Britains Triumph, FOR HER Imparallel'd Deliverance, And her Joyfull Celebrating the PROCLAMATION Of her most Gracious, Incomparable KING CHARLES THE SECOND, &c.
Defender of the FAITH.
C. R.
Being a happy Fore-runner of the Day of his Nativity, and as is hoped of his Coronation.
London, Printed for W. Palmer at the Palm-treee, neer St. Dunstans Church in Fleet-street, 1660.
To the Worshipful and truly Honorable Alderman RICHARD BROWNE, Major General of the Famous City of London; AND Alderman JOHN ROBINSON, Colonel of the Green Regiment: True paterns of Cordial Loyalty to their KING, Faithful Patriots of their Countrey, and deserving Members of that Noble Metropolis, in which they are Exemplary Citizens and Gallant Commanders, LONDON.
HEroick souls, to you belongs of right,
This, whatso'ere it is, I wish it might
Answer my wishes, and your due desert,
But as it is, accept I pray the heart
Of him, who most ambitious is to serve
You to his utmost power, who deserve
Immortal honour, for what you have done
In order to bring back th' Heir to's Crown.
Your grateful Countrey doth confess your praise,
London by your help now Triumphs in Bayes,
Which formerly did droop, the way was led
By that Great
George, who struck our Dragon dead,
He led the Van, you follow'd in the Rear,
Your Loyalty now shines like Chrystall clear.
Accept (great Souls) these ruder lines, which I
Intend, to Celebrate your memory,
Such as they are, my good-will may express
The Lady's fair, though in a homely dress.
Worthy and Worshipful
Your faithful Honourer Though undeserving Servant
G. S.
Britains Triumph.
1.
AWake my
Muse, let thy dull spirits be rais'd,
Shake off thy former drowsinesse, from sleep
Rouse up thy heavy soul, let him be prais'd
Who from Destructions pit, out of the deep
Of troubles hath these Nations three redeem'd,
When to all mortall eyes they helpless seem'd.
2.
Like to a Ship in storm, three
Kingdomes lay
Upon Afflictions rageing Billowes tost:
The
Pilot o're board thrown, (O dismal day!)
The Rudder of our Government quite lost.
Our
Sun of happinesse had hid his head,
And darknesse our
Horizon overspread.
3.
The Birds of darknesse every where appear'd,
With frightfull shrieks which fluttered to and fro▪
Goblins and Elves in every place were heard,
Hagges and Infernall Furies here below,
Had made their Mansion, and resolv'd to dwell,
Thus
England seem'd the Suburbs of Black Hell.
4.
After a long Night, loe our Sun appears,
Dispelling Mist and Fogges with his bright beams,
His heat and light, one warmth, th'other chears▪
Our frozen, drooping spirits, so that streams
Of Joy now wash away the tears of grief,
From him our woes all finde their full relief.
5.
Charles! glorious Name! but glorious more by farre!
Of it the Subject, our Dread Soveraign▪
Son of Great
Charles, who now a sparkling Starre
In Heaven shines, his Son (long may he reign!)
Our Sun on Earth, let him excell in glory,
His famous Father, matchlesse in any story.
6.
Rest, Sacred, Royall Dust! sleeping in hope,
Thy Martyr'd Body
Christs appearing waits,
While thy thrice blessed Soul, with Eyes wide ope,
Beholds his glory, thus those dismal Fates,
Which snatcht thee from us, did but only lead
Thy spotlesse, Bridelike sp'rit to Christ her Head.
7.
And thou the Son of an unpattern'd Sire
Who giv'st us hopes that him thou wilt excell,
Long mayst thou live, thy Subjects chief desire,
In pride of whom
England shall shortly swell,
And bid defiance to her proudest Foes,
Charles! thou alone her bleeding wounds could'st close.
8.
Skilfull Physician! who with Soveraign Balme
Three
Kingdomes almost wounded to the death,
Didst know to cure, who so great a Calme
After so fierce a Tempest, with thy breath,
(Thy Princely breath) to this toss'd Ship could'st bring,
Which owns no Pilot but her lawfull
King.
9.
I'th Month of
May, most pleasant of the Spring,
When Nature seemeth in her greatest pride,
Latona deckt with Flowers, Birds which sing
Sweetly upon each bow i'th Woods are spy'd,
Two dayes before its
Exit, did appear
A Noon-day Starre in
Englands Hemisphere.
10.
