ESSAY OF A LOYAL BREST; In four Copies of Verses, viz.
- I. To His Majesty, CHARLES the 2d.
- II. To His two Houses of PARLIAMENT.
- III. To His General, the Lord MONCK.
- IV. To that His good Angel, Madam JANE LANE.
By WILLIAM FAIREBROTHER, of Kings Colledge in Cambridge.
LONDON, Printed by JOHN FIELD, 1660.
TO THE KING'S MOST SACRED MAJESTY.
ONce formerly, dread Sir, my Muse did Sing,
You our choice Prince in Parlament. A King
Then sate your Father there. But ô! since then
A sad and long Parenthesis hath been
'Twixt us and Regal-splendour; whilest your Youth
Hath tost been to and fro, because of Truth!
A Scene of twenty years! an heap too large
For my scant Ephah! 'tis an Homer's charge.
Ulysses and his ten years Travels now
Seem no less trifling, than Tom Thumb in th' Cow:
'Twixt yours and his such diff'rence I assign,
As was 'twixt Bottles of his Wind and Wine.
Wine? Wine not so chears the heart, as the sight
Of your blest presence, who setst all aright.
A Welcom's thus to us. Then 'ts but our due,
To carol-out glad Welcoms unto you.
Whom Spain, France, Germany and Belgick-soil
With admiration gaz'd on, (as a spoil
Ev'n forc't into their hands, through Britains rage)
And now do court, as Mirrour of this age;
Whom they must needs us envy, yet hath Heav'n
(Maugre all hellish plots) us again giv'n,
Shall we not him adore? And so'ts our due,
To carol-out Hosannaes unto you.
I've seen your Star; and worship: How it shon
Your Birth-day's-Ecce! It stood near the Sun
At its full-Zenith bright; whilst Thanks was giv'n
On St. Paul's sacred ground to th' King of Heav'n
By th' King your Father. 'Twas a glorious day!
The King then to the Temple led the way;
Sunday and Lords-day both. Then be't our due,
To carol-out Hosannaes unto you.
But if Sighs must burst forth, and cloud a Day,
May they flie up t'expiate Sin away:
If Tears the cheeks bedew, let them be sent
From Hearts, that of past-villanies relent.
Thus may we blunt God's Ax: thus, next to God,
Ev'n thou, O King, (I see) will spare thy Rod.
[Page 3] And thus we all may wear the Mourning-weed:
Few are the men, who not your Pardon need.
It's wisest then for me, to point-out none;
Lest others numb'ring number me for one;
Perhaps, 'cause for Alleg'ance once I fled
From Cambridge, and at Oxford own'd an Head,
But lost it soon again at Naseby-fight,
My self ta'ne Pris'ner. Were I silent-quite,
Your Grace may know, Who was the greatest Thief;
Who of the barb'rous Actours were the Chief;
Who the stage-prompters, or Dark-Lanthorn-men,
That contriv'd most, though they themselves least seen,
White-powder Fiends, killing without a Noise;
(To crack thereon, speaks children or meer boyes)
What Accessories live; Who, as with knives,
Did wound your righteous Cause, through debaucht Lives,
At home and eke abroad; and Who, more quaint,
Did null the Edicts of that Royal Saint,
Your murther'd Father. Then, then may we all
Before You, as at God's Tribunal, fall.
Peace you persue; Mercy you do proclaim:
Who craves them not, a second time's too blame.
To such a God who should not then impart
Gold, myrrh, with a frank-incense of the Heart?
The last can each one give; the most forlorn:
When I hav't giv'n away, 'tis as New-born.
Mine then on dayly-prostrate Knees shall crave
Of that One More-supream, that You may have
Firm Health; Allies most strong; a matchless Queen;
Subjects as Loyal, as e're Prince hath seen;
[Page 4] Innum'rous People; a Church flourishing.
So (with your Leave i'le cry) LONG LIVE THE KING.
And now (great Sir and good) I fear, that I
A petty-treason make 'gainst Soveraignty,
Thus to detain your Person. But true Zeal
Dare even back unto your Throne appeal;
That with your thickest Pardons you would smother
This Crime of, YOURS the humblest,
FAIREBROTHER; Of Kings Colledge in Cambridge; and Of the late Kings Army.
Anagram. CHARLES STUART. STET LAR CHARUS.
To the Right Honorable, the two HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT.
