TO THE DUKE, UPON HIS Return from Scotland.  

SO the fair Light once banished, does Return  
When with new Brightness crowned, the Day is born.  
Though all the time that disappears, we might  
Much better say, We Vanished are from Light.  
For that still Guides the Day, when it is here,  
And flies, but to extend the Day elsewhere.  
As You, whom our poor Isle cannot confine,  
More than the Sun can in one Country shine;  
For the same Cause can never Banished be,  
Contained in no One Land, no more than Herald  
Even he, descending from his shining Height  
With us, does Rise in other Lands, as Bright.  
And seeming to Go Down, to This World's view,  
Retires, but is not Banished to the New.  
So You, no less than he, a Star too Great  
To Rise for ever in One Place, or Set.  
In Sphere too Noble, and of Make too Pure,  
For envious Mists for ever to Obscure.  
If aught e'er seemed to intercept Your Light,  
The Clouds ne'er darkened You, but hide our Sight.  
Like heavens fair Ruler of the Day, as high  
Above all Clouds, as They above our Eye.  
Nor less than He, a Royal Planet seem,  
Born to Divided Empire too, like Him;  
Your Hemispheres in which You shine, have too  
Your Brother's Ancient Empire, and his New.  
The Empire of his Race, which gave the Chair  
In which our Kings when Crowned, now seated are.  
Even so long since some Promise seemed to give,  
That thence in time, we might our Kings derive:  
Gives us in You, a sure Support alone,  
Both of the Scottish Chair, and English Throne.  
Well did the ROYAL MARTYR  he fell,  
To bind Succession, show his latest Zeal.  
When Kissing GLOUCESTER, he forbade all Claims  
To CHARLES his Sceptre, and the Sword of JAMES.  
Be CHARLES his Sceptre ever Sacred still,  
And be the Sword of JAMES, Invincible.  
May the Young KING to mount my Throne prevail,  
May th' ADMIRAL in Battle never fail.  
Revolted Cities bend to th' PRINCE'S Yoke,  
While Fleets and Armies wait upon the DUKE.  
His Lot to Shine upon the Land, and be  
The Othered still, to Thunder on the Sea.  
All this and more, Kind Heaven understood  
Couched in your Speechless Father's Voice of Blood.  
For Wounds have Mouths, which seem to gape and cry,  
And in the Voice of Blood, was Prophecy.  
Propitious Heaven, the Martyrs Cry has heard,  
A King's, and Martyr's Cry, deserves Regard.  
Much to his Vows, as the Event does show,  
For their Success, the Royal Brothers owe.  
Our sovereign much for his Return must own,  
Meeting i'th' Arms of Peace a Bloudless Crown.  
Much You, maintaining to the Sea that Right  
He o'er the Land had gained, without a Fight.  
For what, alas! had it availed to boast  
His Sceptre gained, had yet his Flagg been lost?  
And what a Maimed Monarch needs most be  
An Island-King, who is not Lord at Sea.  
In his Return, Heaven no Hands did need,  
Reserving that for its peculiar Deed,  
Its Act entire, as seeming to declare  
None in the Honour of that Work should share.  
That Kings may know, on whom they must depend,  
Whose Gift are Crowns, and whence they do descend.  
And we due reverence to our Kings may learn,  
Restored divinely, as divinely Born.  
This Heaven performed, but left it to your Sword  
To Guard those Rights, to which he was Restored.  
Keeping in store this Honour as Your Due,  
What it began, should finished be by You.  
And teaching us, where Human Hands there need.  
To what a kind of Choice, it does proceed.  
When suiting Instruments to Ends, it draws  
The brightest Sword still in the Bravest Cause,  
Appointing, and then Arming You for Fight,  
Who to the Seas Command, by Birth had Right.  
Led by just Titles to as just a War,  
To reap those Honours, in which none could share.  
With double Courage armed, You than did show  
What a Great Leader and Good Cause could Do.  
What the King's just Rights could at once require,  
Or we from th'Hopes of your High Birth desire.  
When you the winged Host to Battle led,  
And in your Flying Chariot 'fore them rid,  
Bearing your Brother's Thunder by your Side,  
And waving high his Flagg, with lofty Pride.  
This High, th'Ensign of his wronged Power to show,  
While that His Vengeance loudly speaks, Below.  
Soon as the sovereign of the Seas did roar,  
Prostrate they fell, who could not Bow before.  
They knew his Voice, and to his Flagg submit;  
His Thunder own, and Him that carried it.  
Tall Ships that with their Flags erect did ride,  
Hid in the Seas, the Trophies of their Pride.  
Low as the Deep, their humbled Topsails bend,  
And wide as that, their Ruins do extend.  
Such was the Fight, as did the World convince,  
None but You were Born for the Crowns Defence.  
And though it were not Your High Charge by Birth,  
Your Merit, to that Place had called You forth.  
While You at once deservedly unite  
The greatest Merit, and the highest Right.  
What vast unbounded Hopes may we conceive,  
Who under such a Pair of Brothers live?  
Happy! beneath this fair Conjunction born,  
Where both their Province nobly do adorn,  
And each so Worthy is, Great CHARLES to Reign,  
And YORK, to Triumph o'er the Conquered Main.  
A better KING than He, no Land e'er knew;  
No Seas, a Braver ADMIRAL, than You.   
FINIS.