Epinicia Carolina, OR AN ESSAY Upon the Return of His SACRED MAJESTY, Charles the Second.  
By S. W. of the Inner Temple.  
LONDON, Printed for Robert Gibbs, at the Golden Ball in Chancery Lane. 1660.   

AN ESSAY, Upon the Happy Return of His SACRED MAJESTY, Charles the Second.  

1.  
he's come!— See there Else.— There again.  
he's just now landed with his Train;  
Just now hath changed for loyal ground, th' unfaithful Main.  
he's come!— Hark how the forward Air  
Resounds His Welcome to the Shoar,  
Redoubling all the Echoes over.  
When the unloaded Guns can do no more,  
Volleys with thunder may compare;  
Volleys that thunder far excel;  
For when raged Heaven in such a language speaks,  
With fiery tongues, & silence through the darkness breaks.  
(Clouds that are dark as night, or hell)  
Showrs to allay the flame  
That just now came,  
And unexpected fell  
Pour down, the sky with storms is dull,  
Of tempests, and thick weather full;  
Each clap is followed with its band of hail,  
Squadrons that will prevail;  
Above, engaging Arms appear,  
Below the Earth doth groan to hear  
The shock, and quakes at some sad fate it sees not, in the Rear.   

(2)  
Quite different is this Peal, this Noise,  
Is but the repetition of our joys.  
Continued Acclamations from a louder voice,  
Cannons that so well imitate,  
Encourage, not amate,  
Tell us a most desired calm is nigh,  
And without help of following tempests clear the sky.  
A calm great Prince, such as none else could say  
Beside You Self, and ne'er to late,  
To a distracted and tumultuous State;  
To a divided Land,  
That never could without such help command,  
Or know till now what truly 'twas t' obey;  
A calm Your Name brings, and a certain bay:  
Nor is't less welcome, cause so long deferred,  
That very Name hath raised the price,  
Increased the weight, and made it twice)  
The thing for what before't appeared;  
So Expectation almost gone,  
Makes us too much esteem a certain one!  
And even despairing to be free,  
We can Yourself no other See,  
Than one that hath procured us double liberty.   

3.  
And as i'th' troubled depth in spite of hope,  
When th' burdened Ship with thousand billows tossed,  
Is to it Self and Convoy lost:  
And Mariners i'th' dark their Tackling grope,  
Ready to be devoured by every wave  
Which threatens and prepares a grave,  
If there appear one glimpse of day,  
And a faint thought the storm may steal away,  
Though at the greatest distance set,  
And scarce discerned yet,  
Courage returns, and checks Despair,  
Be it with loss of half the Fare,  
Is buried in a Nobler Care.  
YE have done all this, a greater thing,  
Deliverance given, Heaven could not bring,  
By any means, but such a King.  
YE have done't, and with't returned Our Light,  
Almost forgotten through a twelveyears Night;  
Dispelled Our fears, to th' Heaven brought  
A prize inestimable, and unsought;  
And beside, what was Ours before,  
Returned Yourself, which makes ten thousand prizes more.   

4.  
Pardon, Great Name, if one so mean aspire,  
And to your Sun, expose his humbler fire;  
(Amongst the many flames to rise)  
Not to increase Your light  
(Beyond expression bright,  
And never to be greater made,  
By an additional and borrowed aid)  
But to consume his Sacrifice.  
'Tis true, You need not what such things can do,  
Nor can Your praise by such lo praises grow,  
It being not You that want, but we that own;  
We owed, and if that Theme want give  
To an officious duty, and return,  
'Tis our ambition in the common flame to burn:  
Nor will we that survive,  
If Salamander like i'th' flames we cannot live;  
We are ennobled by this service done,  
To ourselves, and not to Thee,  
Making it harder to be known,  
Whether more proud or dutiful we be:  
If we refuse, thou'rt still the same,  
Great by thy birth, and greater by thy Fame,  
None by the choice of Heaven and Us more freely came.   