WHat Poets feign of Phaeton above,
(That, whilst he Sol's great Charet needs would move,
The World was plung'd in Conflagrations,
Through Reins then too-too loose) these three Nations
Have late found true: As if Enceladus
Had from-below turn'd a fresh side on us,
To let-loose Aetna's flames; Or else, as if
These floating-Islands had (by Waves most stiff
And sturdy Winds) quite-lost their Anchor-hold,
So now on this side, now on that side rowl'd;
Whilst Sun and Moon were blended, and for Stars
We direful Meteors had, the late Heav'ns Scars.
But (blest be God!) we are now once again
Under th' kind Influence of CHARLS his-wain:
And may we ever be so; with a Train
Of lesser Lights, to spring about that main!
Let Harington here fix blind Milton's / Fortune's ROTA;
Nor let it stir the breadth of an Iota.
This Land I promise firm: Again if thus.
It must turn round, be he Copernicus;
And so my self I'de rather Stoick plight,
Than Peripatetick, or chief Stagyrite.
Strange Revolutions were, when Strickland's Holland
Did England, Scotland, Ireland slight, as no Land!
Then Tyranny and Rapine led the Van;
And who 'de not act so, was the dang'rous man:
Went Sacriledge: nor was't here Robbery,
To pocket up a Church or Lands-divine;
Because not diff'renc't with a Mine or Thine.
But now, I hope, w'ave met in Plato's Sphear,
Where harbour can nor Jealousie nor Fear;
Where Vertue shall court Vertue; where all vice
Shall be disown'd, as 'twas in Paradise;
Where each man safely may enjoy his own.
And then, I'm sure, the King's to have a Throne,
And be obey'd too.
And now to what, Ye Representatives,
With whom entrusted are our very lives,
Shall we you represent? a Loyal Spark;
From billows sav'd a while, as in an Ark?
A Moses here? and there a Noah old?
Josephs some others, by their brethren sold?
May ye get all off safe! may ye soon see
As blest an Issue, as did all those three!
They all were big with blessings. Did they curse?
To whom they meant it, him they straight saw worse.
Such may your Terrour be! and so perchance
No fouler Crime shall reign, than Ignorance.
In fine: We all have err'd and gone astray,
Leaving (much worse than Sheep) the righter way.
Let's therefore beg of that most pow'rful One,
That not to us or ours may ere be known
(That saddest of Diseases, call'd) Kings-evil,
Since 'gainst a good War's have been more-than-civil.
TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE THE LORD GENERAL GEORGE MONCK.
A Civil War; more than a civil War:
How strangely now to me do those words jar!
W'ave rather Peace, that's civil, more than civil;
Mirac'lously it comes, in spight o'th' Devil
And his black Imps, who to cry do not cease,
That War may better be than present Peace.
A Monck! and from the North too! then (cry some)
As soon expected may be Good from Rome.
A Monck the Faith's Defender? Let's again
Call-in Scot, Nevil, Haselrig and Vane:
Let them their Forces rally: so we shall
A new Creed straightway raise, or raze out all.
'Tis that, that last, (great Sir) those Atheists sought,
When they our Charles the first to Tryal brought.
But timely you stept-in; Religion sav'd;
And count'nanc'd Arts, which we in vain had crav'd.
Sword and Pen kindly meet: Thou'st giv'n thy Troth,
That Pallas now's again Goddess to both.
He's a Plantagenet; (some others cry'd)
And so a Common-wealth will be defy'd:
[Page 8] A Single Person hee'l erect: so fight,
Whether for that name, or the True-names Right.
Double's their Charge: Let its last part be true;
And then, I think, you act but what is due.
Though
The Greek word for Monarch hath in it one sole Letter more, than hath the word for Monck in the same Language.
[...] with The Greek word for Monarch hath in it one sole Letter more, than hath the word for Monck in the same Language.
[...] do shew,As Sibboleth with Shibboleth, I trow,
They're not for Marks now, to discriminate
Kindness for th' one sound; for the other, Hate.
Where words in but-one Letter disagree,
Let those men stand nearest in Unity:
Nay more; a York and Lancaster we see
In Virgins-cheeks make an Identity:
And the whole Nation owns now Red and White
For the King's Colours, and Monck's true delight.
Thus have you clad us, whilst you put to shame
The vast Temptations of a Royal-game:
And if Plantagenet give-up the Crown,
It may be said, it's now more Charles his own.
In earnest thus (what some made you in sport,
Y've found the right-high STUART / Steward of Hampton-Court:
And thus y've stopt Rebels blasphemous Snarls,
Belcht-out against our first and second Charls.
