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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"Upon His Majesties happy Return,"
[undated: after 13 September]

   Titlepage: ARETINA; / Or, The Serious / ROMANCE.1 [rule] / Written originally in English. 2 / [rule] / Part First. / [rule] / [design] / [rule] / EDINBURGH, / Printed for Robert Broun, at the / sign of the Sun, on the North-/ side of the Street, 1660. / [ornamental box].

    Date: These verses are followed by an elegy on Henry, Duke of Gloucester, "Great Gloucester's Cipresse-hearse, wreathed by a Loyal hand" (pp. 13-14), so after 13 September.


[2] originally ... English.] origially ... English London edition

A POEM, by the same Au-
thor, upon His Majesties
happy Return.

STay, Fame, why do'st thou to the Future post,
To Learn some new adventures? tym's not lost
In viewing our Great CHARLES his safe return,
Resembling ashes new sprung from their Urn;
Or do'st thou post to trumpet these rare news,
To Godless Pagans, or to Christless Jews?
Thereby them to convince, that ther's a God
Among'st the Christians, who will explod
Out of his noble registers of life and fame,
Ignoble traitours, and their hatfull name.
Mans oldest Charter is that Text divine,
All that thy feet can trample shall be thine;
Since then his feet hath trampled Europe round,
It's only Limit shall his Kingdom bound,
Though France and Spain be compted the two Poles,
Whereon our European orbe still roles,
Yet thou the Axis of that orbe shall be,
To wheel these Poles as it best pleaseth thee.
Heaven him exiled not, but sent him abroad,
To shew the matchlesse art of our great God
In framing matchless spirits, and to each
Of these strange Nations, Patience to preach.
Malice, with fruitless strokes shall wearied now
Yeild up her sword, and to they Scepter bow.
Thou fortunes wheel, by vertues hand shall hold
And stop the course of that proud changling bold.
With black affliction Heaven thus enambled hath
For furder Lustre, his pure Golden faith:
And as with crosses Heaven did once him wound,
So now with crosses heaven hath him crown'd.
All shall our Thristle, the blessed Thristle call,
And in fames Eden our Rose flourish shall,
And of our Lillies we may Justly say,
That Solomon ne're flourished as they;
Let them our Harpe play, and our 3 Lyons daunce,
For joy that Heaven should thus our King advance.


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