England's JOY, Expressed in an ἘΠΙΝΊΚΙΟΝ, To the most Renowned Man of honour, and Temporal Redeemer of the PRINCE, PEERS, and PEOPLE of this Land, HIS EXCELLENCY The Lord General Monck.  
SO then Victorious General George, go on,  
To perfect thy 
* A R●yal Present.  {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}.  
Thus that great 
* Nevil Earl of Warwick  Make-King Warwick, thou'lt outdo,  
And all the Worthies of past Ages too:  
As He's proclaimed, so Crown, and set Charles right,  
Then let 
* The Devil and old Oliver.  old Nick and Nol do their worst spite.  
So Kings may reign, by 
* Jus Postliminii in the Civil Law.  Postliminial Rights,  
And Suns come out o'th' Sea, make new 
* Those Knights usually made at Coronations.  Bath Knights,  
Which must dispel all Mists; all Mischiefs yield  
To Royal virtue, Patience wins the Field:  
Field without Sweat or Blood; the Cause so just,  
It need not stir one grain of English dust.  
Which were the Beasts thou conquer'dst, tame, would be  
Thought but an easy human Victory.  
But they were savage, hungry, fierce, and fell  
As Lybian lions, or those Beasts that dwell  
In Indian Dens, my Men worse than devils,  
What Hand but Sacred could ere cure such 
* The King's Evil cured by his touch.  Evils?  
And only with a touch, by which we see,  
Thou canst outdo 
* Veni, vidi vici.  Cesarean chivalry.  
Indeed we were afraid, Good people all  
Expected more a Royal Funeral,  
Than such a Coronation, 
Rather his head to be cut off then anointed.  and to feel  
The dismal dint of Parricidal steel,  
Rather than Unction on his Sacred Head:  
But He's delivered, and w'are brought to Bed.  
So now He's ours again, Great George, and who  
But thee, shall we sing Jo. Paeans to?  
To thee Great Soul of honour, who were't borne  
To be Restorer of thy Prince forlorn.  
The Great Redeemer of thy country's Laws,  
And brave Assertor of the true Old Cause. 
King's are the true Suns, and all Usurpers but Meteors or falling Stars.   
Thou've given our Sun to England, without Wars,  
Overthrown fanatic Meteors falling Stars.  
Those proud usurping Phaeton's, that durst  
Sit in the Chair of Fire, till it burst,  
And singed all Earth and Sea it touched upon.  
Leaving us dark, 
The Protectorians.  in conflagration.  
Prodigious things were done, but all in vain,  
They mounted Cromwel's Cart, thou Charles his Wain.  
But yet th' Herculean labours found no end,  
New work was cut out for thee, 
The fag end of the late Long Parliament  by the Fiend.  
More Monsters still arise, a Rebel Rump,  
So often stripped and whipped, and docked tothth' Stump,  
Must needs start up again, O cursed 
* Flemish for tail.  Stert,  
How couldst thou still hold up so malapert?  
After so many Regicidal Acts,  
O'rwhelming all, with bloody 
* The overflowing of Nile.  Cataracts,  
To play Rex yet upon our heads, and be  
Our Commonwealth, nay common Misery?  
Others have oft attempted to defeat,  
This many headed Hydra, 
So Hercules was called for his destroying of noxious Monsters.  but the cheat  
O'th' Good old Cause, revived it's heads, and we  
Could hope no* {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} but thee.  
So Dragon like, it dealt about it's blows,  
None could withstand its Fury, no not those  
That were immured, and fenced with Iron chains,  
Posts, 
The City Gates, Posts, portcullises, were beat down by the Rumps order.  and portcullises: The City veins  
Were bloodless grown, to see their Ports beat down,  
And tails with many Heads usurp a Crown.  
But th''ve delivered them and us, who'rt borne  
To be Redeemer of thy Country torn,  
By such inhuman Miscreants; Thy hand  
H●s from that creeping vermin cleared the Land.  
Thou canst as easily kill such Snakes as 
* Hercules.  He,  
That in his Cradle, strangled two or three.  
None but our 
* St. George in Story killed the Dragon.  George, could kill this Dragon dead,  
And make Romance for History be read.  
Against thy mighty Arm, what force prevails,  
Who killest all monstrous Heads, as well as tails?  
Proceed and Prosper so great George, and where  
Thou pleasest for to make thy Hemisphere,  
Thou'rt still our Constellation, lead us forth,  
And th'inspired Needle's not more true to th'North,  
Nor Rivers to the Sea, than we will be,  
To our Dread sovereign Lord, King Charles, and thee.  
Nor shall we fear success in Peace, or War,  
Whilst He is thine, and thou, our Northern Star.  
J. H.   

LONDON, Printed for M. B. 1660.