LONDONS-Triumph, OR, His Majesties Welcom.
GREAT CHARLES!
Thou Earthly God, and Man Divine;
Vicegerent unto Him thats
Une and
Trine;
EARTH is Refulgent with thy Star-like Train,
HEAVEN with thy seven
Trions, CHARLES his Wain.
Welcome, Dread Sir: if Citizens dare Call
Great
Britain's Monarch to a FESTIVAL
[...]lass, what signifies our sumptuous Fare,
Were the Grand Steward of the Feast not there;
But since our Prince doth condescend to come,
Let's off
[...]r up a Joyful Hecatomb
[...]
An Hundred Beasts this day shall shed their Bloud,
Oh how our Citizens will chew the Cud;
Let Two of every thing for Food Appointed,
Be Sacrific'd unto the LORD's Anointed:
Our Noble PLAYER with his Artillery,
Presents himself to Act a Comedy
But when
BELLONA's Drums to Warr shall call,
He for his Prince shall soon turn Tragical
No Painted Plumes you on our Heads shall see:
None Peacocks, then all Fighting Cocks will be:
We,
Ostritch-like, of Plumes though dispossest,
The Daggers of our Prince his Foes digest:
Nay, if our Sovereign Commands, 'tis done,
We Naked , as our Swords, to Warr will run;
But may our Scene not Change, that every Year,
Your MAJESTY may Grace our New Lord Mayor:
Oh may your Years increase, great SIR; that so
Your Princely Hair may turn as white as Snow:
And may the King of Kings with his right hand
Preserve your Royal
Stemme to Rule the Land;
To Run like
Sols unalterabl Race,
God bless your CROWN. My Lord Mayor's
Cloves and
Mace.
LONDON, Printed in the Year 1673.