With Alga who the sacred altar strows? To all the sea-gods Charles an offering owes : A bull to thee, Portunus, shall be slain, A lamb to you, ye Tempests of the main : For those loud storms, that did against him roar, Have cast his shipwreck'd vessel on the shore. Yet, as wise artists mix their colours so, That by degrees they from each other go; Black steals unheeded from the neighbouring white, Without offending the well-cozen'd sight; So on us stole our blessed change, while we The' effect did feel, but scarce the manner see. Frosts that constrain the ground, and birth deny To flowers that in its womb expecting lie, Do seldom their usurping power withdraw, But raging floods pursue their hasty thaw. Our thaw was mild, the cold not chas'd away, But lost in kindly heat of lengthen'd day. Heaven would no bargain for its blessings drive, But, what we could not pay for, freely give. The Prince of Peace would, like himself, confer A gift unhop'd without the price of war: Yet, as he knew his blessings worth, took care That we should know it by repeated pray'r; Which storm'd the skies, and ravish'd Charles from thence,

As Heaven itself is took by violence.

Booth's forward valour only serv'd to show

He durst that duty pay we all did owe:

The' attempt was fair; but Heaven's prefixed hour
Not come: so, like the watchful traveller,
That by the moon's mistaken light did rise,
Lay down again, and clos'd his weary eyes,
'Twas Monk, whom Providence design'd to loose
Those real bonds false freedom did impose.

The blessed saints, that watch'd this turning scene,
Did from their stars with joyful wonder lean,
To see small clues draw vastest weights along;
Not in their bulk, but in their order strong.
Thus, pencils can by one slight touch restore
Smiles to that changed face that wept before.
With ease such fond chimeras we pursue,

As fancy frames for fancy to subdue :

But when ourselves to action we betake,

It shuns the mint, like gold that chemists make.
How hard was then his task, at once to be
What in the body natural we see?

Man's Architect distinctly did ordain

The charge of muscles, nerves, and of the brain,
Through viewless conduits spirits to dispense,
The springs of motion from the seat of sense,
'Twas not the hasty product of a day,
But the well-ripen'd fruit of wise delay.
He, like a patient angler, ere he strook,
Would let him play a while upon the hook.
Our healthful food the stomach labours thus,
At first embracing what it straight doth crush.
Wise leaches will not vain receipts obtrude,
While growing pains pronounce the humours crude;
Deaf to complaints they wait upon the ill,
Till some safe crisis authorise their skill.
Nor could his acts too close a vizard wear,

To 'scape their eyes whom guilt had taught to fear,
And guard with caution that polluted nest,
Whence Legion twice before was dispossess'd:
Once sacred house; which when they enter'd in,
They thought the place could sanctify a sin;
Like those that vainly hop'd kind Heaven would
wink,

While to excess on martyrs' tombs they drink.

And as devouter Turks first warn their souls
To part, before they taste forbidden bowls;

So these, when their black crimes they went about,
First timely charm'd their useless conscience out.
Religion's name against itself was made;

The shadow serv'd the substance to invade;
Like zealous missions, they did care pretend
Of souls in show, but made their gold their end.
The' incensed Powers beheld with scorn from high
An heaven so far distant from the sky,

Which durst, with horses' hoofs that beat the ground,
And martial brass, bely the thunder's sound:
'Twas hence, at length, just Vengeance thought it fit
To speed their ruin by their impious wit.
Thus Sforza, curs'd with a too fertile brain,
Lost by his wiles the power his wit did gain.
Henceforth their fougue must spend at lesser rate
Than in its flames to wrap a nation's fate.
Suffer'd to live, they are like Helots set,
A virtuous shame within us to beget.
For by example most we sinn'd before,
And glass-like clearness mix'd with frailty bore.
But since reform'd by what we did amiss,
We by our sufferings learn to prize our bliss.
Like early lovers, whose unpractis'd hearts
Were long the May-game of malicious arts,
When once they find their jealousies were vain,
With double heat renew their fires again.
'Twas this produc'd the joy that hurried o'er
Such swarms of English to the neighbouring shore,
To fetch the prize by which Batavia made
So rich amends for our impoverish'd trade.
Oh had you seen from Scheveline's barren shore,
(Crowded with troops, and barren now no more)

Afflicted Holland to his farewell bring
True sorrow, Holland to regret a king!
While waiting him his royal fleet did ride,
And willing winds to their lower'd sails denied.
The wavering streamers, flags, and standards out,
The merry seamen's rude but cheerful shout;
And last the cannon's voice that shook the skies,
And as it fares in sudden ecstasies,

And once bereft us both of ears and eyes.
The Naseby, now no longer England's shame,
But better to be lost in Charles's name,
(Like some unequal bride in nobler sheets)
Receives her lord: the joyful London meets
The princely York, himself alone a freight;
The Swiftsure groans beneath great Gloster's
weight,

Secure as when the halcyon breeds, with these
He that was born to drown might cross the seas.
Heaven could not own a Providence, and take
The wealth three nations ventur'd at a stake.
The same indulgence Charles's voyage bless'd,
Which in his right had miracles confess'd.
The winds, that never moderation knew,
Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew;
Or out of breath with joy could not enlarge
Their straiten'd lungs, or conscious of their charge,
The British Amphytrité, smooth and clear,
In richer azure never did appear;

Proud her returning Prince to entertain
With the submitted fasces of the main.

AND Welcome now, Great Monarch! to your own;
Behold the approaching cliffs of Albion :
It is no longer motion cheats your view,
As you meet it, the land approacheth you.

The land returns, and, in the white it wears,
The marks of penitence and sorrow bears.

But you, whose goodness your descent doth shew,
Your heavenly parentage and earthly too;

By that same mildness which your father's crown
Before did ravish, shall secure your own.
Not tied to rules of policy, you find
Revenge less sweet than a forgiving mind.
Thus, when the' Almighty would to Moses give
A sight of all he could behold and live;
A voice before his entry did proclaim
Long-suffering, Goodness, Mercy, in his name.
Your power to justice doth submit your cause,
Your goodness only is above the laws;

Whose rigid letter, while pronounc'd by you,
Is softer made: so winds that tempests brew,
When through Arabian groves they take their flight,
Made wanton with rich odours, lose their spite:
And as those lees, that trouble it, refine
The agitated soul of generous wine;
So tears of joy, for your returning spilt,
Work out, and expiate our former guilt.
Methinks I see those crowds on Dover's strand,
Who, in their haste to welcome you to land,
Chok'd up the beach with their still-growing store,
And made a wider torrent on the shore;

While, spurr'd with eager thoughts of past delight,
Those who had seen you, court a second sight;
Preventing still your steps, and making haste
To meet you often wheresoe'er you past.
How shall I speak of that triumphant day,
When you renew'd the' expiring pomp of May!