(5)  
Should we refuse, 'twere but to be  
Fond Heralds of our slavery,  
And how unwillingly we are made free,  
We should belly our interest, and give way  
To others to prevent us in our joys:  
And the same Acclamations pay  
Before us, through a false delay,  
As equally concerned in our voice.  
No! No! we ne'er will yield,  
'Tis too too much, it hath been deferred so long;  
Nor will we make another's title strong,  
By entering last, or never in the Field;  
Though our Engagement only can descry  
Not what we would, but what we can't deny.  
Our pens shall do their duty first,  
Though hitherto to silence cursed,  
Or Tyranny, of Themes the worst;  
Not by recanting, for thus how to sin,  
Like others we ne'er knew,  
Who must their pardon sue,  
Before they can with confidence again begin,  
Or uninfected reach the KING.  
'Tis but a poor disguise to say 'twas done,  
with th' multitude to th' rising Sun,  
At least to him that went for one,  
Meteors may be admired till fallen and gone.  
If Persian like we superstitious are,  
Thou art the Sun, the Tyrant, but a blazing star.   

6.  
You are alone a Sun, Your very Name  
Gives a new life and birth to every thing,  
Gives a new and perpetual spring,  
Like that above in Qualities the same;  
For as to that we all distinctions own,  
Of times and seasons, night and day,  
By You that very thing we know,  
And go more satisfied away.  
You are the greater Sun o'th' two.  
For as i'th' objects that doth show  
The pleasures which they have,  
To take the greedy sight,  
Are from themselves, not from his light;  
And don't by his addition beauteous grow:  
But were before thus beautiful, and crave  
Assistance from his beams to tell, not make 'em so.  
You at the same time light and object bring,  
What is, and how 'tis to be seen,  
The medium, and the very thing,  
Without the caution of design between:  
You make the Prospect, and that done,  
Are what we see it by the Sun:  
So that to say you are like the Sun, won't do,  
'Tis mean, You are not like the Sun, the Sun's like You.   

(7)  
Since than so great a miracle You are,  
That nothing can resemble or come near,  
We other Similes shall spare,  
And to Yourself alone Yourself compare:  
And as the likeness of the Painter's draught  
Is to be judged no other way,  
Then by the Pattern which before him lay,  
And matter for his Pencil brought;  
Then by the life, how far the Features be  
The very same, where hard, and where more free  
We have it all in You; one Scet'h hath all,  
Yourself the Copy and Original;  
So like which either is that none dare say:  
But as two postures by the selfsame face  
May have a different Air, and several Grace  
From the reflection of the light and place,  
When with a languishing Aspect the One,  
As some sad Mourner beareth down;  
The Other with a livelier Eye,  
Intends a Crown and Majesty:  
Both are unlike to other, as the hand  
Of Artist, and the passions can command.  
You have a different Meene as Prince  
And Exile, what You were before,  
And what YE are since;  
Yet like Yourself in both so much, that nothing can be more.   

8.  
A perfect wonder in Your several State,  
Whether we count Your Cross, or better Fate,  
Th' adventures that have run  
From th' Cradle to the Throne.  
If Princes have their Infancy,  
And can be born, though they can't die;  
When for twelve years The hast known,  
What 'tis to be a KING, and to be None;  
When Majesty disguised did lie  
I'th' Visord of a private one;  
The safest and the best retreat  
For Him that's destined to be great.  
Nay in a lower Sphere Thou seemedst to move,  
As if degrading's not enough  
Thy patience, and thy heart to prove,  
A banishment, shall lead the way  
To an unconstant and unsettled stay;  
To save the life that else had been a prey:  
As if 'twas equal fault to, Be  
As hold the reins of Sovereignty.  
Under so great an heap our fire was laid,  
And part o'th' common rubbish made,  
Almost unminded, and quite spent,  
Till by the smoke it upward sent,  
We knew it lived, and on a gentle turn,  
Can reassume its former flames, and burn.   

