ON HIS MAJESTY'S RETURN.
37
No drop of blood is spilt, which might be said
To mark our joyful holiday with red.
To mark our joyful holiday with red.
'T was only Heaven could work this wondrous thing,
And only work 't by such a king.
Again the northern hinds may sing and plough,
And fear no harm but from the weather now;
Again may tradesmen love their pain,
By knowing now for whom they gain;
The armour now may be hung up to sight,
And only in their halls the children fright.
And only work 't by such a king.
Again the northern hinds may sing and plough,
And fear no harm but from the weather now;
Again may tradesmen love their pain,
By knowing now for whom they gain;
The armour now may be hung up to sight,
And only in their halls the children fright.
The gain of civil wars will not allow
Bay to the conqueror's brow:
At such a game what fool would venture in,
Where one must lose, yet neither side can win?
How justly would our neighbours smile
At these mad quarrels of our isle;
Swell'd with proud hopes to snatch the whole away,
Whilst we bett all, and yet for nothing play!
Bay to the conqueror's brow:
At such a game what fool would venture in,
Where one must lose, yet neither side can win?
How justly would our neighbours smile
At these mad quarrels of our isle;
Swell'd with proud hopes to snatch the whole away,
Whilst we bett all, and yet for nothing play!
How was the silver Tine frighted before,
And durst not kiss the armed shore!
His waters ran more swiftly than they use,
And hasted to the sea to tell the news:
The sea itself, how rough soe'er,
Could scarce believe such fury here.
How could the Scots and we be enemies grown?
That, and its master Charles, had made us one.
And durst not kiss the armed shore!
His waters ran more swiftly than they use,
And hasted to the sea to tell the news:
The sea itself, how rough soe'er,
Could scarce believe such fury here.
How could the Scots and we be enemies grown?
That, and its master Charles, had made us one.
