THe Queen return'd! more wonders still! a Troy
Of spoiles and blood has built a Greece of joy!
Dull Age! thy long imprison'd faith release,
Believe, nay see, that miracles do not cease:
Heav'ns arm has broke the cloud, made bare & bright
Hath eas'd our faith, turn'd vision into sight.
But is the Queen arriv'd? come safely over?
Then Calice mingle Cliffs, and kiss thy Dover?
Then France and Christendom be joyn'd to Kent,
Not by a fast League, but firm Continent.
But Waves made not this wonder, there hath stood
'Twixt her and us a wider Sea of Blood:
This Sea dry'd up, the Queen might freely pass,
Her ship mov'd on a pavement, smooth as glass:
The waters sensible (as those we please)
Smile to transport the Queen of th' Narrow Seas.
Phoebus if ever thou deserv'd a Bow,
Or Occidental Sacrifice, 'tis now;
The East-world to thy perfum'd Rising kneels,
But now the West thy Healing virtue feels:
The glorious splendor of thy Golden Rays
Has wing'd the Hours, and hasten'd happy dayes.
All ominous Meteors spent, this Sixtieth Year
The Stars drop hony in our Hemisphere.
Never was Spring so verdant, spruce and gay;
For Mildews, Manna fell last Month of May:
Three sent from Heav'n to curb unbridled Men:
One out of Gratitude went to Heav'n agen:
Resolv'd, what careless Subjects lest undone,
The Fathers Funeral should be his Son.
But the auspicious Pow'rs above conclude
To mollifie this hard Vicissitude:
Send us fresh Balm to heal that sharp Rebuke,
Mother for Son, a Queen instead of Duke.
Venus a Golden Apple sent before,
A pledg of her Arrival on our shore:
Brings in her Arms Henretta too the fair;
Princes and Princesses a Double pair,
Exeters Angel breath'd here but a while,
Babe, Jesus-like, an Infant in Exile!
Is this that Queen whom a Rebellious Crew
Sent Bullets after for a kind adieu?
One bor'd the place where Majesty did sit,
And came as near as Heav'n would suffer it:
Had you been present there, you might have seen
The King of Terrors prostrate to a Queen.
Such Iron pills the sons of Death and Fate,
Prescrib'd to cure the Feavers of a State!
Is this that living Martyr so hard prest
With Injuries, would split a vulgar Breast?
Wh' endur'd Affronts, Indignities and Force,
An unjust Exile, more unjust Divorce?
Such a Divorce the worlds great eye ne'er saw,
Writ by the Sword, and seal'd by Canon-Law;
Whose Act might past, and future times out-do,
When Law and Gospel were divorced too:
A strange Divorce! where the whole guilt was Love,
And constancie the cause of such Remove:
Divorce more monstrous yet! which rends the wife;
Not from her Husbands Bosom, but his Life.
You Loyal Shepherdesses, who these Floods,
Have liv'd 'mongst Wolves and Satyrs in the Woods;
'Mongst Ladies of all Trades, without respect,
Compell'd to use their ruder Dialect;
Spring out with your Diana, O break forth,
And shew the blest world, not your height, but worth.
To your long clouded Firmament resort,
And shine like bright stars in your Brittish Court:
You've now a Mistress, an auspicious Guide,
To teach you modes of Modesty, not Pride:
To make you Wise, not in a narrow sense,
But measur'd by a Queens circumference.
Be like your Gems, not sleek'd up for meer sight,
But Influential too, as well as bright:
Of which some help the head, some heart, some spleen;
One Lady cures all these, that's like the Queen.
Welcom great Princess, by good Prov'dence sent
Home to us, from your Native Banishment!
Delight to see your Royal Branches twine
Their Arms about you, their Beloved Vine;
(That fruitful Vine, whose goodness made it smart;
That lives, and yet so long has bled at heart.)
On your Just Throne in serene safety sit;
Forget all past, except the Benefit.
The Heav'ns and Earth rejoyce at your return.
You cannot gratify their Joys, and mourn.
Madam, let no past suff'rings make you sad;
When three Realms now conspire to make you glad;
Your triumphs bound not here; the general voyce
Of more than Christian World ecchoes, Rejoyce.
London (long Widdow) was espous'd last May,
But till you came kept not her Nuptial day.
Share Empire with your Sons, our King, and Brother;
They shall command one Sex, and You the other.
And now since Cromwell (by a fatall Boon)
Gasp't in his bed too late, and yet too soon!
Since Bradshaw could not so much mercy win
To live to Hang and suffer for his sin:
(Though his and Cromwels bloud together spilt
Were both too black to expiate their guilt)
Since divine Justice (so severely kind)
Has scourg'd their Drudges, too long left behind!
Since Nolls whole Reign was but a Dream at best,
We'ill wind his story up into a Jest.
When this swoln Phaeton in the full Carreer
Of his usurpt dominion 'mongst us here;
Must in a brave his forraign Prancers rule,
(As if an Ass grown proud would guide a Mule)
When this Suns Son fell from his hot Caroach,
Then the blest hours prepar'd the Kings approach:
His panting Heart presag'd his tumbling down,
Not from his Chariot, but a Triple Crown,
I say a Triple Crown, for that was all,
(He gave the other to the Cardinal:)
Whose Diadem ne'er girt his brow, till Dead;
O thus may Death still crown a Traitors Head!
He's now below the Earth, there let him lie,
There rot, and once more in our Memories die.
But let our joys bless Heav'n for this rich Change,
A King, Queen, Duke, and virtuous Orange,
Henretta too; who left her native Air,
Not to be greater, but more Debonair:
Wh' abroad like injur'd Pilgrims did converse,
Here chain'd, there Tenants of the Universe.
Great England! Great, not in thy breadth or length;
Protected more by Providence than Strength:
Thou, in thy little Circle dost contain
Princes too mighty both for France and Spain.
O may thy People washt in so much blood,
Be humble, thankful, loyal, wise and good!
And may our good Queen never weep again,
Unless it be for joy she once had pain,
That once her blest Womb with a Charls did teem,
Should both a Crown Inherit and Redeem.
Let proud Rebellion, sunk as low as Hell,
For ever There, in its own Region, dwell.
FINIS.