Long looked for Come at Last; OR T●E PEACE PROCLAIMED.  

THousands of Storms have ushered in a Calm,  
And Years of Wounds have met a day of Balm;  
Cimmerian Clouds have darted out a beam,  
Which, when it came, we were as those that dream:  
Our foolish fears and fancies too unjust,  
Durst neither God, nor his Vicegerent trust;  
As if our Sins and Sufferings did agree  
To give us o'er to Infidelity.  
But we have now an Honourable Peace,  
If Eyes and Ears may be but witnesses.  
Peace, now as white as Harvest on our Stage  
Appears, a Peace that shall grow white with Age:  
All then (but those that hate her) will accord  
To welcome Peace, fair Daughter of the Sword,  
Who would have thought, to see us disagree,  
Discord should have produced such Harmony?  
The Sword was drunk with Blood, both Nations say,  
And yet the longest Night will have a Day;  
Though it was long a breaking, now 'tis come,  
And with its Rays enlightend Christendom:  
The Ironsided Buffcoat truckles down,  
And Arms on Knees pay Homage to the Gown:  
If the unjustest Peace (as some minds are)  
Ought be preferred even to the justest War,  
What Thanks and Duty owe we CHARLES' the Great,  
Does thus from War, both Peace and Honour get?  
But as it happened 'twixt the Coach and Swain;  
This would fair weather have, that would have Rain:  
So tempers vary, and are come to that,  
Most men would have indeed they know not what:  
Alas! how dampt the Blood fleshed Soldier looks,  
To find his Spears turned into Pruning Hooks?  
The Country Man may milk his full dugged Cow,  
No fear of Plunder or Free Quarter now;  
Each Man secure sits under his own Vine,  
Both in the comfort of the shade and wine;  
Whilst every Grape, ambitious of his Good,  
For a Peace-offering, pours out it's own Blood.  
Fear no Complaining in our streets hereafter,  
Each heart is filled with Joy, each tongue with laughter,  
The Country shall not flock like Mice and Rats  
To London, with Petitions in their hats:  
Nor need those Guild-Halders their Votes increase,  
Who crying Peace, had better held their peace:  
That Peace is come (though then it was no crime  
To wish it) only they mistook the Time:  
Time, that as't happened made their Loyalty  
An Error, great as the Fifth Monarchy.  
O that we had all of us hearts like them,  
Pray for the Peace of our Jerusalem;  
Neither seditious Church, nor factious State,  
O then our Peace would end in endless date.  
In vain we fault the City, or the Court,  
Sin that hath found us out, hath plagued us sored;  
Whilst for the Wheel of State, each leaves the main,  
And moves by th' Epicycle of his own brain,  
Which is so strangely a woolgathering run,  
That, mad as Phaeton, he must guide the Sun.   

But (Brainsicks) by your leave, this talk must cease,  
No time to quarrel, 'tis a time of Peace,  
A day of Joy, a harvest of content;  
No Farmers starve, nor Landlords pine for Rent:  
Our hungry Neighbours now, hardly Cornfed,  
Like the Samaritan Cripples, shall have bread;  
Yet they for it, shall bring their Money too,  
No more than Joseph made his Brethren do.  
The City shall in Nobler sort be built,  
And all her Towers, with Guiny Gold be guilt:  
Whilst empty Pockets shall her Silver meet  
Plentiful, as the stones once in her street:  
Churches 'tis like a while may be forborn,  
For, building Churches most men have forsworn;  
Yet should that pious work chance be begun,  
The World well knows Church-work goes slowly on.  
Her Fires are quenched now, but we Fires discover,  
Trophies of Peace, all the whole Kingdom over!  
And her poor Citizens I hope shall get  
Able (in fine) to pay their Fines so great.  
On building Houses, he's a fool that stands,  
Patience and Peace will build them to their hands.  
Is not this better than to underlease  
The womb of Time for an abortive peace?  
The sportful Dolphin brings his Offering,  
And Seas are silent whilst the Sirens sing  
T' invite our Collier's; see what they can do,  
To make a Summer of the Winter too:  
Besides Newcastle, and her Hell deep hole,  
Guiny and both the Indies will bring Cole.  
Thank God, whilst others Famine did increase,  
Our Plenty all this while has stayed for Peace.   

And if it be'nt by Prejudice or'e-awed,  
Here's this Broadside to set the Peace abroad.   Pacem to possimus omnes.  

Licenced the 24th of August, 1667.   

LONDON, Printed in the Year 1667.