Classic Poem

An Epigram upon His Highnes entertainment in the Citty translated

Let all rude Triumphs seace of Cesars Roome
A new Star shines, a better Cesar's come
And Greater too, whilst thus He shuns the same
Leavs Others t'snatch at Crowns; He'l only Fame
T's enough t'have power: and if presage speaks right
This other Cesar may Rooms Gods afright
Heer fall my Lot Thy Capitalls t'Ascend
And bring Thy neck to Brittish yoak to bend
That soe't may tame the Triple Tirants rod
And strike a fear into the three-crownd God
Thou British Queen let thy advance increase
Now Cromwell favours and guives lawes to th'Seas
Call out the Blew Gods, Let the Naydes agree
All heer to bring their Consort Thams to Thee
And Thou New Troy minting thy Forme a new
Weave Garlands for soe Great a Princes due
He who soe many Crowns despisd, seeks you
The harts of men, nothing of stage or shew
He brings his own bayes, broaken scepters yeild
That Liberty He guave might take the feild
Now are yea first made Cittizens, time past
Were servants unto Kings; learn this at last
To yeild to th'reigne of those whose power who skans
Shall find them but your fellow Cittizens
The Conquering souldier's deaf but yet He knows
How to change armes int'Lawes and making showes
And thence puts on the Gowne, soe what of late
A Chaos lay a new world will Create
Forthwith all things as at the first you'l see
And Plato shall my Great Apollo be
Let his year bring about the goulden age
Of Saturne's reigne whilst Sol treads heavens stage.