 | Poems upon Several Occasions |  |
The Genius Speech.
Great man by blood, by vertue greater made,Whose presence Banishes the gloomy shade
Of Brittaines night; the faire Aurora too
The Royall Phœbus ushered in by you:
Thy Sword has cut our Chaines of slavery
Thy hands the Gordian knots of Tyranny
Unty'd; thy strenuous Arms unhing'd our Gates
To shew thy strength, the greatest pride abates,
To shew what thou couldst do, that we thereby
Might on thy more than Samson's strength rely:
But what thou didst was at anothers frown,
Thou hung'st them up, that kindnesse was thy owne.
Great Hercules of our Ile at last thou'st slaine
That Hydra never more to rise again,
Though often crush'd, that Monstrous Taile, (which bit
Her own head off) did resurrection git,
But now she's dead, and never more shall rise,
Tryumphs, not teares attend her Obsequies.
And now but one step more and thy great name
Register'd stand shall in the Book of Fame
In so great Characters the world may read
The World too little for thy fame shall be
And Princes honour shall thy name and thee.
See then great Generall, Brittaines Genius now
Before thee stands, and willing is to owe
A happynesse to thee, wherein thou may'st
Raise honour to thy selfe; if thou delay'st,
Time and necessary will thee prevent
And spoyle the lustre of thy great intent.
Now drooping Brittain raises up her head,
Inspir'd by thee she arises from the dead,
Her War-made breaches now are cur'd again,
And joyes and ease succeed her griefe and pain,
Her spotlesse Virgin Chores begin to sing
Jo Pæans in honour to their King:
Faile not her now-bigg hopes but be content
To raise an everlasting Monument
To thee and thy posterity; that bayes
May Crown thy Brows and Ages speake thy praise.
Thou see'st our wants, and what it is wee'd have
It is a King of Charles's race we crave;
Since all the people in one voyce agree,
God's Oracle, 'tis God that asks it thee,
Who having scourg'd poor Brittain for her sin,
Returns her Baulme to cure her wounds agin.
We 'ave try'd, and too too long, a Commonwealth,
Such as it was, a Bane to Englands Health,
Where fifty Tyrants with one mouth agree,
To eat up Law, Religion, Liberty
Monsters that Kings and Bishops Lands devour,
Kept by extorted sums the Nation poor;
Philosophers that changed all to gold,
And let goe nothing that their gripes could hold;
Yet these were they that needs would stiled be
But by thy power great Monck wee'r freed again,
And George most bravely has the Dragon slain.
Ambitious Cromwell put the purple on,
And having slain the Father, rob'd the Son
Of right and title, to a royall Crown,
To set himself up, pul'd another down,
And what he got by rapine, he made good,
Though by Religion cloak'd, by force and blood,
All what our Heroes once contended for,
With the sad tempest of a civill War
Himselfe usurp'd; and gloryed in his pride
To have with peace what was to Kings deny'd;
But yet you see the Nation scourg'd, that God
Renews his mercy and has burn'd his rod,
And Cromwell's name grows odious every where,
Which was obey'd not out of Love, but feare.
Let his example your ambition curb,
Doe not our growing happinesse disturb,
By mounting of a Throne is none of yours,
For be assured that the sacred powers,
Will blast the first fruits of thy tyranny,
Fraud must preserve what's got by policy.
And now our people us'd to subtleties,
To be deceiv'd by crafts are grown too wise,
So that the fates deny thy Regiment,
And people to obey no more are bent,
Till he arises in the Brittish spheare,
Whom all desire the royall Crown to wear.
Thou seest our griefs and knowst the wayes to cure,
Our Maladies, thy Faith we knows too pure
For to be tempted to betray our hopes,
Who doubts thy loyalty, to treason opes
A way; no though tho say'st thou'lt us deceive,
Since one so good and great as Monck must be,
The onely Man can give us liberty.
Brittain in sackcloth has mourn'd long enough,
'Tis time to lay aside the Sword and Buff,
'Tis time to pull those Puny Nobles down,
Who speak against, and yet affect a Crown,
That those by blood and vertue truly great,
May be installed in their long-left seat
These shining in their ermin gallantry,
Beget a reverence due to Majesty.
Now I have done, and you have this to doe,
To bring him in for whom the Nations sue,
Great Charls, who more then by sev'n twelve months try'd,
And in afflictions Furnace purifi'd,
Must come forth brighter then try'd gold, more bright
Then lustrous Sol after a darksome night;
Whose brighter beames of Love shall raise the slain,
And make our Halcyon dayes to live again;
England shall blesse thy name when this is done,
And stile the Phosphor to the rising Sun,
To thee shall Brittain pay her anuall vowes,
Whilst Ducall diadems crown thy Princely brows.
| Poems upon Several Occasions | |