Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ODE UPON HIS MAJESTIE'S RESTORATION AND RETURN, by ABRAHAM COWLEY


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ODE UPON HIS MAJESTIE'S RESTORATION AND RETURN, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Now blessings on you all, ye peaceful starres
Last Line: If your heads always stood within, and the rump-heads without.
Subject(s): Charles Ii, King Of England (1630-1685)


1.

NOW Blessings on you all, ye peaceful Starrs
Which meet at last so kindly, and dispence
Your universal gentle Influence,
To calm the stormy World, and still the rage of Warrs.
Nor whilst around the Continent,
Plenipotentiary Beams ye sent,
Did your Pacifick Lights disdain,
In their large Treaty, to contain
The World apart, o're which do reign
Your seven fair Brethren of great Charles his Wane;
No Star amongst ye all did, I beleeve,
Such vigorous assistance give,
As that which thirty years ago,
At Charls his Birth, did, in despight
Of the proud Sun's Meridian Light,
His future Glories, and this Year foreshow,
No lesse effects than these we may
Be assur'd of from that powerful Ray
Which could out-face the Sun, and overcome the Day.

2.

Auspicious Star again arise,
And take thy Noon-tide station in the skies,
Again all Heaven prodigiously adorn;
For loe! thy Charls again is Born.
He then was Born with, and to Pain:
With, and to Joy he's born again.
And wisely for this second Birth,
By which thou certain wert to bless
The Land with full and flourishing Happiness,
Thou mad'st of that fair Month thy choice,
In which Heaven, Air, and Sea, and Earth,
And all that's in them all does smile, and does rejoyce.
'Twas a right Season, and the very Ground
Ought with a face of Paradise to be found,
Then when we were to entertain
Felicity and Innocence again.

3.

Shall we again (good Heaven!) that Blessed Pair behold,
Which the abused People fondly sold
For the bright Fruit of the Forbidden Tree,
By seeking all like gods to be?
Will Peace her Halcyon Nest venture to build
Upon a Shore with Shipwracks fill'd?
And trust that Sea, where she can hardly say,
Sh' has known these twenty Years one calmy day:
Ah! mild and gaulless Dove,
Which dost the pure and candid Dwellings love:
Canst thou in Albion still delight?
Still canst thou think it White?
Will ever fair Religion appear
In these deformed Ruins? Will she clear
Th' Augoean Stables of her Churches here?
Will Justice hazard to be seen,
Where a High-Court of Justice e're has been?
Will not the Tragique Scene,
And Bradshaw's bloody Ghost affright her there,
Her who shall never fear?
Then may White-hall for Charls his Seat be fit,
If Justice shall endure at Westminster to sit.

4.

Of all, me thinks, we least should see
The chearfull looks again of Liberty.
That Name of Crumwell, which does freshly still
The Curses of so many sufferers fill,
Is still enough to make her stay,
And jealous for a while remain,
Lest as a Tempest carried him away,
Some Hurican should bring him back again.
Or she might justlier be afraid
Lest that great Serpent, which was all a Tayl,
(And in his poys'nous folds whole Nations Prisoners made)
Should a third time perhaps prevail
To joyn again, and with worse sting arise,
As it had done, when cut in pieces twice.
Return, return, ye Sacred Fower,
And dread your perisht Enemies no more,
Your fears are causeless all, and vain
Whilst you return in Charls his train,
For God does Him, that He might You restore;
Nor shall the world him only call,
Defender of the Faith, but of ye All.

5.

Along with you Plenty and Riches go;
With a full Tide to every Port they flow,
With a warm fruitful wind o're all the Country blow.
Honour does, as ye march, her Trumpet sound,
The Arts encompass you around,
And against all Alarms of Fear,
Safety it self bring up the Rear.
And in the head of this Angelique band,
Lo, how the Goodly Prince at last does stand
(Oh righteous God!) on his own happy Land.
'Tis Happy now, which could, with so much ease,
Recover from so desp'rate a Disease;
A various complicated Ill,
Whose ev'ry Symptome was enough to kill,
In which one Part of three Frenzey possesst
And Lethargy the rest.
'Tis Happy, which no Bleeding does indure,
A Surfet of such Blood to cure.
'Tis Happy, which beholds the Flame,
In which by hostile hands it ought to burn,
Or that which, if from Heaven it came,
It did but well deserve, all into Bonfire turn.

6.