That day, O happy day! behold a Sonne
To
Charles our King, (then happy King!) was born,
Three Nations joy and pride, what was not done,
His Princely pomp, (when Christned) to adorn?
He as his Fathers Heir, his Royall Name,
Inherits first, and best it him became.
11.
Charles! Son of
Charles, thus enters
Englands Stage,
Whose birth (his
Saviour like) a Starre did show,
An
Omen, that he first should feel the rage
Of Persecutors, and should glorious grow,
By suffering first, this was our
Princes Fate,
Whom Hells Afflictions led to Heavens Gate.
12.
Ten years and scarce six Moneths this Royall Bud
Had grown upon the Sacred Princely Stock
When sad divisions, like a fearfull floud,
Did threaten
Majesty, against which Rock
So many swelling waves and billowes beat,
That overturn'd at last the Royall Seat.
13.
His, and his Countreys Father by the streame,
Carryed with violence into the Deep,
This Infant Prince beholds, (poor soul) a Theame
Too sad to think on, thinking makes him weep,
And ev'ry object doth augment his grief,
Pit
[...]'d by some, yet findes of none relief.
14.
Thus lives our Soveraign Lord, whom sorrowes School,
For twice ten years, had pious wisdome taught,
While Villanous Usurpers think to rule
His Kingdomes by an Iron Rod, which brought
The milder Scepter into due esteem.
When
Saints in Title, Reall
Monsters seem.
15.
Then all men loath Usurped
Tyranny,
Wish for their Kings Return in safety home,
Repent their long expressed cruelty
Toward so sweet a
Prince, whom only some
(Out of a guilty feare) kept in Exile,
Oppressing all his Loyall Friends the while.
16.
The same Moneth which the joyfull newes did bring,
(Before its
Exit) of this
Princes birth,
Now enters with the Tydings of our
King,
(Tydings most full of Joy, and reall Mirth)
When thrice ten years over his head had past,
(Our King before) our King is own'd at last.
17.
Ring out proud Bells, let these our Joyes resound,
In every Steeple through this gratefull Isle,
The Ecchoe's from all Countyes let rebound
Back to this Joyfull City, and the while
Quite tyred
Phoebus, in the Ocean hides
His weary beams, let Bonfires be our Guides.
18.
Thus we the darknesse of the Night will turn,
To artificiall day-light, and each street,
For want of Fuel, shall their Sign-posts burn,
The painted Lamb and Wolf in flames shall greet
Each other, proud thus to expresse their Joy,
That
Charles shall come, whom fiends sought to destroy.
19.
And now the day approaches, which did see
Our
Charles (at one view) both a
Man and
Prince,
A Prince not greater by descent, then he,
Equalls his birth by merit, who long since,
Compell'd his Foes his Valour for to own,
And yet as mercifull, as stout is known.
20.
Charles, that the World may know, how neer he comes
Unto his
Saviours pattern, thirty years
Passeth more silently, Trumpets and Drums
Sometimes awake his Courage, and the fears
Of his aspiring Enemies, who still,
Seem for to prosper, and to have their will.
21.
But when thrice ten years of his Age are past,
Or thereabouts, behold our Royall
King
Is owned publiquely, and for a taste
Of
England's love, and bounty, Bells do ring,
Bonsires shine, Moneys are freely lent,
And for a Present to our
Charles are sent.
22.
With Expectation great the Eighth of
May
Doth adde Incouragement to former hope,
This was to
London a Triumphant day,
Those who in darknesse seem'd before to grope,
Now opened have their Eyes, and clearly see,
Englands Restorer can be none but he.
23.
Oh! he that saw the joy express'd that day,
The peoples concourse, and their lively shout,
Who so had heard, how every one did pray
For this
Kings Health, could entertain no doubt,
But that as he is Heavens Darling known,
So him (as their chief good) his Subjects own.
24.
This was the Day wherein, (a turn most strange!)
Our Peerlesse
Prince, Son of a matchlesse Sire,
From
Pallace-yard, down to the
Royall Change
Most solemnly, (by such who did aspire
Him to Proclaim and hear) proclaim'd and heard,
Was, our true Soveraign, to all indear'd.
25.
Then might you heare the spritefull shouts, and cryes
Long live our blessed King,
Charles! pious Prince,
Whose name with acclamations, rent the skyes,
And they their kinde acceptance to evince,
Let fall at first of Joy some sprinkling tears,
But soon with his bright beams the
Sun appears.
