When Charles, from Anarchy's Retreat,
Resum'd the Regal Seat;
When (hence, by frantick Zealots driv'n)
Our holy Church, our Laws,
Returning, with the Royal Cause,
Rais'd up their thankful Eyes, to Heaven,
Then Hand in Hand,
To bless the Land,
Protection, with Obedience came,
And mild Oblivion wav'd Revenge,
For wrongs of Civil Flame.
Wild, and wanton, then, our Joys,
Loud, as raging War before:
All was Triumph, tuneful Noise,
None, from Heaven, could hope for more.
Brother, Son, and Father Foes,
Now embracing, bless their Home:
Who so happy, could suppose
Happier days were still to come?
But Providence, that better knows
Our wants, than we,
Previous to those,
(Which human wisdom could not, then, foresee)
Did, from the pregnant former Day,
A Race of Happier Reigns, to come, convey.