University of Virginia Library

No sooner welcome day with glimmering light
Began to chase away the shades of night,
But eccho wakens, rouz'd by the Shepherd Swains,
And back reverberates their louder strains.
The airy Choire had tun'd their slender throats,
And fill'd the bushy groves with their sweet Notes
The Flocks were soon unfolded, and the Lambs
Kneel for a Breakfast to their milky Dams.
And now Aurora blushing greets the world,
And o're her Face a curled Mantle hurl'd:
Foretelling a fair day, the Soldiers now
Began to bustle; some their Trumpets blow,
Some beat their Drums, that all the Camp throughout
With sounds of War they drill the Soldiers out.
The Nobles soon were hors'd, expecting still
Their King's approach, but he had slept but ill,
But was but then arising, heavy ey'd,
And cloudy look'd, and something ill beside.
But he did cunningly dissemble it
Before his Nobles, all that they could get
From him was that, a Dream he had that night
Did much disturb him; yet seem'd he make slight
Of what so troubled him; but up he chears
His Soldiers with his presence, and appears
As hearty as his troubled thoughts gave leave:
So that except his groans, none could perceive
Much alteration in him: toward Court
The Army marches, and swift wing'd report
Had soon divulg'd their coming; by the way
He meets old Memnon, who, as you heard say,
Was Sire to Florimel, good man, he then
Was going to his Daughter: when his men
Then in the Army in his passing by
Tend'red their duty to him lovingly.
He bids them welcome home; the King drew near,
And question'd who that poor man was, and where
His dwelling was; and why those Soldiers show'd
Such reverence to him; 'twas but what they ow'd
Answer'd a stander by; he is their Lord,
And one that merits more than they afford.
If worth were rightly valued (gracious Sir)
His name is Memnon, if one may believe
His own report; yet sure, as I conceive,
He's more than what he seems: the Army then
Had made a stand when Memnon and his men
Were call'd before the King: the good old man
With Tears, that joy brought forth, this wise began.
To welcome home Alexis ever be
Those sacred powers bless'd, that lets me see
My Sovereigns safe return: still may that power
Strengthen your arm to Conquer: Heav'n still shower
Its choicest blessings on my Sovereign,
My lifes preserver: welcome home again.
I would my Girl were here, with that he wept,
When from his Chariot Alexis stept,
And lovingly embrac'd him: he knew well
That this was Memnon, Sire to Florimel;
And to mind how he had set them free
From more than cruel Rebels; glad was he
So luckily to meet him, from his wrist
He took a Jewel, 'twas an Amythist
Made like a Heart with wings: the Motto this,
Love gives me wings, and with a—kiss.
He gave it to old Memnon: bear, said he,
This Jewel to your Child, and let me see
Both you and her at Court, fail not with speed
To let me see you there: old man, I need
Thy grave advise; all wondred at the deed,
But chiefly Memnon: Father, said the King,
I'll think upon your men: fail not to bring
Your Daughter with you; so his leave he takes,
And ravish'd Memnon tow'rd his Daughter makes.
The Army could not reach the Court that night,
But lay in open Field, yet within sight
Of Pallimando where the Court then lay.
For greater state Alexis the next day
Purpos'd to enter it; the Townsmen they
In the mean time prepare what cost they may,
With Shows and Presents to bid welcom home
Their victor King; and amongst them were some
Studied Orations, and compos'd new lays
In honour of their King: the Oak and Bays
Were woven into Garlands for to crown
Such as by Valor had gain'd most renown.
Scarce could the joyful people sleep that night,
In expectation of the morrows sight.
The morrow came, and in triumphant wise
The King and Soldiers enter: all mens eyes
Were fix'd upon the King with such desire,
As if they'd seen a God, while Musicks Choire
Fill'd every corner with resounding lays,
That spake the conquering Alexis praise.
Drown'd in the vulgars lowder acclamations,
'Twould ask an age to tell what preparations
Were made to entertain him, and my muse
Grows somewhat weary: these triumphant shews
Continu'd long, yet seem'd to end too soon,
The people wish'd 'thad been a week to noon.
By noon the King was hous'd, and order given
To pay the Soldiers, now it grew tow'rd even,
And all repair to rest; so I to mine,
And leave them buried in sound sleep and Wine.
I'll tell you more hereafter, friendships laws
Will not deny a friendly rest and pause.