The Souldier. 1660

THE litttle Spot I on Parnassus till,
Were it, great Prince, but fruitful to my will,
The Lawrels that my slender Stock allows,
Each day should yield fresh Garlands to thy Brows.
And tho last Month great Charles did justly gain
The spreading boughes, one branch does still remain,
Which shortly will a greater thing be thought,
If fitting Wreaths be to thy Merits brought;
Since all the Lawrels that the Earth brings forth,
Will be too scanty for thy growing worth.

Thine Ancestors, and Parents, all were sent
By Heav'n to be their Ages ornament;
With all their several Virtues thou art fill'd;
Roses, and Lillies Essences distill'd.
Thy Father's Soul vyes with thy Mothers face;
From her thy Beauty, and from him thy Grace.
Nor is this all; thou must more Iustice have;
Prudent with Iames, and with great Henry, brave.
Thy Royal Fathers Crowns being from him torn,
Wise Providence ordain'd thou should'st be born.
For so, what from him by our Sins were ta'ne,
By thy great Valour might be won again.
And tho with bold success they storm'd the Walls;
Thou (like Camillus) had'st expell'd those Gaules,
But that kind Heav'n in league with us did stand,
Whose aid did save the labour of thy hand.
Thus Hezekiah might devoutly boast,
When Angels routed the Assyrian Host.
Whilst such ones fought for us; a doubt might be
Whether they took not one of them for thee.
Such is the lightning of thy piercing Raies;
And such fair Signs of Conquest in thy face;
So true a heat thy noble Passion stirr'd,
So swift the motion of thy flaming Sword.

Nor was't enough, thy Birth did thee advance,
Valour thy Nature, and Inheritance;
But thou hast practis'd War ev'n from thy birth:
Like Cadmus's Soldiers, peeping first from Earth.
The Martial Skarf thy swathing-band was deem'd,
Bullets thy Nuts, and Drums thy Rattles seem'd.
Bellona was thy Nurse, with blood thee fed,
Bright Steel thy Blankets, and the Field thy Bed.
Alcides's sp'rit in thy young breast did dwell,
Who, in the Cradle did the Serpents quell.
Young Princes, bred up in luxurious Courts,
(Like May-Kings) are alone design'd for sports.
Silk Knots their Colours from vain Women torn,
Nor seek they other Forts than theirs to storm.
Vict'ry thine only Mistris was, and there
(If ever) thou wilt turn Idolater:
Bold Scythians so a Spear did fix in Ground
And there alone their reverence was found.

Nor did those sullen times infect thy mind;
Tho fierce as Lyons, yet as Ladies kind.
This made th' admiring World both love, and fear:
Thy Grapes produc'd both Wine and Vinegar.
Gentle in Peace, in War most bravely bold;
Thy Springs in Winter hot, in Summer cold:
Compos'd in tumults, and in troubles gay;
Thou, like the Porpois, canst in tempests play.

Cromwel ne'r thought his bus'ness to be done
Whilst thou wer't safe, tho all Foes else were gone:
His restless jealousie disturb'd his mind;
More dangers yet in thee he fear'd to find.
But when the Fates thee in his pow'r had brought,
He only then himself in safety thought.
Ierusalem of rescue thus despair'd,
And the grim Saracens no longer fear'd,
When they with joy the Austrian Leopard saw
To hold our Cor-de-Lyon in his paw.
But of thy Chaines he was not long time proud:
He could not keep this Thunder in a Cloud.

And now thy spreading Fame began t' advance;
Which he did hear, with terrour, out of France;
That sound scarce settled, when, behold, again
One louder, when thou fought'st for worthy'r Spayn.
Honour thine int'rest was, and sway'd thy heart
To take the juster, tho the weaker part.
Thus did brave Guy the bloody strife decide,
And help'd the Lyon as the weakest side.
Thy brave Atchievements made the Tyrant quake,
And at the last, his Grave for refuge take.