The triumphs of royalty in the person of King Charles II a poem / by Thomas Heynes, Gent.

The triumphs of royalty in the person of King Charles II a poem / by Thomas Heynes, Gent.

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Title page

THE TRIUMPHS OF ROYALTY In the Person of King Charles II.

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THE TRIUMPHS OF ROYALTY In the Person of King Charles II.

LEt Virgil's Muse on coy Alixis dote

Aw'd by Apollo from a higher Note,

Let modest Cowley to his Mistress prove

That his fond Strings will sound of nought but Love.

Inspir'd by ambitious Dictates I'le

In a more joyful and Heroick Style,

(With the Almighty's Poet Laureat) sing

Of matters appertaining to a King.

But where shall I the mighty Subject chuse?

Or what brave Hero shall provoke my Muse?

Heaven's Index which did to the Magi tell

The place where Shilo from a Virgin fell,

[Page]Appearing likewise o're the Brittish Sphear

At the Natalia of a Royal Peer

Directs me by it's Luster to the place,

And Person, which my measur'd Lines must trace.

A Person whose Descent was great and high,

Fit to b'attended with a Prodigy.

Nor did the place Heaven's notice merit less,

Which the Defenders of it's Faith possess,

On whose delightful Soil the Royal Seed

In every Age such Sacred Cyons breed.

'Tis most renowned for the Infant Seat

Of the first Christian Emperor, the Great,

And Pious Constantine. It's ancient Fame

Is likewise much enlarged by the Name

Of Lucius the prime Christian King, they first

Of Monarchs to profess a Jesus durst.

'Twas here the Blood of the first Royal Head

That wore a Crown of Martyrdom was shed.

Who as a Martyr was the Churches Seed,

But being King a hopeful Prince did breed,

A Prince whose early Goodness did reform

His Sisters Beauty sullied in the Storm

Of Persecution and Rebellion. He

The Subject of my Joyful Song shall be.

Like as the solitary Bird that moves

Her pinion o're the tall Arabian Groves,

Doth from the Ashes of her Dam advance,

And to herself that noble kind inhance:

So the pure Flames of our late Soveraign's Urn

Did to this most puissant Monarch turn;

Who when wise Nature had sufficient strength

On him bestow'd to force a Birth, at length

From her obscure Elabratory came

Usher'd into the World 'twixt Joy and Fame.

[Page]Why should I mention here the curious pride

Of that bright Star whose Subtile Beams did glide

Through the Sun's burning Atoms, and adorn

The Day on which the Lovely Youth was born?

(When Phoebus being afraid, lest on the Pole

The Ghost of his audacious Son did roll,

Dispatch't his nimble Paegasus away

Urania to consult about the Day)

The Noble Substance gladly we behold,

Which to the former Age those Types foretold;

This only shall my Loyal pen inspire,

And dictate Verses to my trembling Lyre.

To Charles the Second therefore I'll my Song

Devote, to Charles it doth of right belong.

None is more worthy of my Verse then he,

Who did from slavish Yoke our Nation free;

First by a Parthian Conquest, when he fled

Disguised, unto the Oak's Asylum led

By the safe Conduct of his Angel, that

Once on the root of Gideon's Acorn sat.

That fatal Tree to Absolom, and those

Who dare their Lawful Sov'raign to oppose,

To his Majesty was not a Foe,

But more propitious much by far then so.

Thrice did the sensible and humble Plant,

(As if it did not Love or Manners want)

It's Sacred Branches to this Phoenix bow,

Inviting him by kind and silent shew,

Who strait to climb the same doth condescend,

Whiles the officious Limbs assistance lend,

Proud to receive into their shady Nest

The charge of such a brave and noble Guest;

Him thus advanc'd unto his strange repose

The spreading Leaves do faithfully enclose.

[Page]Nature high Steward of wise Providence

Who unexpected blessings doth dispence

To needy Mortals, having thus dispos'd

Our Prince upon a Throne by her compos'd,

Thought it unmeet that he should sit alone,

And his misfortunes by himself bemoan.

With a Retinue she supplies his Court,

Of which some are for Service, some for Sport;

Here the Purveyors of Elijah bring

A Tribute of their Berries to the King,

And here the hov'ring Consort of the Sky

In Carols chant to his delivery.

