THE XXXth. OF JANUARY. OR, AN ANNIVERSARY.

BEING A POEME DEDICATED TO THE QVEENE OF GREAT BRITTAIN, AT THE LOVRE: January the

  • 30.th
  • 20.th

Printed at PARIS. M.D.C.LII.

TO THE ROYALL MAJESTIE OF HENRIETTA MARIA Queene of great Brittain, France, and Jreland, &c.

MADAM,

JT is now high time that your Prince­ly Eyes should no longer contract redness from teares but a brave fire from Revenge, That you should deal with your Passion as the generous ORMOND with that infamous fire-brand of the world that Canker to the Royall Stock and Branches CROMWELL, suffer it to possesse some Out­skirts and frontiers of your Soule, that by the expansion of his incroachments its Spirits may be wasted and layd open for Ruine; And your victorious Reason (contracting all its forces) [Page 2] sweep all such treacherous Invaders from the face of the world, and leave nothing of it in Nature but a Memory, which may make it sti [...]k [...] to all Posterity.

[...]o [...]cia's Coales are of no further use for d [...]spai [...]e, all they can bee serviceable in, is to create a flame to which the barbarous Re­bels must be fuell, and the fire may bee a Purifier to the Region of Soveraignty, clee­ring all the Ayre from those two greatest Plagues to Order and Mankind Rebellion and Rigicide. God has now ripened them for the Sickle of Revenge; it is highly oppor­tune to shake them from the trees of Autho­rity and Rapine whereon they hang, and since hanging is naturall for such Gomorrah Ap­ples, Tyburne in England is the properest place in the world for such fruits, if their rottennesse bee not too violent Eye-sores to the view, and of too great a Stench to the Nose­thrils of Passengers.

The 30.th of January shall bee recko­ned amongst those Ominous dayes which are fatall to the repose and safetie of Nati­ons, which though it antecede heere that in ENGLAND by tenne dayes, yet my passi­on of Revenge, and my engagement to fol­low that Standard of your Heroick Sonne, which must carry with it a Restitution of the World to Lawes, Libertie, Religion, Conscience, and all Obligations divine and Humane, hath made mee make use of the Kalender in FRANCE, and present an An­niversary upon the most horrid Murther the Sunne ever view'd; not to stirre up your un-exampled Pietie to Teares, but to awake your owne Royall and all other Loyall Bo­somes to revenge; which, when it shall breake foorth in its just magnitude and demensions, the Rebells will confesse, that Our long Silence is like a Calme, whose [Page 4] unsuspected tranquillity is followed by nothing lesse dangerous then totally subverting Earth­quakes, or universally consuming Thun­ders.

MADAME.
The Persian Princes had a constant Monitor to remember them of Greeke affronts and injuries, may this Anniversary bee your Remembrancer that all Europe is engaged to your assistance; that you have a fate more no­ble impending then to live in exile, or un re­venged; that you have a Sonne, who, by his fiery persecutions and Vertues, will, one day, make good in his examples, all which is ever related of the most excellent Princes; That there is a Nation which with infinite groanes implores its restitution to Monarchy, its re­demption from Rebellion, in which it is fa­tally captivated and engulphed, and (which, MADAME, deserves a Lower ranke amongst those more Majestique concernments) let it [Page 5] bee a speaking testimony to the World, that J am (in Spight of all Revolutions occasioned by Thieves, Rebells, and Regicid [...]s.)

Your MAJESTIES, and all your Royall Fami [...]i [...] Most humble, and never changeable Servant Subject, S. C.

ALLEGIANCE TO THE MEMORY OF OUR LATE MURTHERED SOVERAIGNE CHARLES THE I.

