Anglia Rediviva Or The Miraculous Return of The Breath Of Our Nostrils. A Poem. By Edmund Elis [i.e. Elys] |
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TO HIS EXCELLENCY THE LORD GENERAL MONCK. |
 | Anglia Rediviva |  |
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TO HIS EXCELLENCY THE LORD GENERAL MONCK.
April 18. 1660.
Goe on, Wise SIR, and make Your Selfe The GREAT,
By Conqu'ring Those, whom You Disdaine to Beat,
What Wonder will Your Bloodlesse Triumphs gaine!
Three Kingdomes Conquer'd, and not One Man Slain!
Your Valour thus, with Matchlesse Prudence, can
Distroy the FOE, and yet not Hurt the Man:
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To Be, what Good Men Hope, what Others Fear:
That This Dark CHAOS of Affaires may be
But a Resemblance of the Infancy
Of the CREATION: which began in Night:
Confusion Brought forth Order, Darknesse Light.
Trust not in Your owne Strength: be sure to Doe
What Honour, Law and Conscience Binds You to:
So You may Justly Hope, that HE, whose Hand
Has Set You Up; will give You Power to Stand.
Stand, NOBLE SIR, that Our Bow'd Necks may be
Rais'd by Your Hand to our Old Liberty
Then, ENGLAND'S Mourning turn'd to Joy, We'll Sing:
CROMWEL Kill'd CHARLES! But MONCK Reviv'd the KING.
FINIS
| Anglia Rediviva | |