TO THE KING'S MOST SACRED MAJESTY, Upon his Happy and Glorious RETURN An endeavoured POEM.  
BY SAMVEL wiles.  
Cressa ne careat pulcra dies nota.  Horat. 
LONDON, Printed by T. R. for John Baker at the sign of the Peacock in St. Paul's Churchyard 1660.   



I.  
COme, now the greater Muses all have done,  
And with majestic steps measured the story,  
Now Cowley, and the rest the race have run,  
And in their way swallowed up all the glory,  
I'll pump a rhyme or two come Muse, we'll go,  
jove loves a true devotion though't be slow.   

II.  
Welcome Great Charles! Hark, how the British Isle  
Bellow's the gallant Echo, every Sea  
Changes his angry Frown into a smile,  
And tells th' enquiring winds 'tis Holiday.  
Charles is returned, and every thing must be  
Clothed with brisk and sweet serenity.   

III.  
Stay! speak of Charles, what venturous tongue dares say  
What that important Name doth signify?  
Like the Philosopher; I'd ask a day,  
Then ten, or more. So great a Majesty  
Perplexes humane reason to define,  
And like a Gulf, swallows up all the Line.   

iv  
His high auspicious Birth did plainly show  
That bounteous Heaven some mighty Prince designed:  
Angels could scarce keep Counsel; big they grew,  
Yet none durst venture to unload his mind.  
Only one loving Star, in spite o' th' day  
Came t' us at noon, and told us where he lay.    


I.  
ALL England now one Aetna seems to be,  
Beset with joyful Bonfires every where:  
Like dam'd Enceladus benathed I see  
The conquered Rump struggling to see what's here,  
Heaves up the flaming Burden, but in vain,  
It gives him breath to take't away again.   

II.  
Great Charles! That very Name when't reach our Land  
Sounded deliverance and quick supply:  
Dagon, our trembling Monster here did stand,  
Amazed at th' very thoughts of Majesty,  
Cursing his ugly Tail, which marked him out  
For one of Desolations branded Rout.   

III.  
Thus when the other Dagon did but see  
The glorious dawning of the Ark, he fled;  
And tumbling down with fatal piety,  
Against the Threshold dashed his ugly head,  
Glad that his Godship's ruins might but be  
The Tomb of Him and his deformity.   

iv  
Come heavy Muse, let's try if we can sing,  
And screw our frozen notes, until they meet,  
As th' fashion is, in verse we'll meet the King,  
Although we limping go with gouty feet.  
What though we have no wit? Let's blame the Fate,  
That frighted's out of it in— 48.    


I.  
WHat mean those guilded Streamers there so high,  
Dancing like Lightning through the cheerful air,  
As if they meant to sweep and brush the Sky  
From all the misty Cobwebs that hang there.  
See how Heaven decks his Azure Canopy  
With shoals of stars, and bright serenity.   

II.  
Hark how the listening winds creep gently by,  
And whisper Charles unto the crowded shore,  
Old Time stands still, and quite forgets to fly,  
Surprised with wonder, for he ne'er before  
In the whole world's voluminous Book did see  
So great, so good, so just a Majesty.   

III.  
Great is thy charge, O Sea; be true, and bring  
Thy wealthy Burden to the longing Land;  
Thy happy waves that bear so great a King  
Are richer far than all the wealthy sand,  
Though every grain were turned into a gem,  
And both the wealthy Indies thrown to them.   

iv  
See how the Deep levels his curled brow  
To a smooth glassy plain, for Charles is there:  
Not any churlish billow grumbles now,  
But melts his sullen rage to quiet fear;  
Each loyal wave crowds with his wat'ry lip,  
And dies in close embraces of the Ship.   

V  
The scaly Dolphins mount their loyal heads,  
And by th' adored ship they stoutly swim,  
Forgetting, all the while, their wat'ry Beds;  
And when their expectation spies but Him,  
See how one laughing there cageol's another,  
And whispers his content unto his brother.   

VI  
And all those shelled Inhabitants of th' sand,  
That never yet forsook the gloomy shore,  
That cloistered up in Water, dwell o' th' Land,  
They open their shops, and bring their sparkling store,  
Such brisk eradiations with them came,  
You'd swear the very Sea were choked in flame.   

