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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 dispofsest :
Once sacred house ; which when they enter'd in,
They thought the place could sanctify a fin;
Likethose thatvainly hop'd kind heav'n wouldwink,
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 Thew, but made the gold their end.
Th’incensed pow'rs beheld with scorn from high
An heaven so far distant from the sky,
Which durst, with horseshoofs that beat the ground,
And martial brass, bely the thunder's found.
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 pow'r his wit did gain.

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Henceforth their fougue must spend at lefser 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 suff’rings 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 hurry'd o’er
Such swarms of English to the neighb'ring shore,
To fetch that prize, by which Batavia made
So rich amends for our impoverish'd trade.
Oh had

you

seen from Schevelin's barren shore, (Crowded with troops, and barren now no more,) AMicted 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 deny'd. The wav'ring streamers, flags, and standards out, The merry seamen's rude but chearful shout;

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And last the cannons voice that shook the skies,
And, as it fares in sudden ecstasies,
At once bereft us both of ears and eyes.
The Naseby, now no longer England's shame,
But better to be lost in Charles' name,
(Like some unequal bride in nobler sheets)
Receives her lord : the joyful London meets
The princely York, himself alone a freight;
The Swift-fure

groans
beneath

great Gloster's
weight:
Secure as when the halcyon breeds, with these,
He that was born to drown might cross the seas.
Heav'n could not own a Providence, and take
The wealth three nations ventur'd at a stake.
The same indulgence Charles his 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 straightned lungs, or conscious of their charge.
The British Amphytrite, smooth and clear,
In richer azure never did appear ;
Proud her returning prince to entertain
With the submitted fasces of the main.

AND

ND welcome now, great monarch, to your

A

own;

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Behold th' approaching clifts 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 forrow bears.
But you, whose goodness your descent doth Thew,
Your heav'nly 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 th' 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 pow'r to justice doth submit
Your goodness only is above the laws;
Whose rigid letter, while pronounc'd by you,
Is fofter made. So winds that tempests brew,
When through Arabian groves they take their flight,
Made wanton with rich odours, lose their spite.

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your cause,

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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 crouds 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 wilder torrent on the shore :
While, spurr'd with eager thoughts of past de-

light,
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 th’expiring pomp of May ! (A month that owns an interest in your name: You and the flow'rs are its peculiar claim.) That star that at your birth shone out so bright, It stain'd the duller sun's meridian light, Did once again its potent fires renew, Guiding our eyes to find and worship you.

And now Time’s whiter series is begun, Which in soft centuries shall smoothly run:

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