LONDONS-Triumph, OR, His Majesty's Welcome.  
GREAT CHARLES! Thou Earthly God, and Man Divine;  
Vicegerent unto Him that's Une and Trine;  
EARTH is Refulgent with thy Starlike Train,  
HEAVEN with thy seven Trions, CHARLES his Wain.  
Welcome, Dread Sir: if Citizens dare Call  
Great Britain's Monarch to a FESTIVAL  
●lass, what signifies our sumptuous Fare,  
Were the Grand Steward of the Feast not there;  
But since our Prince doth condescend to come,  
Let's off●r up a Joyful Hecatombs  
An Hundred Beasts this day shall shed their Blood,  
Oh how our Citizens will chew the Cud;  
Let Two of every thing for Food Appointed,  
Be Sacrificed unto the LORD's Anointed:  
Our Noble PLAYER with his Artillery,  
Presents himself to Act a Comedy  
But when BELLONA's Drums to War shall call,  
He for his Prince shall soon turn Tragical  
No Painted Plumes you on our Heads shall see:  
None Peacocks, than all Fight Cocks will be:  
We, Ostritch-like, of Plumes though dispossessed,  
The Daggers of our Prince his Foes digest:  
Nay, if our Sovereign Commands, 'tis done,  
We Naked, as our Swords, to War will run;  
But may our Scene not Change, that every Year,  
Your MAJESTY may Grace our New Lord Mayor:  
Oh may your Years increase, great SIR; that so  
Your Princely Hair may turn as white as Snow:  
And may the King of Kings with his right hand  
Preserve your Royal Stem to Rule the Land;  
To Run like Sols unalterabl Race,  
God bless your CROWN. My Lord Mayor's Cloves and Mace.  By G. H. of the Artillery.  

LONDON, Printed in the Year 1673.