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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Thomas Mayhew
Upon the Joyfull and Welcome Return
29 May
Lots of neologisms eg "clementest", "stook"; northern dialect sometimes seems to come through??
a brief Ottoman moment when the Army are figured as tyrannical janissaries; notice Ottoman interests in Brett and Higons.
Mayhew spends a good deal of time bemoaning the past conditions that will come to an end; he seems specially vehement about the evils of war and religious freedom.
According to Wing, Mayhew wrote an elegy to Cromwell; MH unicum broadside.
Of Thomas Mayhew I can find no record in Wood,
[ornamental header]
Upon the Joyfull and Welcome
RETURN
Of his Sacred Majesty,
CHARLS the Second, &c.
To His Due and Indubitate Right of
Government over these his Majestie's King-
doms and Dominions.
A PANEGYRICK.
REach me a Quill from some bright Angel's Wing,
To write the Welcomes of our dearest King;
Whil'st Vulgar Pens, in modest silence, say,
This lofty Work exceeds their Systema.
5: And first like those, whom mighty Joys surprize,
Let me weep dry the fountains of mine Eyes;
Quitt head and heart of Grief, that All may be
The spacious Organ of a Jubilee:
For difficult it is to apprehend,
10: Much more t'expresse the Joys that thus transcend.
If Peace be welcome to a Nation, rent
With twenty years intestine Discord, spent
And 454 opprest with armed Rapine, and unjust
Exactions, made a sacrifice to Lust
15: And Tyranny, and delug'd with a Floud
Of Vulgar, mix'd with choise and sacred Bloud:
When Persecution stains the reverend Gown,
And Priests before insulting Rage fall down:
When God's Anoynted, and our Nostrill's Breath,
20: By Treason never Parallel'd,455 is quench'd in death.
Hence, hence those Tears: Go read Illustrious Men,
Recorded by some Venerable Pen.
Extract from each his Vertues, and you'l find
Th'Elixir formed in that Hero's mind.
25: There was King David and his wiser Son,
Without their great Crimes, modelled in One.
Would you know Adam, or like what a Man
God once in Eden walk'd; no likenesse can
Better inform you than the Soul he wore:
30: Never was King so like to God before.
This was the Prince, whom we did late behold
Unto his Grave in horrid murder roll'd:
Those, Brutus-like, embrued in his gore,
Whom he, as sons, had bred, and blest before.
35: Hold, Muse, thou wilt retrive our antient cries,
Thou Panegyricks mean'st, not Elegies.
If Plenty with the Poor may welcome find,
Where welcomer, than to a Land design'd
To ruine, and the Monster, War, a prey?
40: Whose greedy throat hath swallow'd up, in pay,
And pillage, quarter, plunder, and in prize,
By force and fraud, gifts and gratuities:
The Bounty of his Saints, the Spoils oth'Loyall,
The Lands oth'Crown, and all th'Issue Royall,
45: The Sacrifice from off the Altar took,
(But Oh! the Coal that to that Morsell stook! 456)
All these, with Contributions, and Excise,
And Customes, not his Gluttony suffice,
But fifty Subsidies he snaps, in short;
50: And lest his stretch'd Maw shrinck, there's ready for't
Fifths, Twentieths, Tenths, All, Treason could contrive,
To keep the ravenous Prodigy alive.
On all our pleasant things, and every good,
His hand he spread, like an o're-whelming floud.
55: If Liberty restor'd may welcome have
From free-born men, enthrall'd, and made a slave
By their own Slaves, who must not onely pay
The Lording Janizary, but obey;
Not yield up their Revenues, but the Right
60: Of their Inheritance to armed Might;
Whose Laws and Charters, like the Gordian-knot,
Are not disputed, but assunder cut.
Whose Heritage by strangers are possest,
And in whose Habitations Aliens rest;
65: Whose necks to grievious Persecution bow,
Nor may their Labours intermission know.
If Settlement in State may joy a Land,
Dissolv'd and broken by the boystrous hand
Of Civill Wars, from its harmonious Chime
70: Of Monarchy untun'd, but th'sawcy crime
Of potent Faction, from its form and frame
Shook into novell Chaos, and a name
Of State unknown, whilst its old Church and State
Stand on their head, the feet predominate.
