The Royal Wanderer:  
OR, God's Providence evidently manifested, in the most mysterious Deliverance of the Divine Majesty of CHARLES the Second, King of Great Britain.  
Though bold Rebellion for a time look brave,  
Man shall not slay what God resolves to save.  
To the Tune of, The wand'ring Prince of Troy, or, Troy town.  

 
 

When ravishing Rebellion reigns,  
Then Loyalty is lead in chains,  
The Royal Princes of the blood,  
By Traitors are not understood,  
but they could not his fate pull down,  
that was preserved for England's Crown.   

Witness the heat at Worcester fight,  
Which put our Royal King to flight,  
When twice a stately horse was there,  
Shot under him by chance of war.  
●ut all that chance could not throw down  
a Prince preserved for England's Crown.   

●et was he forced to quit the field,  
lynx's sometimes to slaves must yield:  
〈◊〉 with some faithful Lords did fly,  
〈◊〉 places for obscurity.  
●●●…d at a Farme-house there did he  
disrobe himself of Royalty.   

〈◊〉 chain of Gold, whose good account  
Did to three hundred pounds amount,  
〈…〉 ve a trusty servant, and  
Discharged them all from his command.  
than the Lord Wilmot with their knives  
cut both their hair, to save their lives.   

●hus with one friend faithful and good,  
He wanders through an obscure wood:  
Until a hollow Oak unknown  
Was made the King of England's Throne,  
and all the succour that was brought,  
was by this Loyal servant sought.   

But Wilmot in his wander,  
A Soldier met of the old Kings,  
That knew him, and with true good will,  
Secured him in a Malt-house Kill,  
where he lay sweeting, almost fired  
till Soldiers came, searched, and retired.   

'Twas ne'er the house of Mistress Lane,  
Whose name let no wild tongue profane,  
The Lord, with dangers much distressed,  
Told how the poor King was oppressed,  
to Mistress Lane, whose sighs and tears,  
did show her sorrows, griefs, and fears.   

She humbly doth implore that he,  
Would seek his sacred Majesty:  
And bring him thither, that she might  
Take speedy order for his flight.  
brave Wilmot he with eyes ne'er shut,  
till with much search he found him out.   

Then from the hollow tree he brings  
This heart of Oak, and best of Kings,  
To Mistress Lanes, where after she,  
Did knéel unto his Sovereignty:  
They call a council how he should,  
in safety pass the Ocean flood.    

The second part  
to the same Tune,  
 
 

BRistol was thought the privat'st place,  
Where shipping might attend his Grace,  
And as her servant William he,  
Must cloak it in h●r Livery.  
likewise before her he must ride,  
only her father in Law beside.   

He was as weary of the Cloak,  
As he was lately of the Oak:  
But Master Lastell as most fit,  
Uncloaked the King and carried it.  
no danger in the way they saw,  
until they met her Brother in Law.   

The Brother spied and quickly spoke,  
Sir, why bear you your servants cloak?  
But she made answer, 'tis so great  
That it doth thrust me from my seat.  
her Brother (anwered thus by art)  
they talk no more, shake hands and part.   

But note a change of more renown,  
As they were passing through a Town,  
They met a Troop of horse which might  
Have put them all into a fright.  
but their good fate so gentle was  
they through the Captain's troop did pass.   

When they came to their Inn at night,  
The Cook-mayd gave the King delight,  
She asked his birth, and whence he came?  
A Naylors' son in Brumageham  
replied the King; prithee quoth she  
my jack is down, wound up for me.   

The King unused to deal in jacks,  
Winds up until the tackling cracks:  
At which the wench (if all tales true be)  
Railed at the King, and called him booby.  
the King went out and laughed, but they  
next day to Bristol made their way.   

At Bristol all their hopes were drowned,  
For no convenient ship was found:  
From Mistress Lane he parts, and goes  
With trusty Wilmot 'mongst his foes.  
to London and to Westminster,  
i'th' Hall, where the Scotch Ensigns were   

He wandered up and down the Town,  
By some concealed, to most unknown:  
'twas not a thousand pound could make  
Them their fidelities forsake.  
a ship is hired, the Master strait  
gins to understand his freight.   

Quoth he, what lading do you bring,  
I surely know this is the King.  
If I this strange adventure run.  
I shall be utterly undone.  
but with his heart they did prevail,  
and valiantly he hoysts up sail.   

Quoth he, if I on T●burn swing,  
'tis for the safety of a King:  
And if he ever crowned been,  
He surely will remember me.  
the winds blew fair, Aver de grace  
in France became their landing place.   

He rides to Rouen, and writes from thence  
To Paris, of God's Providence.  
The Duke of Orleans did come  
With friends, to bid him welcome home.  
and now in London 'tis well known  
he was preserved for England's Throne.    
FINIS.   

London Printed for F. Grove on Snow-hill. Entered according to Order.