VII.  
he's come! See what a crowd surrounds the ship,  
Men, Beasts and Birds; nothing did stay behind;  
Each one preparing his obsequious lip  
To give a faint expression of his mind:  
Noah not half so well bethronged stood,  
When he was King o' th' floating world i' th' flood,    


I.  
HE's come! 'twas when the might storms had called  
The roaring Thunders out and cracking hail,  
When th' panting winds i' th' furrowed sea were stalled,  
And we no sign saw but the Scorpion's Tail:  
He like the Sun broke forth, and frighted They  
Trembled to heaps, and sneaking sleered away.   

II.  
They sneaked away, and great Astraea came  
To repossess her long-usurped seat,  
And blushed (as well she might) with pious shame  
To see her Courts reeking with bloody sweat.  
When Justice dies at Court, then how can we  
Obscurer Mortals look for equity?   

III.  
The fiercest Beasts meet Him, and shivering come  
To do abeysance at his royal feet:  
Their silent duties bid him welcome home,  
So the great Nomenclator they did greet  
With trembling reverence, when to him they came,  
In Eden's groves each one to take a name.   

iv  
The frolic Rocks pluck up their heavy feet,  
And dance about; the aged nodding oak  
Gets lose, and comes; fain would they build a street:  
Thus when the sweet Orphean Harp but spoke,  
The joylly woods and stones forgot that they  
Were tied by th' feet, and nimbly tripped away.    


I.  
THen from th' united Throng a mighty shout,  
(Louder than any Thunders roaring voice)  
With zealous acclamations burst out,  
With so stupendious and great a voice,  
That the amazed shades all fled for fear,  
And let the willing day stay longer here.   

II.  
The sturdy sky throws the loud Echo back  
To the low gloomy vaults o' th' silent earth;  
The deep foundations of the rocks do crack,  
The Infant springs struggle to find a Birth  
That they may hope at least to kiss his feet,  
And by that sacred Touch learn to be sweet.   

III.  
Down to the great Abyss the sacred Name,  
The Name of Charles broke down, and with a voice,  
Louder than all the Cries that rend the flame,  
Lays a dumb silence upon every noise.  
Then to all Hell defiance thrice he cries,  
To Heaven's and Mine infernal enemies.   

iv  
The started Furies drop their flaming whips,  
And sweep the sweat from off their scalded brows,  
Dangling their broiling tongues upon their lips,  
Each mouth like a great burning Furnace shows;  
Where Blasphemy with rageful anger snarls  
Both 'gainst the sacred Names of God and Charles.    


I.  
O mighty influence of great Charles his Name,  
That makes the very Gates of Hell to shake,  
The damned souls get strength against the flame,  
And by that intermission Breath they take.  
But stay (sad souls!) a Troop of Fiends comes there,  
The Legions routed now from Westminster.   

II.  
King Satan comes, and with a surly brow  
Examines every Face, they trembling stand,  
Expecting all some sad tormenting blow,  
Now staring here, and then o' th' other hand,  
I'm come (said he) and that I might not fail  
To come in State, look, I have brought my Tail.   

III.  
With that out of his scaly Bosom he  
Plucked forth a Rowl, scralled o'er with bloody Names:  
My Rump of Agitatours, here they be,  
He cried, the Heirs apparent of my Flames,  
And justly too: they wrought the Tragedy  
Of Charles, that mighty foe of Mine and Me.    


I.  
In Worc'ster's bloody Fields methinks I see,  
What noble resolution filled his Heart,  
What low account He made of Majesty:  
So great Apollo acted once a part  
I' th' Trojan Camp, laying aside his Bays,  
Decking a steely Helmet with his Roys.   

II.  
Methinks I see Cromwel's seduced crowds  
Moving, like iron-statues, o'er the fields,  
Whilst his proud Banners- kiss the gloomy clouds,  
Each face of Brass supplies the want of shields;  
Brass must those faces be, that dare defy  
Heaven, and its great Lieutenant's Majesty.   

III.  
See how th' enraged Horses tear the way,  
And fling a cloud of dust about their ears,  
A cloud so thick that't almost stifled day.  
See how his foaming neck one proudly rears;  
Another neighs, tossing his curled main,  
And swiftly scours along the trembling plain.   

iv  
What throngs of sharpened Pikes and Halberds there  
March o'er th' enraged Rebel's head so thick  
And close, that th' very winds entangled are,  
And can't get through them but are forceed to stick:  
Like some great wood upon a hill they show,  
Where there's scarce room for ' nother tree to grow,    


I.  
MEan while the Royal souls themselves prepare,  
Armed with innocence and loyalty:  
Not any Breast is stained with guilty fear,  
Rather than live with shame they choose to die.  
Charles is their noble valorous pattern, they  
Are taught by His, what face becomes the day.   

