A SPEECH Spoken to his Excellency the LORD GENERAL MONK, BY ONE Representing the Genius of ENGLAND at Drapers-Hall, Wednesday the 28. of March.
NOW almost twenty yeares have roul'd about
Since first the flames of our late Wars broke out;
And
Brittain fainting with the losse of blood
Under a lawlesse Yoke subjected stood,
When now at last her groanes by Heav'n are heard
Her fainting
Soule and dying
Hopes uprear'd;
Her sable night of sorrow done away
By the new dauning of a
Royall day,
As from the
North her first distemper grew,
Thence flowes the
Soveraigne Med'cine to renue
Her joys againe: She hop
[...]s secure to stand
Upheld by her brave
Generall's Warlike hand.
Over the
Brittish Seas flyes his great Name
Bor
[...] on the swift wings of no common fame,
Our Enemies tremble, and our freinds are glad
To these 'tis joyfull newes, to those 'tis sad
The mighty shouts and the
Stentorian voice
Of the glad multitude that now rejoyce
Awak's the drowsie
Genius, if this I'le,
Who wept so long or'e
Charles's Funerall pyle
Till his swolne eyes with a
Lethargic sleep
Were seal'd up, having no more teares to weep.
He understands the cause of
Englands joy
And least
Ambition should their hopes destroy
He boldly doth his mind to
Monk expresse
And shewes how he may
Brittains ills redresse.
The Genius Speech.
GReat man by blood, by vertue greater made,
Whose presence Banishes the gloomy shade
O
[...]
Brittaines night; the faire
Aurora too
The Royall
Phaebus ushered in by you:
Thy Sword has cut our Chaines of slavery
Thy hands the
Gordian knots of Tyranny
Unty'd; thy strenuous Arms unhing'd our Gates
To shew thy streng
[...]h, the greatest pride abates,
To shew what thou couldst do, that we thereby
Might on thy more than
Samson's strength rely:
But what thou didst was at anothers frown,
Thou hung'st them up, that kindnesse was thy owne.
Great
Hercules of our Ile at last thou'st slaine
That Hydra never more to rise againe,
Though often crush'd, that Monstrous
Taile, (which bit
Her owne head off) did resurrection git,
But now she's dead, and never more shall rise,
Tryumps, not teares attend her Obsequies.
And now but one stop more and thy great name
Register'd stand shall in the book of Fame
In so great
Characters the world may read
Thy marchlesse story when that thou art dead:
The World too little for thy fame shall be
And Princes honour shall thy name and thee.
See then great
Generall, Brittaines Genius now
Before thee stands, and willing is to owe
A happynesse to thee, wherein thou may'st
Raise honour to thy selfe; if thou delay'st,
Time and
necessity will thee prevent
And spoyle the lustre of thy great intent.
Now drooping
Brittaine raises up her head,
Inspir'd by thee she arises from the dead,
Her War-made breaches now are cur'd again,
And joys and ease succeed her griefe and paine,
Her spotlesse Virgin Chores begin to sing
Jö Paeans in honour to their King▪
Faile not her now-bigg hopes but be content
To raise an everlasting Nonument
To thee and thy posterity; that bayes
May Crown thy Brows and Ages speake thy praise
Thou see'st our wants, and what it is wee'd have
It is a King of
Charles's race we crave;
Since all the people in one voyce agree,
God's
Oracle, 'tis God that asks it thee,
Who having scourg'd poor Brittain for her sin,
Returnes her
Baulme to cure her wounds again,
We 'ave try'd, and too too long, a
Common wealth,
Such as it was, a Bane to
Englands Health,
Where fifty
Tyrants with one mouth agree,
To eat up
Law, Religion, Liberty.
Monsters that Kings and Bishops Lands devour,
Kept by extorted sums the Nation poor;
Phylosophers that changed all to gold,
And let goe nothing that their gripes could hold;
Yet these were they that needs would stiled be
The Keepers of our
England's Libertie;
But by thy power great
Monk wee'r freed again,
And
George most bravely has the
Dragon slain.
Ambitious
Cromwell put the purple on,
And having slain the Father, rob'd the Son
Of right and title, to a royall Crown,
To set himselfe up, pul'd another down,
And what he got by rapine, he made good,
Though by Religion cloak'd, by force and blood,
All what our
Heroes once contended for,
With the sad tempest of a civill War
Himselfe usurp'd; and gloryed in his pride
To have with peace what was to Kings deny'd,
But yet you see the
Nation scourg'd, that God
Renews his mercy and has burn'd his rod,
And
Cromwell's name grows odious every where,
Which was obey'd not out of
Love, but
feare.
Let his example your ambition curb,
Doe not our growing
happinesse disturb,
By mounting of a
Throne is none of yours,
For be assured that the sacred powers,
Will blast the first fruites of thy tyranny,
Fraud must preserve what's got by policy
And now our people us'd to subtleties,
To be deceiv'd by crafts are grown too wise,
So that the fates deny thy Regiment,
And people to obey no more are bent,
Till he arises in the Brittish spheare,
Whom all desire the royall Crown to wear.
Thou seest our griefes and knowst the wayes to cure,
Our
Maladies, thy
Faith we knows too pure
For to be tempted to betray our hopes,
Who doubts thy
loyalty to
treason opes
Away; no though thou say'st thou'lt us deceive,
Such is our confidence wee'l not beleive,
Since one so good and great as Monk must be,
The onely Man can give us liberty.
Brittain in sackcloth has mourn'd long enough,
'Tis time to lay aside the
Sword, and
Buff,
'Tis time to pull those
Puny-nobles down,
Who speak against, and yet affect a Crown,
That those by blood and virtue truly great,
May be enstaled in their
long-left seat,
These shining in their
ermin gallantry,
Beget a
reverence due to
Majesty,
Now I have done, and you have this to doe,
To bring him in for whom the Nation sue,
Great
Charles, who more then by seav'n twelve Months try'd,
And in afflictions Furnace purifi'd,
Must come forth brighter then try'd gold, more bright
Then lustrous
Sol after a dark some night;
Whose brighter beames of
Love shall raise the slain,
And make our
Halcyon dayes to live again;
England shall blesse thy name when this is done,
And stile the
Phospher to the rising Sun,
To thee shall
Brittain pay her
anuall vowes,
Whilst
Ducall diadems crown thy Princely brows.
FINIS.