A Country Song, Intituled the Restoration

(May, 1661.)—From the twentieth volume of the folio broadsides, King’s Pamphlets.

   Come, come away
   To the temple, and pray,
And sing with a pleasant strain;
   The schismatick’s dead,
   The liturgy’s read,
And the King enjoyes his own again.

   The vicar is glad,
   The clerk is not sad,
And the parish cannot refrain
   To leap and rejoyce
   And lift up their voyce,
That the King enjoyes his own again.

   The country doth bow
   To old justices now,
That long aside have been lain;
   The bishop’s restored,
   God is rightly adored,
And the King enjoyes his own again.

   Committee-men fall,
   And majors-generall,
No more doe those tyrants reign;
   There’s no sequestration,
   Nor new decimation,
For the King enjoyes the sword again.

   The scholar doth look
   With joy on his book,
Tom whistles and plows amain;
   Soldiers plunder no more
   As they did heretofore,
For the King enjoyes the sword again.

   The citizens trade,
   The merchants do lade,
And send their ships into Spain;
   No pirates at sea
   To make them a prey,
For the King enjoyes the sword again.

   The old man and boy,
   The clergy and lay,
Their joyes cannot contain;
   ’Tis better than of late
   With the Church and the State,
Now the King enjoyes the sword again.

   Let’s render our praise
   For these happy dayes
To God and our sovereign;
   Your drinking give ore,
   Swear not as before,
For the King bears not the sword in vain.

   Fanaticks, be quiet,
   And keep a good diet,
To cure your crazy brain;
   Throw off your disguise,
   Go to church and be wise,
For the King bears not the sword in vain.

   Let faction and pride
   Be now laid aside,
That truth and peace may reign;
   Let every one mend,
   And there is an end,
For the King bears not the sword in vain.