We fear'd (and almost toucht the black degree
Of instant Expectation)
That the three dreadful Angels we,
Of Famine, Sword and Plague should here establisht see;
(God's great Triumvirate of Desolation)
To scourge and to destroy the sinful Nation.
Justly might Heav'n, Protectors such as those,
And such Committees for their Safety' impose,
Upon a Land which scarcely better Chose.
We fear'd that the Fanatique War,
Which Men against God's Houses did declare,
Would, from th' Almighty Enemy, bring down
A sure destruction on our Own.
We read th' Instructive Histories, which tell
Of all those endless mischiefs, that befell
The Sacred Town which God had lov'd so well,
After that fatal Curse had once been said,
His Blood be upon ours, and on our Children's head.
We knew, though there a greater Blood was spilt,
'Twas scarcely done with greater Guilt.
We know those miseries did befall,
Whilst they rebell'd against that Prince, whom all
The rest of Mankind did the Love, and Joy, of Mankind call.

7.

Already was the shaken Nation
Into a wild and deform'd Chaos brought.
And it was hasting on (we thought)
Ev'n to the last of Ills, Annihilation.
When in the midst of this confused Night,
Loe, the blest Spirit mov'd, and there was Light.
For in the glorious General's previous Ray,
We saw a new-created Day.
We by it saw, though yet in Mists it shone,
The beauteous Work of Order moving on.
Where are the Men who bragg'd that God did bless,
And with the marks of good success,
Signe his allowance of their wickedness?
Vain men! who thought the Divine Power to find
In the fierce Thunder, and the violent Wind:
God came not 'till the storm was past,
In the still Voice of Peace he came at last.
The cruel Business of Destruction,
May by the Claws of the great Fiend be done.
Here, here we see th' Almighty's hand indeed,
Both by the Beauty of the Work, we see 't, and by the Speed.

8.

He who had seen the noble Brittish Heir,
Even in that ill disadvantageous Light,
With which misfortune strives t' abuse our sight;
He who had seen him in his Clowd so bright:
He who had seen the double Pair
Of Brothers heavenly good, and Sisters heavenly fair,
Might have perceiv'd (me thinks) with ease,
(But wicked men see only what they please)
That God had no intent t' extinguish quite
The pious King's eclipsed Right.
He who had seen how, by the power Divine,
All the young Branches of this Royal Line
Did in their fire, without consuming, shine;
How through a rough Red-Sea they had been led,
By Wonders guarded, and by Wonders fed.
How many yeares of trouble and distress,
They'd wandred in their fatal Wilderness,
And yet did never murmur or repine;
Might (me thinks) plainly understand,
That after all these conquer'd Tryals past,
Th' Almighty Mercy would, at last,
Conduct them, with a strong un-erring hand,
To their own Promis'd Land.
For all the glories of the Earth
Ought to be' entail'd by right of Birth,
And all Heaven's blessings to come down
Upon his Race, to whom alone was given
The double Royalty of Earth and Heaven,
Who crown'd the Kingly with the Martyr's Crown.

9.

The Martyr's Blood was said of old to be
The seed from whence the Church did grow.
The Royal Bloud which dying Charles did sow,
Becomes no less the seed of Royalty.
'Twas in dishonour sown,
We find it now in glory grown,
The Grave could but the dross of it devour;
'Twas sown in weakness, and 'tis rais'd in power.
We now the Question well-decided see,
Which Eastern Wit did once contest
At the Great Monarch's Feast,
Of all on Earth what things the strongest be:
And some for Women, some for Wine did plead;
That is, for Folly and for Rage,
Two things which we have known, indeed,
Strong in this latter Age.
But as 'tis prov'd by Heaven at length,
The King and Truth have greatest strength;
When they their sacred force unite,
And twine into one Right,
No frantick Common-wealths or Tyrannies,
No Cheats, and Perjuries, and Lies,
No Nets of Human Policies;
No stores of Arms or Gold (though you could joyn
Those of Peru to the great London Mine)
No Towns, no Fleets by Sea, or Troops by Land,
No deeply entrencht Islands can withstand,
Or any small resistance bring,
Against the naked Truth, and the unarmed King.

10.

