Then Lichfields and Darbyes Earles, {109} Two of fair England’s royall pearles; Major Generall Massey then Commanded the life guard of men, The King for to defend, If any should contend, Or seem his comming to restrain; But also joyfull were That no such durst appear, Now the King enjoyes his own again. Four rich maces before them went, And many heralds well content; The Lord Mayor and the generall Did march before the King withall. His brothers on each side Along by him did ride; The Southwark-waits did play amain, Which made them all to smile And to stand still awhile, And then they marched on again. Then with drawn swords all men did side, And flourishing the same, then cryed, “Charles the Second now God save, That he his lawfull right may have! And we all on him attend, From dangers him to defend, And all that with him doth remain. Blessed be God that we Did live these days to see, That the King enjoyes his own again!” The bells likewise did loudly ring, Bonefires did burn and people sing; London conduits did run with wine, And all men do to Charles incline; Hoping now that all Unto their trades may fall, Their famylies for to maintain, And from wrong be free, ’Cause we have liv’d to see The King enjoy his own again. London, printed for Charles Tyns, on London Bridge. THE NOBLE PROGRESS, OR, A TRUE RELATION OF THE LORD GENERAL MONK’S POLITICAL PROCEEDINGS. The Noble Progresse, or a True Relation of the Lord General Monk’s Political Proceedings with the Rump, the calling in the secluded Members, their transcendant vote for his sacred Majesty, with his reception at Dover, and royal conduct through the City of London to his famous Palace at Whitehall. One of the broadsides in the British Museum, found in the lining of an old trunk by Sir W. C. Trevelyan. Tune—“When first the Scottish wars began.” GOOD people, hearken to my call, I’le tell you all what did befall And hapned of late; Our noble valiant General Monk Came to the Rump, who lately stunk With their council of state. Admiring what this man would doe, His secret mind there’s none could know, They div’d into him as much as they could,— George would not be won with their silver nor gold: The sectarian saints at this lookt blew, With all the rest of the factious crew, They vapour’d awhile, and were in good hope, But now they have nothing left but the rope.