Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE CITZEN'S JOY FOR THE REBUILDING OF LONDON, by ANONYMOUS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE CITZEN'S JOY FOR THE REBUILDING OF LONDON, by                    
First Line: "london lies grovelling on the earth, yet beggs"
Last Line: "no discontent, but all replete with joy; / london's rebuilding now, vive le roy"
Subject(s): London Fire (1666); Great Fire Of 1666


London lies Grovelling on the Earth, yet beggs
Her God again to raise her on her leggs.
She now confesseth (thereby warning all)
That Pride doth ever go before a fall.
Stript now of all her Ornaments she lies
In dust and ashes low; and ever cries,
Help, help, great King of Kings, O don't deny;
Pour in my wounds thy Balsom, else I dye.
Her humble prayers were heard: Heaven did decree
She should again injoy prosperity.
Physitians too were sent to search her grief;
Thus wants not mortal nor divine releife.
A God-consuming punisht Her with Fire,
And laid her low to raise her up the higher.
He onely purg'd Her from her dross that She
Refin'd might shine in greater purity.
The Basis now is laid; and God commands,
That English men should lend their helping hands.
His Vice-roy, our dread Sov'raigne first obey'd,
And the first Stone of this great structure lay'd.
'Tis He that will this City now restore,
To greater glory than it had before.
For which brave deeds perpetually lets sing,
Glory to God and Honour to our King.
Neither pure gold, nor incense let us bring,
Yet far as rich and sweet an offering.
And such as both those pretious things express,
Which is our hearts full fraught with thankfulness.
By which is fully paid the All we ovve
To God above or Mortal Men below.
The City-building Bill, is now an act,
Blest be our Soveraigne for that gracious fact.
Nay more -- -- -- now do I want an Epithite,
As bright as the Conveyor of our light.
An Act; O blessed Act! yet that's too weak.
And not so splendid as my heart would speak.
An Act; of Acts, which plainly doth impart
Conformity of Building, and of Heart.
Its influence hath quite dispell'd those clowds,
Of Jealousies and Fears which throng'd in crowds,
And did o'respread our Gloomy Hemispheare,
Are dissipated, and no where appear.
Our Winter's now e'ne gone, the Earth hath lost
Her Snow-white Robes, and Mantles made of Frost.
Now the warm Sun thavvs the benummed Earth,
And She now teeming well [will?] bring forth a brith
The which all Nations shall with fear admire,
Guarded by Angels from the rage of Fire.
Now do a Quire of Chirping Minstrells bring
In triumph to the World the Youthful Spring.
The Spring comes on with more than usual speed,
To see the sowing of immortal seed;
Houses I mean, which shall supply the place
Of such, which did before the place disgrace.
Now shall each place prid[e] in her structures, and
Those structures ne're contend for th' upperhand.
The streets shall be dilated, and our wealth;
More room to breath; better injoy our health.
Old things shall be converted into new,
Antiquity shall bid the World adieu.
Nothing shall now obstruct the Cities weale;
We must have fewer Churches, but more Zeal.
Before we had so many, one in ten
Could scarce on Sundays count so many men.
From hence we see the Judgments just, which took
Away the Churches basely we forsook.
Old drooping Paul ere long shall have a quire,
Whose Heavenly Musick shall our souls inspire.
All things will so concur, in all agree,
No discords now, but all sweet harmony,
No discontent, but all replete with Joy;
London's rebuilding now, Vive le Roy.





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