DƲX REDƲX: OR, Londons Thanksgiving.
Being a Panegyrick on the most Happy Return of His Royal Highness JAMES Duke of York, Lord High Admiral of England, Septemb. 19. 1672.
REturn'd and Safe! Let the glad Realm Rejoyce,
Till Rocks, and Mountains, Eccho all our Joyes.
The purling Streams would else our Mirth forestall,
And make their murmurs much more Musical.
Thrice Welcom (Mighty Prince!) Let the Bells ring,
And all the People
Jo-paean Sing.
We owe not here to Faggots, Pitch, or Tarre,
Our Hearts enflam'd with Love, Best Bonfires are;
Since our Great
JAMES is to St.
Jamesses come;
Wellcome as the blest day, that brought him Home:
A Day than which a Happier ne're was known,
Save that which brought our Soveraign to his Throne.
A Day, to Loyal Hearts of special Note,
Brought the Great
JAMES home in a Pleasure-boat.
Well-fare those gentle, those auspicious Gales,
For
Albions sake swell'd his Tryumphant Sailes.
Well-fare brisk Tydes, well-fare those active Rowers,
Wing'd with desire, and Joy Feather'd their Oars.
The
Tower Salutes him with one
Broad-side more,
Re-minding
Thousands he Receiv'd before.
Upon his Stern the
Crimson Ensigne stood,
A
Flag was double-dy'd with
Belgick-Blood.
The very Sea Trembled to see him there,
And
Neptune hid his wavy Head for fear.
His Presence did the
Sea-Gods so Confound,
That not a
Tryton durst a Trumpet Sound.
What should
He more pursue his prostrate
Foes?
He staid till there was nothing to Oppose;
Save Petty
Privateers, slinckt out of Size:
Let Idle
Emp'rours spend their hours on Flyes.
Some deem'd him
Dead, his Conduct being to these
As Dark as Midnight, and as Deep as Seas.
What is't, that
Bulk of Baseness Satisfies?
Who, though they
See Him, dare not trust their
Eyes.
For, dazled with an Object so Supream,
Their Envy would be Blind, that it might Dream.
This
Juncto, by a
Coffee-House contrive,
Have Thousands Kill'd (thank God) are still Alive:
And they, to Base and Dis-ingenious Ends,
Bewail their
Enemies, and Bewitch their
Friends.
For since aside
Wallingford-House is stept
In Coffee-house,
Committee of Safety's kept.
Who by the
Turks Black Drink, for ought I see,
Are become no less
Infidels than Hee.
A
Sect of Schismaticks that wou'd have that,
Ask 'um at present, and they know not what.
Defend us Heaven! the
World's a troublous Sea,
Where every
Puppy wou'd a
Pilot be.
Far, far be't from
Inferiours to Enquire:
Suffice it, they
Sit Happy, and
Admire.
FINIS.
London, Printed by T. M. for Richard Head, 1672.