MacLean, Gerald, editor. The Return of the King : An Anthology of English Poems Commemorating the Restoration
of Charles II / edited by Gerald MacLean
Electronic Text Center, University of Virginia Library
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"Philobasileus" Three Royal Poems.
4 Aug
Titlepage: THREE / Royal POEMS / UPON THE / Return of Charles the II. / KING / OF / ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, / France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith. / [rule] / The Most Illustrious / Prince James Duke of York. / [rule] / The Illustrious / Henry Duke of Glocester. / [rue] / [design: garter arms] / [rule] / LONDON: / Printed by Edward Cole, Printer and Book-seller, at the Sign of the / Printing-press in Cornhil, neer the Royal Exchange. 1660. / [ruled box]
Thomason dated his copy 4 August, 1660.
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UPON THE
HAPPY RETURN
OF HIS
SACRED MAJESTY
Charles the Second
KING
OF
England, Scotland, France, &
IRELAND.
BUt can it be! then blessed be that day,
Which makes a Canan of this Golgotha.
But still I doubt a twelve years night can't be
A Prologue to this wisht for Jubilee.
5: Can Brittain be made happy which hath bin
Twelve yeers a Den for Monsters to lurk in?
Whose Cursed crimes amazing terrour brings,
Who write their Perjuries in the blood of Kings?
That Fatal Forty eighth ordain'd to see
10: More then an Age before of Tragedy
Shall speak them Blood-hounds, by whose hand then fel
Religions Patriot, the Law's Cittadel.
A King, a Saint, a Charles, which England, When
But heares of, 1 bleeds, because she dy'd not then.
15: That wonder of Mortalls, he was martyr'd in
That Palace where his morning Star had been
Beheld in Honours Zenith. Those that were
Ev'n Treasons Midwives could not hide their Fear:
But trembled when those Slaves pronounc'd that Vote
20: (Which I can't name without an Antidote)
Yee Brood of Cain y'ave brought into dispence
A Supream Power and a Providence 2
That yee escap'd a Thunderbolt, whose Crimes
Were never equall'd in Precedent Times.
25: That Romain Cromwell, in thy fall did see
His wish fullfil'd, three Kingdomes ruin'd in thee. 3
With what contempt did Loyall Soules then burn
To see each Asse this Royal Lyon spurn!
But when thou lost, (in teares themselves they drown,)
30: Thy sacred Head once center to a Crown.
And can I live now Charles is murthred! speake
Poore Heart, prevent more griefe and quickly breake.
Embrin'd in tears Ile sit me downe and view
How Loyall Hearts are tortur'd by this Crew
35: Of Monsters. That curs'd Brood that flings
Barb'd Darts at th'Head, may wel Massacre limbs.
Those that far'd best were martyr'd, others sent
With life to more tormenting Banishment.
Bleeding three Kingdomes lay; and t'were a Sin
40: To think old Boreas could have blowne us in
So great a blessing, had not Monck came thence
To shew base Rebels, vertue had a fence.
Hee's the great Charles second Star; the one
Proclaimd his Birth; and this his welcome home.
45: Our Loyal Heroe forthwith doth assure
Three bleeding Kingdomes of its Soveraign Cure.
In bringing which y'ave done an Act whose Fame
Adds active Feathers to your Soaring Name.
Which future Ages (if that Honours fire
50: Lose not its Light) shall worthily admire.
And is Charles come! maugre Fanatick rage
This Irons turn'd into a golden Age.
Now cant your Io's. Now Providence hath set
Blest Charles in th'front of Honours Alphabet.
55: Each 4 breath infects the Air, which doth not say
This rising Sun hath made a perfect Day.
Each 5 now can see his sacred Star again,
In fortunes House Lord of th'Ascendant Raign.
What Brittain now in each Loyal soul can tell
60: Since Charles is come, whose absence made it Hell,
And that we view after that cursed Doome
This Phenix springing from his Fathers tombe.
With winged Cries wee'l thank diviner Powers.
Theirs is the Triumph, and the wonder ours.
65: 'gyptian Dogs may barke, though Charles come in,
But they'd leave Heaven no God, nor Earth 6 no King,
But such blest Lots whose purer soules did hate
Our Sodoms Crimes, which in despite of fate
Acknowledgd C'sar still their King, confesse,
70: Tis Heaven th'Authour of this Happiness.
Great Sir your peereless Vertues this truth brings
Yo'are sent a blessing from the King of Kings.