The Flocks which in th' inferiour Valleys graz'd

At this unusual Object stood amaz'd,

Until the plunderers them away did hall,

And they like Victims for our Isaac fall;

The Birds of Prey which did those Fields forsake,

To the rebellious Walls themselves betake.

The wild and savage beasts with whom the fierce

Usurper of the East did once converse,

From this Diviner Presence ran away,

Nor of it's Prospect in the Verge dare stay.

Thus were his Sences by External Charms

Free'd from the sad Impression of his Harms,

Whiles Comforts far more solid did controul

The Melancholly Passions of his Soul,

Full of the Spirit and those Graces which

The Faculties of pious Men enrich,

To his desires he unfolds the Door,

And thus in Jacob's form doth God implore:

If thou great Lord wilt bring me back again

To my dear Father's Court, where I may raign

In peace, and to my Troubles put an end,

I vow thy Faith and Worship to defend;

[Page]Ejaculations more he did rehearse,

(But sympathizing Tears restrain my Verse)

So melting that a Myrmidon they'd move;

Much more the Bowels of the God of Love,

Who heard, and as a pledge of happier Days,

Him for the present to his Friends conveys.

But leave (my Muse) the glory of his Flight,

And of his Joyful Restoration write.

Whose most Victorious Entrance did out-vie

The Triumphs of his bare Delivery,

As much as things astonishing exceed

Those which do only Admiration breed.

To's Guardian Angels quick Invention he

His Rescue owes, but his Return could be

The wise and wonderful Effect of none

But of the three United States alone,

Who at Heaven's Altar do in Council sit,

Baffling with Counterplots all humane wit.

'Twas when our patient Prince seem'd to dispair

He should be ever a possessing Heir,

For Arms could ne'r the sturdy Slaves remove;

Tho strength doth not more just a Title prove,

Nor is our Hero to be thought less stout

In that he's not assisted by the Rout:

Then like a Gyant flash't with Chion Wine,

Th' Almighty leader of the Host Divine,

Whose Spacious Tents the numerous Orbs enclose,

From the Tribunal of 's Pavillion rose,

And with a nod the Nations Genius he

Did change, and forc'd her on her stubborn knee

To sue for pardon of her injur'd Lord,

Whom whilom she inveterately abhorr'd;

'Twas God (you see) that did this plot invent,

But Nature the brave Scene did represent.

[Page]Who (like the anxious Nurse of Cyrus when

The trusty Shepherd bore him from her Den)

Did not forsake her Royal Charge, but as

In his Adversity a Friend she was,

Did likewise in his Triumph bear a part,

Out-vying in her Pageants mimick Art.

She at his first approach for Joy doth weep,

And pearly Showers do from her Temples creep.

With Lightning and with Thunder then she clears

Her Cloudy Eye-Lids, and more calm appears,

The grand Procession this to move invites,

And straight comes forth our King among his Knights;

Majestickly he rides, and with a smile

The hearts of his repining Foes beguile.

Thus having under the Triumphant Arch

Of England's eldest Daughter pass'd, doth march

In State unto the other of her Twins,

Whose ancient Minister now to roar begins:

There being entred, reverently he bows,

And on the hallowed Table pays his Vows.

Being discharg'd of them the holy Priest

Devoutly on 's Anointed Crown doth rest

The Royal Burthen, whiles unto the Skie

Loud Acclamations from his Subjects fly,

Whose shouting Crowd surround the Royal Stall,

The dancing Pillars and the vocal Wall,

(As if the Charms of brave Amphion's Lyre

With Voice and Motion did their Stones inspire)

The sprightly Image of the shout resound;

Nothing in Nature now is silent found,

But every thing combine, they all agree

With joyful noise (Great Charles) to welcom thee.

By them alar'm'd th' impatient Clouds again

Break from the Dungeons of the rolling Main

[Page]Pleading the priviledge of the happy day,

And o're the blew Horizon hast away:

Whiles Meteors in the Air dance a round,

And Heavenly Canons from above resound:

Not such as from the top of Sinai spoke,

Or which at Saul's Inauguration broke;

But gentler and more seasonable they

Did a more pleas'd Intelligence obey,

Nor were by Devils mingled in the Storm,

But from a Chymick Angel did receive their Form.

