AN ODE TO THE KING On his Return from Newmarket.  
Set by Mr. Baptist, Master of the Queen's Music.  
LONDON, Printed for R. Bentley, in Russel-street in Covent-Garden, with the Author's Consent, 1684.   

An ODE To the KING, on his Return from Newmarket.  

LET all our Fears, let all our Murmurs cease,  
The British Halcyon comes with Peace.  
Safe He Returns, desired, and blest,  
Our Union ripening in his Royal Breast.  
He comes to toil that We may Rest.  
England's Hope and Rome's Despair,  
Earth's delight, and Heaven's care!  
To all our Joy, our Safety's come!  
Ever welcome, welcome Home!  
Welcome as Day's reviving Light,  
After dismal Dreams by Night;  
Cheer us, save us with thy Sight!  
With thy blessed sight, to all thy Subjects dear,   

Cure a trembling Nation's Fear.  
Break out again in thy Youth's Godlike Form,   

And with an All-restoring Ray  
Dispel the black Impending Storm,   

And drive the gathering Clouds away.  
Oh sole support in dark despairing days!  
What Muse divine shall sing our Love, what Angel-Quire thy Praise!  
Just to thy Friends! best Refuge of thy Foes!  
Our weary floating Isle's Repose!  
For all Distractions, every public Grief,  
Thou often tried, Thou only sure Relief!  
If Hell assault a Life so dear,  
Or Heaven's Rod reach some precious P●rt;  
'Tis We that in thy dangers fear,  
In all thy pains we smart.  
Thy Safety's Ours, Ours is thy Health;  
Prop of our Faith! Guard of our Wealth!  
The Cordial that with Fate does strive,  
And still keeps Liberty alive!  
At the last gasp does fainting Hope relieve!   

Devoted England's kind Reprieve!  
Her daily Prayer, her chief Endeavour!  
Outlive our Fears! O Live for ever!   

Ever Live, and ever Reign!  
By thy Sovereign healing Touch  
Close our gaping Wounds again.  
Nor think thy tenderness too much  
In a common Father's Love,  
Copy him that rules Above.  
Equal, like his Showers on All,  
Both Good and Bad, thy Justice fall.  
What thy Star promised, let thy Reign fulfil,  
And Mercy be thy Favourite Virtue still.  
Mercy, when all Force had failed,  
O'er thy conquering Foes prevailed:  
Did a lost Kingdom, mad with Jealousy, reclaim;   

O keep and rule it by the same!  
That Virtue of thy Blood can never— never be to blame  
Take to thy Bosom this repenting Wife,  
And whom Heaven joins None dare to sever!  
No fawning Fiend advance new strife,  
Or under shows to guard thy Life,  
Thy Death afresh endeavour;  
Outlive our Fears, O Live for ever!  
Happy keep us still, and free,  
We no Successor wish to see.   
FINIS.