The poets address to his most sacred Majesty This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription B04762 of text R181909 in the English Short Title Catalog. 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. 4KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 2 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 B04762 Wing P2737A ESTC R181909 ocm 53981556

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 Early English books online text creation partnership. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. B04762) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 180302) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English Books, 1641-1700 ; 2825:5) The poets address to his most sacred Majesty 1 sheet ([2] p.) [s.n.], Edinburgh : Re-printed in the year, 1682. Caption title. Imprint from colophon. Reproduction of the original in the National Library of Scotland.

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 eng Charles -- II, -- King of England, 1630-1685 -- Poetry. Broadsides -- Scotland -- 17th century eebo The poets address to His most sacred Majesty. n/a 1682 2 563 6 0 0 0 0 0 106.57 F The rate of 106.57 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the F category of texts with 100 or more defects per 10,000 words. 2014-06 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2014-08 Sampled and proofread 2014-08 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2015-03 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
THE Poets Address To His Most Sacred MAJESTY . THough Scribling Factions are so Saucy grown , To dare Curst Libels at Your Sacred Throne : To strive to Prae-depose Your Royall Heirs , And seek Your Life who frankly gave them theirs . Yet Mighty SIR , the Poets are your own , Their Lives and Pens , ( for Fortunes they have none ) Reason and Wit are faithful to their Prince , Nay , he that Writes against You can't write Sense : The Sacred Nine Elected you supreme , And swore Allegiance to Your Diadem ; And all the jobbers of the Rhiming Crew Are Rebels ev'n to them , when so to You . Th' old Loyal Blood when Your kind Beams withdrew , Unmurmuring slept till they return'd anew : Then ( like the Lust of Plants ) its Atoms throng To deck th' Old Branches , and to shoot forth Young . Westminster was an Autumn to our Lays , But th' Oxford nipping Spring had kill'd our Bays , Had not Your Mercy and Dissolving Skill Stopt both their doing , and our suffering Ill : Had we th' Hesperean Fruit , You should not pull Wee 'd freely drop You a whole Chequer full , ( But Equal Heaven has giv'n it to the dull ) Wit by Chamelian Nourishment conceives , And was decreed only to put forth leaves . Hail Sacred SIR , although we have no Banks , Yet we can pay ( what none cane give you ) Thanks ; Thanks for the Numerous Blessings which you shed Like the imperial Sun , on every head ; Thanks for the Factions , Deludge You put by , And Thanks for the Humble stop , to tell us Why : But Thanks above all thinking for Your Care To stop that TAP , that would have drown'd Your Heir . Illustrious JAMES thou could'st not bear such things , We't thou not Son and Brother to such Kings : How could we think from Justice thou should'st fly A Land , which does it to their King d●ny . The Sheriffs of late such Natu●alists are grown , They 'l turn no Streams back to the Fountain thrown : And those Grand Jews that Ignoramus bring For Barabbas wou'd Cru●●fie their King . The Polish Prince is Charm'd , he scorns weak Buff , Consciences of Impenetrable Stuff Arms the small Patriat , Plot and Witness proof ; 'T is such a Knot as wants the Gordian Knife , For some Conspire his Death , and some his Life : And Ninteen Un●e●ievers Damn to Save That Head that ne're was destin'd to a Grave . Once more hail Secred MONARCH , may kind Stars Prosper your Pea●e , and Guard you in Your Wars ; Let God Arise ( who Your Avenger is ) And scatter both Your Enem●es and His . May Heaven Attend Your Councils , and Dispose Success to all that 's Yours , except Your Foes : Long may You Rule this Island with Your Nod , And let the Stubborn feel Your Angry Rod : Exceed Your Father , and be like Your God . WHYTHAL July the 4. 1682. Imprimatur Will : Paterson .

EDINBURGH , Re-printed in the year , 1682.