II.  
See here they sally out, and there they meet:  
Hark how the thundering Drums torment the sky:  
Here mangled arms and legs, there hands and feet,  
Parted from their unwilling bodies fly.  
The overflowing Brooks swell with a flood,  
And slain their frighted banks with streams of blood.   

III.  
See where a wide-mouthed Canons burning load  
Comes roaring out, wrapped up in raging flame,  
And through the thickest crowds it cuts a road,  
Scorning by all resistance to be tame.  
ne'er did the trembling corn fall half so fast  
Before the angry Mower's sharpest haste.   

iv  
Torn limbs of men and horses smeared with gore,  
In heaps do lie. There one doth stumbling fall,  
Snared in his fellow's bowels, o'er and o'er.  
Thousands of New-created kindred, all  
Mangled with gaping wounds do strew the Earth,  
Mixing their blood at death, though not at Birth.    


I.  
BUt stay! who's he, that through the armed rout,  
So unresistably doth run? what's he  
That deals so many deaths to those about:  
See with what mighty force undaunted He  
Doth hue his passage through, whilst trembling they,  
Cromwel's poor Sneakes, crowd up to make him way.   

II.  
It must be Charles, who (though he shrouded be  
In a disguises humble privacy,)  
Cannot contract his beams of Majesty,  
No more than th' other Sun can hidden lie  
Under a dusky cloud at noon: for still  
His Light all corners of the world must fill.   

III.  
'Tis, 'tis the mighty Prince: there doth he thrust  
His slaughtering Arm into the stoutest troops,  
See there he come, reeking with blood and dust,  
Whilst every Object of his Fury stoops  
To's angry sword's strong force; no blow doth need  
A second to assist its murdering speed.   

iv  
Before Him still they fall, and still they fly,  
(Tumbling in dying Heaps they stop his way)  
Thousands of panting Corpse, that fain would die,  
Breath out their souls with curses of the day,  
Gnawing the ground with rage; unwearyed He  
Send's thousands more t' attend their destiny.   

V  
Heaven smiled, and saw an easy victory  
Following his mighty Arm: but thought it fit  
That Charles (that glorious Name) should raised be  
B' another Conquest, far more great than it,  
Which, like strong  without wound or smart,  
Should leave the Body whole and melt the Heart.   

VI  
Heaven sounded his Retreat, and ready He  
Obeyed e'en to his loss, and left the field:  
Cromwell mistook it for a victory,  
And thought it possible that Charles could yield:  
Stay rageful Tyrant, stay! Heaven thinks that He  
Better deserves to live than all thy Host and Thee.    


I.  
HE lives and GOD WITH HIM, His Exile's force  
Can ne'er create to Him so great a loss,  
Though th' frantic Commonwealth strove to divorce  
King, Heaven and Him; whilst round their silver Cross  
Run GOD WITH US, Heaven left them all for One  
And rather chose to live with Charles alone.   

II.  
They're all mistake that say his quiet Breast  
Was clouded and disturbed with fretting care,  
There always dwelled Serenity and rest,  
As in the upper Region of the Air,  
Above those stormy Passions, jealous fears,  
Which scald our minds with grief, and eyes with tears.   

II.  
'Tis true, a loving watch did always dwell  
In his sweet Eye, which kindly still did bend  
To poor distracted Albion, and did tell  
His royal heart what Tyranyes did rend  
His tottering Kingdoms; whilst we guiltless lay  
Prisoners that feared, but not deserved the day.   

VI  
Nor can I blame those crafty cares that wrought  
Their Subtle selves into His royal mind,  
Where they the mighty things that pass his thought  
And his great soul's sublime productions find.  
I'd wish myself transformed into a Care,  
If, without Treason's guilt I might dwell there.   

V  
Long mayst Thou live Great Prince, and still mayst be  
A terror to thy Foes, as thou hast been  
To every vice that hath assaulted Thee:  
Whilst the discovered Plots of crafty Sin,  
Though all contrived in deepest policy,  
Are not more known than they are shunned by Thee.   

VI  
Under thy potent Influence I trust  
Some condescending Muse will visit me,  
And lift my grovelling Fancy out o' th' dust,  
Stretching my dwarfish Rhymes to Poetry;  
Then the first Theme divine, of which I'll sing  
Shall be a Panegyric to the KING.    
FINIS.