75: If Discipline and Doctrine welcome be
Unto a Christian Churche's Hierarchy;
A Church, late excellent for both, but now
Confusion written on her mournfull Brow;
Whose Gold is pallid grown, whose pure, refin'd,
80: And radiant gold, its splendor hath declin'd;
Whose polish'd Stones, of late her Ornament,
Are now not onely cast by, with contempt,
But Hewn in pieces, that, the Pillars thrown,
The Cath'lick Building might at once fall down;
85: And in its stead, as many Sects arise,
As Jesuits and Fanaticks could devise.
Its Liturgy with wicked scandall stain'd,
Its reverend Orders Superstition feign'd.
The Holy place to use profane employ'd
90: For Beasts; at best, by men unqualifi'd,
Ill-principl'd, worse taught, or not at all,
But mock'd and blow'd, made ev'n by these a Stall.
Vain foolish Things her Junior Priests have told,
Not touch'd the sins, which did her Cure with-hold;
95: But these cri'd up, for blessed Reformation,
(The ready way to gain a Sequestration)
False lying burdens brought, and hence extrude
As well her Fractions as her Servitude:
These have not wag'd with God spirituall force,
100: Like Jacob, for a Blessing, but a Curse:
Whose ignorance hath onely made them bold,
To censure every Principle that's old:
Who, for pretence, can tedious pray'rs extend,
And Nonsense preach, and Treason without end.
105: And in one Sermon damne (would God agree)
More souls, then that choice vessel sav'd in three.
Hence our Defections, hence it is we run
Into by-paths of Separation.
This way's not right, and the old Standard's down,
110: And each Enthusiast sets up his owne;
From which unpaled platt, more Sects have sprung,
Then if the Dregs of Amsterdam were wrung.
But see a glorious Sunne arising, bright
As morning Titan crown'd with radiant light!
115: Who long, in an injurious Cloud conceal'd,
Exerted hath his Lustre, and reveal'd
His all-refreshing beams, and with him brings,
To our blest Hemisphear, these welcome things:
Thy King, O England, that best Name, which wears
120: Thy Glory-in it, stamps the Characters
Of Honour and Renown upon thy brow,
Whilst forreign Nations to thy Triumphs bow;
Thy Prince, O England, whom thy rebell Crime
Forc'd into civill arms, in early time.
125: And next, (to say no more) to Banishment;
Schools too severe and strict, but that he spent
His time so well, that he hath brought from thence,
Th'Endowments of a most accomplish'd Prince:
Which acquir'd Gemms, set in his native Gold,
130: Heav'ns eye nought more illustrious can behold.
Old Poets, hush, be still; your Pages swell
With weak and poor Romances, when ye tell
Your story's of the Grecian Traveller,
Or Him, that wandred from the Trojan warre.
135: They never prov'd such angry Fates as he,
Nor such Encounters met by Land or Sea;
O're which his Valour, like an high Tide run,
And vanquish'd what so e're it could not shun:
Nor to their Countryes, when at length they came,
140: So much of vertue brought, nor so much fame:
Witnesse, That for his Crown he would not foyle,
With aid of forreign arms, his native soyl;
And that he brings his old Religion home,
Maugre the Circean charms and arts of Rome.
145: This, England, This is He, that brings thee now
After thy flood of woes the Olive-bough.
To make thee know, that Deluge could not cease,
Till this thy Dove were home return'd in peace:
To let thee know, that Heav'n would not agree
150: To grant thy Peace, till made 'twixt Him and Thee.
His are those Feet which welcome claim by right,
Bringing those Tidings, which none other might;
Tidings of peace on Earth, which the most High
Committed onely to his Embassy:
155: For Heav'n decreed no Mercy to dispence,
But through the Conduct of his Influence?
Nor any but his sacred presence shou'd,
Stop the long-running Issue of thy blood.
This, England, This is He, who brings thee back
160: That Amalthean-horn, 457 thou long didst lack.
Each now may sit beneath his Vine in peace,
And eat the plenty of his Field's encrease:
Not labour still, and still the poorer wax,
Nor sell his bread to pay his monthly Tax.
165: This is your Oedipus, that doth explain
The riddle of your Cheat, and Sphinx is slain:
Your Theseus this, that hath the Monster sped,
Who on your Noble sons so long hath fed.
