Calvers royall vision. With his most humble addresses to His Majesties royall person. Calver, Edward, fl. 1649. 1648 Approx. 28 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 9 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2011-12 (EEBO-TCP Phase 2). A79268 Wing C317 Thomason E467_9 ESTC R205242 99864659 99864659 116891

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. A79268) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 116891) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 75:E467[9]) Calvers royall vision. With his most humble addresses to His Majesties royall person. Calver, Edward, fl. 1649. 19, [1] p. : ill s.n., [London : 1648] In verse. Imprint information from Wing. The titlepage is printed on A1v opposite an engraved plate of Calver in repose with his vision of the royal family engraved above him. Annotation on Thomason copy: "October ye 12th 1648". Reproduction of the original in the British Library.

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 eng Great Britain -- History -- Civil War, 1642-1649 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. 2020-09-21 Content of 'availability' element changed when EEBO Phase 2 texts came into the public domain 2010-07 Assigned for keying and markup 2010-07 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2010-12 Sampled and proofread 2010-12 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2011-06 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

CALVERS ROYALL VISION.

With his moſt humble Addreſſes TO HIS MAJESTIES Royall Perſon.

man lying down daydreaming of a king, queen, and prince CALVERS ROYALL VISION

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.