Welcom (Brave Prince) let the seditious Crew

With envy thy Divine Procession view;

In spite of those malicious Wolves I'l sing

Having so brave a subject as a King,

Who when the Fates a Scepter did restore

To his right hand that turn'd the Jack before,

Did then exchange (I speak it not in sport)

A sordid Kitchin for a stately Court.

See there he goes in such Majestick wise

As would controul the strength of Eagles Eyes,

Did not his supercilious Face display,

Through the Transparent pores of a sweet allay

Those different Aires which on his Brow you read

From inward Consternations do proceed,

And of his mighty thoughts the Heraulds are,

With combats more then civil did declare,

When mercy with his angry Genius strove

To save the Captive Wretches which he drove;

In vain from his pursuing Love they ran

Chas'd by the Magick of his Royal Wand,

Their Guilt indeed might prompt them to dispair,

And make them think that the incensed Heir

Would do no less then sacrifice their Host

With Indignation to his Fathers Ghost,

[Page]And in revenge of Murther give them death.

But he with general pardon spares their breath;

And scarce a drop of Rebels Blood was shed,

Wherewith to mark the Joyful Day with red.

(Howe'r their undeserv'd impunity

Shall not secure them from Heaven's searching Eye,

Which in its Book of Fate hath this Decree

That Traytors shall not always go Scot-free)

Thus the ungrateful Crowd more by the charms

Of Love were vanquished than by force of Arms,

With the Pharsalian Bard I'l not comply,

But Triumph for domestick Victory,

And though some modern Critick may accuse

Of flattering Idolatry my Muse,

His canting Exhortation I'l defie,

And with an Io Paean him reply.

Some are with Joy and Admiration mute

To see their Senses their sad Fears confute;

For me the Inspiration is too strong,

And from m'unwary pen extorts a Song.

Others in silence melancholy are,

And tremble at the memory of War;

Martial debates at home I do confess

With wounds the Body politick oppress,

But if thereby the Fates procure that all

The rotten and superfluous Members fall,

(Such as the Rump under whose brawny sway

The wool sacks in our Capitol decay)

And by their providence preserve the head

By which alone the Common-wealth is fed,

From brinish Tears and Brittish Blood let's cease,

And with a grateful Joy embrace the peace.

First then lets pay our Tribute of applause,

And thanks to him who is the fruitful cause

[Page]Of this and all our other happiness

The heathen Poets use to do no less;

Nor will it next to him be thought amiss

To bless the second Causes of our Bliss.

Blessed be the Oak, let it for ever be

Like Aaron's holy Rod a budding Tree.

Which for this hour within it's aged Nest

Preserv'd him from the raping Vultures quest,

From whence he bore like Noah's Gentle Dove,

A Branch the Emblem both of Peace and Love.

Bless't be the Man (what do I wish as tho

His Noble Soul already was not so?)

But blessed let him be who thought it brave

His Leige by lawful Stratagem to save,

'Tis Monck I mean; nor doth great Ormond's name

Make a less Figure in the Book of Fame,

Who this auspicious Progress did direct,

And from those Birds of Prey our King protect.

The white Staff which his hand far whiter bore

Declar'd his Innocence then Office more,

And tho High Steward be a name August,

'Twas honesty preferr'd him to the trust.

Long may he live, and by his sage advice

Confirm the peace which from him took it's rise!

Like as Maecenas and Agrippa who

To Rome and Caesar's Interest both were true,

Did by their faithful Counsels them unite

Into a Noble Monarchy in spite

Of the malignant Fathers, who before

Had stain'd their Purple with Imperial Gore:

So when our guilty Senate had of late

Condemn'd our Soveraign to his Sire's Fate

Opposed by the Policy and Strength

Of these two Loyal Patriots, they at length

[Page]The Execution of their Vote forbore,

And did the usurped right to him restore.

How could I here enlarge in blessing those

Whom Heav'n besides in this affair chose!

But soft (my Muse) thy blessings are in vain,

I mean superfluous like the drops of rain

After an Inundation which doth fall,

The Times do more for Thanks than Wishes call.