Your Hercules, that hath destroy'd the Boar,
170: Which did your rich Arcadian fields devour.
Yet your Injustice thus just Heav'n controul'd,
Who would enjoy your Birth-rights, His with-hold;
And set Oppressours your own rights t'invade,
Till his Prerogative and Rights were paid;
175: Your Honours and Estates by vassail hands
Usurp'd, whilst you usurp'd his Crown and Lands;
Servants suborned over you to raign,
Whilst you the Scepter of your Prince disdain.
This, This is He, that breaks those Iron-bands
180: And Gyves, that fetter'd thy gaull'd feet and hands:
Who, like St. Peter's Angell, whilst thou sleep'st
Betwixt thy Souldiers, a true Vigill keeps.
And takes thy fetters off, sets ope thy dores,
And thy excluded Liberty restores.
185: And how doth blushing Anarchy decline,
And droop, now Monarchy begins to shine?
How do the Circles of false greatnesse fall
Into their first simple Originall?
Those blazing Stars, which late aloft did climbe,
190: How falne, nought else appear but froth and slime?
How do those aery Pageants melt away,
Before the glorious beams of this bright day?
They, who but now, with strength of Arms and Laws,
Did fortify their greatness, and their Cause;
195: And made our Lands, our Lives, our Liberties,
At best, their Vassail, oft, their Sacrifice;
How, like a morning mist, are they dispers'd,
Our Rights asserted, and their State revers'd?
So true it is; Earth's glories once must fall,
200: But laid in blood, they cannot stand at all.
This, This is He, that all thy Breaches bounds,
And binds up all thy State and Churches-wounds;
That to thy Bruises brings restoring Balme,
And layes thy tedious Tempest in a Calme:
205: That sets in Tune thy long disorder'd sphears,
And with composed notes delights thine ears;
Reparis the runies of thy batter'd frame,
And re-impresses thy old stamp and name:
Enstyles thee Kingdome, such as Heav'n thinks fit
210: To be, and makes thy Government like it;
Rears up the broken Pillars of thy Peers,
And fixes thy secluded Commoners;
Refines thy Temple's Gold, files off its rust,
Elects her precious stones from heaps of Dust.
215: And sets them in her Tyre, discharging thence
Those Cheats of Ignorance and Impudence.
And now, O Land, with blushes dye thy cheek,
Sink on thy lowly knee, and humbly seek
Thy God's and Prince's pardon: Ah! too long
220: Hast thou thy self undone, in doing wrong
Unto thy Sov'raign's right: thy Treason hath
Kept off these blessings, and drawn down the wrath
Of vengefull Justice: but Light now breaks in,
And undeceives thee, and unmasques thy Sin.
225: Great Providence, whose wayes are too profound
And intricate, for human skill to sound,
In this its time, in Men and Devil's despight,
Hath brought at once thy Crime and Cure to light.
'Tis true; Thou in thy Judgments might'st have read
230: Thy sinne, but that, like 'gypt, hardened.
What ment the Elements? Why all enrag'd,
As if in Wars against the World engag'd?
The Fire? what flames have in thy Land appear'd,
And turn'd to Dust the Piles thy Grandsires rear'd.
235: What antient Town hath scap'd its rage? And hath
Not this express'd, how fierce thy Maker's wrath?
The Ayre? What Tempests have the Fabrick shook,
As if the Poles from under Heav'n were took,
And earth in pieces rending? What from hence
240: But thy confusion shewn, and Heav'ns offence?
The Earth? How sparingly of late it yields,
Unto the Ploughman's toyle; as if the fields,
By some divine instinct were taught, that they
Ought not the Disobedient to obey?
245: The Seas besides their rude Invasions made
Upon this Iland, how have they convey'd
Prodigious creatures to thy frighted shore,
Such as the Nymphs of Thames ne're saw before?
To shew, thy Continent, at that time, held
250: No lesse a Prodigie, so parallel'd?