9  
This we experienced when thy forward zeal,  
Made Thee to us at Worcester fight appeal,  
More for thy Country's good, than for thy own;  
Thy Country which insensible was grown,  
And by continued slavery,  
Thought it a burden to be free;  
We saw there, (and who could not see?)  
The little price You put on Majesty,  
When undistinguished with the Rout,  
Had not Your actions marked You out,  
You as some under-Captain wheeled about,  
Charged up, Retreited, Led the Van,  
Faced the Cromwellians like a private man;  
And though in You that time there lay  
Concentered Happiness and Peace,  
Our future joy and present ease,  
They unregarded were that day,  
And as rich nothings put away:  
Breaking first through the Armed Ranks,  
Now on the Front, then in the Rear;  
Upon the guarded, and well-bodied Flanks,  
You over-ran all, ere You could be judged near.   

10.  
You were too prodigal of life and blood,  
When scarce to be withstood,  
You'd Public Victim for proud Rebels die;  
Would scarce prevailed with be to live,  
And wait a better destiny.  
" So much 'twas not to get the victory,  
" To be orepowred, and yet survive!  
Though no less by't was thy renown,  
'Tis equal to deserve, and wear a Crown!  
You did Your share, and more,  
Than any Prince ere did before,  
Only Fates would with triumph you restore:  
Fates that for better times thy fortune knew,  
Unwilling were that Bout thou shouldst subdue,  
And from the Conquest CHARLES withdrew;  
So that 'twas they were routed, and not You:  
Who by your happy 'scape away,  
And Parthian like in flight, didst get the day;  
Making the Oaken Garland far exceed the Bay.   

11.  
Had You that time o'ercome in fight,  
That very Name had spoiled the show,  
'Twas more consulted in Your flight;  
The Notion of a Country's overthrow,  
Less pleasure, greater hurt will do.  
Blood that from streams like these doth spout,  
Increaseth not the Royal Die, but rots it out;  
The purple loseth by the stain,  
If possible to get it up again.  
In civil broils the Laurel won,  
Is but a pale and withered one;  
Hath more of Cypress in't, and Thorn,  
So purchased and worn.  
Caesar in triumph, when he led  
Great Pompy's children, lost more praise,  
Then's Victory did Trophies raise;  
His Crown did not defend, but more expose his head.   

12.  
But should we every Scene present,  
Deliver every Act of thine,  
'Twere to exhaust a Mine;  
And not a scanty and consumed Mint:  
Full of new wonders every hour was seen  
The least, that nothing Vulgar came between;  
An hour can subject to a Volume give,  
A day to an whole History;  
A month and year can ne'er subsist and live,  
But with their own weight pressed, must sink and die.  
And as the light that in a mean,  
Renders the Object better seen:  
If it exceed its wont ray,  
Takes what before it gave, away.  
YE have done too much, all words outdone,  
Yourself, and the most lavish tongue;  
By giving too great a Theme have given none,  
YE have done beyond all gone before;  
Had you done less great Prince, we had done more.   

13.  
Yet though we can't express, we may admire  
Thy condescension, when thou didst retire,  
And in a Straighter orb confine,  
Lustre would else break out and shine.  
Yet though envelopt in a cloud, even there,  
It all enlightened that were near:  
A cloud may hid, not chase the Day,  
Obscure the Sun, not take't away.  
The Suns the same, when it don't, as when it doth appear;  
'Twas ill for us when private walls did feel  
Your power, when laying by the warlike steel,  
You all regrets, but ours could heal;  
Resolved for us, Your Exile to forgo,  
And something more than Exile know  
To suffer double banishment.  
First, from Your Country, than the place  
Where You had covert got i'th' Chase,  
And by a Fate more grievous went:  
" So great a power had Usurpation gained,  
" That by less crimes it could not be maintained;  
" A little spot appears till the whole Fleece is stained.   