The foolish Lights which Travellers beguile,
End the same night when they begin;
No Art so far can upon Nature win
As e'er to put out Stars, or long keep Meteors in.
Wher's now that Ignis Fatuus, which e're-while
Miss-led our wand'ring Isle?
Where's the Impostor Cromwell gon?
Where's now that Falling-star, his Son?
Where's the large Comet now, whose raging flame
So fatal to our Monarchy became?
Which o're our heads in such proud horror stood,
Insatiate with our Ruine and our Blood?
The fiery Tayl did to vast length extend;
And twice, for want of Fuel, did expire,
And twice renew'd the dismal Fire;
Though long the Tayl, we saw at last its end.
The flames of one triumphant Day,
Which like an Anti-Comet here
Did fatally to that appear,
For ever frighted it away;
Then did th' allotted hour of dawning Right
First strike our ravish't sight,
Which Malice or which Art no more could stay,
Than Witches' Charms can a retardment bring
To the Resuscitation of the Day,
Or Resurrection of the Spring.
We welcome both, and with improv'd delight
Bless the preceding Winter and the Night.

11.

Man ought his future Happiness to fear,
If he be always happy here,
He wants the bleeding Mark of Grace,
The Circumcision of the chosen Race.
If no one part of him supplies
The Duty of a Sacrifice,
He is (we doubt) reserv'd intire,
As a whole Victime for the Fire.
Besides, even in this World below,
To those who never did ill Fortune know,
The good does nauseous or insipid grow.
Consider man's whole Life, and you'l confess,
The sharp Ingredient of some bad success.
Is that which gives the Taste to all his Happiness.
But the true Method of Felicitie,
Is when the worst
Of humane Life, is plac'd the first,
And when the Child's Correction proves to be
The Cause, of perfecting the Man.
Let our weak Dayes lead up the Van,
Let the brave Second and Triarian Band,
Firm against all Impression stand;
The first we may defeated see;
The Virtue and the Force of these, are sure of Victory.

12.

Such are the years (great Charles) which now we see
Begin their glorious March with Thee:
Long may their March to Heaven, and still Triumphant be.
Now thou art gotten once before,
Ill Fortune never shall o'retake thee more.
To see 't again, and pleasure in it find,
Cast a disdainful look behind:
Things which offend, when present, and affright,
In Memory, well painted, move delight.
Enjoy then all thy' afflictions now;
Thy Royal Father's come at last:
Thy Martyrdom's already past,
And different Crowns to both ye owe;
No Gold did e'er the Kingly Temples bind,
Than thine more try'd, and more refin'd.
As a choise Medal for Heaven's Treasury,
God did stamp first, upon one Side of Thee,
The Image of his suffering Humanity:
On th' other side, turn'd now to sight, does shine
The glorious Image of his Power Divine.

13.

So when the wisest Poets seek,
In all their liveliest colours, to set forth
A Picture of Heroick worth,
(The Pious Trojan, or the Prudent Greek)
They chuse some comely Prince of heavenly Birth,
(No proud Gigantick son of Earth,
Who strives t' usurp the gods forbidden seat)
They feed him not with Nectar, and the Meat
That cannot without Joy be eat;
But in the cold of want, and storms of adverse chance,
They harden his young Virtue by degrees;
The beauteous Drop first into Ice does freez,
And into solid Chrystal next advance.
His murder'd friends and kindred he does see,
And from his flaming Country flee.
Much is he tost at Sea, and much at Land,
Does long the force of angry gods withstand.
He does long troubles and long wars sustain,
E'er he his fatal Birth-right gain.
With no less time or labour can
Destiny build up such a Man,
Who's with sufficient virtue fill'd,
His ruin'd Country to rebuild.

14.

Nor, without Cause, are Arms from Heaven
To such a Hero by the Poets giv'n.
No human Metal is of Force t' oppose
So many and so violent blows.
Such was the Helmet, Breast-plate, Shield,
Which Charles in all Attaques did wield:
And all the Weapons Malice e're could try,
Of all the several makes of wicked Policy,
Against this Armour struck, but at the stroke,
Like Swords of Ice, in thousand pieces broke.
To Angels and their Brethren Spirits above,
No show on Earth can sure so pleasant prove,
As when they great misfortunes see
With Courage born, and Decency.
So were they born, when Worc' ster's dismal Day
Did all the terrors of black Fate display;
So were they born, when no Disguises' clowd
His inward Royalty could shrowd:
And one of th' Angels whom just God did send,
To guard him in his noble flight,
(A Troop of Angels did him then attend)
Assur'd me in a Vision th' other night,
That He (and who could better judge than He?)
Did then more Greatness in him see,
More Lustre and more Majesty,
Than all his Coronation Pomp can shew to Human Eye.

15.