But these were Heaven's Hieroglyphicks, since
Interpreted to thy Intelligence;
Reveal'd in season. And thy Prince's Grace
Extends his Mercy, free as thy Embrace;
255: Who, with thy other blessings, Pardon brings,
The freest and the clementest 458 of Kings;
Who from advantage of his power defies
The vengeance of his private injuries;
Whose Sword, for want of use, may neither rust,
260: Nor surfett with the bloud of the unjust;
Who punishes the Ill, the Good rewards,
Protecteth Peace, and Truth and Justice guards;
Who for Obedience on his Subjects layes
No Rules, but those by which himself obeys
265: His Soveraign Lord; in Arms no lesse expert
Then in the Peacefull Gown sage and disert;
Who as a Tutor to his Church appears,
His Country with a Father's love endears,
What lesse then God inn'd in an human breast
270: Is such a King, of Men and Kings the Best?
O! with what welcome canst thou entertain
This lost Palladium, now retriv'd again?
What Joys canst thou expresse, what Io's sing,
To usher in this rare and Pho/enix King?
275: Unfold obedient arms, and clasp him round,
But with your hearts more than your bodies crown'd:
Unfold those dores, and lodge him there, above
The reach of Envy, in those Towers of Love.
Thy Bells must cease, but let thy Toung still ring
280: That Peal of Loyalty, God blesse the King.
Thy Bonefires must in livelesse dust expire,
But let Allegiance live, like Vestall fire:
Thy Conduits will grow dry of Healthing-wine,
Let Duety be an unexhausted Mine:
285: These Accidents of Love and Joy must end,
But may the Substance without bounds extend:
And by experiecne warn'd, resolve again
No more to quarrell with thy Soveraign;
But make it all thy Practice to obey,
290: And to thy C'sar, what is C'sar's pay.
And here, though Heav'n amazed Earth may tell,
That it hath wrought, ev'n now, a Miracle;
Brought mighty things to passe, to puzzle sense,
And human reason for Intelligence;
295: That the entranced world doth yet scarce know,
Whether it be Reality, or no:
And when the Arme of flesh was tyr'd and spent,
Took up the work, and gav't accomplishment;
To tell the Royalist, there was no need
300: Of him, to bring to passe, what it decreed:
And Rebells, they should fall without a Name,
And not three Kingdomes have, for fun'rall flame:
Yet Heav'n did means and Instruments employ,
Whose merits may not in Oblivion dye.
305: With Bayes no more, the bloody Victour crown,
Nor Conquests, gain'd with thousands slain, renown:
Let Him, in Triumph, through the City ride,
That conquers with his Weapon by his side;
That can an Army, without battail, beat,
310: And every Troop, without a Charge, defeat:
That Gideon-like, with his small handfull, frights
To nothing the distracted Midianites;
That without blows, makes angry War surcease,
And layes his Country in the arms of peace.
315: Who those advantages improves aright,
Which others lost, ensnar'd by Appetite;
From forth whose Loyall and Heroick brest,
His Countrey's love drives his own Interest;
Who knowes Obedience better than a Crown,
320: Which Usurpation cannot make his own:
And such is He, whose Name I need not give,
But as a soul, to make this Poem live;
George Monck, the truly Noble: whose great Name
Shall ever shine'ith Firmament of Fame:
325: We need not Garlands make, nor Statues rayse,
For Him, whose worth is Imag'ry and Bayes;
Nor do his vertues any Herauld need,
Which have their Proclamation from the deed:
What Honour can, or Industry invent,
330: Is but a perishable Monument,
But ne're in Ruines, shall that Name be hid,
Who makes his Country's peace, his Pyramid.
And next to him, there's Honour due to those,
Who, Pho/enix-like, from the old ashes rose;
335: This Legall Parliament: who do not do
Their owne work only, but the Nation's too.
To those our Peers, who sprung from high Descent
Now shine, their King's and Kingdom's Ornament;
And to those Loyall Commons, whose blest Lots
340: Have falne, to be their Country's Patriots;
Whose words have earnest been, like Judah-men,
To bring their Soveraign David home agen:
O! May this three-fold-Cord for ever hold,
And in a lasting Peace these Realms enfold!
H'c ara tuebitur omnes.
FINIS.
And] inked out O1
By Treason never Parallel'd,] ä (Treason unParallel'd), O1 hand corrected
stook: a pile, a mass, esp of hay or straw; also obsolte past participle of "stick." NB OED sb.4: "Coal-mining ... The portion of a pillar of coal left to support the roof" 1st useage, 1826.
ie the horn `of plenty'
ie mildest; from clement; not OED