NOVEMBER.  

THOU Sun that shedest the days, look down and see  
A Month more shining by Events, than thee;  
Departed Saints and souls signed it before, 
1. Day, is All Saints.   
But now the living sign it more.  
Persons and Actions meet, All meant for Joy, 
2. All Souls.   
But some build up, and some destroy.  
Bate us That Ushering Curse, so dearly known,  
And then the Month is All our own.  
So, at the first, darkness was thrown about  
Th' unshapen Earth, and Light was th●nce struck out.   

Draw the first curtain, and the Scene is then 
3. Day, The Assembling of the unhappy Parli●ment.   
A Triple State of culled and Trusted men:  
Men in whose hands 'twas once t'have given us more  
Than our Bold Fathers asked before:  
Who, had they used their Prince's Grace, had got  
What no arms could, and Theirs will not.  
What more than Witchcraft did our Blessing Curse,  
And made the Cure make evils worse?  
'Tis the Third D●y; throw in the Blackest Stone,  
Mark it for cursed, and let it stand Alone.   

BUT hold! speak gentler things! This Fourth was seen 
4. Day, The Birth of the Princess MARY.   
The softest Image of our Beauteous Queen.  
Bring me a lamb, not used to Elder Food,  
That has 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.  
Whiles we at home our Little turf debate,  
She spreads our Glories to another State.   

NEXT view a Tr●●son of the worst Intent, 
5. Day, Our Delivery from the Papists conspiracy.   
Had not our own done more than Strangers 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? and who those men  
Flying towards heaven, but falling down again? 
12. Day, The King's Victory at Brainford.   
Whose those black corpse cast on the Guilty Shore?  
'Tis sin, that swims to its own door.  
'Tis the Third scourge of rebels, which allowed  
Our Army, like the prophet's Cloud  
Did from an handful rise, U●till at last  
Their Sky was by it Overcast.  
But (as Snakes hiss after th' have lost their Sting)  
The traitor called This, Treachery in the King.   

Away, and view the Graces and the hours 
16. Day. The Birth of our gracious Q. MARY.   
Hou'ring aloof, and dropping mingled flowers  
Upon a Cradle, where an Infant lay  
More Grace, more Good●sse than were they;  
Thrice did they destiny Her to pass the seas  
(Love made Her Thrice to pass with ease)  
To raise a strength of Princes first, and then  
To raise Another streng●h of Men.  
Most fruitful Queen! we boast Both Gif●s, And thus  
The Day was meant to You, the Joy to Us.   

Next to this Mother stands a Virgin Queen,  
Courting and Courted wheresoever seen; 
17. Day, The beginning of Q. Elizabeth's reign.   
The people's Love fi●st from Her Troubles grew;  
Her reign then made That Love her Due.  
That Comely Order, which did then adorn  
Bo●h fabrics, now by Facion's torn;  
That form, by her allowed, of Common prayer  
Is styled vain Beating of the air.  
How do they H●nour, how forsake Her crown!  
Her Times are still cried up, but practised down.   

Reach last, the Whitest Stone the World yet knew,  
White as the soul, to whom the Day is due. 
19 Day, The Birth of our gracious King CHARLES.   
Son of the peaceful James, how is he blessed  
With All His Blessings, but His Rest!  
Though undeserved Times call All His powers,  
And Troubles season Other Hour's,  
Let this Day flow to Him as void of Care,  
As Feasts to Gods, and Poets are:  
The Wish is Just, O Heavens! As our strife  
Hath added to His Cares, 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 Wine.  
And since the Third (which almost hath made shift  
T' 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.