KING
CHARLES
his welcome home,
OR
A CONGRATVLATION
of all his loving Subjects in thankfulness
to God for his Majesty's safe and
happy return from
Scotland,
1641.
By JOHN BOND,
Cantabrid: Coll:
St.
John's.
[illustration]
London,
Printed by
F. L.
for
T. Bates,
and
F. Coules,
and are to be sold at their shops in the old Bailey.
King Charles his
welcome home.
HAd I great
Homer's
sweet-
Maeonian
quill
Inspired from the double-fronted Hill
Of the thrice-three-
Aganippa'an
Nimphs,
Who guides the fancy with Nectarian Limphs
Of fluent eloquence, and Heroic lines:
Had I the pen of
Maro,
whose worth shines
bright in the lamp of Poetry: had I
An Angels sweetness, and an Eagles ey
To view your Majesty: perhaps I might.
Respectively express the joyful sight
Of your return: whose imperial name
Is greater, then the barren Trump of Fame
Can far enough proclaim with her shrill voice;
In whom both men and Angels do rejoice:
Or were my pen from Pegase-hoof-borne spring
Distill'd; I might describe thy welcome, King:
But stay retract that line, my Muse, for why?
Shoul'st thou presume upon his Majesty
To gaze, least the bright splender of his name
Dazels the weakness of thy lines in shame.
(But as the
Caesarian
Parrot once did live)
To you great
Charles
my
〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉
I do give.
Welcome thou Sun of glory, whose bright beams
Do so illuminate those obscure dreams
Of adverse Fortune, unto which we were
Late incident, by our quotidian fear.
But the bright rays of your return absolved
Vs from that passion, and sweelty dissolved
That cloud of fear into the glorious day
Of triumph: for unitly we may say,
That Sol's Heaven-wandering steedes in their first light
And infancy of rising, (when the night
Had robbed the earth of his bright lamp were not
More welcome to th'Pers'ans, who near forgot
To worship his arising flames, then we
Triumph in your returned Majesty:
Whose presence we adore, as a new Sun
Which in our Hemispheare most gloriously do run.
Great
Atlas
of Religion, (whose rare brow
Embroydred with Religions branches, know—
The depth of wisdom) whose Maiesticke smile
Can reerect Religion, and defile
At once both Pope, and Antichrist, the Priests
Of
Baal,
Pontificians, Atheists
And the Hel-nourished crew of Sectaries beside
Although puffed up with the arrogant wind of pride
Yet know, great
Charles,
that by thy sacred frown
They without question must all tumble down.
Fountain of peace! From thee doth daily spring
A concord, that doth decorate a King,
And most discreetly doth distill throughout
Three Kingdoms re-united round about.
Thou dost afford each subject peace, and then
They like to rivers do return agen
To the great Ocean of their peace, and thus
Although thou dost diffuse to each of us
This blessing daily: yet we cannot see
The fountain e're to be exhaust in Thee,
But rather more redundant, witness now
Thy care sollic'tous, when discreetly thou
Two Kingdoms didst concatenate in one
Religious, firm, and sacred peace alone.
When as your joyful Subjects did revew
Your presence, how everyone withdrew
Their former passion, and each single eye
Was so transfixit upon your Majesty:
As if you were the Centur of their hope
Against the stratagems of th' wicked Pope.
For in your absence, (oh!) how every heart
Clog'd with great fear for you, did daily smart:
Here one did sigh, another there did weep
He's heart did smart he's eye were drowned deep
In the full streams of sorrow: this did pray
Both for your health and safety day by day:
Another prays for your return: and this
For your long life, that for your heavenly bliss:
This fears, least our Religion should die,
That least we grow unto some Anarchy:
Thus you might see, great Monarch, that none were,
Idle in prayers, but all struck with fear
In this your absence: till your blest return
Did make our hearts in gladness more to burn
Then they in grief oppressed were before
For now each man your presence doth adore.
Loe! what a concourse of thy subjects do
Encompasse thee, as if they meant to woe
Your safe return: this man's pleasant voice
Doth Trumpet forth his joy: that man rejoice
Rather in heart then words: another's eye
Loaded with joy, salutes your Majesty.
The heads of others do connive at you
The hands of others do their triumph show:
Some do frequent the Temple, and there praise
God for your safe return, whose mortal Days
They wish were crowned with immortality
That we on earth might to eternity
With the triumph: all people thou mayest see
Thus clothed with joy in their solemnity.