Him and his Royal Brothers when I saw,
New marks of honour and of glory,
From their affronts and sufferings draw,
And look like Heav'nly Saints even in their Purgatory;
Me-thought I saw the three Judoean Youths,
(Three unhurt Martyrs for the Noblest Truths)
In the Chaldoean Furnace walk;
How chearfully and unconcern'd they talk!
No hair is sindg'd, no smallest beauty blasted;
Like painted Lamps they shine unwasted.
The greedy fire it self dares not be fed
With the blest Oyl of an Anoynted Head.
The honourable Flame
(Which rather Light we ought to name)
Does, like a Glory compass them around,
And their whole Body's crown'd.
What are those Two Bright Creatures, which we see
Walk with the Royal Three
In the same Ordeal fire,
And mutual Joys inspire?
Sure they the beauteous Sisters are,
Who whilst they seek to bear their share,
Will suffer no affliction to be there.
Less Favour to those Three of old was shown;
To solace with their company,
The fiery Trials of Adversity;
Two Angels joyn with these, the others had but One.

16.

Come forth, come forth, ye men of God beloved,
And let the power now of that flame,
Which against you so impotent became,
On all your Enemies be proved.
Come, mighty Charls, desire of Nations, come:
Come, you triumphant Exile, home.
He's come, he's safe at shore; I hear the noise
Of a whole Land, which does at once rejoyce;
I hear th' united People's sacred voice.
The Sea which circles us around,
Ne're sent to Land so loud a sound:
The mighty shout sends to the Sea a Gale,
And swells up ev'ry sail;
The Bells and Guns are scarcely heard at all;
The Artificial Joy's drown'd by the Natural.
All England but one Bonefire seems to be,
One AEtna shooting flames into the Sea.
The Starry Worlds which shine to us afar,
Take ours at this time for a Star.
With Wine all rooms, with Wine the Conduits flow;
And We, the Priests of a Poetick rage,
Wonder that, in this Golden Age,
The Rivers too should not do so.
There is no Stoick sure, who would not now
Ev'n some Excess allow;
And grant, that one wild fit of chearful folly,
Should end our twenty years of dismal Melancholy.

17.

Where's now the Royal Mother, where,
To take her mighty share
In this so ravishing sight,
And with the part she takes, to add to the Delight?
Ah! Why art thou not here,
Thou always Best, and now the Happiest Queen,
To see our Joy, and with new Joy be seen?
God has a bright Example made of Thee,
To shew that Woman-kind may be
Above that Sex, which her Superiour seems,
In wisely managing the wide Extreams
Of great Affliction, great Felicity.
How well those different Virtues thee become,
Daughter of Triumphs, Wife of Martyrdom!
Thy Princely Mind, with so much Courage, bore
Affliction, that it dares return no more;
With so much Goodness us'd Felicity,
That it cannot refrain from coming back to Thee;
'Tis come, and seen to Day, in all it's Bravery.

18.

Who's that Heroick Person leads it on,
And gives it, like a glorious Bride,
(Richly adorn'd with Nuptial Pride)
Into the hands now of thy Son?
'Tis the good General, the Man of Praise,
Whom God at last in gracious pitty
Did to th' enthralled Nation raise,
Their great Zerubbabel to be,
To loose the Bonds of long Captivity,
And to rebuild their Temple and their City.
For ever blesst may He and His remain,
Who, with a vast, though less-appearing gain,
Preferr'd the solid Great above the Vain,
And to the world this Princely Truth has shown,
That more 'tis to Restore, than to Usurp a Crown.
Thou worthiest Person of the Brittish Story,
(Though 'tis not small the Brittish Glory)
Did I not know my humble Verse must be
But ill-proportion'd to the Heighth of Thee,
Thou and the World should see,
How much my Muse, the Foe of Flattery,
Do's make true Praise her Labour and Design;
An Iliad or an AEneid should be Thine.

19.

And ill should We deserve this happy Day,
If no acknowledgments we pay
To you, great Patriots, of the Two
Most truly Other Houses now,
Who have redeem'd from hatred, and from shame,
A Parliament's once venerable name;
And now the Title of a House restore,
To that, which was but slaughter-house before.
If my advice, ye Worthies, might be ta'ne,
Within those reverend places,
Which now your living presence graces,
Your Marble-Statues always should remain,
To keep alive your useful Memory,
And to your Successors th' Example be
Of Truth, Religion, Reason, Loyalty.
For though a firmly settled Peace,
May shortly make your publick labours cease,
The grateful Nation will with joy consent,
That in this sense you should be said,
(Though yet the Name sounds with some dread)
To be the Long, the Endless Parliament.
'Twould be the richliest furnish'd House (no doubt)
If your Heads always stood within, and the Rump-heads without.





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