26.
Thus Heaven seems with Earth for to agree
In paying this just debt to both their friend,
The sky from Clouds and blustring windes was free,
The streets, (proud of this Office) did attend
On this Solemnity in cleanest dresse,
The very houses Joy seem'd to expresse.
27.
Each Shop stood early ope, then soon was shut,
Boasting their riches first to grace their
King,
On whom such dreadfull reverence they put,
That day to work is judg'd a fordid thing.
Work they that list cryes ev'ry Prentise Boy,
This day I'le only sing,
Vive la Roy.
28.
The
London Train'd Bands, glad that they might shew
Some signal token of their dear bought wit,
Early in Armes appear, at length they know
Rebellions sin, by punishment of it.
All are resolved now to make appear
Their Loyalty, unto their Soveraign dear.
29.
And that they may wash off the staine and blot,
Contracted in these Wars first infancy,
When 'gainst their King they took up Armes, whose lot
It was to die his Subjects infamy.
(Though Crownd himself with such a Crown of glory,
Not to be parallel'd by any story.)
30.
Now with a different, but better zeal
One heart doth seem in each mans breast to dwell,
All willing are a like the breach to heal,
In forwardness all strive for to excell.
So great appearance never
England saw,
Charles magnetisme did so strongly draw.
31.
The streets too narrow to receive the throng,
Were of themselves most ready to make room,
Nature our King to gratifie did long,
Dispenst with her dimensions law, for whom
A man would think five streets could scarce receive
Finde place, yet for the show due space do leave.
32.
Gallant spectators every room do fill
Whose prospect forward lay unto the street,
Each window stor'd with Ladies, who with still
And silent Eloquence, their Sov'raign greet;
Their graceful countenances, beauties choyce,
Their cheerful smiles, made ev'n the stones rejoyce.
33.
The splendid Servants of these charmes divine,
Each one his Mistress stood observant by,
Yet seem regardless of her beauties shrine,
A rarer object, had rapt ev'ry eye.
Love charmes are idle toyes, the only thing
Which all attend, is to proclaim their KING.
34.
The ruder sort of Mankind, that stood by,
Both old and young, servants, both maids and men,
Poor Tradesmen likewise, 'mongst themselves did vye,
Who should express affection most, for when,
The name of
CHARLES did in their ears but sound,
Their Acclamations rent the very ground.
35.
The Soldiers in most splendid equipage
Attend, this Joyful day to Celebrate,
Each one a young man seem'd, for elder age,
This news had changed to a younger date:
Among them were so many Voluntiers,
Six Regiments, an Army great appears.
36.
You would have thought that every one in Armes,
Had there appear'd a Lady for to win;
So cald, so cheerful, as if all the charmes
Of Love each breast possessed had, but sin
Each man (that day) accounted such a thought,
Thee, thee, O
Charles! (none other) there they sought.
37.
Each Alderman who there was in Command,
Exchang'd his Scarlet Robe for Warlike dresse:
Robinson of the Green, his Trained band
To
Fleetstreet led, to be in readinesse
The Proclamation to attend, so soon
As it the City entred, which was done.
38.
Stout
Browne who led the Horse, was ready there
In this great Solemn Scene to act his part,
And stately did perform it, every where
Throughout his Regiment, both voice and heart
Concur, thy Title just, great
Charles! by word,
As to proclaime, so to defend by Sword.
39.
Oh! what a gallant sight, 'twas to behold,
The spritely flower of the
London youth,
Outvying one another, in their bold
Defence of
Charles their King, whom with one mouth
They all Proclaim their only Sov'raign Lord,
And do defie his foes with one accord.
40.
Their Swords aloft over their heads they wave,
God blesse King CHARLES
the Second, is the cry:
Their glittering weapons, with their clothes most brave,
Do make a glorious object to the eye:
This addes a lustre, but the cause of joy,
Is that we hear Proclaim'd,
Vive la roy.
41.
This cry the hearers so affects, that they,
Eccho it back again with such a voice,
As showes a true affection,
Happy day
Saith ev'ry one, the very streets rejoyce:
Guns, Drums and Trumpets, rend the skies with noyse,
Th' earth quakes with shouting of the
London Boyes.
42.
The prancing Horses very richly drest,
With riders who excell'd in gallantry:
Their joy together with their state exprest,
All ravish't seem with
Charles his memory.
