CALVERS ROYALL VISION.
With his most humble Addresses TO HIS MAJESTIES Royall Person.
Impartiall Heavens, that never did despise —
Poore silly Shepheards, more then sage and wise —
In making them the Messengers to bring —
Most blessed tidings, tunes that Angels sing:
Glory to God, to God on high; and then —
Peace vpon Earth, and good will towards men—
CALVERS Royall Vision.
WHen Titan posting in his restlesse motion,
Had cast himselfe into the Westerne Ocean,
When sable shadowes Phoebus shop shut in,
And lesser Tapers did their watch begin.
Whiles silent Morpheus seiz'd on ev'ry sence,
Fetterd affection choak'd intelligence,
And charm'd each Member: only in my head
A glorious Vision thus my fancy fed.
My thoughts presented my halfe waking eyes,
With glorious objects where the Sun doth rise,
Yea in the Sun, that Vsher of our dayes,
Who was arriv'd now in our Easterne bayes,
And with his beames our dark'ned Orbe adorning,
Set ope the golden windowes of the Morning.
I saw the Sun most radiantly arise,
And in its Circle, as I did surmise,
I saw our Noble Soveraignes Armes appeare
Most richly, lively, truly drawne and cleere.
Whereat delighted to behold the sight
Of such a Sun rise from so sad a night,
My thoughts possest me in my busied braine,
Of now another Noble CHARLES his waine.
Whereon a while my hungry fancy fed,
And in this heavenly, hopefull figure read
With much contentment, hoping now the day
Was springing, should all shadowes chase away.
But whiles this Object thus my thoughts indeard,
More cause of comfort suddainely appear'd;
For this rare Object offer'd to my view
The richest pictures ever pencil drew.
Three Royall Persons lively portraitur'd,
The sunne, the grownd worke, by no clouds obscur'd,
Whose silver luster gave these formes in gold,
The most of beauty mortalls may behold.
Above King Charles sat in a Royall Chaire;
More low Queene Mary, smiling on her haire;
Our noble Pince Charles, each in order sit,
Where they, out shining christall pearles in jet,
Ascended in our hemispheare on high,
With matchlesse splendor burnishing the skye.
But over dazzel'd by these Objects bright,
I too much gazing, lost my too weak sight:
And in this rapture, pleasures pleasant deep,
My thoughts were drowned, fancy fest asleep.
Thrice happy fancy that such prey obtain'd;
But more unhappy, loosing what you gain'd:
Could you not wait with more respect and care
Vpon such Object as these Persons were?
But in presumption must approach so neere,
To dimme your Lanthornes, by those lights so cleare?
Doubtlesse these wonders were not without weight,
Not empty shadowes only meere conceit;
But had some substance, and presaged more
Then Ayry fancy ever had in store.
Most humble addresses to His Majesties Royall Person.
MOst glorious Charls whom in heav'ns chair of State,
The Sun I mean I saw inthron'd of late,
Ascending in our Hemisphere or high,
With objects dearest to Your Majesty.
(Which here I have in a rude habit drest,
Which of all habits doth deserve the best.)
My thoughts are fixt what ere is figur'd out,
Or thus foreshown, time now will bring about,
And unto all men make the substance known
Of what to me was but in shadows shown.
Those fatall vapours, which obscur'd your rayes,
And caus'd our night, or most prodigious dayes
Begin to vanish, and some beams appear,
As signes of a most happy sun-rise near.
The powers above prepare to see this sight,
With drawing of the curtains of the night,
To this the starres are in their course directed,
The planets in their houses well aspected:
Late angry Mars his fatall force abates,
And Jupiter our joy predominates,
Who moderating of the powers above,
Presageth fair and happy dayes of love.
Whiles mortalls we, as lookers on below,
Your fainting Subjects, who that duty [...]ow,
Are gazing, waiting, and intirely pray,
As under an Antartick night, for day.
Bright Sun arise then, break those clouds asunder,
And let the splendour of your rayes like thunder,
Disperse all vapours clearing up the skies,
That so our Sun may without shadows rise,
Blest Sun our Soveraigne, do not then disdain
To shine upon your darkened Orbs again,
Let not displeasure us deprive of day,
That have lov'd darknesse, though it justly may:
But rather imitate the Sun, which still
Vouchsafes to shine both on the good, and ill.
