A PANEGYRICK To His Renowed MAjESTIE, Charles the Second, King of Great Britaine, &c.
REturn, return, strange Prodigie of Fate!
Gird on thy Beams, and re-assume thy State.
Miraculous Prince, beyond the reach of Verse,
The Fame and Wonder of the Universe!
Preserv'd by an Almighty hand, when
Rome,
And raging
Oliver had read thy doom!
Deliver'd from a bloudy
Junto (men,
That gladly would be Murtherers agen!)
Thy valiant Arms have strugled with the Tide,
Encountred all the Winds, and scorn'd their Pride:
Guarded with Angels; yet preserv'd to be
Distracted, heart-sick
England's Remedie!
Come, Royal Exile! We submit, we fall,
We bend before thy Throne, and give thee all:
Accept Eternal Honour, and that Crown,
Which Vertue, and rare Actions make thine own.
Thou shalt Eclipse the petty Courts, where Thou,
Too long a Noble Sojourner, didst bow.
The
Monsieur's bravery shall vail to Thee,
And the grave
Don adore thy Majestie,
While thine encreasing Glories shall out-shine
The
Plumes o'th'
One, and
t'other's Golden Mine.
The
German Eagle, when thy
Lions roare,
Shall flag her wing, and towre above no more;
Shall gaze upon Thy Lustre, crouch down lower,
And
bask within the Sun-shine of thy Power:
As for those Potentates that lesser be,
They shall be Greater if they stoop to Thee:
Subjects to
such a
King, are better far,
And happier, than other
Monarchs are.
Heav'n, and brave
Monck, conspire to make thy Raign
Transcend the Diadems of
Charlemain.
T. F.