
Do out of question thus aspected move.   

Address thyself then England, for this thing.  
Prepare thy Bonfires, fit thy bells to ring;  
But above all adorn thy inward parts  
With thankful, loyal, and religious hearts:  
That praises sounding, and thy prayers ringing  
May make such melody in heaven for bringing  
Thy Sovereign home, and sufferings to a stay,  
That heavens may finish, not this work delay.   

Thus gracious Sovereign, I your Subject born,  
Your Christian Subject otherwise forlorn:  
In croching on a Subjects freedom, have  
I fear offended, and become your slave,  
Attempting, stead of sublime wings, to fly  
With fordid, and to soar a pitch too high.   

But gracious Sovereign, let your Highness know  
I had been silent, or had kept below,  
Had not the Vision, not a fond conceit;  
Which heavens allowed me, lifted me this height.   

Where heavens on purpose I think, did intent  
What they had pictured should by me be penned,  
That so your Highness, and the world might see  
How far in favour with the Heavens you be,  
And what a height of glory and renown  
They do intent you after casting down:  
If you resist not; but the Heavens be blest,  
Your Highness late hath so dispeld this mist,  
So dashed this doubt, so razed this scruple made  
As may the most obdurate heart persuade:   

Your Royal, ample, gracious answer sent  
In terms of peace unto your Parliament,  
Are such as sure not Christian eye can view,  
Or ear can hear, and not their cheeks bedew  
With tears of joy, to your heart's intent  
So full and firm for peace and truth in print;  
Which praise in point to your eternal fame,  
Shall outlive cruel fate, and bless your name.   

Besides some former waking thoughts of mine,  
The rather makes me hereunto incline;  
Where treating of your troubles in the West,  
(As in those extant Verses is expressed)   

I do compare your Highness to the Sun,  
Ascribing of our cares but (then begun)  
In part unto our Suns, your sacred Graces  
Then rising in the Sun's unwonted places,  
The West: and how it was a wonder strange,  
Prognosticating to the Land a change,  
Which much portended as (th' event displays)  
Times of confusion, most prodigious days,  
Which should continue till our darkened East,  
Should with our Suns your Sovereign beams be blest.   

Which Meditations by this vision since  
So far confirmed, and by evidence  
So clear and powerful who can be so dull,  
To think that empty which appears so full?  
Great King I cannot but 'tis in my breast  
That this in part, shall come to pass at least:  
But gracious Sovereign, On that here my quill  
Dipped in some Fountain on Parnassus' hill,  
To draw Petitions could afford such ink  
As might into your tender bosom sink.   

Suppose that heavens, incensed Heavens above  
Out of displeasure, rather than in love;  
If you required, admits you to retire  
Unto your throne in ruin, blood, and fire,  
By force I mean, as a reward most fit  
For such as will not terms of peace admit.   

Thus you perhaps, may gain what you have lost;  
But thus to gain, what will the purchase cost?  
'Tis sad to think, 'tis dangerous to try,  
But above all, 'tis dear, full dear to buy.   

Much blood must spill before this spoil be won;  
And who can tell what precious blood may run?  
'Tis sure that wound within our Kingdom's side,  
Now almost desperate, must be made more wide,  
And blood must more and more defile the Land,  
And make it yet more weak and tottering stand.   

But whatsoever under this doth groan,  
Dear Sovereign let not blood defile your throne,  
That matchless throne so many years hath stood  
Unstained, whiles all the world hath been in blood.   

Besides, Great Prince, if through these ruins past,  
These seas of danger you arrive at last,  
Upon your throne in spite of all oppose;  
Yet all will but exasperate your foes,  
Who though subdued for the present, will  
Retain a heart to be revenged still.   

Whereby your Highness and your Kingdoms three  
And which is moe your Royal race shall be  
Still Subject to the danger of revenge  
Of deadly hatred, desperate war and change.   

That though you this way should the conquest gain,  
Yet thus you should in no contentment reign,  
But still possess that with continual fear  
Which you shall conquer with much cost and care.   

But here, dread Sovereign, do not me mistake,  
Of harmless lines, no harsh construction make,  
Nor yet suspect my Loyalty at all:  
I neither see, or yet foresee your fall,  
Nor fear the same, but with that jealous care  
With which men keep their jewels which are rare.   

Nor do I think, nor would I here present  
That in a prison you should rest content,  
You at whose Royal, awful, just command,  
Should all the prisons in your Kingdoms stand.   

Nor do I hold it in your highness' bad,  
If no way else your freedom can be had  
If you use force, and show your Princely might,  
To gain by strength, what is in truth your right.   

But only this, this makes me thus assume,  
Thus past the bounds of duty to presume;  
My loyal, real, Christian and entire  
Intents of heart, my prayer, and desire  
That Peace may make the path unto you joy,  
Which fought by war, the seeking may destroy.   

Besides dread Sovereign, and most Christian Prince,  
If this my vision may give evidence  
Of your ascending to your Throne in fame;  
Sure war is not the way unto the same:  
For in that Vision, or that rapture rare,  
No signs appeared of war, of force, or fear,  
No Clouds, not any opposition seen;  
But all concurring, gentle, sweet, serene,  
And joyful tokens of such Peace, and love,  
As if some heavenly Parliament above  
In consultation voted your release,  
And blest, return unto your Throne in peace.   

Peace, Christian peace! my pen's too weak by odds  
To shadow it out, unto the life; the Gods,  
Yea that same God, who doth the Gods excel  
Delights in Peace, in Peace delights to dwell,  
Hath made his Throne the Throne of Peace: his son  
The Prince of Peace: and who below hath won  
More glory than that King of Peace, or rather,  
That God of Peace amongst us men, your Father;  
Who gained by Peace that glory and renown,  
Which Europe could not equal to his Crown.   

