Selected quad for the lemma: england_n
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B05912
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Scoticlassicum. Vpon His Majesties happy arrivail [sic] in Scotland.
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I. S.
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1650
(1650)
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Wing S44; ESTC R183110
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3,210
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28
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Scoticlassicum Vpon His MAJESTIES happy arrivail in Scotland EDENBVRGH Printed by GEDEON LITHGOW 1650. 1. The Heavens have heard our groans at lengâ—â— Our Prayers have with God prevaild â—nd all the damned plots are faild Which Hell did hatch with skill and strength â—reat Charles our Sunne ecclypst almost â—hines fair on Caledonïas coast â—is beames the blackest clouds doe cleare â—he Temples in loud thanks doe Sing â—he Castles pales of Cannon ring â—nd Ioy doth eury Where appeare 2. â—ee how those Helhounds Snarling stand â—hose branded Currs that bark'd of late Against this Cuntry Church and State â—nd Curse a farre this happy land Malicious Mastifs shame of men â—hat durst so long a King detaine â—rom those that su'd Him even with teares â—ou'd rather seen Him beg His bread â—hen Scotlands Croune set on His head Because you l have no Credite there 3. That Providence that Sweys the Spheres Did pull Him from your filthy clawes Tâ—o lett you sit with gaping Iawes And belch out oathes disdain full Ieers And if you be but worth a groat To drink Confusion to the Scott Lash Lesly whip Argile and Spare not They in their Kings just cause will goe Where you dare not your faces Showe And though you hang your Selves they can not 4. Goe with your renting rascall rable Of Colonells coynd Without cloakes Stout men in talk if words were Strokes And Valiant at a Wel Seru'd table Wee hate that damning cursing crue Whom there oune Cruntry forth did Spew And who have drawn these Iudgments doune There wicked lives blasphemous toungs Oppressions Villainies and Wroungs Haue to these fires the bellows bloune 5. Wee hope with helpe of Heaven alone With Scottish hands and Valour stout To beat those bloody Rogues to route And set King Charles on Englands Throne And with there blood to wash away That blott they falsly on us lay That wee for monney Sold the Father The World our Innocence shall see And that those Traytors perfidie Deceaud our trust or Weaknes rather 6. When England had a Parlement Compleat composd of honnest men Ere knaves and Sectaries began To work their damnable intent The King upon the Solemn oath Of English Peeres was free to both The Scots from Tine marchd over Tweed Then Rogues rose up and might made right The Souldier gainst the State did fight And His oune King a Captive lead 7. The Coward Citty Cuckolds nest For al her gunnes cast ope Her gates And save the Houses fored the seatts By Independant Knaues possest Slaves took the power into their hands The Nobles couchd at their Commands The King was carried up and doune Till from the barre unto the blocke The Sacred Head stopt to the stroke Of a base Axe which felld the Croune 8. Arch-Traytors Tygers Wolvish doggs That durst the Lords annointed kill The Sacred bloud that you did Spill Shall droune your fields to bloudy boggs Heavens vengeance shall so heavy fall On you and your successours all That England shall for ever mourne The ground for corne soure Hemp shall yeeâ— To Hang you up in every field And all your Trees shal gibbets turne 9. The Royale ghost shall haunt your Hall And horrour shall your Soules affright Hells sights in silence of the Night Your guilty Consciences shall gall The Scottish sword shall mowe you doune And when your carcasses are throune On dunghills for the ravens food The stinch of them shall raise a pest And famine shall consume the rest To root out your unlucky brood 10. But you good soules that sighe to see A Rascall rable rule and Raigne And dare not for your lives complaine Faint not though you oppressed be The happy day wil shortly come Shall bring your King triumphant home And bring the Golden Age againe But London must be first lay'd lowe That Charles may ore her ashes goe To hang up Cromwell in a chaine 11. Rouse up you drousy peevish Peeres For shame be not for ever slaves Your place and bloud more Courage craves Degener not from your Forebe'ers They next to God did love there King From whom there Honours all did Spring Will you by Coxcombs be Commanded By Souters Taylors Coblers Curres Then quite your golden Swords and Spurreâ— And take Some