The very houses wondred at this chance,
For joy the pavements ready were to dance.
43.
Th' old drooping Churches, who had long been rob'd
Of their most faithfull Preachers, and for fear
Of never having them again, had sob'd,
And in sad grief had let drop many a tear:
Do now rejoyce at this approaching show,
The Bels themselves to ring are ready too.
44.
Long live King
CHARLES, the very stones would cry
Should men be silent, yea the very Drums,
Trumpets and Guns, to all the standers by,
(Sometimes, though seldom, as to passe it comes,
I know not by what fate) seem'd to Proclaim,
(The best of Monarchs) great King
Charles's name.
45.
Now comes the matchless shew, and it to meet,
Londons Lord Major, and the Aldermen,
In all their Pompe, the welcome Heralds greet,
At
Temple-bar, where that was done agen
Which was done twice before, at
Palace yard
And at
Whitehall, Great
Charles, our King declar'd.
46.
Th' attendants did withall solemnity
Perform their charge, and did such joy express
As might become the dread of Majesty,
Awful by right, yet lovely neretheless.
Now
England once more on her basis stands,
She hath her King, though yet he want his Lands.
47.
To grace this sight both Houses now combine,
On it who with their Speakers do attend;
While Rumpish
Lenthal sate at home, and whin'd
That his longwinded speaking had such end.
Yet one who once abjured both King and Duke,
Repents (as some say) limping, Rumpish
Luke.
48.
O that the Preaching Statesman had been there,
And heard Proclaimed his old Masters Son,
Whom basely he betray'd, t'have seen his cheer,
How like a patient of Doctor
Dun
He' da look't, would doubtless have encreast the joy,
To see him louting, like the Hangmans boy.
49.
Now Lord of
Durhams Bishoprick! what chear?
No thoughts now how to cheat poor
CoKinwood?
To bribe a Jury? hire men to swear?
To turn the City to a bath of blood?
To fire the houses? and the
Goldsmiths plunder?
Poor
Arthur's jawfaln, is not that a wonder?
50.
Lord! what a Lord is
Monson now become?
The Lord knows what, but ev'ry one knows where
He is to go, there is an equall doom
On him, and
Harry Martin, who's in fear,
To live in Goal, will be too mild a fate,
The hopes of both are gone with their Free-state.
51.
Good Master
Cecill, how like you this news?
Cry mercy Sir, I mean an Earl, I think,
But know not well, yet something on you shewes
Like to a badge of honor, though it stinke
So Rumpishly, that Iabhor the smell,
You have a neighbour by you, stinkes as well.
52.
Oh! fie my Lords you make me hold my nose,
Basely degenerated Rumpish Earls!
Vile self-degrading Peers! I'ad rather chose
T'have been transmuted into Countrey carles.
Self do, self have, no wise man need to grieve,
A self undoing fool, who would relieve?
53.
Poor
Tom, by Nation
English, by name
Scot,
What shall I say thy chance for to condole?
Some say th' hast got (privily) God knows what,
And some men guesse, at
Hockley in the hole.
Hadst thou but seen the triumph of that day,
'T had made thee quickly
Tom of
Bedlam play.
54.
What pity 'tis that
Bradshaw went to Hell
So long before his time, upon whose Herse
So many tears from sobbing
Needham fell,
Whose grief made him forget to weep in Verse,
But snivel'd out in Prose his Patrons prayse,
'Twas well his own curst hands cut short his dayes.
55.
So dy'd accursed
Pilate, as is told
By some who write of his deserved end;
Who ignorantly setenc't Christ, but bold
Villanous
Bradshaw, like a hellish fiend,
Knew, yet condemned his most guiltlesse King,
No hands like to his own, his death to bring.
56.
Now
Needham get the rod of
Mercury
His
Caducean Rod, and once more change
Thy
Knavish shape, 'thas been thy policy
To turn with times, but this a turn too strange
For thee to turn with, therefore turn aside,
And take with thee the Hangman for thy Guide.
57.
But who appears here with the
Curtain drawn?
What
Milton! are you come to see the sight?
Oh
Image-breaker! poor Knave! had he sawn
That which the fame of, made him crye out-right.
He' ad taken counsel of
Achitophell,
Swung himself weary, and so gone to Hell.
58.
This is a sure Divorce, and the best way,
Seek Sir no further, now the trick is found,
To part a sullen Knave from's Wife, that day,
He doth repent his Choyce, stab'd, hang'd or drown'd,
Will make all sure, and further good will bring,
The wretch will rail no more against his
King.