What is the cause that we have winter here?
When all things languish, and as dead appear?
But onely that by heav'ns ordained Lawes,
The Sun His fruitfull Soveraigne beams withdraws.
And what dear Soveraigne in the chiefest place,
But the unhappy absence of your grace
Hath been the reason that our Realm of late,
Hath sate in darknesse, and so sad a state?
Doubtlesse full sad are the effects of night,
In darknesse wisemen lose or want their sight.
And if Your Highnesse do not yet think well
To rise and shine upon us, to dispell
Those clouds of danger do us overcast,
Our state will prove incurable at last.
Let pity then Your Royall heart inspire
To shine upon us, shadows may retire,
And men in danger may their danger see,
And shun the same, and not consumed be.
Most gracious Soveraigne, if you should' 'tis true,
Proceed in Justice and no mercy shew,
You might in justice leave that Land in night
Which hath endavour'd to eclipse your light.
But acts above do most from bounty flow:
And pardons best befit the Gods below;
Then passe by Justice, and in mercy act,
The Sun by shining onely doth attract.
Your Kingdomes shaking do already stand,
And force we find, sometimes confounds a Land:
Much more revenge, whiles clemency and love
Ingender Peace, and jealousies remove.
The breaches which infortunate debate
Hath brought to passe already in our state
May still grow worse, if still we disagree;
But without concord never made up be:
The Sea assoon may empty as that blade
May cure the Kingdome, which its wounds hath made.
Your Subjects now in generall begin
To see and fear the dangers they are in,
And therefore with unanimous consent,
(And surely with a Loyall hearts intent)
Consult, resolve, petition and desire
As men inflamed with a quenchlesse fire,
The speedy safe returning of Your Grace
With joy and honour to Your former place.
What though Your Subjects were a while dissenting?
Behold them now, as people now repenting;
And let them see your tender bowells yearning,
Upon such humble prodigalls returning;
Remembring still when Shepherds are a way,
Their sheep are left or like to run astray.
As 'tis its said, a glory unto Kings
To passe by Subjects failings in some things:
So sure in matters without danger held,
Your Majesty may conquer whiles You yield,
And bow those hearts by clemency and love,
Which frowns would burst or make more flinty prove:
For sure most safe and double blest are they,
Who by the scepter not the sword do sway.
Great Prince, and gracious both with God, and men,
Put on the bowells of compassion then,
And shew your selfe by heavens assign'd that Sun.
Which can revive; when all the starres have done.
Addresse Your person, thoughts, affections all;
God, men and Angels for Your aid do call:
Do not dread Soveraigne, do no then deny,
To tender what befits Your Majesty.
Let it be no impediment to Peace,
To treat with Subjects for a Kings release;
Or to compound for that which is well known
To be, or hath been ever thought Your own.
But rather look beyond the deeds of men,
And view a hand of providence herein;
And to that secret hand of heav'ns submit
So far as heav'ns revealed have, is fit.
Doubtlesse the work here which implores Your aid,
Ought not through small things to become delaid,
It being of a consequence so great
That being undone, it undoes the State.
Unlesse Your greatnesse, Royall Majesty
Shall with Your Graces Parliament comply,
No sound Religion can establisht be:
No Peace be setled in a safe degree:
No glory in the Crown of England had,
Nor hope of future glory; which is sad:
No Lawes ordained which will ever stand:
No love, no joy, no plenty in the Land:
No freedome to the Subject given: no ease
Of any present burden, but increase.
Besides that sore, that present bloody vent
will run 'tis like, untill the stream be spent,
And England made the scorn of future dayes,
Which hath so long been Europes highest praise.
All which consider'd, and a thousand ills
Which hence would follow, past the art of quills
To figure fully will my Liege, I know
Incite Your Highnesse, though you should stoop low;
To put your sacred saving hand to stay
Our dreadfull ruines, and your Lands decay.
In that sad posture yet your Realms are in,
You are the loser whosoever win.
