A Congratulation TO HIS SACRED MAJESTY, UPON HIS Safe Arrival and happy Restauration TO HIS Three Kingdoms, MAY 29th, being his Birth-Day, and our Year of JUBILE, 1660.
LONDON, Printed in the Year 1661.
A CONGRATULATION TO His Sacred Majesty, UPON His safe Arrival, and happy Restauration to his Three Kingdoms.
AMongst the Giant Wits of these ripe times,
My Pigmy Muse creeps in, to bring her Rimes;
An humble Present, to that Sacred King
Regards the Heart more then the Offering.
At our bright Northern Blazing Star's approach,
The Sea his Horse was, and a Ship his Coach:
To bear so rich a burthen, Waves did dance,
And (swell'd with humble pride) strove to advance
Their heads to kisse his Hand; the Fish did play,
And leap for joy, making it Holy-day,
Dancing Levoltoes to the whistling Winde,
Which then conspir'd them Musick for to finde:
And (which is wonderfull indeed) they say,
A Regiment of Water Nymphs, that day,
Meer Maids, per se, came up in shoals, to sing
A Maiden Caroll to our Virgin King.
Thousands of Dolphins Crown'd (but none from France)
With Streamers Honi soit qui mal y pense,
Rode waiters by; the Whales brought up the Rear,
And was resolv'd to have a Frolick there.
Neptune resign'd his Trident, and did swear,
'Twas his by right who was three Kingdoms Heir.
No sooner landed, and Devotions past,
But Canons (to discharge their Duties) haste,
And give inteligence from Port to Port,
Speaking his Welcome in a loud Report:
The Bonefires gild each Hill, to whose bright shine,
The Moon grew pale, and did her beams resign.
Quakers grew Lunatick, to see such Fire,
And thought the World should now in flames expire.
The Bells did ring men by the Ears, and say,
It was Great Britain's general Holy-day.
See how his Loyal Peers, and Gentry, throng
To gild his way, as he doth march along,
CHARLES in his Glory, with his sparkling Train,
Outfac'd the Sun, who went to bed again.
Vollies of Acclamations, peals of Joy,
(Which sent to Heav'n on an Embassie)
Return'd this Answer to their Lowd Request,
Vive le Roy, be he for ever blest.
To which his Subjects cry'd Amen so loud,
'Twas like a Clap of Thunder from a Cloud.
Blest are his Kingdoms now, in this one Vote,
O may they n'ere divide, nor change their Note.
Women then lost their Tongues, Mens Arms were thrown
Quite out of joynt for Joy, yet no harm done.
Some lost their Heads, which were next morning found,
And some had Leggs could stand upon no ground.
The May-poles stood too't bravely, all the way,
Crown'd all with Garlands of Good Will, that day.
Phanaticks said the World was drunk, I think
It was indeed with Joy, but not with Drink.
The Earth was drye as dust, with which some say
Gallants were powdred to some tune that day.
The Zealots oft miscarry, there are some
Say, they were fowl ore'seen, to let him come.
Ride on, Great CHARLES, Triumphant, whose rare Arts,
By killing Foes with Kindness, gains their Hearts:
Sure there is Magick in thy Name, or Thee,
Pardon, (Great Sir) I'le no Familiar be,
From whence doth flow such powerfull Influence,
That all Rebellion is banish'd hence:
No Subject hath the Evil, none diseas'd,
But with Your touch is Cur'd, and pain appeas'd:
All Hail to Englands Monarch, may I see
Thy self reflexed, and Posterity
Provided for by You; a Royal Race,
To Rule these Kingdoms, with a God-like grace.
Which is a debt You owe: Then World adieu,
But I despair of seeing one like You;
From whose bright presence Majesty doth rise,
And like the Sun enlighten all our Eyes.
Let every Coblers Wife a Diamond wear,
And Pearls be hang'd in every common Ear:
We have the Indies now, brought home, in Thee
All Treasures, and all Sweets, there hyved Bee:
The Worlds our Store-house now, and we have all
That can be wish'd; our Life's a Festivall.
Our dayes all Halcyon, the time is come,
To bid our Golden Fleece a Welcome home:
Thrice Welcome, Royal Sir, our Soveraign Cure;
What Heav'n is Ease! to those long pains endure?
William Pestell.