SUch was the Pride of Murther in our loss,
To dubbe the Scaffold equall to the Cross.
Since the world's Crucifixe; all butcheries
The Jury finds Chance-Medley, unto this.
The Primitive and Modern Martyrs all,
Members of CHARLES his Body Mysticall.
The universall Bill of Martyrdome,
In him, contracted to a Totall Summe.
'Tis thought thy Saviour, only Priest, would dye,
And leave his Kingly sufferings to thee.
In Life and Death his Vice-roy, as if all
His Offices were Hypostaticall.
How durst they think hee mortall was, or say
He lesse then Angels, were assumed Clay?
Fool'd Tyrant Wretches who believe him dead,
Who from Humanitie but vanished.
Faith being weake, a Demonstration's He,
To loose the Riddle of Theanthrophie.
To all Religious understanding Eyes,
Humanitie was but his Late disguise.
But so much Deity may justly grudge,
To be condem'd, and Barrabas his Iudge.
When every drop of Bloud hee shed, was much
Too precious, to redeem the Soules of such.
For had old ADAM spawn'd no better seed,
Th' Eternall Sonne had never liv'd or dyed.
If his Posterity had all been such,
The bloud of Buls and Goates had been too much.
Lord, was it not enough, thy selfe to dye,
But thou must suffer too by Deputie?
Who his pure Breath a prey to Villaines gave,
Not worthy to be Sextons to his Grave.
Shov'ling his Monarchy, as if it must
Follow like Earth to Earth, and Dust to dust.
How will the Hoogen Chandlers scorn our fate,
When HEWSON vampes and underlayes the State?
When PRIDE in Ale, and Dray-man Buffe shal sing
I've slaine Goliah with a Small-Beere Sling.
And drawne out Royaltie so neere the Lee,
This Hand must tappe a well hopp'd Anarchie.
Their Babby-Generall is a fine thing,
Such I have seene, in Childrens feastings, King.
Whose bloudy Treasons onely him engage
As Obligation sealed under age.
Now all's dispatch'd; were hee demanded why
He must send Post to CROMVVELL for a Lye.
'Tis time to passe from this infernall host,
From whom I rise as from the Nethermost:
And passe, as through a Purgatorie flame,
To a prepared Blisse in CHARLES his Name.
Whil'st I with trembling and Religious care,
Doe goe unto my mourning, as my Pray'r.
I doe repent, I have prophan'd his Herse,
And Sacred Ashes, with un-hallow'd Verse.
To whom, as one Religious Votarie,
Three Pilgrim Kingdomes owe their Pietie.
Though Saint's too mean a Name for him, wee know
His Vertues Canoniz'd him below:
In Navigation, as the Mariner
Steer's not by th' Pole, but by the neerest Starre.
So that devotion erres not from the Text
Which hee inspires, whose Vertue was the next;
So farre the same, they differ not at all,
But as the Copie from th' Originall.
GOD did to him so much his Likenesse deal,
'T might seem his second Precept to repeal.
Whose indisputable Divinity,
None (but this Arrian army) dares deny.
And now, to view his Constellation,
Sadduces yeeld a Resurrection.
So hee all Heresies seemes to confute,
Which, at his Masters death, were in dispute.
Cloath'd now with Light no Contrary he knowes,
Except the utter darkness of his Foes.
What Comets should have ushered his fall,
Doe waite as Torches at his Funerall.
Hee so be-dayes the Night, th' Astrologer
That GOD hath snuff'd the Firmament does swear.
He appeares not only Starre to every sence,
But Spheare; and hee his owne Intelligence.
So glorious, that this Riddle he begets,
The Sunne then solely rises when hee sets.
Whose Guid his saving light is, ere they rest
Shall over-take the Wise-men of the East.
Who so his wisdomes just Admirer is,
Sayes Solomon's was Typicall to his.
Had they, and Shebah's Queen, liv'd at one time,
With what desire would shee have Cuckol'd Him!
Although his Continence was so divine,
He it alone embrac'd as Concubine.
A Vestall might have layne with Him in Bed,
And rise with her Religious Mayden-head.
How did hee in St. Michael's Angell-vein
Confute those Devils which durst him arraigne!
If wee the Muster-roll of Virtues call,
The Name of CHARLES may answer for them all.
As what wee attribute to God must be
It selfe, the absolute Divinitie.
So Reason coupled with moralitie,
This Definition gets that they were hee.
Who now for eyther seekes (hee being spent)
Without a Substance lookes for Accident.
But, as the Sunne sets only unto Us,
And never shines him-selfe lesse glorious,
Our Sol's eclipse was to improve his Light,
But smother us in an Aegyptian Night.
As Earth-quakes doe destroy from Mile to mile,
And fast foundations Filip Crosse and Pile,
The Center yet being never stirr'd at all;
So wee (not CHARLES) are bruised in his Fall.
His Execution was his Subject's Paine,
They lost their King, and yet their King doth raigne
Not as a Deaths-head Shell, or a Grave-Stone,
Memento's are for Mortals of their owne.
In this sad Paper every one may see,
His Epitaph, in his owne Elegie.
Without a Contradiction 't may bee said,
Though hee did Dye, not hee, but wee are Dead.
What dying life is ours, that He must dye,
And wee, that doe survive him, Putrifie?
But stay his Urne is warme; and, at his Name,
His Ashes start, and wake into a flame.
Through all the Shop of sublunary things,
Two are immortall, Phoenixes, and Kings.
Like Angels, each a Species, makes alone,
Yet neyther dyes without Succession.
Draw, draw, great Son; and let thy thirsty Steele,
Their Bowels tappe till thy full vengeance reele.
Ride like a Whirle-wind driving on the floud,
That Thames may know no full Sea, but of bloud.
Hee that not followes may he drowne ith' Streame
Till brave Revenge hath swept the Land so cleane
That all thy blasted Enemies wee see,
Like Sodomes Apples rot upon the tree.
And Travellers praise thy Executions,
For Paving Road-wayes with the Rebels Bones.
FIN.

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