Good News in Bad Times;
OR,
Absaloms Return to Davids Bosome.
To the Tune of, Adieu to the Pleasures and Follies of Love.
|
ADieu to the hopes of the Whigs of the State,
|
The long-wishd for News is arrived tho late;
|
Reflections of Conscience did Monmouth convince,
|
How much he had wrongd his dear Father and Prince;
|
So hanious a Crime theres none durst befriend,
|
But only the Monarch which he did offend;
|
Great YORK interceeds for him,
|
And Nature pleads for him,
|
to Kiss the hand of his Monarch again.
|
II.
|
So humble a Submission, so pensive a Face,
|
So glorious an advocate needs must find grace;
|
The God-like great Brothers did Monmouth restore,
|
The height of whose crime shewd their mercy more;
|
As before in the Court altogether they shind,
|
In the Presence again they will strike envy blind;
|
For York has retrieved him,
|
The King received him,
|
Monarchs have mercy, and Nature is kind.
|
III.
|
The Peace you have made so successful will prove,
|
No Seperatist dares to add Gall to your Dove;
|
Be deaf to those Crocidiles if they do whine,
|
They love not your Father nor none of his Line:
|
A Presbyter-Priest when his Zeal does provoke,
|
Is a heap of Combustables in a long Cloak:
|
Who ere burnt the City down,
|
Now tis a pritty Town,
|
But they once made the three Nations to Smoak.
|
IV.
|
Away to the Court and Survey ery Room,
|
Your presence will bring there a ricker Perfume:
|
Each Picture will bow there, and smile in your face,
|
And those that detracted will pray for your Grace;
|
Then keep in the Court, and your favour renew
|
With Caesar, and those that have lovd you so true:
|
And let the Rabble know,
|
Youl have no more to do,
|
With such a factious Illitterate Crew.
|
V.
|
The Faction who carrys Religion ins face,
|
Will make no more treats, nor drink healths to your Grace
|
For since your returned to Great Caesars Breast,
|
They swear your a papist as well as the rest;
|
And now they remember the Machine of State
|
Was afraid that your Father and you were too great;
|
And nothing troubles them,
|
But that you Bubbled them,
|
Of all their hopes, and of many a Treat.
|
VI.
|
Keep close to your Gracious forgiving Great King,
|
And every day some new Offering bring;
|
Discover Great-Brittains Intestine foes,
|
And those that the Church and her intrest oppose;
|
By this youl deserve the great favour obtaind,
|
And wipe off that Blemish with which you were staind
|
And like a Glorious Star,
|
Of our bright Hemisphere,
|
One of her Patrons for ever proclaimd.
|
VII.
|
Then bless the good Duke, and your father renown,
|
But hate those that put you in thoughts of a Crown:
|
Live under its beams, for the shelter is good,
|
But think not to injure the old Royal Blood:
|
Who Heaven has adopted for a Crowned Head,
|
Must wait for the hour of the Field or the Bed;
|
And there in Honours sight,
|
Take naught but what is right,
|
Wronging Succession is wronging the dead.
|
|
|
|
|
|