Let us a while in Fancy's Chariot ride

Thro the bright Mansions where the Meteors glide,

Drawn by the Wings of that amphibious Beast,

Which in the Aionian Rocks doth build it's Nest,

Up to the higher Stories of the Air,

Where this inferiour Globe looks white and fair

(Bright as the Moon it's Superficies seems

Thro the laborious Suns prospective Beams)

Hence lets with Joy behold the spacious Ground

Which first the

Julius Agricola.

Roman Husbandman plow'd round

Was this fair Isle, alas, of civil War

The meed, to me it seems much more by far

Like the Elizian Fields exempt from Fate;

Well might the Ancients call it fortunate.

Under yon Branch see how the healthy Swain

Surveys his Cattel feeding on the Plain,

Which erst was trampled by the warlike Steed,

And stain'd by those who wounded there did bleed;

But now the voyce of War no more is heard,

The Flocks are not by Drums and Trumpets scar'd,

Nor do the thundring Cannons make them fear,

For Sounds more pleasant entertain their Ear,

Heark how the Birds among the Branches sing,

Which alway wear the Livery of the Spring,

A Livery that doth look so fresh and gay

As if 'twere still the twenty-ninth of May,

[Page]How do the Corn within the Valleys laugh,

Ready to burst from out their Chaff;

And underneath the Clifts whose lofty Top

Powdred with Light o're-shades the merry Crop,

The reeling Sons of Neptune with their Face

Wrinkled in Smiles do sing the chearful Base,

Expressing as it were how gladly they

Bore him who o're their Billows bears the sway,

When he return'd in Triumph from Exile

And with his Presence blest again our Isle.

Why should I not those floating Towers mention,

The winged Fugitives admired Invention,

Which to the Skies their lofty Spires advance,

And to the Ocean's murmuring Musick dance?

See how they flie with artificial Wing,

And in their Bulk from Foreign Countries bring

Supplies Domestick Treasures to recruit.

All this and more our wandring Eyes salute.

In the same Prospection the marshy Strand,

See how the Jolly Shepherd there doth stand,

And leaning on his Crook a Past [...]ral sings,

Whiles thro the neighbouring woods the Eccho rings.

But wherefore bleats the Sheep, why doth the Cow

Amidst the fruitful Meads for Pasture low?

Not out of want but wantonness they crave

The blest enjoyments they already have;

The gentle Sheep, alas, in quiet eat,

Nor mov'd by discontent for Joy they bleat;

The Wolf of Rome and Caledonian Boar

Are they who under Fleeces whine for more,

Like the Arch-Rebel that first taught the way

To other Spirits how to disobey:

So these th' unwary Flock seek to perswade

With horns their Royal Shepherd to invade,

[Page]Their devilish Rhetorick did of late prevail

(God grant it may hereafter ever fail)

The Herd then quickly found unto their cost

That when their Pan was dead themselves were lost.

Warn'd therefore by the Experience of their Ewes,

The Lambs, I hope, a better Fate will chuse.

The harmless Kine methinks are quiet too,

And on the Cud of fruitful Blessings chew.

Indeed the Devil now endeavour may

Cloth'd in a Hide our Albion to betray:

As once he did her Mother Europe, when

He rov'd about in the Phoenician Fen;

But all in vain, his Hoofs are too well known

To the fair Virgin wise and valiant grown;

'Tis neither Force nor Fraud can her beguile,

Nor strength of Arms, she's no unchanted Isle,

But safe from any Plot or Magick Spell

Securely in her temperate Clime doth dwell,

So safe that the combining Gates of Hell

(Under whose Arch the Shades of Traitors sail)

Shall ne'r against her comely Tents prevail.

This under God she to the Conduct owes

Of the brave Monarch to whose Laws she bowes,

Her foreign Foes 'tis he alone can aw,

And homebred Rebels fall before his Law.

When his fierce Lions do prepare their chase

Horrour and Fear appears in every face,

The Foxes at their footsteps are afraid,

Nor are the dreadful Tygers less dismaid,

When they, the Triumphs of the Forest, sleep,

Their awful snoarings broad awake doth keep

The other Beasts, who yet in silence lye;

Scarce dare the trembling Eccho make reply.