Hail then to thee! so soundeth ev'ry Lip,
Thou glorious piece of Self-denial-ship;
Thou Rump's Arch-traytor, but the Head's best Friend!
A Head-piece so; better than Breeches-end.
Right-welcome home! Let's now erect an Arch
For thy so famous bloodless Countermarch.
Nor Steel nor Hemp then gaul'd: For such fair Quarter
The King now dubs thee with St. George's Garter.
[Page 9] And, if (sans soloecism) it may be said,
That th' heir apparent can (the Father dead)
To his own Subject be an Obligee,
Then may I safely say; to Monck't must be.
Be blest in all your hopes of Wife and Son!
A meet-Help Shee, as you the Work have done:
With Rev'rence to her Honour, I shall say,
You're next to Numa, she's Egeria.
Live thus renown'd! and whilst Charls shall Head stand,
Mayst thou his Head-piece be by Sea and Land;
That, what so e're his Ancestors have lost,
He may by you regain with easie cost.
Thus, George-on-horse-back, (Sr. and St.) with Lance
Me-thinks I see you give a shake to France;
And your stout Troops proclaiming with drawn-swords,
King Charls! King Charls! King Charls! thrice-blessed words!
TO Mrs. JANE LANE.
Anagram. JANE LANE, An'ne JAEL?
This Copy was made a day or two before she was known to be in England.
MADAM,
YOur Name here starts a Question: so it's askt,
Whether our Jane Lane be not Jael-maskt.
So quadrate doth each Story, whilst your Calls
Did summon-in two vanquisht Generals!
And how in Covert bade ye them, good cheer,
Whilst God them-both unto you-both did steer!
Right-famous both! But yet who is't, not sees
An Interfering in your Histories?
She bold cut-off, you bold did save, an Head:
Charles liv'd by you; Sifera's by her struck-dead.
Great Amazons of Truth! rather than shall
The just Cause perish, ye your selves would fall.
But God for such pure Love did well provide:
So Judeth too we'l reckon on your side.
How fresh they two yet live! and so shall You
In lasting-Annals have as fresh an hue:
[Page 11] Where e're King Charls his Story's to be seen,
There shall be read, what you to him have been.
Your Names, as Phidias in Minerva's shield,
Must jointly shine, as in one common field
Ne'r to be parted.—But here brave Wilmot's Ghost
Steps-in to serve the Mistris of the rost,
Thanks your Relief of him and of his King.
That-now blest Soul first kenn'd this happy thing.
Accost you then he did with pesiveness:
And you for that awhile can do no less:
Not that he grieves now; but that you not see
One half-part of your noblest Company.
Yet Thanks to Heav'n; that Time, which changeth all,
The Scene (at least) makes Tragicomical.
Romancers here must veil, true or but-feign'd;
W'ave now upon them, and above them, gain'd.
The Crown was lost, and as 'twere quite forsook:
But you again it found in th' Sacred Oak.
You a King's Mistris chast: the Lady Lane
Flies far above the fate of Edward's Jane;
No Concubine, nor an Herodia You;
Asking things most unjust, things much undue.
Nor Delilah wert thou: Thou didst not Him
(His hair then shorn-off) to that Philistim
Big with Success, deliver-up a Prize,
The yet-great Strength, and Light of Britain's Eyes.
His Safety thence you wrought: and that jeat-curl
You straight for Favours choicely up did furl.
That Black's indeed the Set-off; cal't not Foyl,
What's kist by Ladies of the purest-soyl.
What then to's Person should be th' full Extent?
No Vertue thus him left: yet Proselytes
You many gain'd have by such zealous Sleights:
They're Presents fit for Queens: such Royal-Twists
Are not for all folks fingers, necks, or wrists.
Why then as of the Garter, so the Hair,
May not an Order be, and full as rare?
And why not breeded be thereon the Fancy
Of that our HONI SOIT, QUI MALY PENSE?
Return, great Voluntier of all th' Exiles!
True Maid of Honour! Haste, to take the Smiles
O' th' King and Subjects-good. Alive or dead,
Eterniz'd thou shalt be in Honour's-bed.
Let Virgins-all Garlands each-year prepare
Of Oak, with the enameld Maiden-hair.
But, Lady of high Worth, I've one word more;
(Nor doth it differ from Herodia's score,
Onely more-innocent you it may do)
That you would, if the Thought hath e're took you
Of half a Kingdom, (or perhaps a larger)
Exchange it for a St. Johns-head in th' Charger.
FINIS.