UPON THE REBUILDING the CITY, The Right Honorable the Lord Mayor, AND THE Noble Company of Bachelors Dining with Him, May 5th 1669.
NOr could
Prometheus,
when he would have stole
From jealous
Jupiter
a living cole
To animate his well dissembled clay,
Either prevail, or go unplagu'd away,
Nor when proud Nature to recruit the earth
And brave Heaven, brought forth
Giants
at each birth,
(Those stalking
Mountains,
sons of slime and mud
The Relics of the universal Flood)
Setting them all to work, as soon as born
Then when their
Highnesses,
did not think scorn
To tread the
Mortar,
and were
Masons
made,
And
Bricklayers—
the only thriving Trade,
Though they designed, with high and pointed Towers
To pierce and stab those clouds, whose mighty showers
Had drowned their Fathers, and to climb so high,
Till they picked Stars (like Cowslips) from the sky,
Could they prevent their foolish
Babels
fall,
But were turned
canting, wandering Gypsies
all.
Nor shalt thou better speed (proud
Rome)
not Thou,
Though thou hast carried Empire on thy brow,
And with thy
Canons
made all Monarchs quake
As thunder doth the trembling Mountains shake:
No, though thy head, thy lofty head thou raise
To try thy horned strength with
Cynthia's.
No
〈…〉
Father be the Prince of th'Air▪
And w
•••
thee doth his vast Dominion share;
No, though thy Eagles wings thou stretch as wide
As
Sol
his beams, or
Neptune
doth his Tide;
No, though thy greedy cruel breed be nursed
With the same milk thy Founder sucked at first;
And though thy zeal (Ah, cursed zeal!) aspire
To raise thy
Pope,
great
Pyramids
of fire,
From burned Cities; yet thyself (proud Dame)
Who burnt with
Sodom's
lust, shalt with her flame.
Where are thy
Fauxes
in their dark disguise,
Incendiary Priests, and subtle Spies,
Who when our
London's
fiery trial came,
Like
Salamanders
feasted in the flame,
And cursed the hands that first should lay a Brick
Tow'rds the rebuilding that grand
Heretic;
Who when great
Greshams
spicy nest consumed
(Though the immortal founder stood perfumed
In the rich Incense) hugged themselves to see
Our Monarchs martyred in
Effigie.
Now let them stare and startle at the sight,
And Bark as Curs do at the Moons fair light:
Let them not boast their
Charles la Grand, la Boon,
Great Britain
can outshine them both in
One,
A Prince of far more gracious intents
Then all thy
Urbans, Clements, Innocents,
Upon whose head shall stand a
Tripple
Crown,
When thy grand Tyrants shall be tumbled down.
Still on our
Thames
shall noble Barges ride,
When
Tiber
to a Ditch shall shrink her pride.
Our
Lions
still are
Rampant,
and our
Rose
Yields her friends sweetness, prickles to our foes:
Our Citizens shall feast in their
Guild-Hall,
And eat
Geese—
Patrons of thy
Capital.
Justice and Mercy now shall guard her store,
And her
Mock-Giants
she shall need no more.
Th'Exchange
that Royal Infant, shortly will
Her own and foreign Language speak with skill;
And on that
Acre
the Noon S
•
n shall see
All his long Travels in Epitomie:
We have our
Newgate
and old
Tyburn
too,
Ready to serve their
Turns
who
turn
to you.
Kind Heaven and all the Elements conspire
(And such conspiracy's we may desire)
To make our City fairer, stronger, higher,
The Sun gets up each morn at peep of day
To oversee the Work, and late doth stay
Before he lets the Laborers retreat,
As if he undertook the work by
th'Great.
The Earth gives clay, the water moistens it;
The gentle Air tempers, and makes it fit,
And then the fire, as if it meant to make
Full satisfaction, and revenges take
Upon itself, (though in a smothered way
As modest Thieves their injuries repay)
Works in the
Brick-kilne,
works till it grow sick,
And fainting dies, leaving on every
Brick
And every
Tyle
a lasting
Blush▪
as who
Would say, for former
Mischiefs
this I do.
Nor doth the Sun alone the Work over see,
But there is
One
as vigilant as he,
A Pious, Loyal, Wise, Just May
'r, a Lord
〈…〉
Zerubbabel
with awful sword
〈…〉
the
Trowel,
whose sweet voice hath powers
(As
Orpheus
had to raise his
T
•
eban
Towers)
To make the teeming bowels of the earth
Shoot up new
Buildings
by an easy
birth.
