Vox civitatis: or, Londons call to her natural and adopted children; exciting them to her spedy reedification. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription B06473 of text R226738 in the English Short Title Catalog (Wing V714). 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. 5 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 B06473 Wing V714 Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.2[64] 99886885 ocm99886885 181394 2240885406

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. B06473) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 181394) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A1:1[65]) Vox civitatis: or, Londons call to her natural and adopted children; exciting them to her spedy reedification. 1 sheet ([1] p.). Printed by B[ridgit]. W[ood]. in Little S. Bartholomews Court in West-Smithfield, London, : 1666. Verse: "What news, my neighbours of the ri-". "Licenced. R. L'Estrange." Printer's name from Wing CD-ROM, 1996. In two columns. Reproduction of original in the British Library. eng Political poetry, English -- Early works to 1800. London (England) -- History -- 17th century -- Early works to 1800. eebo Vox civitatis: or, Londons call to her natural and adopted children; exciting them to her spedy reedification. anon 1666 1 838 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. 2008-02 Assigned for keying and markup 2008-02 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-03 Sampled and proofread 2008-10 Rekeyed and resubmitted 2009-12 Sampled and proofread 2009-12 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2010-04 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
VOX CIVITATIS OR , Londons Call to her Natural and Adopted Children ; Exciting them to Her speedy Reedification . WHat News , my Neighbours of the Riming Trade ? What , all by Londons Burning quite dismaid ? Has our late too much Heat dry'd up your Well , And choak'd the Sisters that there us'd to dwell ? Or does your so much fam'd Poetick Fire In Londons Conflagration expire ? That not one idle Muse attempts a strain , To promise Her Rebuilding up again ? Call the old Theban from his drowsie Tomb , And with his potent Lyre here let him come ; And if he ere built Thebes ( as Poets tell 's ) Or by his Musick or Poetick Spells : Here let him on a worthier Subject try His skill , and Londons Walls reedifie . But see , the sullen Ghost keeps still its station . Nor yields obedience to our Invocation . Ah! no , that which our Reparation brings , Must flow from Real , not Poetick Springs . And now , methinks I see the aged Head Of London Town move from her too warm Bed ; And with her parcht tongue seeming to essay Something to her much suff'ring Sons to say . 'T is She ; Her by her reverend locks I know , With her own Ashes strow'd instead of Snow . She calls to all her Children in each Land ; And I her mean Interpreter here stand . What needs all this astonishment , my Sons , As if ye were transform'd to liveless stones ? Viewing with stupid horror my decay , As though all hopes of Rise were ta'en away . What frights ye thus ? does this such terror strike , As though ye nere had seen , nor heard the like ? Have not as great Towns heretofore , or greater , Suffer'd sometimes by Fire , sometimes by Water ? Are not all Bodies subject to like Fate ? Do not your own of Fire participate In Burning Fevers ( pray ? ) and what are then Dropsies , but Inundations in Men ? All things their Seasons have , and Revolution ; And shall have till the last great Dissolution . In " all things there 's a Spring , wherein its youth Sprouts , and seems to presage its future growth : A Summer that succeeds , when strength arrives To its perfection , and a fulness gives : A scorching Autumn follows , when the pride Of former strength and beauty seems to hide It wholly from our sight : and it may ly Unseen all Winter , sleeping , yet not dy . I , your sad Mother , in this rank am found ; Burnt by the raging Fire almost to th' ground : My present Fall indeed stupendious is , Yet have I risen from as great as this . Now comes it then that now so much time sees Me in a suppliant posture on my knees ? What is the cause ? ye cann't your Mother blame , VVho ne'er was to her Children a Stepdame ; Oh no , 't is to the Universe well known , What Glories I have to my Offsprings won . Here 's then the case ; I still preserve my state : But ah ! I fear my Sons degenerate ! If so , my tears should from my eyes be skrew'd , Less for my Fall , than their Ingratitude . I that could once with Laureate Brows have sung Cesars and Princes from my intrals sprung : Have nothing left , my griefs now to decline , But the remembrance that they once were mine . Where are my Philpots , Walworths , Greshams , Lambs , Suttons and Ramseys , with the rest , whose Names Claim'd a bright Rubrick in my Calendar ; Glorious for Acts of Virtue near and far ? 'T is sure , they could not die ; their Names still live , And their immortal Memories survive The Ruines of their own all-praised Deeds . Oh for a Race now that might them succeed ? And all like them , by happy Transmigration ; Then might I hope my speedy Restauration . Rouse up , my Sons , methinks my Prayer's heard , And you already to my help prepar'd ; Warm'd by the self same genuine heat and force , Which once did actuate your Ancestors . Some of our Heroes are already met , And to this end in Consultation set : Lay to your helping hands ; so may you see Your selves once more to Fame advanc'd with Me : So may we mutually rejoice each other , I in my Glorious Sons , you in your Mother .

Licenced .

R. L'Estrange .

London , Printed by B. W. in Little S. Bartholomews Court in West-Smithfield . 1666.