[Page]The ancient Greeks before they could destroy,

Or captivate the Noble City Troy,

Were told they should the sacred Image take,

Whose presence it invincible did make:

So —

Our Modern Augurs (with the old the same

For Plots and pious Frauds, though not in Name)

Contrive to ruine our new Troy, to bring

By the Destruction of it's Guardian King.

Thus that implacable and wretched Tribe

The bloody Wish in Practice to transcribe,

Which the severed Caligula did vow

To kill the common Body at a blow.

But Heav'n and he laughs at their vain Design,

And smiles to see how idly they combine;

And let them still their shrewd Intrigues pursue,

Whiles Heaven doth still it's Providence renew.

'Twould move indeed a temperate Spleen to see

That any English men should so degenerate be,

That they should thus endeavour to betray

Their King and Country, but for my part they

Themselves and us impunely may abuse.

I'le ne'r espouse a Satyr to my Muse,

Or mov'd by Indignation and Despite

Against their Folly sharp Invectives write.

This better would those eager Mouths befit

Which in exchange for Coffee spue out Wit,

Seeking by publick Clamors to detect

The Plots which they do privately direct.

But I (who might perhaps be thought as smart

At railing which I hate with all my heart

And could as freely wish, nay do believe

That Traytors will a greater Curse receive

Then they the Pope or Hickringal can give)

[Page]A Theme have chose which milder Thoughts inspire,

And warms my Fancy by a softer fire,

A Fire so fine and pure, that no dull smoak

Or noisome Vapours do it's Spirits choak:

Nor will I cause so fine an Element

By such impure mixtures to ferment;

In short (to explain the Trope) my Loyal Strings

Are now devoted to the best of Kings,

Whose Nature is for Harmony design'd

At once the Joy and Terrour of Mankind,

From th'utmost Limits of his spacious Land

Humble Addresses kiss his Royal Hand,

To him from far Embassadors resort,

Him Foreign Nations to their Friendship Court;

And the same Majesty which them invites,

His treacherous Friends and factious Foes afrights,

Who conscious of their Guilt make hast away,

Lest to his Justice they should fall a Prey:

And let them gang, but may their grand Design

In which they do so solemnly combine

His Crown and Sacred Person to assault,

Like Vulcan or Ignatius ever halt.

Happy thou art, fair Isle, happy thy Name,

And free, whiles Loyal to thy King, from shame;

The Grecian Poetasters prattle may

Of the Arcadian Groves alas, but they

Are nothing worth if we consider thine,

Whose glorious Rayes on every Tree doth shine.

And may it shine!

Till the fair Rival of it's Light the Sun

To th' utmost Goal of his Cariere is run

And shall (among thy western Oceans drown'd)

Forsake his annual and diurnal round;

[Page]May he whose Luster doth inform with Light

Thy Jocund Sphere, and doth create it bright,

Upon thy Joyful Surface never cease

To scatter the glad Beams of Joy and Peace.

But if the Heavens shall claim in him a share,

And still to us his Presence will not spare,

May he in them the Noblest seat obtain,

And turn Bootes out of Charles Weign;

Nor do I wish he there may fixt remain,

But that the Constellation, which first brought

To's Mortal Body an eternal Thought,

May at their dissolution it convey

Back thro Beam of Heaven the Milky-way

To's Native Mansion, where the Arch-Angel shall

His Royal Shade among the Thrones install.

FINIS.

§

§

[Page]

[Page]

THE TRIUMPHS OF ROYALTY In the Person of King Charles II.

A POEM.

By Thomas Heynes, Gent.

LONDON Printed for W. Freeman, over against the Devil-Tavern near Temple-bar and published by W. Davis. 1683.

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Title statement

The triumphs of royalty in the person of King Charles II a poem / by Thomas Heynes, Gent.

Heynes, Thomas.

Edition statement

1683

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Text Creation Partnership,

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Date

2009-10 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A43560

ID [STC]

Wing H1747

ID [STC]

ESTC R3020

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

13181090

ID [OCLC]

ocm 13181090

ID [VID]

98359

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(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A43560)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 98359)

Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 421:1)

Source

— The triumphs of royalty in the person of King Charles II a poem / by Thomas Heynes, Gent., Heynes, Thomas..

Extent

[3], 15 p.

Printed for W. Freeman ... and published by W. Davis,. London :: 1683.. (Reproduction of original in Huntington Library.)

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