Trade to understand it 12. Base Gentrie blushe and hide your faces To serve such Clounes as keep you lowe And Squease your substance from you so That they are Lords you have but laces Yet will you Suffer and sit still And give your monney with good will Who grudgd at subsidies before Packhorses vvho should pitty you Since your Content your backs to bowe Wee vvishe your burthens may be more 13. Levites dare you lift up your hands To beg a blessing on these men Whom their Dread Soveraignes bloud doth stayne And cries for Vengeance on the Land Are you Seduced all and led By your neew Mahomet that blade The Prophet Peters Hugh that cries A stubborne spirit rules in Him When sack in spires him to the brim His Lord and Maister Hee denyes 14. Preach woe and Iudgment hanging ore That cursed crue that killd their King And all those plagues that Heaven will bring Vpon those Murtherers thunder roare Tell Traytor Fairfax to his face Though he have now layd doune his Place Yet from Gods hand He cannot flee And pray that they may ne'er repent That did there Princes death consent But that the innocent be free 15. Poore Poeple musled and missled That must a monster now adore Shake of thy yoak and grone no more In slavery but sett up thy head Cal for your King hang up those Knaves That suck your bloud and make you slaves There is no service to a King Hee is your Father and your Lord Ordaind of God to swey the sword His Raigne shall blessings to you bring 16. Thou souldier that hast sold thy soule For Lawles liberty and gaine A Tyrant Monster to maintaine With many heads most ougly foule Thy wickednes and woefull wroung Shall find the just reward ere loung When thou dismembred torne shalt lie And curse these Rogues that made thee rise Against thy King before whose Eyes Thou gaspes in gore but canst not die 17. Vp Scotland then thy Standards spread And follow forth Lord of Hoasts Who Laughs at bragging Pharos boasts And through the seas his oune doth lead His hand from heaven shall lead thee on To tread thyne enemys necks upon And ore their bellys Conquering goe Till Thou set Charles vpon his Throne And see those Traytors every one Hang'd quartered drawne thy Zeall to showe 18. And Thou o Lord goe still before Armd with Thy Thunders fire and flamme To put his ennemys to shame That wil not his just power a dore Send Thy destroying Angell doune The Rebell campe in bloud to droune But guard thyne oune with Walls of fire Shoot Lightnings in their faces Lord And strike them blinde untill the Sword Have drunk their bloud at full desire 19. Goe on Great King God Thee desend And Croune thy head with Victorie That all thine ennemys may see Heavens blessing doth thy armes attend May thy just Sword Sharp Vengeance take Of those that Seek thy power to shake And cutt the cords of Conjuration And may Thy Scepter break and bruse All that thy just Command refuse And thou be deare every Nation 20. Defend the Church shee is Thy Mother Her blessing shall upon Thee be Her Prayers have preserved Thee God heares Her Still above all other Let no proud Prelates creep within Her gates Strange guises te begin But have ore Such a Watchfull Eye These Wolves did Waste the Church of late And troubled Sore both Church and State The Load did heavy on Her lie 21. Maintain the Lawes and make more good Doe Iustice as becomes Thy place And be no niggard of thy Grace Nor Lavish of Thy subjects bloud So shall Thy throne establishd be In Righteousnes and Equitie And Plenty shall heap up Thy store Thy Lands shall florish and Thy ships Shall safly plough the Swelling deeps And fill with forrain good Thy shore 22. Brave Nobles that from ancient names Draw your descent and pedegree Whose worthy featts of Chevalrie Left lasting Honours to these Times What fair occasion haue you now Your Loyall Courage for to showe In Service of your noble King Heavens never blest a better cause God calls you and your duty drawes Then bravely forth your banners bring 23. Stand up in armes all honnest Scots Revenge your King His Crounes recouer And Conquerours march all England over To sheath your Swords in Rebells throats Pull those usurping Traytours doune And hang them up then burne there Toune That nothing may remayne at all Then salt upon the ashes sowe That neuer grasse again may growe Where London Stood nor yet Whitehall 24. Great King of Kings preserve our King And guard Him with Thy Angells bright Couer His head when Hee Shall fight And to His brest a buckler bring Make all His ennemys sall back All Strength and Courage from them take And let His Sword be drunk with bloud That when Thy hand hath Scattered them He may give glorie to Thy Name And loung Raigne Happy lust and Good