THE DELIVERER IN A PANEGYRIC Spoken to his EXCELENCY General Monck.
At SKINNERS HALL on Wednesday April 4th.
LONDON, Printed in the Year 1660
THE DELIVERER.
Great Sir,
DID not our unbelieving grief once say
That we should never see this happy day?
Did not our pressures great, but greater fears
Command our eyes to wallow still in tears?
Or if some dawn of hope did e'r appear
To cozen our just sorrows of a tear;
If then a joyful drop stole out by chance
It ran unseen, and did the grief advance.
Until the sighs and groans of the opprest
Rous'd up a noble anger in your breast,
To snatch our Freedome in a Luckie hour,
From the fell jaws of Arbitrary power.
Mov'd like a Zealous patriot you drew forth
True Safety bringing Legions from the North,
And broke their Tyranny, but not their shame,
Who call'd their Junto by so false a name.
Fixt in their Orbe once more those fallen Stars
Then we believ'd might prove our Tutelars,
Till their dire Influence was understood
To blast the Nations interest and Good.
How did they court you with officious lies?
Whom yet they veiw'd with waking Jealousies;
Since their false love could no command afford,
But what might make you like themselves abhor'd
But see! How Justice scourg'd their crimes and threw
The hate of such an Order where 'twas due;
Swelling to such an height the pop'lar rage,
As nothing but their ruine could asswage.
'Twas but high time; when your creating word
Some order to our Chaos did afford;
Charging the Honour'd reliques th' of Old cause
Once more t'assert our Liberties and Laws.
But (ah!) They only could asswage our grief,
Not soundly cure the wounds; the true relief
Is a full Sessions and a free, to heal,
In the right method, the sick Commonweal.
These, these are glorious hopes, which make each breast
Swel with unruly joyes; nor can ours rest,
But, big with their true zeal, would let you know
What they to so immence a merit ow.
In the glad train of them, souls that have rear'd
Pure vows of gratitude, let ours be heard;
Whose pious breathings would be understood
To wish you stil as Great as you are Good.
Ah! (Noble Sir,) propitious Heav'n, that meant
You for this great and glorious instrument,
To make three Nations blest, sure did inspire,
And warme your breast with this heroic fire.
Where are the Triumphs? Where the Laurels now
That should incircle your victorious brow?
Where are those means, that may your fame dilate,
And mount your Glory 'bove the reach of Fate?
Pious Antiquity Statues allow'd,
Made Heroes Gods, and at their Altars bow'd;
Trophies advanc'd, and Pyramids so high,
Their wounding spires might bore the Galaxie.
In stead of these pompous expensive arts,
We'l rear you living pyramids of hearts,
Flam'd with revering thoughts, which when we dye,
Shall fall entail'd on our posterity:
Infants shall be instructed how to frame,
And lisp (before they know their debt) Your Name;
Thus by successive reverence shall your Glory,
And grand atchievments be immortal story.
How did at first the silly Vulgar gaze
At your suspicious carriage and delaies?
How angry talk, and in a fancy mood,
Censure those actions, they nere understood?
Poor shallow Hot-spurs, zeal not Judgement show!
Have their eyes nere observ'd the Sculler Row?
Or that, not a clear morn, but duskish Gray
Oftner foretels a fair insuing day?
Go on (Great Sir) go on, as you begun;
Since slightest Counsels are the soonest spun,
And in such Misty times to walk secure,
The slowest paces are the safest sure.
Pursue with indefatigable pace
Those brave resolves, that did begin the Race:
And may (while you through th' State Ecliptic run)
Your course be as unerring as the Sun.
And while insinuating Earwigs try
To snare your Judgement with their flattery:
Damp all their curst designs, whose pride and hate
Might make them else the Boutefeus of State.
You are our Hopes upon whose single breast
The Nations whole prosperity doth rest;
So safe from Fortunes vain Artillery
We in your Valour and your prudence lye.
Should Armed Discontent cloud our calm days
Or raging storms the phrantick sectary raise?
We know your courage can allay them quite
Look up the winds, and slumber all their spite.
Guid then the publick Vessel and so stear
From treacherous rocks and greedy quicksands clear
Into the port, where it may ride secure
In you the skilful watchful palinure.