Your mercies such that none it doth affright,
Nor scorch with Anger, but with Judgment light.
75: Envy it self unwillingly doth say,
Yo'are fit to rule, were wee fit to obey.
Long may you happy live, and then your Lands
Can't but bee blessed, whilst their comfort stands
On such a Basis, whose Vertue speakes him one,
80: That adds a Lustre to the brightest Throne.
[1] of,] off copytext
[2] Providence] ProVidence copytext
[3] thee.] thee copytext
[4] Each] Eeach copytext
[5] Each] Eeach copytext
[6] Earth] Eearth copytext
To the Most Illustrious
Prince James Duke of York.
WElcome great Brittaines pride & staine: thy Name
Speaks it most happy, yea augment its shame.
Twas blest when't 7 gave thee birth: but sham'd when't sent
This Ages wonder to a Banishment.
5: In twice four years thou hast effected that
Which Philips Son might justly wonder at.
When C'sar shooke Rome with his armed Hosts,
And dy'd in blood the Carthaginian Coasts.
When noble Pompey scorn'd an equal: And
10: C'sar as much to stoope to his command:
Had fame then said James lines, you'd blest that state,
And with a word shut Ianus Iron Gate.
Pompey and C'sar those Cadmean Men
To you had brought the Romish Diadem.
15: I smile to hear how neighb'ring Kingdomes stand,
Dreading to fall a conquest to noe hand
Unless you strike, whose conquering Arme they know
Perfidious friends ranke with its basest foe.
Could Crownes or Kingdomes the great Iames entice,
20: Spain then had kept him at whatever Price.
But you're a Brittain, witnesse your renown,
And he that conquers, scornes to begg a Crowne,
The noble Pompey did thus early climbe
And him a Victor thrice in Syllas time
25: The Romans view. Great Iames has gaind his praise,
Yet scornes his Triumphs, and's Pyratick bayes.
Our Brittish Heroe posting through each part
Of Europe conquerd every step an heart.
And though all this nought can but prologues bee,
30: To what perfidious France doth dread to see.
Whose timrous Hearts their feares could never smoother
But that they know hee's the great Charles Brother.
And soe made up of Mercy, which great Gem
Shines brightest in his sacred Diadem.
35: Your mercy Sir's apparent Spaine doth know
In that the Indies still you doe bestow
In not demanding them. Long may you live
And in your safetie, safetie to us give
Shall bee my Praiers; and further that you'l daigne
40: To accept the Products of a Loyall Braine.
[7] when't] whent copytext
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TO THE
ILLUSTRIOUS
Henry Duke of Glocester.
NOw Thousands offer to your worth; my might
Accept Great Sir. Ile be no Heraclite.
Now Charles is come, and on each sacred Hand
Valour and Vertue do united stand.
5: And whilst three Kingdoms welcome home three gems,
Whose Royall splendour dulls the Diadems
Of forraigne Kings. O let your Highness daigne
T'accept my Lamb, whilst Hecatombs are slaine.
Although three Sisters to my days had spun
10: Scarce twice three yeares when that one Brittish Sun
Set Titan like in's Rayes: yet ere ten yeares
I saw our loss, and with as loyall teares
As ever mortal wept, my blubbred Eyes
Were dim'd. Now since this sacred Sun doth rise
15: Expanding rayes of comfort, and pardon mee
Who but rejoyce in this our Jubilee.
Your Vertues once did mad Dogs chaine, whose rage
Inflam'd by Hell, exempted from the stage
(That fatal stage, where horrid Murthers wore
20: The Name of Justice, though stain'd with the Gore
Of Kings and Saints) the sacred Henry, who
Those fawning slaves then courted to his woe.
You were convey'd into Exilement, and
Whether your Vertues thorough each strange Land
25: Purchas'd more Love, or Fear I dare not say.
But this add, when Brittaine saw that Day,
That dismall day it lost its Prince, there went
Whole Hecatombs of hearts to banishment
T'attend its Duke, nor have you brought from whence
30: You latest came, more then you carry'd hence.
To welcome you each Critticks eye might see
Of Persa's wealth here an Epitome.
And what is more those thousands (o rare thing!)
Which bled for th'absence, joy to view their King.
35: Long let these worthys live, let Nestor's days
Become your Age, to others t'were a praise
T'enjoy his wisdome. But th'great Henry in
His Childhood greater Oracles then him
Let drop from's Lips, as Cordialls for that Dove
40: Which relish nought but what came from above.
Philobasileus
FINIS.