THE KINGS ENTERTAINMENT BY THE CITY of LONDON.
Sol radiis orbem illuminat, REX ƲRBEM.
MY Muse, whose Modesty still dis-allaw'd
To shew her bashful Face in publick Crowd,
But like a Vailled Vestal, since the Fire,
Had laid aside her melancholly Lyre;
This day of Jubilee Once more commands
To take, and tune with her unskilful hands.
Last night, fair Cynthia did to Thetis ride
To bid the Nymph bring in an Early Tyde,
Whose swelling Surface might next Morning bear,
And wait upon New-Londons New Lord-Mayor;
While the bright Barges on the River Glide,
And the Glad Fishes Frisk on every side,
Hearing the Cornet, Flute, Waites, Trumpets play,
Dancing in spite of Net, or Line that Day,
While the Flaggs flutter, and the Streamers fly,
The glorious Badges of each Company:
And each big Barge by in proud Pomp doth-Ride,
Seeming to shoulder out the narrow Tyde:
And all the while, the bank-bred Nymphs fair eye,
With stately Grace veiwing this Shew swim by;
And having bid them Welcome back to Shore
With usual Eccoh of the Cannon roar,
From the fair Thames she turns her comely Face,
Next to behold, with a yet greater Grace,
The Reverend Train, while a long stately row
Of Beauteous † Buildings, grace them as they go;
Which leads them in a streight, and even Line,
To the Great Hall, where this Great Train must Dine.
New Kings Street
But stay; If it be true which I did hear,
The MASTER of this Mistress will be there:
Nor does he private come, or come alone,
But like a Glorious Constellation
Brings with him here, as brave and bright a Train,
As ere was seen to wait on CHARLES his Wain.
Will the KING Come! (Dear Prince !) Will Great CHARLS Come !
Methinks the Close-joyn'd Buildings Croud for Room;
And the Ambitious Streets, with graceful stride,
Do seem to stretch to make themselves more wide;
While all the way along, you'd think each head
By people pav'd for common stones instead,
Methinks I hear the Crowd inquisitous
Which are the Pageants, taking every house
That sumptuous high and s;tately seem to be
For their expected gaz'd at Pageantry,
With fair and beauteous Nymphs, richly bedeck'd,
Who from Belconies, Windows, down reflect
Their Beams of Beauty, while from Ladyes Eyes,
Cupid fling; Wild-Fire, fast as Serpent flyes:
Which wonder in a Lady's not so rare,
As for to see a Lord-May'rs-Day prove Fair.
Could Clouds more kind unto a Tryumph be,
Than to hold up at this Solemnity?
Which makes the Forrest-Beasts abroad to creep,
Who durst not else, but in their dark Dens sleep:
And if you'd take the Poets apt Comment,
That moving Wilderness did represent
The Emblem of Poor London, when of late,
A fatal Fire made her all Desolate:
A Place for Satyrs onely fit to Dance;
(Which Heaven, beyond our Hopes, doth now Advance)
Of late for Leopards, Tygers, Wolves, to dwell,
And every Vault for lurking Theeves, a Cell.
Many there be, that doe its Burning Rue;
Thousands be bound to bles;s its Building New:
To after-times, the Wonder will be one,
Its Burning Down, and Building up so Soone.
Rous;e Glorious Phaenix, shake thy dusty Wing,
And then like Caesars Eagle, meet thy KING:
Thy KING, whose Grief, Joy, Care, and Love thou art,
For as thou art his Kingdom's, thou'rt his Heart.
When Thou didst Suffer, did thy Dear KING Mourn,
More than did he that saw his own House Burn;
Whose. Teares, Heaven in a Sacred Chalice Kept,
Which Waiting Angels caught fast as he Wept:
Which when Heaven found enough to slake his Ire,
He Sprinkled on the Ashes of the Fire.
As in thy Griefs, So in thy Joy, he Shares,
And with his Royal Beames, his People Cheares,
While the Glad, Grateful City back Express,
Their raptur'd Sense of this High Happiness,
By Feasting, Masking, Musick, publick Sights,
That either Palat, Ear, or Eye Delights.
Ah PRINCE! Accept her Love, although Express'd
Like a Surprized Lady, half Undress'd,
While she Poor Lady (do not think it Pride)
Would her Red Cheekes behind the Tap'stry Hide.
This is her first Up-sitting, from a Fall,
Like to have Prov'd her Utter Funeral,
Had not Your Sacred Succour help'd to Reer
Her to this Strength and Health wherein You See'r.
And could She then, do less unto her KING,
Than to Invite Him to her Gossipping?
The Conclusion to the Right Honourable the Lord Mayor.
THis City, SIR, in your Time had that Honour,
Long time laid by, again Conferr'd upon Her:
This Lady City. (Europes Chiefest Pride)
Which to Atchieve, you Her S. GEORGE did Ride;
That after Ages, when they find that Name
'Mong the Restorers of Lost Londons Flame,
St. George, his Dragon, and his Bloody Cross,
Men shall disown, and say, That You it was,
That were the Champion; and unto your Glory,
You have TWO Draggons to Support the Story,
S. Wiseman.
With Allowance.
LONDON, Printed for Rowland Reynolds, at the Sun and Bible in the Poultry, 1671.