Panegyrick to the high and mightie monarch, Charles by the grace of God, King of Great Britaine, France, and Ireland, defender of the faith, &c. by Walter Forbes. Forbes, Walter, 17th century. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A01044 of text S123110 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 11151.5). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 11 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 5 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A01044 STC 11151.5 ESTC S123110 24478633 ocm 24478633 27719 2240914589

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A01044) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 27719) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1851:26) Panegyrick to the high and mightie monarch, Charles by the grace of God, King of Great Britaine, France, and Ireland, defender of the faith, &c. by Walter Forbes. Forbes, Walter, 17th century. [8] p. Printed by Iohn Wreittoun, Edinburgh : 1633. Signatures: A⁴. Reproduction of original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery. eng Charles -- I, -- King of England, 1600-1649 -- Poetry. eebo Panegyrick to the high and mightie monarch, Charles by the grace of God, King of Great Britaine, France, and Ireland, defender of the faith. &c. By Wa Forbes, Walter, 1633 10 1770 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2006-12 Assigned for keying and markup 2006-12 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2007-01 Sampled and proofread 2007-01 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2007-02 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

PANEGYRICK TO THE HIGH AND MIGHTIE MONARCH , CHARLES By the grace of GOD , King of Great BRITAINE , FRANCE , and IRELAND , Defender of the Faith . &c.

By WALTER FORBES .

EDINBVRGH . Printed by Iohn Wreittoun . 1633.

