 | Poems Upon Several Occasions |  |
1
ON K. CHARLES IId's; Restoration.
A Pindarick Ode.
I
That Star whose sable mantle hurl'd,Had muffl'd up in Clouds the Western world
Is risen now, and like the Planet Jove,
Having run out his hidden course above,
Visits our Gloomy Sphere once more;
But lo! what does this Herauld bring?
It brings with safety home an Exil'd King:
A King whom Heaven lov'd so well,
Spar'd nor a Miracle
To bring him to his Native Shore.
II
For your Return all Nature seems to beIn one conspiring Jubilee;
2
The People, or the Firmament.
The floating Castles on the Sea around,
Dance to their own Trumpets found;
The Ships together with the Tide,
Swell with an unusual pride,
Whilst some unerring Angels hand
Moves and directs them to the Promis'd Land.
III
Fair Albian stretching out her Arms to thee,Implores thy Aid to cure her Leprosie:
To Thee the drooping heads of State draw nigh,
To bear them up as Atlas does the Sky.
Famine, Sword, and Fire,
The Great Triumvirate of Desolation,
Did with United Force conspire,
To Ruine and Destroy the Nation.
But the good Influence of Charles his wane,
Dispers'd those Mists, and prov'd their final bane.
3
IV
Return then Charles, with all the Joy that's dueTo the Serenest Peace and You;
The Comet's gone which o'er our Kingdom stood,
And drench'd its Face in Royal Blood;
He that usurp'd your Crown is now no more,
As low in Fortune's Wheel, as high before:
The hungry Meteor shall no more feed
On the most precious Oil of Stuart's Head,
Who on the Wings of Martyrdom Sh'has flown,
And in Exchange of this got an Immortal Crown.
V
The Isthmus which your Foes have made throw down,And walk on Beds of Roses to your Crown,
Kind Heav'n did this sweet Seat of Rest prepare,
To ease your Sorrows, and unbend your Care.
Since You are come
Triumphant Exile home,
Peace in her welcome Streams shall flow,
And kindly chear the British World below:
4
But only grieve this came too late.
| Poems Upon Several Occasions | |