Scotlands Welcome to her Native Sonne, and Soveraigne Lord, King Charles Wherein is also contained, the maner of His Coronation, and Convocation of Parliament; The whole Grievances, and abuses of the Common-wealth of this Kingdome, with diverse other relations, never heretofore published. Worthy to be by all the Nobles and Gentry perused; and to be layd vp in the hearts, and chests of the whole Commouns, whose interests may best claime it, either in meane, or maner, from which their Priuiledges, and fortunes are drawne, as from the Loadstar of true direction. By William Lithgovv |
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TO HIS LOVING PILGRIMAGIOVS POET, WILLIAM LITHGOW. |
 | Scotlands Welcome to her Native Sonne, and Soveraigne Lord, King Charles |  |
TO HIS LOVING PILGRIMAGIOVS POET, WILLIAM LITHGOW.
Can not thy Travells, blaze abroad thy worth?
Which never yet did SCOT, the lyke set forth,
Nor one in Europe, can with Thee compare,
For thyne adventures, excellent, and rare,
But that thou must, in adding fame, to fame,
Thy matchles merits, in thy Muse proclayme:
I can not call it Pryde, but vertue showne,
From Thee, to vs, through this wyde Ile well knowne:
But more an obligation, which thou ought.
Vnto thy natiue Soyle; so headlong brought,
In deep distresses, grieuances, and losse,
Whilst sorrow, on sorrow, addes crosse, to crosse,
Which thou rippst vp, vnto the very roote,
Whence all these evills come, and springing sprout:
Besydes this jouiall welcome, to our King,
Which quicke Invention, now to light do'th bring:
O! rare relations! worthy of regard!
And from thy Prince, and Soyle, deserve reward;
But more for what, thou sufferd into Spaine,
For CHRIST and Countrey, and thy late Sou'raigne:
Which if it be not weighd, in tyme I feare,
That late repentance, shall buy pennance deare.
Tymes haue their turnes, and ev'ry turne a Tyme.
Men could not shift, without some changing Clyme;
For where neglect, claps merit on the face,
The errour, not the object, reaps disgrace:
Then pregnant Pilgrime, rest thou yet content,
Hope still that Tyme, shall crowne thy braue intent,
KINGS haue their mynds, and reason just demands,
For Merit, can not fall, where judgement stands.
Which never yet did SCOT, the lyke set forth,
Nor one in Europe, can with Thee compare,
For thyne adventures, excellent, and rare,
But that thou must, in adding fame, to fame,
Thy matchles merits, in thy Muse proclayme:
I can not call it Pryde, but vertue showne,
From Thee, to vs, through this wyde Ile well knowne:
But more an obligation, which thou ought.
Vnto thy natiue Soyle; so headlong brought,
In deep distresses, grieuances, and losse,
Whilst sorrow, on sorrow, addes crosse, to crosse,
Which thou rippst vp, vnto the very roote,
Whence all these evills come, and springing sprout:
Besydes this jouiall welcome, to our King,
Which quicke Invention, now to light do'th bring:
O! rare relations! worthy of regard!
And from thy Prince, and Soyle, deserve reward;
But more for what, thou sufferd into Spaine,
For CHRIST and Countrey, and thy late Sou'raigne:
Which if it be not weighd, in tyme I feare,
That late repentance, shall buy pennance deare.
Tymes haue their turnes, and ev'ry turne a Tyme.
Men could not shift, without some changing Clyme;
For where neglect, claps merit on the face,
The errour, not the object, reaps disgrace:
Then pregnant Pilgrime, rest thou yet content,
Hope still that Tyme, shall crowne thy braue intent,
KINGS haue their mynds, and reason just demands,
For Merit, can not fall, where judgement stands.
I. A.
Uirtus repulsæ nescia sordidæ
Intaminatis fulget honoribus.
Intaminatis fulget honoribus.
Horat.
| Scotlands Welcome to her Native Sonne, and Soveraigne Lord, King Charles | |