University of Virginia Library

Upon a Journey of His Majesty's into Scotland, and His safe Return.

The Planets whilst they move in severall Spheres,
Cut out our time in weeks, in months, in yeeres,
In Night and Day; whose revolutions bring
The day, night, week, month, yeer into a Ring.
What doe our Princes less, when they goe forth
A Progress West or East, or South or North?
Is not the first step that they forward set,
The Suns, when He his Golden locks doth wet
In Thetis lap, to all that stay behinde?
Is not the world Eclips'd to them, and blinde?
Doe not all Minutes stretch, and seem to grow
Each to an hour, to such as think them so?
Doe not our crost, yet longing hopes, present
Each hour a month or year in banishment?
They doe: and 'twas not long since we were they
Who stood as Exil'd from our Star of Day;
Whilst visiting Those parts whence He did rise,
He cast a Generall splendor o'r those Skies,
Leaving us onely Cynthia and her Train,
To gives us hopes He would return again:
And so he doth enrich again our Sky,
Bringing those hopes unto maturity,
Our Clime with Tropick's changed, and the same
Season of day, now lengh of night doth claim:
Those onely who by Elevation
Before enjoy'd a lucid Horizon,
Once yearly now with more perfection shine
A whole month, Phœbus, suffering no decline:
Did I but call't a month? They deem'd it less,
If they could apprehend their happiness;
And we I'm sure had reason t'think it more,
Than many Ages counted ore and ore.
For as the Suns withdrawing leaves one world,
Into a Winters Tyrannie t'be hurld,
Whilst it doth bless an Other; so 'twas thus
In Scotland, Iune; but February with us
Till his return; which chang'd the Season quite,
Then ours with Corn, with Snow their hils were white;
The night that was resignes, and day's begun
With us already by our Gracious Sun.
Let Them pass Envie-free who boast them may
In the possession of this Month or Day;
For time wrapt up in swiftness doth appear
When past, as if an Age were but a year;
A year a month, a month a week, and That
An houre or minute, whilst we consolate
Our selves may in this bliss; that future time
Seems alwayes slower-winged in its Clime:
Their Jubile was short and quickly gone,
Ours under Charles is a Perpetuall one.