In honour of ABINGDON, OR ON THE SEAVENTH DAY of Septembers solemnization 1641.

BY [...]OHN RICHARDSON Serjeant of Abingdon in the County of Berks.

Printed in the yeare 1641.

TO THE VVORSHIPFVLL the MAJOR, BAYLIFFS, and Burgesses of the Burough of Abingdon, in the County of BERKS.
All Health, Happinesse, & Prosperity.

WOrthy Senators, and loving Master [...]. It is not unknowne unto you, what great delive­rances, what rich endowments (both naturall and supernaturall) and what Halcion daies, the propitious hand of mercy hath continu­ally conferred upon this our flourishing Na­tion. Jf I should endeavour to set forth the riches, or to give you a List of the number of them, I should swell this small Rivelet, into a boundlesse Ocean of substance, and matter: and indeed my insufficient undertakings were not able to effect such an un­conceavable taske, and labour (the worth of them being not to be paralleld by any stranger Nation, and their number being not to be cast up by the art of any mentall invention) But yet, J must not forget one, (and not the smallest) of our kingdomes be­nefits; namely, (the unexpected making up of great Brittaines dangerous Breaches) The mercy was great, and the miracle wonderfull. I need not further enlarge my selfe, for the severall [Page]tongues of skilfull Divines, have sufficiently dilated the story of this blessed pacification: neither indeed is it the maine sub­stance of the businesse I have in hand. It was the Kings, and court of Parliaments good pleasures to publish, and decree, that, on the seventh day of September last, every parish should keep a Festivall (religiously to be perform'd) in honour of the great Peacemaker. And to shew in what manner, fashion, and order it was, in your famous Incorporation, on that day celebrated, J have (in this small Poem) adventured to set forth to the view of this censuring age: And unto your Worships J humbly dedi­cate the same, whose patronizing wings (I trust) will shelter it from the dangerous assaults of any carping, or detracting Zoi­lus. Your frownes will make me unfortunate; but your smiles will adde an encouragement to my weake and illiterate studies. Let this harmelesse and small Pamphlet finde acceptance, and favourable entertainment at your charitable censures, and you shall alwaies finde me (as in duty I ought to be)

Your Worships obsequious Officer & servant. JO. RICHARDSON.

In honour of ABINGDON, OR On the seventh day of September's solemnization. 1641.

