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Poems

or, A Miscellany of Sonnets, Satyrs, Drollery, Panegyricks, Elegies, &c. At the Instance, and Request of Several Friends, Times, and Occasions, Composed; and now at their command Collected, and Committed to the Press. By the Author, M. Stevenson
 
 

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Upon His Majesties Progress into Norfolk, Sept. 28. 1671.

Yarmouth had first (O more than happy Port!)
The honour to receive the King and Court;
And entertain, Season providing dishes,
The King of England, with the King of Fishes.
A Royal Mess, what Herrings pay were they?
Not red, nor white; pickel'd, nor bloat they say;
No milch, but all hard rows, strange kind of meat!
Herrings you might digest, but cou'd not eat.
Whose eys were rubies, and whose scales were gold.
Herrings that never stinck, though ne'er so old.

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The Senate of the Shoal, whose golden Chain,
Argues 'um the Triumvirate of the Main.
A glittering Trine, but by the way, me thinks,
'Twas no good Supper-meat, Herrings and Links.
Yet, for all that, it was good Fish when caught,
Wou'd I'd a swill of such at Twelve a Groat.
Should Norwich put such Herrings in their Pies,
Their Charter wou'd be heavier than Excise.
Oysters may of their Pearls high value set,
But these are Herrings for a Royal Net.
To which, add all that Art or Nature cou'd,
Nothing cou'd be too dear, nothing too good:
The treat was what, or wit, or wealth cou'd give,
The Cates being like the Guests superlative.
VVhose superabundance did contribute more,
Than some can feast their Kings with to the poor.
Next to his Majesty, at the Town-hall,
His Royal Highness, Lord High-Admiral,
Vouchsaf'd his Princely Presence save the Crown)
The highest honour ever deign'd the Town.
The Duke of Buckingham, and Monmouth's Graces,
In the next Sphear took their Illustrious Places.
VVith other Lords of principal account,
VVhose grandieurs my poor Heraldry surmount.
When the Town sparkel'd with such Cavaliers,
Yarmouth was sure Nobly supply'd with Peers.
Had you the Gold that flew about, there seen,
You wou'd have thought you had in Guiny been.

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Pieces did answer Pieces shot for shot,
As if that Gold the art of Guns had got.
Sure Cæsar's beams, and Sun like Equipage,
Gilded the Town, and made this Golden Age.
No Bristoll Milk out of the Conduits spun,
Though not the Conduits yet the Pipes did run.
Goblets, and Gold, they shovel out their wealth,
And think their Wine too little for his health.
Souldiers and Servants with the Court come down,
Might, at the Feathers, gratis, be high-flown.
They say his Majesty there Knighted Four,
I only wonder He did Knight no more:
For, who observes how they set all to rights,
Wou'd think they acted more like Lords than Kts.
To those He added, but He gave no Names,
But answer'd for a Ship, and call'd it James.
All pleas'd the King, and the King all did please,
Never was Day more full of Happiness!
The general joy to see his Majesty,
Their Acclamations witness to the Sky.
Twelve hundred shot, add yet a thousand more,
From shoar to Sea, and from the Sea to shoar,
With such salutes did one another greet,
You wou'd have fear'd that Heaven and earth wou'd meet.
Salutes are thunder'd all abroad the Main,
Which Neptune answers to his Lord again.
For while the Earth did Eccho with their joyes,
The Sea cou'd not forbear to make a noise.

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The very Waves in tumults fret, and fome
For madness, that they cou'd no nearer come.
Thus was the King whilst Mount to Mount roar out
Besieg'd with Salutations round about.
The smoak rose up in Clouds, and made a Night,
And Lynstocks were the Candles gave us Light.
The priming Powders at the t'uch holes flash,
And every Mount a Mountain Ætna was:
Thus Earth and Water carol to their King,
And, as in Consort, Jopæan sing;
Farewell fair Yarmouth, and agen farewell,
VVhere noble hearts in noble houses dwell.
Thy King has judg'd thy great, thy generous Town
A Jewel worthy of a Monarch's Crown.
Next Norwich ward great Cæsar sets his face,
Like Sun-shine to a long benighted place.
The mounted Magistrates to meet Him rid,
And their Formal ties his wellcome bid.
VVhose Persons, though confin'd to City ground,
Their Love and Loyalty yet knows no bound.
First the Recorder did the whole present,
And gave the King a solemn Complement:
Not empty words, but truth in such a dress,
A man might through it see her nakedness.
'Twas pat and pithy, not a formal story,
And he's as well now, as Sir Francis Corye.
Next, they surrender on their Loyal Knees,
The Cup, the Sword, the Maces, and the Keyes,

