Fairfax Englands Fortresse.
To his Excellency the Lord Fairfax, Now Lord Generall over all our English Land Forces.
The humble Petition, and unfained representation of your poore and most unworthy Petitioner, Edward Calver.
To whom but you shall England Hector cry?
Or who but you deserves a praise so high?
T he speciall act of our supremer powers,
H ath made you Gen'rall of our Forts and Towers,
E ntitling all our English Forces yours.
L et all be subject then to your command,
O ur Forces sure are in a faithfull hand;
R ight happy sure then, and may rest unmov'd,
D efended by a Champion so approv'd.
F estus the Romans. Fairfax we must cry,
A nd far more Noble in your praises sly,
I n whom, or through whom, under God, our Land,
R eviv'd and cherish'd, in some hope doth stand:
F airfax for England then; Saint George no more,
A nd garlands for you, Trophes, triumphs store
X anicall, Aprils fruitfull bloming daies,
Shall not: but merit shall afford you bayes,
And sound your trumpet of perpetuall praise.
H ow evident your dignity is known
I n each respect to be by due your own,
S ure to the utmost parts of earth is blown.
E xcellency? most excellent and just,
'X cell'nt care; hath excellency in trust;
C an envy then, or hell it selfe repine?
E ach star must in its proper motion shine:
L et envy then, and envies brats be still,
L et force, if feare will not restraine their will.
E ach eye is fixt upon you as a starre
N ow in Predomination, as you are,
C an bad effects from such a cause proceed?
Y our foes, and ours, Malignant suitors speed?
No, no, your wisdome doth take better heed.
INdeed brave Chieftain and our Champion rare,
Now Englands Fortresse, and its enemies feare;
Your valiant acts, and faithfullnesse in trust
Already found, so testifies you just,
That to suspect you, were it but in thought,
Were bad, unjust, and far more base then ought.
But out of duty, if I represent,
Though failingly, my faithfull hearts intent;
Your Excellency will not sure reprove,
For want of substance, honest signes of love.
Heavens have advanc'd you to the Battlement
Of Englands honour, by a joynt consent,
Where, elevated on the wings of praise,
You sit, the admiration of our dayes.
The Vessell of our Common-wealth, the Realme
Doth in such measure render you the Helme,
That in this dang'rous restlesse doubtfull Ocean,
It doth full often as you steere finde motion.
Nay more, not only mortals waite your pleasure,
But God himselfe hath trusted you with treasure,
His Servants, Sabbaths, Sacraments, and word,
And for your aid, with a victorious sword,
That so they may so far as it doth stand,
Your Office, be defended by your hand.
And as Gods servants, which are your delight,
Are praying for you, whiles you for them fight;
Even so your foes, not forraigne, but homebred;
Those vipers, which so many yeares have fed
On their owne mothers bowels, those I meane,
Who, through the venting their Malignant spleen,
Have, and doe yet endeavour to their power,
The Kingdome which hath bred them, to devoure;
Their eyes are fixed on you with a will
They could like Bazilisks, by eying kill:
And what they cannot, wanting force acquire,
They will accomplish, though but in desire;
Though thus to feed on poyson so accurst,
In fine doth make them either mad or burst.
Whiles you whose valour never yet tooke foyle,
Doe feed, and live, and prosper with the spoyle,
And the more foes, the more your fame doth fill
The world with wonder, you prevailing still.
Againe our Kingdomes foes of other Lands,
Perceiving how unsettled England stands,
They now are working, plotting, straining wit,
Who long have waited for a time thus sit;
How now their Forces might united be,
To take advantage, whilst we disagree,
And would attempt it, England to annoy,
But only that the Hector of our Troy,
Your matchlesse valour, through the Nations spread,
Still striks their hearts, and their inventions [...]
As one, through Heavens assisting [...], that bides
Invincible upon the Mountain [...] [...], sides.
Againe, our faithfull brethren the Scots,
Who have been constant, spight of many plots:
[...] [...] [...] [...]Their eyes are sixed on you as a starre
Which moderates the Heathens God of warre,
And crownes the earth with plenteousnesse and peace;
So, from your beames and influence encrease,
They looke all meanes of love should be protected,
All lawfull leaves, and Covenants respected,
All Treaties, and conditions that conduce
To truth, to love, and a confirmed truce
Betweene these friends of ours, and us shall be
Preserved from all violation free.
Ireland, disastrous Ireland! which hath beane
A Countrey fatall to our Countrey men;
Me thinks I heare them fighting out their griefe,
Or rather see them writing for reliefe,
Intirely wishing that s [...]me winged motion,
Which neither feeles the earth, nor feares the Ocean
Would be some meanes to ease their miseries,
In making you acquainted with their cries.
They looke upon you as their last supply,
They call upon you with a carefull cry,
They waite upon you under God alone,
That you would helpe them, or their hopes are gone.
But which is more and further to your praise,
And makes you much admired of our dayes:
Our Sun, our Soveraigne, with a sweet aspect,
Did on you as the onely Starre reflect,
And having shin'd upon your Excellence,
Now seemes to waite upon you for events.
