REturn Great King. For Loyalty implores
Our Soveraigne, to leave the Belgick shores.
And bless the Brittish soyle, which longs to greet
Her Second Charles, and kiss his Princely Feet.
Let not the Ocean, or the more profound
Abisse of guilt, wherein our Island's drown'd,
Deprive us longer of that Influence,
Thy radiant Sun beams of benevolence,
But crosse that envious Sea, that separates,
And show those smiles, all anger dissipates.
Let Neptune solemnize his conquest now;
Erect his head, and smooth his wrinckled brow.
As proud of such a trust, whose precious Lading
Not countervail'd, by all the Indian Trading.
Let curled wares in pleasant triumph dance,
To give us notice of that Ships advance.
Whose happy fate, shall by supream decree
Engrosse three Kingdoms wealth containing Thee,
May Heav'n her Pilot be, so to conduct,
That no aspiring rock, dare once obstruct.
May Holy Angells guard her day and night
May Winds, and Waters, joyne to speed her flight.
Who in their whisp'ring murmurs, seem to say,
We are the best of Subject, We obey
Our Soveraign's Laws. And tacitely imply
A check to us, for past disloyalty.
Such may thy passage be, as shall presage
Those Halcton dayes, Thou promisest this Age.
May no tempestuous storm disturb thy rest,
Be Seas serene as is thy Royall Brest.
May Heav'ns propitious seem to favour Us,
Who towards thy safe return contribute thus
Our contrite teares, as Seas, to waft thee o're
And bring Thee reconciled to our shore.
Faith climbs the mast's; Our hopes do swell the Sailes,
And loyall wishes, breath (Thee, prosp'rous gales.
Till day shall come, (our kalendars shall boast)
KING CHARLES againe, arrived on our coast.
More welcome then the Rain to parched Land,
Then shall the Scepter court the Regall Hand.
Mean time, It is our hopes, and humble suit,
Of Royall Bounty, still totast more fruit.
That as thy Kingly word hath all forgiven,
Thy Prayers would get, this pardon seal'd in Heav'n.
That whereas We, Thy Happy Reigne, might misse,
As jug'd unworthy of so great ablisse;
May for thy sake obtain it. And be spar'd,
As those, on whome, thy Clemeney declar'd.
Whil'st own'd a People, Not reduc'd by Sword,
But wonne by Favour, and thy Princely Word.
Such conquest shall atchieve the greatest Glory,
And shall suffize t'immortallize thy Story.
Since such a work, no spirit coulde compleat
But such as Thine. all Royall, Christian, Great.
Who, but the Son of Charles, thy Glorions Father,
Could cherish us, deserve destruction rather?
Who, but the Deputy of Bod Above
Could woo Rebellious Subjects, with such Love,
Who but Thy Selfe, could do as thou hast done?
So never Conqerour, such triumphs wonne.
To God be Glory. Did thy Heart encline,
And for these gracious Acts, the honour Thine.
Long happy be Thy Reigne, so as to tell,
Succeeding Ages, None could parallell.
These are our prayers, This our sole Ambition.
To see Thee here inthron'd in Rights fruition.
Whil'st We thy Subjects labour to redeem
By future loyalties Thy good Esteem
And make conspicuous to thy Royall Eye
The major part retain'd integrity.
M. D.

LONDON: Printed for H. B. at the Gun in Ivy-Lane, 1660.

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