He guards the
Sab
•
aths
with
〈◊〉
holy care,
And blesseth all the Week by that
Days
pray'r;
His
Magistracy
lies not in his Train,
His stately Steed, his Scarlet, or his Chain;
He, and his Sword in Velvet fast asleep,
But watchful, God's peace and the Kings to keep;
With a strict hand the Ballance he doth hold,
Trying the
Cause
how weighty, not the Gold:
As he with Virtue meets, or with Offence,
So do his looks or smiles, or frowns dispence;
His smoother Chine carrying as grave a grace,
As the
Diocesans
well bearded face.
Boast on
(old Beldame Rome)
and brag—Thou hast
Thousands of Sons and Daughters pure and chaste,
Yet thou shalt find for all their
••
ngle Lives,
But little
Virgin Honey
in their
•
ives:
Those thievish
Drones
thy
Friars
without wings,
Creep to thy
Nuns,
and leave behind their
stings.
Thou hast thy
Joan's
as well as
Popes—
Fame says,
Thy
Innocents
have their
Olimp
••••
But
London
which the Nuptia
•
Band allows,
And hates to lock her Virgins u
•
in Vows,
Can glory in her
Bachelor Lord May'r,
Chast as the
Dove,
though of the
Ravens Hair:
The
Widow City
is his
Spouse—
and He
Cares for her
Children
and great
Family;
Nor doth he stand (although he lies) alone
(He were a
Phoenix
if he were but
One)
But as the
Moon,
when she her progress goes,
The
Court of Stars,
as her Attendants shows:
So when
Beloved Turner
please to call,
Great Troops of
Batchelors
adorn his Hall;
None
male content,
and yet
M
••
e Virgins
all)
On
May's
fifth day (Oh, twas a wondrous sight!)
Three hundred
Virgins, Virgins
day and night;
Virgins
in
Breeches, Virgins
all as true,
As she for whom
Saint George
the
Dragon
slew;
Some hoary old, some young, but all were chaste
Either above, or underneath the wast;
None of them had they been in
Scottish
School,
Had
grunted
in the
Penitential Stool;
None, had they lived in times of
Commutation,
Had paid a stone to
Paul's
for
Fornication.
None from an
Ordeal
Trial need to fly
That
Purgatory fire
of Chastity;
None free of
Creswel College,
not a Man
Need fear to meet a
Nurse
or some
Trappan;
None of them all, (for ought the Poet knows)
Wears (though another's Hair) another's Nose.
My
Lord
himself, and all his Guests, I think
In the same Cup, might without danger drink;
Yet none, (if called lawfully) but can
Beget a Son, may prove an
Ald
•
rm
•
n.
These Sons of Peace, and Sons of
Mars,
if
Charles
Please to take notice of his
Neighbors
snarls
Came not to show their Valour in his Hall,
〈…〉
Custard,
batter
Pasty Wall:
〈1 line〉
〈…〉
their
Teeth
or
Kn
•••
s
were sharpest set:
To take the
Red-coat-Lobst
••
s
by the back
And with bold hands, thei
•
clattering
Armor
crack;
But their chief errand was
•
o pray he would
Command their Persons a
••
accept their
Gold.
And if their Votes and m
••
e were current, He
Should their
Perpetual Dictator
be.
But if the scarlet
Sphere
m
•
st turn about
(Though turning round makes giddy heads I doubt)
Yet his
Exemplar
Govern
•
ent shall stand,
And teach Successors how they should command.
A
Virgin Queen,
and
Bachelor Lord Mayor,
To
England
are as prosperous as rare,
She made the
City
love the
Court,
and He
The
Court
the
City
by his Loyalty.
He a wise Imitator of his King,
Finds
Moderation
is a Healing thing.
Oh, if our
Churches Ove
•••••
s
would yield
And let poor Laborers co
•
e forth and build,
Such as
Untempred Mortar
dare not use,
Nor for Foundations,
straw
and
stubble
choose;
Though every stone
across
they do not lay,
But some work one, and some another way,
Our
New Jerusalem
should
〈◊〉
behold
Zion
in glory, though it wanted
Gold.
Hard
upon
Hard,
no lasting work will make,
Nor can one
Flint
another kindly break:
But
Moderation
is a
Cement sure,
'It is that which makes the
Universe
endure:
That makes our
Climate
prove a
temperate Zone
Betwixt the
Torrid,
and the
Frigid
One.
If we all build up
Pater-Noster-Row,
We may let
Ave-Mary-Corner
go;
Black
and
White Friars
did together stand,
And may again, if Wisdom might command,
If not, I will say no more, but this will swear,
Bedlam
and
Bishopsgate
near Neighbors are.
Printed in the Year 1669.