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Ensigns of Power; and Cæsar takes 'um too,
And what does Cæsar take, but Cæsar's due?
Whilst He, whom our Election did prefer
To be the Major, is made the Sword-bearer.
This was September right, the Senats fall,
But Royal Rayes rais'd 'um agen withall.
And redeliver'd into hands so just,
The Ensigns of Authority, and trust.
Next Aaron, with his Sons, observe their course,
My Lord, with all the Lords Embassadours,
As th' Holy Priest-hood in Procession rod,
To invite the King unto the House of God.
As once a part of the Levitick stem,
Met Alexander from Hierusalem.
Then highborn Howard waits, the King's approaches
With's prancing horses, and his Princely Coaches.
And withall grace attends his Soveraign home,
And does a Landlord to his Lord become.
Receives his Majesties at the Dukes Place,
Which at that time a Royal Palace was.
A City rather, and so throng'd about,
As Norwich City seem'd a Suburbs to't.
But that the King fill'd both; for People run
To Royal beams, as Atomes to the Sun.
Next flockt the Gentry, who as numerous were
As twinckles in the Star be-dappel'd Sphear.
Fame fill'd the streets, there was no room to pass,
Sure Norwich then a Populous City was.

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The King may thank Sir Peter Glean that Day;
For, but for him, the King had no High-way.
He clear'd Him a free pass, where he might ride,
And Pal'd it in with Pikes on either side:
And Musquets in close order, all in new
Red Coats, and all alike lyn'd with true blew.
Thus representing to His Majesty
Their Unity and Uniformity.
Nor may I here that gorgeous Troop forget,
Hundreds of florid Citizens that met,
Their Soveraign Equipt in black and white,
An object both of wonder and delight:
With Scarlet Ribons in their Hats, to show
Their Blood was likewise at his Service too.
Argus had there met objects worth his Eyes,
But twice as many wou'd not half suffice:
Windows and walls were nothing else you'd think
Yet deem'd disloyal to themselves to wink.
But had you heard the Tempest of their Lungs,
You wou'd have thought them nothing else but tongues
Their Vocal Vollies deafen'd every Ear,
And Drums and Trumpets no loud Musick were.
They rent the Skies, and tore the very Ground,
Muskets and Canons in the vogue were drown'd.
And Bells, that with such sweat & pains were rear'd,
Might have rung backward for ought they were heard.
'Twas such a clamour, so transcending measure,
That Bells themselves cou'd not appeal to Cæsar.

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But face about, here's more yet to be seen,
Two wonders in a Day, the King and Queen.
With such a train of Beauties, might out-dare
Bold Saladine, and Crown a holy Warre.
Now, Norwich, say, to grace thy Hemisphear,
The Sun and Moon and Stars at once shone there.
Thus the Pair-Royal are together met,
And the Dukes Place more grac'd than ever yet.
Where they conducted are into a Room,
Hung all with Arras fresh come off the Loom.
Adorn'd with all magnificence, and quite
Set round with Flambeux made a Day of Night.
For Supper, there I beg to hold my peace;
Think what the Eye, the Ear, the tast wou'd please,
All that they had, nothing did want that Night,
(Except by too too much,) an Appetite.
In summe the Bill of fare, let him pronounce,
Knows what it is to treat two Courts at once.
Paston and Hobart did bring in the Meat,
Who the next day at their own houses treat:
Paston to Oxney did his Soveraign bring;
And, like Araunah, offer'd as a King.
Blecklyn two Monarcks, and two Queens has seen,
One King fetcht thence, another brought a Queen.
Great Townsend of the treats brought up the rear,
And doubly was my Lord Lieftenant there.
And now with Norwich, for whose sake I writ,
Let me conclude; Norwich did what was fit:

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Or, what with them was possible, at least;
That City does enuff, that does its best.
There the King Knighted the so famous Brown.
Whose worth, & learning to the world are known.
They offer'd to the King at the New-hall,
Banquets and Guynies, and their hearts withall.
For Norwich, true, others may treat more high,
But to her Power, none more heartily:
S'has long a Widow been, and 'tis but right
T'accept a Widow, for a Widow's Mite:
Norwich strain'd all, that Norwich cou'd extend,
Nor cou'd she more, should Jove himself descend.
Tandem progreditur magna comitante Caterva.