THE Glory of the English Nation, Or an Essay on the Birth-day of King Charles the second.
THe joys of this day one and fifty year,
My Pigmy-Muse mean's not now to declare:
Herculian Pens, of those long since have writ,
(Not with more Loyalty but greater Wit)
'Twas celebrated with a Noon-day-Star,
And wondring Princes also came from far,
Congratulating this most happy Isle:
Happy indeed! 'twas one continued Smile.
But soon alas black Tempests did arise,
Eclips'd this Star, our Hearts drown'd, and our Eyes,
Hell by his Saints this Princes Father slew,
Slew? Murther'd! Martyr'd!—ah Zealous Crew!
—By Heav'n this is not Poetty—'Tis true!
'Tis a mistake sure—Puritans do this!
O tell it not in Gath &c.—
Permit me Reader to be startled here,
Humanity would stop to drop a Tear,
Had I no Loyalty, no Love nor Fear.
The Father Dead! what next is to be done?
Surely the Crowning his illustrious Son;
[That expiate might in part] ah! nothing less;
They'l kill the Heir, the Vineyard then possess.
Therefore when Forces he to Worcester brought
To claim his Rright, those Sons of Belial fought
Against their King: by fraud and force o'rcame;
And to extirpate Root, and Branch and Name,
They set a thousand pounds upon his Head,
[Their Head] to bring great Charles alive or dead:
But God the Ruler both of Peace and War,
Did secretly preserve this falling-Star;
And by a feeble Instrument, a Woman,
Fool'd all their Toyls: to shew Kings are not common.
Say not, then, say not Miracles are ceas'd,
This must be one, to a considering Breast.
From the Saint's Paws to Egypt he is sent,
(Happy there too, being safe from Parliament)
Where several years he liv'd obscure and poor;
His loyal Subjects begg'd from Dore to Dore,
Brewers and Tinkers did usurp his Throne,
Nobles were murther'd Bishops tumbled down;
And though France proffered Men and money (too)
To scourge Rebellion, mista'n Zeal subdue;
Yet least our antient Faith should sullyed be
With Roman Trash by such a Victory,
Supplies from Neighbouring Princes he refus'd
Submitting rather to be thus abus'd:
Then that his Subjects should by Forreign Force
Be Horas'd. Forreigners have no remorse.
O Miracle of Mercy, and of Love!
That such flagitious Crimes could never move!
He lost this Crown, to secure that above:
If Satan could not
All these will I give unto thee &c.
then 'gainst him prevail,'Tis madness now to think his Faith is frail.
If that 'gainst Romes Bribe of 3 Kingdoms stood
Sure 'twill not now profane his Fathers Blood;
For God who searches hearts his Faith did Crown,
And this *
1660.
day plac'd him on his Fathers Throne.On which stupendious Miracles of Fate,
It well becomes us to expatiate
That day! that second Birth of Charles our King,
True Laws, true Faith, new Life, new joys did bring.
All were transported, 'twas a continual Spring,
Not one sower Look appeard in any thing
Except those Fiends, whose Foreheads branded were
with Royal-Gore, those stupified with fear,
Durst not before this glorious Sun appear.
From Dover as the Seas-Soveraign march'd along,
Swarms of three Kingdoms Subjects did him throng,
The Roads brought forth all sorts of Flowers, the Trees
Bedeck'd with Garlands, bent their humble Knees.
The Bells from every neighbourig place did sound,
All Loyal Hearts with Extasies abound:
But when to the Metropolis he came
Bless me! one could not guess it was the same
With yesterday: The streets were pav'd with Men,
The Windows and Balconies hung with Women,
On each ones Head they stood five Stories high.
Their Acclamations seem'd to rend the Skye,
The Houses [covered with Tiles before]
Now Millions of rejoycing Subjects bore:
The Conduits chang'd their waters into Wine,
The Citizens in Gold and Pearl did shine,
Bonfires at Night did make this joyful Isle
Seem but as one great glorious Blazing Pile;
Rome never such a noble Triumph saw!
This was the effects of Love, but theirs of Awe.
Nothing but Mirth was now heard, all did sing,
Long live the great, the glorious Charles our King.
To the CITY.
What hath bewitch'd you now O Londoners?
From Loyal-subjects, to turn Mutineers!
Is not the King the same, God that day sent?
Was there one drop of Blood
a Miracle
or Treasure spent!To purchase this, your long'd for happiness!
Did not Heav'n hear your Sighs? your Plagues redress?
Freed you from fellow-subjects Tyranny,
And Arbitrary-Gospel-Trompery?
Do ye not quiet sit under your Vine,
Enjoying what is lawfully your own?
Whil'st your good King, the Church, the Law Combine
To make ye happy! English men alone
Can boast this priviledg: their Neighbours live
Servile to their Kings-will; they dare not shew,
Their little stocks lest Caesar should contrive,
To get poor Naboths-Vineyard; but you
Possess your Right, equally with your Prince,
Your Trade by Sea and Land, as ever, high;
Or elce you cannot sober men convince,
What causes your superfluous Gallantry.
No Roman-Empress ever did out-shine,
A Lady Majoress when she would be fine.
Will o' the Wisp by Night may lead astray,
Can that small-blinking-Light deceive by day!
Let him not on your Senses thus impose,
And lead your Reason hood-wink'd by the Nose.
Summon your Reason and your Loyalty,
The Cheat will bare-fac'd then appear and fly:
The Brain-sick-Fools, the disoblig'd Knaves then,
And Jesuites will prove the plotting Men:
Their Maxim is, Divide and Rule; Great Jove,
Knit us with the Bands of an entire Love,
Unite our Hearts. Great God as thou art one,
There can be but one true Religion;
Heal our Divisions then, teach us to pray,
To the same God one and the self same way,
And let us [one and altogether] sing
Long live Great Charles, our good and glorious King.