It is not the plots of th' Antichristian Pope
Can e're extenuate at once the hope
Which is imposed in thee: whose splendent mind
Can all their owlish innovations blind.
Nor is it any Faction can oppose
Your peace-digested mind, or any foes
Disturbe your concord: let the Papists strive
In their Hel-forged plots, and let them drive
Their fury to the height of malice, while
We are protected under your blest smile.
So! let the wicked fume, and foam and fall
Starke-mad: still snarling in their frothy gall
Of tainted envy: Let them like the waves
Precipitate their malice to their graves,
Well! Let them snarl like murmuring rivers, than
Rising, and rising to an Ocean:
Then swell into a Deluge, till they hide
The tops of Mountains in their teeming pride;
Thou
Charles
shalt stand like
Noah's
Ark secure
Above those waves, and firmly shalt endure
While the tumultuous Billowes under Thee
Do rage, and seek their own dire Destinie;
With Thee above the waves thou shalt protect
The Sons and daughters of th' Religious sect
And sacred Truth, whose ever-pious way
Under thy Tutele never shall decay.
Oh! how shall we express our flowing joy
For thy return, which grief cannot annoy.
Yea even the very City walls would come
And leave their seats, Thee now to welcome home
If nature did not them oppose: behold
The earth whereon thou treadest, doth unfold
Her barrenness, and in those steps, whereon
Your sacred Majesty hath lately gone
Least late posterity should never hear
Of thy blest journey) it doth now appear
How the lacivious grass do forthwith strive
Which first should be emergent, and so live
Sprung up in honor of your blessed fame,
And be a monument to your great name.
Flora
did emulate with her self, and try
How to excel the sweet solemnity
Of her best odors, whilst all then agreed
To concur all in one, striving t' exceed
Her wouted-repercussive smell: That done
Abstracted all her beauty then in one,
Thus charmed her flowers whose sweet benignity
Ioyn'd in one fair Aspect do welcome thee.
Ceres
have dressed the corn-loaded earth
Against your coming, to produce a birth
Of heaven-created joy: and as 'tis seen
Did sweep the earth's most fruitful treasure clean;
Into her swelling barns: and thus made room
For your blest Majesty's returning home:
The Earth she emptied, Thee t' entertain:
Which otherwise she knew, could not contaiue
Your
Alexandrian
person. Me thinks I see
Wine-swelling
Bacchus
striving how to be
Ambitiously your servant, who present
His pearlie coul'red grapes, all which he meant
To ripen only for your sake: Thus he
To you commends them with humility.
Bright
Phaebus
doth his rad'ant beams display
And with his great luster guild this day:
And thinks it great ambition to distend
His rays transluent, which he now did lend
To you more then accustomed light: while he
Will do more service to your Majesty
With his four steeds: Then he who did far worse
And gave your Majesty an hundred horse.
While you and he shine both, none can define
Which is his splendor,
Charles,
or which is thine.
Puffe-mouthed
Aeolus
retract his winds
Which do tumultuously rage and finds
That the calm
Zephyrus
of your sweet breath
Doth pacify their rage, which threatens death
And that your smile can keep distraction back
That wallow with discention to their rack.
Mars
smiles at your return, and he doth see
There his own person in your Majesty.
Facetious Mercury's lodged in you tongue;
At your bright eyes doth Cupid without wrong
Warme his Caelestiall wings: and in your brain
Mellifluous Palace doth discreetly reign.
Thus all the God's and Goddesses do joy
In your return and call you their Vice-roy.
Loe! Constancy doth decorate your face
And true Religion sacredly do grace
Your heavenly mind: And in your better part
Firme faith is crowned in your pious heart.
But why do I ennumerate (alas!)
Your virtues, which do far transcend, and pass
The intellect of man's capacity:
Which, one may sooner number in the sky
Each star; or else distinguish everysand
Within the Ocean's shore, or in the Land
Each herb; then he which can describe in Thee
Each Charactar of your Divintiy
The Stars of honor in thee do so shine
That thou art nothing earthly; but divine.
Which do so meet in thee with variation
That they do make a perfect constellation:
Which were they obvious but to every ey
Each several Art would trune Astronomy:
Our Parliaments adjourn'd: and then we were
(Had you not come) subjected been to fear
But since such virtues do concur in one
We have a Parliament in Thee alone.
Well! Live O King, forever live I say
Live prosperously, and that beyond Doomes Day.
And although all other Poets doereply
A Vale in their Epilogue, yet I
Instead of Vale will presume toallude
And with a
Salve, Charles,
to you conclude.
FINIS.