And though my duty shall be kept in store;
Yet I am doubfull heav'ns will call no more,
If You hold back now from Your Parliament,
When heav'ns hath for you such a chariot sent.
But sure Your Highnesse will not so decline,
Not hazard so the tempting powers divine,
Least when Your Grace and Subjects would agree,
By Heavens displeased, should prevented be;
Those powers above, by whom Kings raigne below,
And fade and flourish, as seas ebbe and flow.
Arise, arise, then glorious Sun arise,
And let your rayes illuminate our eyes,
And warm our heavy chilled hearts to see
You in Conjunction with your starres, that free
From opposition, while the skies are fair,
You may ascend to your meridian chair.
Your lofty throne which is your due, and thence
Your healthfull beams on us below dispence,
That underneath your footstooll, we may sit
A loyall, joy full, happy people yet.
Hark hark, then England, dying England here
Are hopes of comfort, helps for cure appear:
Lift up thy head, though heavy and thy heart,
And out of duty, having done thy part
In begging pardon, for thy follies past,
Thou may'st expect a joyfull day at last.
Thy Sun will now arise, thy starres give way,
As lights too feeble to produce a day:
And out of duty will resigne the right
Unto the fountain of their borrowed light.
Upon petition by me made I find
Both Jupiter and Mars are thus inclin'd;
Whence all the order of those lights above
Do out of question thus aspected move.
Addresse thy self then England, for this thing.
Prepare thy Bonefires, fit thy bells to ring;
But above all adorn thy inward parts
With thankfull, loyall, and religious hearts:
That praises sounding, and thy prayers ringing
May make such melody in heaven for bringing
Thy Soveraigne home, and sufferings to a stay,
That heav'ns may finish, not this work delay.
Thus gracious Soveraigne, I your Subject born,
Your Christian Subject otherwise forlorn:
In croching on a Subjects freedome, have
I feare offended, and become your slave,
Attempting, stead of sublime wings, to fly
With fordid, and to soare a pitch too high.
But gracious Soveraigne, let your Highnesse know
I had been silent, or had kept below,
Had not the Vision, not a fond conceit;
Which heavens allow'd me, lifted me this height.
Where heavens on purpose I thinke, did intend
What they had picturd should by me be pen'd,
That so your Highnesse, and the world might see
How far in favour with the Heavens you be,
And what a height of glory and renown
They doe intend you after casting down:
If you resist not; but the Heavens be blest,
Your Highnesse late hath so dispeld this mist,
So dash'd this doubt, so rac'd this scruple made
As may the most obdurate heart perswade:
Your Royall, ample, gracious answer sent
In tearms of peace unto your Parliament,
Are such as sure no Christian eye can view,
Or eare can heare, and not their cheeks bedew
With teares of joy, to your hearts intent
So full and firme for peace and truth in print;
Which praise in poynt to your eternall fame,
Shall outlive cruel fate, and blesse your name.
Besides some former waking thoughts of mine,
The rather makes me heereunto incline;
Where treating of your troubles in the West,
(As in those extant Verses is exprest)
I do compare your Highnesse to the Sun,
Ascribing of our cares but (then begun)
In part unto our Suns, your sacred Graces
Then rising in the Suns unwonted places,
The West: and how it was a wonder strange,
Prognosticating to the Land a change,
Which much portended as (th' event displayes)
Times of confusion, most prodigious dayes,
Which should continue till our darkned East,
Should with our Suns your Soveraigne beams be blest.
Which Meditations by this vision since
So far confirmed, and by evidence
So clear and powerfull who can be so dull,
To think that empty which appeares so full?
Great King I cannot but 'tis in my breast
That this in part, shall come to passe at least:
But gracious Soveraigne, On that heere my quill
Dip'd in some Fountaine on Pernassus hill,
To draw Petitions could afford such inck
As might into your tender bosome sinck.
Suppose that heavens, insensed Heavens above
Out of displeasure, rather then in love;
If you requir't, admits you to retire
Unto your throne in ruine, blood, and fire,
By force I meane, as a reward most fit
For such as will not tearmes of peace admit.
Thus you perhaps, may gaine what you have lost;
But thus to gaine, what will the purchase cost?