Thus while your Vertues shine with constant light,
Envy may shew her teeth but never bite;
Too weak to hurt she and her brood accurst
Will by the rage of their own Venom burst.
Descend (blest peace,) from Heaven to us below,
Long look't for come; The Gallant MONK say so:
With balmy hand (ah! Borbarous civil Wars)
Cure both our Wounds, and take away the scars.
Clap thy glad pinions on, be no more coy,
But spread throughout an universal joy,
Shout cherishing seat, through the whole Commonweale,
That ev'ry member may its vigour feel.
Raise the sad Church, from ashes where she lies,
Nor let mad zeale more spurn them in her eyes:
Bright in her pristine form shall she inspire
Then with new songs of praise her holy Lyre.
Make the hot servants of the Alter feare
Their Masters feamless coat again to tear;
Least it be ever mention'd to their shame,
Their holy-water doth all broyls inflame.
Fly through the Courts of Justice, make them be
Firm pillars of unbiass'd equity;
where neither fear nor favour shall prevaile,
But hands unpalsi'd hold the even seale.
Calm to the good, but stern towards the base,
Learn them to give or Glory or Disgace,
Free from that unjust and obsequious aw,
That too oft warp'd their Judgements from the Law.
Then shed the welcome favour of thy smiles
On all the Schools of Learning in our Jles;
Let their high Laws record, twas MOMK that made
The Arts break out from their inglorious shade
Give Learned; Oxford hopes, hopes not in vain
That their dry bayes shall burgeon once again;
And that their hony shall no more be thrown
To be a guerdon for the Wasp or Drone.
Bid Chams pure Waters run unmuddi'd now,
And all his Muses wear a cheerful brow:
Strike (Sisters) strike the Panegyrie Vein,
While The Deliverer closes every strain.
Cast on this City too a pleasing glance,
Their hopes incourage, and their trade advance,
Give them light hearts, who fear no greater curse
Then heavy hearts, that spring from a light purse.
Nor longer let the Flayl and plow be curst;
Rejoyce (Swain) in thy labours as at first,
And when our present publick needs relax,
Sweat thou no more for an Excise or Tax.
When thus (dearest peace) tho [...] shalt dispense,
Great MONK protecting this bland Influence;
plenty our wishes shall anticipate
And make these Isles the truely Fortunate:
So Mangre their mad rage that dare oppose,
Shal we arise a Nation Glorious.
The joy of our friends eyes, but enemies sore,
Who though they deadly hate, shall fear us more.
Thus with more lustre doth the conquering Sun
Break through a Cloudy Exhaltation:
Thus welcur'd sicknesses confirm the more,
And Fractur'd bones grow stronger then before.
Thrice blest be you! (Just General) for no lesse
Then Brittains present and hop'd happinesse:
Our throng'd petitions, shall nere cease to rise
For You and Yours a Votive Sacrifice.
May you have blessings from an endlesse store
And nere know crosse to make you prize them more,
Health and long life attend, you and a mind
From common dreggie passions refin'd.
As peace without, may you have peace within,
Calm conscience and the guilt of no black sin.
Sweet end your days, and may your night end so,
And never an affrighting Vision know,
Let discontent its sullen forces prove
On them that marry where they cannot Love;
Send anxious thoughts to Merchants, in whose minds:
Fear keeps a greater coil then the row winds:
But let your joy be such as Heroes warm,
When they reviw the beauty, order, charms
Of Kingdomes moving regular and true
Which their high courage from confusion drew.
May Angels be your Life-guard, and still stand
Safe to protect you from the treacherous hand
And since such power have pure pray'rs ours shall be,
Your never penetrable Cap-a-ne.
Still with fresh Laurels be your temples prest
Snatch'd from the swelling foes triumphed crest:
Firm stand your Legions may they never flie
(Unlesse after a routed Enemy)
True, just, and no more wav'ring then the poles,
As if a ray from Yours had fixt their souls.
May that immortal honour and renown
which being our Deliverer you have won,
Look with blith face and never smiling lips;
And nere be darkned by the least Eclipse.
What shall we wish you more? SIR, may you know
All that is truly good, or men prize so.
If there be more then this, we must not name
It till the Royal Charls confirm the same
(Crown'd by your hand) when he (all foes subdu'd)
Makes you a Star of the first Magnitude.
FINIS.