A Panegyrick to His Excellency General Monck, March 28, 1660

NOW almost twenty years have roul'd about
Since first the flames of our late Wars broke out;
And Brittain fainting with the losse of blood
Under a lawlesse Yoke subjected stood,
When now at last her groanes by Heav'n are heard
Her fainting Soul and dying Hopes uprear'd;
Her sable night of sorrow done away
By the new dawning of a Royall day.
As from the North her first distemper grew,
Thence slowes the Soveraign Med'cine, to renew
Her joyes again: She hopes secure to stand
Upheld by her brave Generall's Warlike hand.
Over the Brittish Seas flyes his great Name
Born on the swift wings of no common fame,
Our Enemies tremble, and our friends are glad,
To these 'tis joyfull newes, to those 'tis sad
The mighty shouts, and the Stentorian voice
Of the glad multitude that now rejoyce
Awak's the drowsie Genius of this I'le,
Who wept so long or'e Charles's Funerall pyle
Till his swolne eyes with a Lethargick sleep
Were seal'd up, having no more tears to weep.
He understands the cause of Englands joy
And least Ambition should their hopes destroy
He boldly doth his mind to Monck expresse
And shewes how he may Brittains ills redresse.