Now if Gods hand, which hath our Soveraignes heart
Within the same, shall so his soule convert,
To make him fit, and ready to comply,
To ease his Kingdomes of their misery,
By stating Peace and Truth with the consent
Both of your Lordship and our Parliament:
I know your Lordship would there at rejoice,
And would not onely freely give your voice
To fetch his highnesse home with speed and fame;
But yeeld your best assistance in the same.
And should Heavens his highnesse thus inspire,
I never meant the begging his retire,
[...] Houses do his grace befit,
In any thing that I have said or writ.
But here I leave him in his Makers hand,
Intirely p [...]aying as I have command,
That God would make him, if it be his will,
A nursing Father to our Israell;
That we whom God hath to our King subjected,
May be in goodnesse by our King protected.
As for the vision which concernes his grace
Foreshowne, and therefore needles in this place:
Tis cer aine that I saw it in my sleepe,
Which wrought upon me tooke impression deepe,
And yet hath strong reflectings on my minde:
Yet knowing dreames or visions of such kinde
Are much uncertaine, and no subject sure,
To build discourse on that will trust procure,
I leave the sequell, and do passe it over
To time, which only can events discover.
Meane time I looke upon you with consent
Of heavens assistance, and our Parliament;
As the especiall instrument or Key,
Under whose keeping all our treasures lye.
If you miscarry we are all undone;
But if you prosper as you have begun,
We all are made men who have any thought
To live like good men, and as Christians ought.
Doubtles the burden under which you stand,
You bearing up the Pillars of our Land,
And safely keeping of the Kingdomes Keys,
Of all its doores where any danger lyes,
Together with the right and Peace of such
As honours vertue, which delights you much:
Must needes be heavy, and a weight of wonder,
Which none but Englands Atlas could stand under.
How blest is England then may all men say?
Which though it totters, yet hath such a stay
As never yet at Englands need hath fail'd,
Nor ever will, though never so assail'd,
So long as heaven shall with his heart agree
In saving England from invasion free.
Ungratefull England that can harbour then
So many Monsters, in the shapes of men,
As doe endeavour with most deadly hate
The fall of this upholder of our State.
Can faithfull trust thus falsly be betrayd?
Can merit be with malice thus repayd?
Can curres thus bark, and at their Keepers snatch?
Can hell its selfe, such horrid Monsters hatch?
Your danger doubtlesse, doth heerein exceed;
But yet againe, which doth your safety breed;
Where hell to hurt doth most its mallice bend,
There heavens to help doe mercy most extend;
And he whom heavens will blesse, is not the worse
For Balacks threatning, or for Balams curse.
This in your person, doth at large appeare;
Heavens blessings on you, like the Sun, shine cleere;
And this indeed, remaines no doubt the shield
Whereby your Lordship, and our Lands upheld.
Oh! then dull England doe not thou neglect,
Or you the people that have a respect
To any goodnesse, but with melting eyes,
See, and acknowledge where your safety lyes,
And let your praises with your prayers joyne,
That these our blessings never may decline.
And you the blessed blessing of our dayes,
Whom God doth honour, and we ought to praise;
Feare not the faces of your mortall foes
Whom God immortall helps you to oppose.
So long as in his quarrell you persist,
There is no question but you shall be blest,
For where his cause can no way be upheld
But by the weapon, whereby blood is spill'd;
The guilt of bloodshed cannot there remaine,
Gods glory being greater then the staine;
The sword thus wounding, being in the hand
Of him who thereto hath a just command.
As in mens bodies, as men doe relate,
Are some diseases which are desperate
Without blood letting, and no hopes of health,
So in the body of the Common-wealth,
Are such ill humours and inflamed blood
In divers Members, as tis understood,
Unlesse effusion of the same be wrought,
The whole estate is into danger brought.
But heere now wisdome must with skill be had,
That what should cure the Kingdome proves not bad,
The salve should worke the remedy, increase
The sore, and so grow worse then the disease;
For as where blood is thus corrupted found,
Too little may be taken; so the wound,
Through want of judgement, may be made so wide,
And bleed so much, as on the other side,
Unto as much distemper may relate,
By weakening and so hazarding the State.
But heere your wisdome hath at full appear'd,
And to the world your innocency cleer'd,
You ever being ready to incline
To tearmes of peace, where it was fit to joyne.
Which to all good men doth I hope impart
Sufficient warrant, that you have a heart
Which is as ready, and as reall yet
For tearmes of peace, upon conditions sit,
As ever harbourd in a noble breast,
Or Christian of discretion can request.
But till corrupted boyling blood of such
As yet endanger Englands safety much,
Be either purg'd, or by incision made,
Be drawne away, that so the sore may fade,
There is no reason you should stay your hand,
Who thus are the Physitian of the Land.
Ride on and prosper then brave Hector still,
And all that hate you curbe them at your will,
And let all vertues enemies, and those
That seeke your downefall, be subdued foes.
The game is Englands, but the Garland yours:
The duty mine to help to gather flowers
To deck your head with the eternall bayes
Of your deserved everlasting praise.
And thus brave worthy ceasing to intrude,
Or presume further in a forme so rude,
As building on your goodnesse I begun,
So begging your forgivnesse, I have done.
Nor had I once more at your foot appear'd,
But that some scruples might be thereby clear'd,
That so your Lordship may not him suspect,
Whose pen for vertue ever was direct.
FINIS.