DUX REDUX: OR, London's Thanksgiving.  
Being a Panegyric on the most Happy Return of His Royal Highness JAMES Duke of York, Lord High Admiral of England, Septemb. 19 1672.  

Returned and Safe! Let the glad Realm Rejoice,  
Till Rocks, and Mountains, Echo all our Joys.  
The purling Streams would else our Mirth forestall,  
And make their murmurs much more Musical.  
Thrice Welcome (Mighty Prince!) Let the Bells ring,  
And all the People Jopaean Sing.  
We owe not here to Faggots, Pitch, or Tar,  
Our Hearts inflamed with Love, Best Bonfires are;  
Since our Great JAMES is to St. Jamesses come;  
Welcome as the blessed day, that brought him Home:  
A Day than which a Happier ne'er was known,  
Save that which brought our Sovereign to his Throne.  
A Day, to Loyal Hearts of special Note,  
Brought the Great JAMES home in a Pleasure-boat.  
welfare those gentle, those auspicious Gales,  
For Albion's sake swelled his Triumphant Sails.  
welfare brisk Tides, welfare those active Rowers,  
Winged with desire, and Joy Feathered their Oars.   

The Tower Salutes him with one Broadside more,  
Re-minding Thousands he Received before.  
Upon his Stern the Crimson Ensign stood,  
A Flag was double-dyed with Belgick-Blood.  
The very Sea Trembled to see him there,  
And Neptune hid his wavy Head for fear.  
His Presence did the Sea-Gods so Confound,  
That not a Tryton durst a Trumpet Sound.   

What should He more pursue his prostrate Foes?  
He stayed till there was nothing to Oppose;  
Save Petty Privateers, slinckt out of Size:  
Let Idle emperors spend their hours on Flies.   

Some deemed him Dead, his Conduct being to these  
As Dark as Midnight, and as Deep as Seas.  
What is't, that Bulk of Baseness Satisfies?  
Who, though they See Him, dare not trust their Eyes.  
For, dazzled with an Object so Supreme,  
Their Envy would be Blind, that it might Dream.  
This Juncto, by a Coffeehouse contrive,  
Have Thousands Killed (thank God) are still Alive:  
And they, to Base and Disingenuous Ends,  
Bewail their Enemies, and Bewitch their Friends.  
For since aside Wallingford-House is stepped  
In Coffee-house, Committee of Safety's kept.  
Who by the Turks Black Drink, for aught I see,  
Are become no less Infidels than He.  
A Sect of Schismatics that would have that,  
Ask 'em at present, and they know not what.  
Defend us Heaven! the World's a troublous Sea,  
Where every Puppy would a Pilot be.   

Far, far be't from Inferiors to Inquire:  
Suffice it, they Sat Happy, and Admire.   
FINIS.   

London, Printed by T. M. for Richard Head, 1672.