'Tis sad to thinke, 'tis dangerous to try,
But above all, 'tis deere, full deere to buy.
Much blood must spill before this spoyle be wone;
And who can tell what precious blood may runne?
'Tis sure that wound within our Kingdomes side,
Now almost desperate, must be made more wide,
And blood must more and more defile the Land,
And make it yet more weake and tottering stand.
But whatsoever under this doth groan,
Dear Soveraigne let not bloud defile your throne,
That matchlesse throne so many years hath stood
Unstain'd, whiles all the world hath been in blood.
Besides, Great Prince, if through these ruines past,
These seas of danger you arrive at last,
Upon your throne in spight of all oppose;
Yet all will but exasperate your foes,
Who though subdued for the present, will
Retain a heart to be revenged still.
Whereby your Highnesse and your Kingdomes three
And which is moe your Royall race shall be
Stil Subject to the danger of revenge
Of deadly hatred, desperate war and change.
That though you this way should the conquest gain,
Yet thus you should in no contentment raign,
But still possesse that with continuall fear
Which you shall conquer with much cost and care.
But here, dread Soveraigne, do not me mistake,
Of harmlesse lines, no harsh construction make,
Nor yet suspect my Loyalty at all:
I neither see, or yet foresee your fall,
Nor fear the same, but with that jealous care
With which men keep their jewells which are rare.
Nor do I think, nor would I here present
That in a prison you should rest content,
You at whose Royall, awfull, just command,
Should all the prisons in your Kingdomes stand.
Nor do I hold it in your highnes bad,
If no way else your freedome can be had
If you use force, and shew your Princely might,
To gain by strength, what is in truth your right.
But onely this, this makes me thus assume,
Thus past the bounds of duty to presume;
My loyall, reall, Christian and intire
Intents of heart, my prayer, and desire
That Peace may make the path unto you joy,
Which fought by war, the seeking may destroy.
Besides dread Soveraigne, and most Christian Prince,
If this my vision may give evidence
Of your ascending to your Throne in fame;
Sure war is not the way unto the same:
For in that Vision, or that rapture rare,
No signes appear'd of war, of force, or feare,
No Cloudes, not any opposition seen;
But all concurring, gentle, sweet, serene,
And joyfull tokens of such Peace, and love,
As if some heavenly Parliament above
In consultation voted your release,
And blest, returne unto your Throne in peace.
Peace, Christian peace! my pen's too weak by oddes
To shaddow 't out, unto the life; the Gods,
Yea that same God, who doth the Gods excell
Delights in Peace, in Peace delights to dwell,
Hath made his Throne the Throne of Peace: his sonne
The Prince of Peace: and who below hath won
More glory then that King of Peace, or rather,
That God of Peace amongst us men, your Father;
Who gain'd by Peace that glory and renowne,
Which Europe could not equall to his Crowne.
Who having heere in Peace his Office done,
To his reward, eternall peace is gone,
Where he no doubt desires his throwne below
Should still remaine, the same he did bestow,
A throne of peace, which he hath found the way
Unto that glory never shall decay
Upon the Earth whiles Sunne and Moone shall shine,
Nor yet in Heaven when those our lights decline.
Shall any heart then so conceive amisse,
To feare a branch of such a stock as this
Should prove so far degenerate from kind,
As to be of a cruell bloody minde?
It must be sure a cruell heart must thinke
Such cruell thoughts, which never yet could sink
Into my head, nor ever shall, I trust;
The powers producing are not so unjust.
No, no deare Soveraigne, no, I am possest,
You have a tender heart within your breast,
And are by nature properly inclin'd
To Peace and concord of a gentle minde;
Inheritance doth make these virtues yours;
Besides the working of supreamer powers.
That if your highnesse ever did adhere,
Or ever shall to any needlesse war,
Or any other cruell act, I know
It cannot from your disposition flow,
But must be rather forced, or a thing
Proceeding from a mis-informed King,
By such as work upon your Majesty,
To work their owne unnappy ends thereby.
Doubtles full waighty is a Crowne to weare,
And oft as full of danger as of care;
The danger of seducing heads as great
As all the care had to uphold a State.
