AN ODE TO THE KING On his Return from New-Market.
Set by Mr. Baptist, Master of the Queen's Musick.
LONDON, Printed for R. Bentley, in Russel-street in Covent-Garden, with the Authors Consent, 1684.
An ODE To the KING, on his Return from New-Market.
LET all our Feares, let all our Murmures cease,
The British Halcyon comes with Peace.
Safe He Returnes, desir'd, and blest,
Our Union ripening in his Royal Breast.
He comes to toil that We may Rest.
England's Hope and Rome's Despair,
Earth's delight, and Heaven's care!
To all our Joy, our Safety's come!
Ever wellcome, wellcome Home!
Wellcome as Day's reviving Light,
After dismal Dreames by Night;
Chear us, save us with thy Sight!
With thy blest sight, to all thy Subjects dear,
Cure a trembling Nation's Fear.
Break out again in thy Youth's God-like Form,
And with an All-restoring Ray
Dispell the black Impending Storm,
And drive the gathering Clouds away.
Oh sole support in dark despairing dayes!
What Muse divine shall sing our Love, what Angel-Quire thy Praise!
Just to thy Friends! best Refuge of thy Foes!
Our weary floating Isle's Repose!
For all Distractions, every publick Grief,
Thou often try'd, Thou only sure Relief!
If Hell assault a Life so dear,
Or Heaven's Rod reach some precious P [...]rt;
'Tis We that in thy danger [...] fear,
In all thy pains we smart.
Thy Safety's Ours, Ours is thy Health;
Prop of our Faith! Guard of our Wealth!
The Cordial that with Fate does strive,
And still keeps Liberty alive!
At the last gasp does fainting Hope relieve!
Devoted England's kind Reprieve!
Her daily Prayer, her chief Endeavour!
Out-live our Feares! O Live for ever!
Ever Live, and ever Reign!
By thy Sovereigne healing Touch
Close our gaping Wounds again.
Nor think thy tendernesse too much
In a common Father's Love,
Copy him that rules Above.
Equal, like his Showers on All,
Both Good and Bad, thy Justice fall.
What thy Star promis'd, let thy Reign fulfill,
And Mercy be thy Favourite Virtue still.
Mercy, when all Force had fail'd,
O're thy conquering Foes prevail'd:
Did a lost Kingdom, mad with Jealousie, reclaim;
O keep and rule it by the same!
That Virtue of thy Blood can never—never be to blame
Take to thy Bosome this repenting Wife,
And whom Heaven joines None dare to sever!
No fawning Fiend advance new strife,
Or under shows to guard thy Life,
Thy Death afresh endeavour;
Out-live our Feares, O Live for ever!
Happy keep us still, and free,
We no Successor wish to see.
FINIS.