A Mirror of Faith :: :: University of Virginia Library

A brave old tree is English Oak,
that breaks, but never bends!
A bitter winter was its lot,
but the spring shall make amends!
A hundred thousand Englishmen
have burst Rebellion's yoke;
A hundred thousand Englishmen
have each a sprig of oak;

133

Oh, many a tree waves gallantly
in forest and in fell;
But of the rest the prince confest
is that of Boscobel!
Look to the dust on Shooter's Hill!
and hearken to the drum!
And see the pursuivant-at-arms,—
The Royal Exiles come!

Rightly goodly are the Trained Bands,
that glitter in their gold;
The Mayor and all the Aldermen,
are goodly to behold;
The plumes are fluttering on the heath;
the standards waving nigh;
The craft upon the river
have each their flag mast-high;
And English chivalry hath donn'd
the surcoat for the mail;
And English beauty forward leans,
and flings aside the veil;
Now, by my faith, I would Old Noll
could have one day of grace,
So he might stand where now I stand,
and meet us face to face!

134

Hark! to the murmur o'er the heath,
that loud and louder runs!
Hark! to the deep-ton'd city bells,
and the distant Tower guns!
The Barge is up from Westminster,
to wait the turn of tide;
The Lions and the Fleurs-de-lys
are trailing o'er its side;
And Greenwich streets and Greenwich hill
are throng'd as throng'd can be;
One sea of heads from Charlton Church
as far as Deptford Quay:
The cavalcade is on Blackheath!
Hark to the cheer and cry!
Strike drums! down keees! up hats and caps,
The King is going by!

How gallantly he checks his steed,
that chafes and foams the while!
How gallantly he bows to thank
bright eye or brighter smile!
Muskets and cannons royally
times one and twenty roar;
And kettledrums and trumpets bray
around, behind, before;

135

They strew the way with flowers and silk!
The Mayor is on his knees;
The Sheriffs and the Aldermen
are giving up the keys.
God bless the King! Old England
shall be merry England yet;
God bless the Duke of Albemarle!
A nation's in his debt!

Mark how he takes the Bible now,
and clasps it to his breast,
And promiseth to make it still
his hope, and stay, and rest!
“And by our royal word,” he saith,
“the fault hath lain on us,
Who came no sooner to a land
that gives its welcome thus!”
Where's Holland now, the renegade?
where's Peters, Prynne, and Vane?
Where's Bradshaw, too, the most accurs'd
of all the rebel train?
That thing which once they hated sore,
and made their venom's mark;
That thing are they become themselves,
“Dumb dogs that cannot bark!”

136

Room, gentlemen of Kent, in front!
The King moves on that way!
Sound trumpets, you that go! and light
the bonfires, you that stay!
Where is the cart that bears the Rumps?
Who wants to rule the roast?
The poor shall feast their fill to-day,
And never pay their host.
The cheers and trumpets die away,
as down the hill they go:
And now you catch the loyal shout
of the crowd that waits below!
“God bless the Church, the poor man's Church,
and give Her sway once more!
God bless the King, and send us soon
a Queen to England's shore.’

Among other demonstrations of the popular hatred of the Commonwealth, one of the most favourite was the roasting rumps, in mockery of the Rump Parliament.