NOt farre from faire
OXFORD
Calena placed is
A pleasant Towne, neere silver Thamisis;
Where you may view the ruin'd Battlements
Of old king Cissas ancient Monuments
Where struts th'unparall'd, harmelesse, threatn'd Crosse
(Yet lately blest from Babylonish drosse)
Where Aarons bels in Helens Church doe ring
Peales, that doe blesse us from the poyson'd sting
Of death eternall. Neere the Church-yard Wall
Stands the faire structure of Christs Hospitall.
Where Royse his fruitfull Nurceries supplie
Great Pembrooks Gardens insufficiencie.
Of things of late, that in this Towne befell,
Something my oblieg'd Muse is forc'd to tell;
(Though but in rustick phrase) yet Ile expresse
To ABINGDON my love and thankfulnesse:
Yet Ile not Barber-like hyperbolize,
And sell my Customers a Chest of Lies:
No this Ile banish, thus I will not sin,
Il'e write no more but truth, and now begin.
Tuesday (the seventh day of this last September,)
(Which day I'me sure our Children will remember
Was by the King, and Court of Parliament
Proclaim'd a Festivall, and to be spent
In sacred wise; because 'twixt Scots and Vs,
A joyfull peace is now concluded thus.
So soone this welcom'd newes was heard off here,
Griefe Shrunk aside, no sorrow did appeare;
Each Man by's Cheerefull Visage, you would think
Nought but Nepenthes liquour then did drink.
The day being come, (Ile barre to complement)
And tell you briefly how the time we spent.
Ith'dawne of day, before Hyperious son
Bridl'd his horses, or his Course begun,
Old Helens trowling Bells such peales did ring,
And to our drowsie eares such tunes did sing,
(When honest Nick began to sympathise,
Striking up's Lowbells in melodious wise)
That we no longer in our beds could lie,
But each prepar'd for this daies jubilie.
To Helens Courts (ith' morne) at seven oth' Clock,
Our Congregation in great numbers flock:
Where we till Twelve our Orizons did send
To him, that did our Kingdomes Quarrels end.
And there two Sermons two Divines did preach,
And most divinely gratitude did teach.
At twelve the Priests lips blest us; home we came,
And sung sweet Anthems to Iehovah's name,
At Two againe (in Clusters) we did pack,
And fill'd the Church as full as it could thwack.
Till foure we staid, and Sermon being ended,
Towards our triumphant Crosse our course was bended.
And thus we march'd. First with my golden Mace
('Tis fit I put my selfe ith' formost place)
I pac'd along, and after follow'd mee
The Burgesses by senioritie.
Our Praetour first (let me not misse my Text)
I think the Clergie-men came marching next;
Then came our Iustice, with him a Burger sage,
Both march'd together in due equipage:
The rest oth' Burgers, with a comely grace,
Walk'd two, and two along to th' Market-place;
And after them, hundreds both young and old
Crowding along, that time you might behold.
(Being come to th' famous Crosse, our journies end)
Her mounting Stayres in state we did ascend;
The Clerk was call'd, and he a Bible took,
The hundred and sixt Psalme he out did look,
Two thousand Quoristers their notes did raise,
And warbled out the great Creatours praise:
Their thundring Eccho gave so great a shout.
Nicklas and Helen were quite baffl'd out.
Over my head I saw King David stand,
Listning toth'Musick, with his Harp in hand,
Sure when the Psalmist liv'd, with's sacred Lire,
He seldome play'd, or sung to such a Quire,
If either King could speake, hee'd sweare by's Crown
No haire-braind Separatist would pull him downe:
For why, this heavenly joy, we had so late,
Did seeme, in part, the Crosse to consecrate.
The Psalme is ended: but the Folke begin
Lowder, and lowder crie, God save the KING,
While Bonfires blaze, their caps are throwne away,
All to expresse the triumph of the day.
The Helvian liquor, and rich Maligo,
And English beere, our Senate did bestow:
No cost was spar'd, and yet I must confesse,
I saw no shew of brutish drunkennesse:
Sure some diviner hand, that day did guide
The Vulgar, that they should not slip aside,
And f [...]ther to set forth a greater joy,
Out comes the skilfull Sergeant Corderoy,
With's his ratling Drummes, and Fife, and Colours flying,
With's Musketteeres (and yet ther's none fear'd dying)
Bravely they march'd about; but made a stop,
When they drew neere the well knowne Antelop;
A fiery peale they rung ith' Senate Eares,
(Gallantly done by warlike Musketteeres)
Anon they made a Guard, my noble Master
March't through them to the front, (out yet no faster
Then my Mace and I) safely did they guard
The Kings Lieutenant home, when in his yard,
Or Court, another peale they out did thunder,
Which made the thronging people shout and wounder▪
Their Muskets having shot out all their powder,
They made their Throats their Muskets, and shot lowder;
Such was their joy (a Barrell being spent)
In sober manner every man home went.
And them with speed follow'd my Muse and I,
To learne what further newes we could descrie.
And now 'tis supper time. In every street
Neighbours with Neighbours at some house did meet
Their monies joyn'd together for a Feast,
And each to other is a welcome Guest.
(Supper being done) anon they 'gin to sing.
Some joyfull Hymne (a joyfull revelling)
Travell my Muse, goe, wander up and downe,
Search into City, Village, Hamlet, Town,
Tell me at thy returne (if thou canst tell)
Where any Feast with ours could parallell.
And yet this was not all; for what was spent
On Irus Crue, made the full complement
Of this daies jubilie, this was the best
Of Sacrifice, this season'd all the rest.
Vpon this day the [...]oore were not neglected,
Thirteene or Foureteene pounds were here collected▪
And some (no question) out of Charitie,
In private gave to their necessitie.
Thus have I shew'd you in a home spun way,
(Yet true enough) how we this happy day
Did from the morning to the evening spend;
But I am weary, and I'le make an end.

POSTSCRIPT.

THus to th' generall view a Seriants quill,
Ʋentur'd at last to shew her weaker skill.
Such friends, that at her Errours will connive,
Humbly to thank, and gratifie sheele strive.
But let detracting fooles about them look,
Her Master is a subtile Tenter-hook;
Hee'le quickly snap them, if such chance to be
Within the Verge of his authority.
But if sh'ath written any blamefull act,
'Twas her dull ignorance, and no wilfull fact.

Sic ex officio allusit IOH: RICHARDSON Serviens ad Clavam Burgi de Abingdon in Com [...] Berks.

FINIS.

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