59.
What newes from th'
Ocean, I fain would know?
How doth the
Rota turn? my pretty Boyes,
What hopes
Republicans in such a show?
Certainly these are
Babylonish toyes.
Poor
Overton! himself who long did gull
With hopes that
Christ would come and land at
Hull.
60.
Forsaken
Fleetwood who of Fate complain'd,
Because she threw so great a stumbling-block
I'th way of his Rebellion, how disdain'd
He was, and how God seem'd his Prayers to mock,
Ninive's Fast he fasted to no end,
God in his face threw dirt, nor would attend.
61.
Despairing
Lambert! whither wilt thou run?
However let him scape he humbly begs:
Hard-hearted
Ingoldby, could'st not be wonne
To let this Valiant Champion use his legges,
When his hands failed him? O man forlorn!
Who might have push'd, yet did not use his horn.
62.
Okey what wilt thou doe? there's no more
Rump,
The Devil lately claim'd it as his Fee,
Took it, and pick'd it to the very stump,
Threw
Barebones in his fire, there let him be,
Hee's well content may but his windowes scape,
Then hee'l
Praysegod, and charter like an Ape.
63.
The rest who thought that
Christ would come as
King,
And reign among them, but mistook the time,
Which they were confident would be this Spring,
And were providing for to welcome him,
It is but fit they should both weep and bleed,
Who were so confident, yet lost their
Creed.
64.
Foolish
Fanaticks, now at last repent,
What means this Idle Caterwawling
Mew,
Who with his Brother
Barebones idly went,
With a Petition of the Devils hew:
How scape his windowes?
Praysegods Boyes did souse;
So, thrice, he seem'd to keep a
Brothell-house.
65.
Like
fate, 'tis pity but that all should finde,
Who have so to their
Reason bid adieu,
As for to be of such a sottish minde
To leave
Old Treasure for
Toyes that are
new,
T'abjure our
King, (whom God preserve in health)
To set up a
Fanatick Common-wealth.
66.
But now since our
Distractions cause is gone,
And all our
breaches likely to be
heal'd.
Oh! let this
King be dear by whom 'tis done,
Let
former grudges ever be conceal'd,
Let them no more
revive, but
buryed lye,
And be
forgot unto
Eternity.
67.
Once more we see our
Nobles in esteem,
Who all
in state did solemnly attend,
To pay this
long due debt, was't not a
dreame?
Or was it
reall? to me it
reall seem'd,
And yet a
dreame appear'd, a
turn so strange!
Eight Moneths agoe, who would
dream such a
Change?
68.
Long let thy Name live
most hereick soul,
Who of this
Change was the grand
Instrument.
Let
Moncks Name famous be, who did controul
That
Dragons Tayle of Monstrous Government,
Made
Lambert jump into a
Muddy Ditch,
And made the
Rump scratch where it did not
itch.
69.
Will. Lenthall spake so long till he was
hearse,
Now he is
speechlesse, Sexton tole the
Bell,
If but a
Quinsy trouble him, perforce
Let
Ropewort cure him, 'twill make him well,
If
Haslerig or
Vane should chance to
faint,
Hemp is a
strengthner, fit for such a
Saint.
70.
Lawson (it's like) may chance to learn more
wit,
Taking Example from some
rash mens harms,
Who were of his
Fraternity, and split
Upon the Rock of rashnesse, soft fire
warms,
Too great
consumes, just so it is with
Zeal,
Blind, fiery, makes breaches,
milde, doth heal.
71.
Let us at length be all united close
And firmly bound to this our
matchlesse Prince,
Let's grutch him nothing, let not
basenesse lose
Our
choycest good on Earth his
love, but since
None but
his Art our grief knew to allay,
'Tis most just we should for the
medicine pay.
72.
Live long
Most blessed Soveraign, and let
Thy
Birth-day (which is coming) see thee
Crown'd,
God grant this
Sunne of ours may not set,
Till
Olive Branches stand thy
Table round.
Thus, when to
Nestors years, in
peace thou hast
Us
Govern'd, and shalt yield to
Fate at last,
May thy more happy
Sonne ascend thy
Throne,
When thou shalt change
Earth's for a
Glory's
Crown.
Sic lusit Poemate fausto, ad Calendas
May, 1660.
G. S.
FINIS.