If ever Monarch since the worlds encrease
Had need of patience, and a love of Peace;
Then sure your Highnesse, of which gifts indeed,
I want expressions to explaine your need:
Besides the troubles, tryalls, greefe of heart
Your Grace hath beene in, and are yet in part;
Which sure might move the most unmoved spirit,
That flesh and bloud did ever yet inherit.
When I consider of ensuing dayes,
When heavens, I hope your Majesty shall raise
Unto your Throne, and Crown your temples yet
With that same precious Diadem is fit:
When you arrived at this port for peace,
Which you have sail'd to through such rugged Seas,
Where, like one banisht, raised to renowne,
Or like your Grace from prison to a Crowne:
Your Highnesse should expect a happy rest,
A blessed Sun-shine when the storme is past,
Wherewith to warme, to comfort, joy, and cheare
Your sad, and weary, Sacred Soule most deare,
With all those Royall, ample, during, blest,
And sweet injoyment that befits you best.
When thus I say, your Highnesse should remain
Thus Crown'd with Peace, in happinesse to raign,
Oh, how my thoughts, my thoughts as out of place,
Are heere molested, thinking on your Grace?
To think how then your Peace may be molested
By dreadfull motions of revenge suggested.
Me thinks I fore-see, or at least I feare
What powerfull objects of your future care
Will be presented dayly to your eies,
Presented too, perhaps in teares and cryes,
Most strong Petitions to your Noble Grace
By such as have beene suffters in your case,
That then at last they may have their desire,
And quench those flames revenge will set on fire:
Revenge, revenge, a just revenge O King,
Ingaging to your Highnesse in the thing,
Will be a dayly eccho in your eares
With such a trumpet sounding out your cares,
And wrongs sustained, with their owne, this war
As will prevaile, if not prevaile too far.
But heavens, I hope, nay, more then hope, I know
If they in peace, and mercy, will bestow
Your throne upon you; which I hope to see:
They will there with bestow such a degree
Of gifts, and vertues on your Royall Grace
As shall both please them, and befit your place.
Besides Great King, as I have showne in part.
You have (I doubt not) in your breast a heart
Which is by nature tender, sweet, and milde,
As best befits a peacefull Fathers childe;
By birth a son of peace, and sure will prove
By grace I trust, a Prince of peace and love.
And so be able wisely to resist
The dreadfull motions that revenge suggest,
And stop your eares unto that hidious cry,
Wherein conceal'd doth all confusion ly.
The bane and ruine both of Church and State,
Especially where ruine was so late.
That so when heavens have set your Highnesse free
You may no more in bonds insnared be,
But seeke by peace and concord to enjoy
What war and discord did so late distroy.
Preferring peace above the suits of those
That beg revenge, although upon your foes,
Supposed foes, or foes that will recant,
And beg your Graces pardon, which to grant
Will blesse your Grace, and set your Throne more sure,
Then black revenge for ever can procure,
And raise your Highnesse higher still and higher,
Untill your Grace shall to that Throne aspire
Erected in the highest heavens above,
The Throne of God, the seat of peace and love,
Where Kings of peace, and men of peace shall raigne
In peace and glory ever shall remaine.
Unto which Throne I shall not cease to pray,
That Heavens may thus direct you in the way,
That manger what might move you to miscarry,
You may not from that heavenly dictate vary;
But steere your course still in this calme of rest,
Where sailing's safe, and to arrive is blest.
That when your Highnesse hath this voyage past,
And be arrived at that same Haven at last
The Heaven of Havens, the shore of all renowne,
The Throne of God, to weare a better Crowne:
You then may leave that blessing to your sonne,
Our hopefull Prince; that blessed James hath done
Unto your Grace; a Throne of Peace I meane,
That so his Crowne may flourish, may be green,
And free from war, and envy 's nipping blast;
May bring forth fruits of glory, which may last,
And make his Highnesse to his Subjects prove
The blessed, blessed Object of their love:
And England henceforth ever understood
A Land of Peace, no more a field of bloud.
Thus Gracious Soveraigne, on my knees to crave
The pardon Loyall muses wont to have,
As building on your Goodnesse I begun,
So begging your forgivenesse, I have done.
FINIS.