Englands genius pleading for King Charles to the Right Honorable the Lords and Commons in Parliament, &c. and to the Lord Monck Generall of all the forces in England, Scotland and Ireland, &c. 1660 Approx. 8 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2008-09 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A83962 Wing E2965 Thomason 669.f.25[3] ESTC R211879 99870556 99870556 163808

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A83962) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 163808) Images scanned from microfilm: (Thomason Tracts ; 247:669f25[3]) Englands genius pleading for King Charles to the Right Honorable the Lords and Commons in Parliament, &c. and to the Lord Monck Generall of all the forces in England, Scotland and Ireland, &c. 1 sheet ([1] p.) Printed for J. Jones, London : 1660. In verse - "Great worthies!". Annotation on Thomason copy: "April 30". Reproduction of the originals in the British Library.

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 eng Albermarle, George Monck, -- Duke of, 1608-1670 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Charles -- II, -- King of England, 1630-1685 -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. England and Wales. -- Sovereign (1660-1685 : Charles II) -- Poetry -- Early works to 1800. Great Britain -- History -- Commonwealth and Protectorate, 1649-1660 -- Early works to 1800. 2007-09 Assigned for keying and markup 2007-11 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-01 Sampled and proofread 2008-01 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2008-02 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
ENGLANDS Genius PLEADING FOR KING CHARLES To the Right Honorable the LORDS and COMMONS in PARLIAMENT, &c. And to the Lord MONCK Generall of all the forces in England, Scotland and Ireland, &c. GReat Worthies! Who (I hope) were Born to be The Reſtaurators of my LIBERTIE: Houſe of Lords You who Rich Scarlet, fac'd with Ermins wear, And both high Titles and true Vertues bear: Houſe of Com. You, who have alwaies been, and now will be The perfect Type of true Democracy, My careful Patriots of Plebe an Power, My never-ſtormed Fortreſſe my ſtrong Tower, Reſiſting ſtill Uſurped MONARCHY, Or too much • ording Ariſtocracy; General. And you (Great Sir) who draw your ſplendid Line From Yorkes White-Roſe, whoſe Noble Blood doth ſhine With an untainted Loyal tincture, you May give me Peace, and CHARLES his Empire too. At your auſpicious Feet the Genius of Diſtracted Albions Iſle doth lye, (the ſcoffe New juſtly of her foes) this Face you ſee This ſquallid Face is mine, I, I am ſhee Whem twice ten bloody and tempeſtuous years Have vext with Soul-tormenting fears; Torne by the rage of my unnatural Sons, Whoſe fury rackt me with unceſſant wrongs, (Oh vip'rous brood! ingrateful Whelps that dare, Your kindeſt Mothers panting Bowels tear!) My once vaſt Treaſures are exhauſted, all Conſum'd, and I to a Prodigious fall, And utter Ruine poſting down amain, If your Heroick Hands me not ſuſtain; But my decayed Treaſures likely are Ne're to recruit till th' Trade obſtructing War With his great Catholick Majeſty of Spain Doth finde a Period; till I be again, (I ſay) till my three Royal Crowns and I, Be given to CHARLES his ſacred Majeſty. Even as a Ship upon the boiſtrous Seas, When the blew Billows mount to troubled Skies, When tempeſt-breathing Boreas does roare, Driving the Waves againſt th' aſſaulted ſhoare, WhenN. W. Wind. Corus from the great Atlantick Maine Thunders, and other Winds retort again, His raging blaſts and Ship-encountring Waves, When, not without juſt cauſe, the Pilot raves, But th'ſhaken Veſſel (be what will his mind) Is rapt away by the prevailing Wind; Juſt like this tempeſt-toſſed Ship I've been Long time abus'd and cheated, rackt between Pale fear and hope; then by the longeſt Sword Commanded, daring not to ſpeak a word. Be you [my Supream Court] (Illuſtrious Sirs,) The Olive-Crowned, welcome Harbingers, Be you the happy Phoſpherus, who may With your reſplendent, truly happy Ray The wiſhed re-eſtabliſhment fore-run Of my ſo long in vain-deſired SUN! But (GEORGE!) to your renowned worth and you, How much doth England's grateful Genius OW? Nor Changes, nor this ſeries of time, Nor yet to Faith that inauſpicious Clime Scotland, (long never to one Intereſt true) Had power t'extinguiſh thoſe true Sparks in you, (Sparks, which black Embers many years did Cloud And in eternal ſilence ſeem to ſhrowd) Of Love to me, who in a penſive tone Wiſh my juſt Maſter, and his juſter THRONE. Sir, you and your peace-bringing-Troops did come Not as Great Caeſar to diſtracted Rome, Did once advance, Trophes bringing along From the fierce Galls, and fiercer Germans won, With raging Mars in his War-threatning-look, Which could no equal or ſuperiour brook. No angry frowns your milder looks did ſhow, But Peace ſat Crown'd in your triumphant Brow; Your Scotiſh miſt (Oh ſtrange!) down did not powre In a tempeſtuous or a bloody ſhowre, But did impending rage and tempeſts chaſe, From the ſad ſurface of my mourning Face, And by it's active breath, did diſſipate The fear'd effects of my reſolved Fate. With King-reſtoringBy whoſe meanes the Crown was won from R 3. & reſtored to H. 7. heir of the houſe of Lan. Stanley ſhall you ſtand Ranked, when our pridigious Annals brand The horrid fury and nefarious Rage Of this blood-ſucking, King-condemning age. The eager teeth of all-devouring Time, Shall never triumph o're your high, ſublime, Star-towring Name; and, though we daily ſee No pitch of Glory from the Grave is free; Yet when ſtern Death (ne're toucht with leaſt remorce) Shall by his fatal unrelenting force Storm your Life's Fort, your better part ſhall then Survive, yea gloriouſly revive again? Your Fame (I mean) and laſting Name ſhall be Preſerv'd in Braſſe to all eternity. Parlia. My hopes mount high (Grave Senate!) when I ſee The Regal Crown and Royal Ca • opie, With that Rich Laurel, which Phanaticks hate To ſee upheld by Cherubims in State; I truſt that Halcyon dayes may once again, Return and I in my old Glory ſhine. I hope your happy and Reſplendent Light The bloody ſhades of my long gloomie night Will ſtill diſpel and drive away, and now My Native foes proud fury tame, if you If You my KING and ancient Lawes reſtore, If you take care I be abus'd no more, If you the Church and Clergy countenance, If you my now-decayed Trade advance, While Radiant Stars ſhall run their uſual race, While Neptunes Arms theſe fruitful Iſles embrace, While Luna ſhall her Horns together cloſe: While the Day-Star the Roſie morn foreſhows, Englands good Genius ſhall your praiſes ſound And your bleſt Heads with Laurels ſhall be Crown'd.

London, Printed for J. Jones, 1660.