14.  
Mean while we languished with the rotting pain  
Of Foreign hatred and disdain;  
'Twas death or prison to return again;  
Those whom the public ruin forced to shore,  
And for some shelter fly  
To other Lands, and unknown lie;  
If but their names were heard,  
They were as an infection feared,  
To be an English man was plague enough.  
At home we knew no other peace,  
But a continued War; no health, but a disease:  
And since we could no better be  
By our Physician's mystery;  
Always to be so, and no worse, was all our ease.  
So that if expectation gone,  
And buried with thee in oblivion,  
Some for the base Usurper prayed,  
And in their forced Devotions strayed;  
'Twas out of Dread, not Duty paid:  
So much of a worse power we were afraid!  
The same was for Sicilian Tyrant done,  
Not out of love to him, but fear of a more cruel one.   

15.  
And as the Romans in their superstitious care  
To several Deities did Temples rear,  
Ridiculous to all but them that worshipped there:  
When they made Fevers Fanes resound,  
To Paleness Altars Crowned;  
And Tempest that whole Fleets had drowned:  
'Twas not that from their influence  
They good expected, but to drive 'em thence.  
If we this thing for others did, than you,  
'Twas not because we reckoned it their due:  
But we ourselves not other thing could do,  
Our worship was constrained; constraint did bring  
Almost a Fate our Sovereign to deny,  
Whilst every Pulpit still did ring  
With this impossibility,  
At once to serve God, and pray for the KING;  
'Tis easy now, and unperplext;  
Without a Comment we can read the Text;  
And the most partial man must say,  
What 'ere 'twas heretofore, 'tis treason now not to obey.   

16.  
Till you returned, the thought of joy  
Was banished from these sad retreits;  
And the few fires we had proved but unnatural heats,  
Never throughly warmed, but forced colder sweats,  
And with their clamminess did more annoy.  
Our fires were like those which from Aetna rise,  
ne'er seen, but after some strange Prodigies,  
Flames that don't lighten, but obscure the Skies.  
Yours have a greater power, restore the day;  
And when 'tis sunk, and lost in a decay,  
Renew it with a brighter ray.  
The Islands one continued fire,  
Is terrible to all that see it round;  
And those that know the reason and the ground,  
O'ercome with heat, already even expire:  
Saylors I fear that pass by this way ' l mistake,  
And a new Country in their Sea Chards make;  
For as towards us they forward steer,  
And with the Compass round us Veer,  
They scarce know whether Pole they're near,  
Like a new Terr' del fogo, we so much appear.   

17.  
We're truly now the Happy Isle,  
Beyond all else on which the Sun doth smile:  
But you are He hath made us so,  
This happiness could from ourselves ne'er flow;  
Or any thing that we could do;  
You are the gift, and giver too.  
'Tis true, Thou mightst have used some other hand,  
That might have laid it as a just command;  
The Spanish and the Germane aid,  
That to such plunder willingly had come,  
And with the same facility overcome,  
And made us dearly for refusal paid.  
Thou mightst have done this, something more,  
Made blood and wounds thy right restore;  
But resolute to stay  
Till something greater made the way;  
Till the whole Land should see,  
Not thou of them, 〈◊〉 they'd need of thee:  
Thou more than any Prince hast done,  
Comest by a double title to the Throne;  
The choice thy People's is, the right thy own.   

18.  
And since th' art come, may'st thou still find  
Those pleasures such a welcome brings:  
Where Loyalty and duty's joined  
To serve and own the best of KING'S!  
May with thy Reign, thy happiness increase,  
And ne'er know what 'tis to grow less!  
Or if Eclipse it suffers with the Sun,  
Let it like that before hand known,  
Not be a total, or a sudden one;  
But such as when 'tis past and gone,  
May make you reassume this light,  
Thy pristine beams, and be more bright:  
Make the whole world thy rays adore,  
Obscuring that small star, that thee obscured before.  
May'st thou be like thyself, none equal know,  
To heaven alone thy Sceptre own!  
" To be within comparison is to be low.  
MONCK the mean time (while to the Sky  
Thy Name is mounted by winged victory,  
That doth in Ambush for that honour lie)  
I'th' Sky shall also have a Memory,  
And by some brighter Constellation known,  
Attend thy Grandeur, and increase his own:  
So w●i●e Yourself we must to CHARLES his Wain refer,  
MONK with another title shall be called the Waggoner.   
FINIS.