Who having here in Peace his Office done,  
To his reward, eternal peace is gone,  
Where he no doubt desires his thrown below  
Should still remain, the same he did bestow,  
A throne of peace, which he hath found the way  
Unto that glory never shall decay  
Upon the Earth whiles Sun and Moon shall shine,  
Nor yet in Heaven when those our lights decline.  
Shall any heart then so conceive amiss,  
To fear a branch of such a stock as this  
Should prove so far degenerate from kind,  
As to be of a cruel bloody mind?   

It must be sure a cruel heart must think  
Such cruel thoughts, which never yet could sink  
Into my head, nor ever shall, I trust;  
The powers producing are not so unjust.   

No, no dear Sovereign, no, I am possessed,  
You have a tender heart within your breast,  
And are by nature properly inclined  
To Peace and concord of a gentle mind;  
Inheritance doth make these virtues yours;  
Besides the working of supremer powers.   

That if your highness ever did adhere,  
Or ever shall to any needless war,  
Or any other cruel act, I know  
It cannot from your disposition flow,  
But must be rather forced, or a thing  
Proceeding from a misinformed King,  
By such as work upon your Majesty,  
To work their own unnappy ends thereby.   

Doubtless full weighty is a Crown to wear,  
And oft as full of danger as of care;  
The danger of seducing heads as great  
As all the care had to uphold a State.   

If ever Monarch since the world's increase  
Had need of patience, and a love of Peace;  
Then sure your Highness, of which gifts indeed,  
I want expressions to explain your need:   

Besides the troubles, trials, grief of heart  
Your Grace hath been in, and are yet in part;  
Which sure might move the most unmoved spirit,  
That flesh and blood did ever yet inherit.   

When I consider of ensuing days,  
When heavens, I hope your Majesty shall raise  
Unto your Throne, and Crown your temples yet  
With that same precious Diadem is fit:   

When you arrived at this port for peace,  
Which you have sailed to through such rugged Seas,  
Where, like one banished, raised to renown,  
Or like your Grace from prison to a Crown:  
Your Highness should expect a happy rest,  
A blessed Sunshine when the storm is past,  
Wherewith to warm, to comfort, joy, and cheer  
Your sad, and weary, Sacred Soul most dear,  
With all those Royal, ample, during, blest,  
And sweet enjoyment that befits you best.   

When thus I say, your Highness should remain  
Thus Crowned with Peace, in happiness to reign,  
Oh, how my thoughts, my thoughts as out of place,  
Are here molested, thinking on your Grace?  
To think how then your Peace may be molested  
By dreadful motions of revenge suggested.   

Me thinks I foresee, or at least I fear  
What powerful objects of your future care  
Will be presented daily to your eyes,  
Presented too, perhaps in tears and cries,  
Most strong Petitions to your Noble Grace  
By such as have been suffters in your case,  
That then at last they may have their desire,  
And quench those flames revenge will set on fire:  
Revenge, revenge, a just revenge O King,  
Engaging to your Highness in the thing,  
Will be a daily echo in your ears  
With such a trumpet sounding out your cares,  
And wrongs sustained, with their own, this war  
As will prevail, if not prevail too far.  
But heavens, I hope, nay, more than hope, I know  
If they in peace, and mercy, will bestow  
Your throne upon you; which I hope to see:  
They will there with bestow such a degree  
Of gifts, and virtues on your Royal Grace  
As shall both please them, and befit your place.   

Besides Great King, as I have shown in part.  
You have (I doubt not) in your breast a heart  
Which is by nature tender, sweet, and mild,  
As best befits a peaceful Father's child;  
By birth a son of peace, and sure will prove  
By grace I trust, a Prince of peace and love.   

And so be able wisely to resist  
The dreadful motions that revenge suggest,  
And stop your ears unto that hideous cry,  
Wherein concealed doth all confusion lie.  
The bane and ruin both of Church and State,  
Especially where ruin was so late.   

That so when heavens have set your Highness free  
You may no more in bonds ensnared be,  
But seek by peace and concord to enjoy  
What war and discord did so late destroy.   

Preferring peace above the suits of those  
That beg revenge, although upon your foes,  
Supposed foes, or foes that will recant,  
And beg your Grace's pardon, which to grant  
Will bless your Grace, and set your Throne more sure,  
Then black revenge for ever can procure,  
And raise your Highness higher still and higher,  
Until your Grace shall to that Throne aspire  
Erected in the highest heavens above,  
The Throne of God, the seat of peace and love,  
Where Kings of peace, and men of peace shall reign  
In peace and glory ever shall remain.   

Unto which Throne I shall not cease to pray,  
That Heavens may thus direct you in the way,  
That manger what might move you to miscarry,  
You may not from that heavenly dictate vary;  
But steer your course still in this calm of rest,  
Where sailing's safe, and to arrive is blest.   

That when your Highness hath this voyage past,  
And be arrived at that same Haven at last  
The Heaven of Havens, the shore of all renown,  
The Throne of God, to wear a better Crown:   

You than may leave that blessing to your son,  
Our hopeful Prince; that blessed James hath done  
Unto your Grace; a Throne of Peace I mean,  
That so his Crown may flourish, may be green,  
And free from war, and envy 's nipping blast;  
May bring forth fruits of glory, which may last,  
And make his Highness to his Subjects prove  
The blessed, blessed Object of their love:  
And England henceforth ever understood  
A Land of Peace, no more a field of blood.   

Thus Gracious Sovereign, on my knees to crave  
The pardon Loyal muses wont to have,  
As building on your Goodness I begun,  
So begging your forgiveness, I have done.    
FINIS.