EPIGRAMME . ILLustrious Top-bough of heroick Stemme , Whose head is crownd with Glorie's Anademe , My shallow Muse , not daring to draw neare Bright Phoebus burning flammes in his Carreere : Yet knowing surely that Apollo shines Vpon the dung-hill , as on golden Mines . And knowing this the bountie of best Kings , To marke the giver , not the gifted things , Doth boldly venture in this pompous throng To greet thy Greatnesse with a Well-come song . And with the Py doth Ave Caesar sing , Whilst grauer witts doe greater offrings bring .
PANEGYRICK ADmyred Phoenix , springing from those Syres , Whose Soules the heav'n , whose merit Fame admyres , Whose memorie is wrapped up in roles , Keept by Eternitie above the Poles : Thryse-blessed CHARLES , sprung from thy royall Syre Great IAMES , whose Fame shall with this frame expyre : And yet beginne a fresh for to bee sung , By sacred Quires , in a celestiall toung ; O thou the Subject of this wel-borne thought ! Immortall King , hast neither said nor wrought Any thing yet , which can detract Thy praise , Since Thou' rt more old in vertues than in dayes : Bred in the bed of honour , Thou art blest With rare perfections , farre above the rest Of Mortall kynde : for as Thy birth is great , So is thy minde , too high a marke for hate : Envy may spew her spight , yet cannot harme The Man , whom all the hoast of Heav'n doth arme : When bright Apollo circling in his Carre , Doth drive away the day-denuncing Starre , His pow'rfull rayes diffuse in mortall myndes A sweete desire of day , which straight vnbindes Sleep-fettered-fences , and his chearefull light Doth waste all vapours closde in cloudie night : So my deare Phoebus whilst Thy face doth shyne Vpon this Land , which by discent is Thine From hundred and eight Kings , thy chearefull rayes , Doe change my nights in Halcyonian dayes : And straight dissolve these frightfull formes of woe , Which did possesse my troubled thoughts agoe . What sad affliction did my soule possesse , When Ibers streames reflex'd thy glorious face ; My groanes are turn'd to greetings , and my wrongs Are chang'd in hymnes and sweete Syrenean songs : My spirit then , which for thy absence groan'd , Rejoyceth now to see Thee heere enthron'd . What greater joy can I conceive , than see My native Prince , his native Throne supplie : Thryse happie CHARLES with all those gifts enricht , Which heavens allot to Mortals , I 'me bewitcht In admiration of these royall parts , Which makes thee more then Monarch of Mens hearts , My heart and hands , and all submitted heere , Attest the Heav'ns that I accompt Thee deare , And dearest deare of all this All : I place My chiefest joyes in favour of thy face , I doe not poynt my praises , nor this Land , Although rich Nature with a liberall hand Hath bravely deckt her with all kynde of things , Which from her wombe for humane use foorth springs , Both Pan and Pales , pleasures , Gemmes and Ore , Which wretched worldlings for their god adore : I , onely I , when all the World by Warre , Was boylde in blood as red as Marses Starre , Did safely sleepe , securd from forraine Armes , And did disdaine Bellonas lowd alarmes : The Gothes , the Danes , the Saxones heere did feele , And Normanes fierce , the furie of my Steele : Heere Caesar pitcht his tents , and prowdly thought His Trophees o're our Tombes to Rome haue brought , But all in vaine , his conquering hand was stayed , And by his troupes a wall-divyding layed At Carons bankes , whose ruines yet may tell , How farre in worth I did his force excell : And as in Mars , so in Minervas field For Armes and Artes I keepe rich Pallas shield , Did not the Germans borrow light from mee , And France , which all posteritie shall see Ev'n to the fatall doome , when All 's in fire , Then shall the records of my worth expyre : Thus Gratious CHARLES daigne with a loving eye , The sweete desires of my pure heart to spy . Looke with what loue and with what chearefull part , I consecrate to Thee , a loyall heart , My humbled knees loe ! and my heav'd vp hands , The sacred oath of loue from thee demands : Thryse Glorious CHARLES , how amiable's thy face , Whose loving lookes my clowds of care doe chase : I reape more joy from this thy comming heere , Then e're Penelope of Vlisses deare : Who after thousand dangers did returne , And cur'd those griefes , which did her bowels burne : O Thou more worthie then Vlisses farre , Honours bright Ray , Goodnesse , and Greatnesse , Starre , Long did I wish to see thy sacred Face , My Townes and Temples with thy presence grace : Great Ioves Vice-gerent looke with kynd aspect On my Emporium EDINBVRGH , direct No oblique Rayes , accept in loue Her Showes , Her Verdant Glorie which so brauely goes , To doe Thee service , all her cost compense With kind acceptance , with her faults dispense , And if in Her omission shall bee found , Let Her Endevours braue , Defects confound : If Iove who all the starrie Heavens doth guyde , Delights sometimes at Creta to abyde , As in the place , where first hee suck't th' aire . And if Apollo , Delos doth repaire , Leaving his Claros , Tenedos behind ; Thus since th' immortall gods haue such a mind To Natiue soyle , it is no wonder then Though Demi-gods bee mov'd , and earth-borne men May still Great CHARLES thy Scotland Creta bee , And Delos where thou may delight , to see The Naides and the Mountaine Nymphes most faire , With vnaccustomd clamours beat the Aire , The Satyres dance , the Coribantean Priests O're-joyde with joy to pulse their paunting briests : O what great joy hath Thy deare presence brought , Let all the Annalls through all age bee sought , The like was never seene , the senselesse stones Doe melt for joy , the Mountaines leap at once , The winds are calmde , and Neptunes lowdest roare Deavde with my shouts of joy is heard no more , And when the Aire with thy great Name I wound , The Mountaines answere , and the Rockes resound , The Woods re-echo'd , and the Floods proclame , Melodious murmures hearing of thy Name , The Fishes , Fowles , and Beastes are struck with wonder , Whilst to the clouds I tell my Ioyes in thunder . Thou art my rich Palladium , while I keepe My God and Thee , I may securely sleepe , And feare no terrour nor disturbing foe , Whilst I haue Thee , to ante-vert my woe , GOD hath by nature wall'd me round about , And given mee Neptune sentinell and scout , Whose tossed Trident threatneth death to such As dare in deepe disdaine my borders touch And if by Fates I bee enforc'd to warre , And make my Lyons roare bee heard afarre O may it bee for some such sacred cause ! As doth subsist with Heav'n and humane Lawes . O! may it bee to vindicate the wrong Of thy deare Sister , and her Children young Whose matclesse Worth and vertues merite praise From all which canset , sing , or sound sweet layes , Till shee , ( deare shee , ) bee re-invest againe With her owne Rights , possest with her demaine , Till shee bee safely situat on her Rhyne , ( And as the Moone amongst the Starres doth shyne ) Till shee in greatnesse doe exceede all those , Who to her glorie did their rage oppose , Till that Sun-gazing Eagle bee forc'd to fall Before her feete , and for her pardon call : Let 's beat Alarmes , and let our Trumpets sound , Let Cornets shrill the yeelding aire now wound , Let frightfull shouts of Souldiers pierce the skye , And reach the convexe of Olympus high Above the thundring cloudes , let noyses make , The soaring Eagle for feare of CHARLES to shake . Let Vienn's walls astonisht with our cry Like stubble before the fire , fall downe and fly Scattred with winds of his revenging wrath , Who in his hand hath pow'r of life and death . Let Rome with her seven hills bee shaken too And at thy Name O CHARLES obedient bow , ( Heav'n grant I may victorious still returne , Drunk with the blood of foes sleepe in the vrne Of my Ancestors , whose Manes shall bee glad , When it shall bee to future Ages said That I in worth did so exceed them farre , As doth the Sun in light each little Starre ) O may thy Ensignes ever bee displayed ! O may my heart and hand bee nere dismayde In thy defence , till all the World adore Thy dreadfull Name from Vesper till Aurore . Thine bee the Night and Day , may starres bright shine , And Planets wander o're no Land but Thine , And when by Death Thou shall shut up Thy dayes Thy memorie shall still inherite praise , And After-age shall Obeliskes vpreare , In which thy Woorth and Vertues shall appeare , High Phanes and Temples shall by Thy Name bee calld And Thou amongst th' immortall Gods enstalld Shall see the Offrings and the yearely Vowes , Posteritie unto thy Fame allowes . Religious rites and games for Thee erected , Shall show on Earth how high Thou wast respected . FINIS .