THE XXXth. OF JANUARY. OR, AN ANNIVERSARY.  
BEING A POEM DEDICATED TO THE QUEEN OF GREAT BRITAIN, AT THE LOUVRE: January the 

30. th'  
20. th'    
Printed at PARIS. M. D.C.LII.   

TO THE ROYAL MAJESTY OF HENRIETTA MARIA Queen of great Britain, France, and Jreland, etc.  
MADAM,  
IT is now high time that your Princely Eyes should no longer contract redness from tears but a brave fire from Revenge, That you should deal with your Passion as the generous ORMOND with that infamous firebrand of the world that Canker to the Royal Stock and Branches CROMWELL, suffer it to possess some Out-skirts and frontiers of your Soul, that by the expansion of his encroachments its Spirits may be wasted and laid open for Ruin; And your victorious Reason (contracting all its forces) sweep all such treacherous Invaders from the face of the world, and leave nothing of it in Nature but a Memory, which may make it sti●k● to all Posterity.  
●o●cia's Coals are of no further use for d●spai●e, all they can be serviceable in, is to create a flame to which the barbarous Rebels must be fuel, and the fire may be a Purifier to the Region of Sovereignty, clearing all the Air from those two greatest Plagues to Order and Mankind Rebellion and Rigicide. God has now ripened them for the Sickle of Revenge; it is highly opportune to shake them from the trees of Authority and Rapine whereon they hang, and since hanging is natural for such Gomorrah Apples, Tyburn in England is the properest place in the world for such fruits, if their rottenness be not too violent Eyesores to the view, and of too great a Stench to the Nostrils of Passengers.  
The 30.th of January shall be reckoned amongst those Ominous days which are fatal to the repose and safety of Nations, which though it antecede here that in ENGLAND by ten days, yet my passion of Revenge, and my engagement to follow that Standard of your Heroic Son, which must carry with it a Restitution of the World to Laws, Liberty, Religion, Conscience, and all Obligations divine and Humane, hath made me make use of the Calendar in FRANCE, and present an Anniversary upon the most horrid Murder the Sun ever viewed; not to stir up your un-exampled Piety to Tears, but to awake your own Royal and all other Loyal Bosoms to revenge; which, when it shall break forth in its just magnitude and dimensions, the Rebels will confess, that Our long Silence is like a Calm, whose unsuspected tranquillity is followed by nothing less dangerous than totally subverting Earthquakes, or universally consuming Thunders.  
MADAM. 
 The Persian Princes had a constant Monitor to remember them of Greek affronts and injuries, may this Anniversary be your Remembrancer that all Europe is engaged to your assistance; that you have a fate more noble impending then to live in exile, or un revenged; that you have a Son, who, by his fiery persecutions and Virtues, will, one day, make good in his examples, all which is ever related of the most excellent Princes; That there is a Nation which with infinite groans implores its restitution to Monarchy, its redemption from Rebellion, in which it is fatally captivated and engulphed, and (which, MADAM, deserves a Lower rank amongst those more Majestic concernments) let it be a speaking testimony to the World, that I am (in Spite of all Revolutions occasioned by Thiefs, Rebels, and Regicid●s.)  
Your MAJESTY'S, and all your Royal Fami●i●● Most humble, and never changeable Servant Subject, S. C.   

ALLEGIANCE TO THE MEMORY OF OUR LATE MURDERED SOVEREIGN CHARLES THE I.  

SUch was the Pride of Murder in our loss,  
To dub the Scaffold equal to the Cross.  
Since the world's Crucifix; all butcheries  
The Jury finds Chance-Medley, unto this.  
The Primitive and Modern Martyrs all,  
Members of CHARLES his Body Mystical.  
The universal Bill of Martyrdom,  
In him, contracted to a Totall Sum.  
'Tis thought thy Saviour, only Priest, would die,  
And leave his Kingly sufferings to thee.  
In Life and Death his Viceroy, as if all  
His Offices were Hypostatical.   

How dared they think he mortal was, or say  
He less than Angels, were assumed Clay?  
Fooled Tyrant Wretches who believe him dead,  
Who from Humanity but vanished.  
Faith being weak, a Demonstration's He,  
To lose the Riddle of Theanthrophie.  
To all Religious understanding Eyes,  
Humanity was but his Late disguise.  
But so much Deity may justly grudge,  
To be condemned, and Barrabas his judge.  
When every drop of Blood he shed, was much  
Too precious, to redeem the Souls of such.  
For had old ADAM spawned no better seed,  
Th' Eternal Son had never lived or died.  
If his Posterity had all been such,  
The blood of Bulls and Goats had been too much.  
Lord, was it not enough, thyself to die,  
But thou must suffer too by Deputy?  
Who his pure Breath a prey to Villains gave,  
Not worthy to be Sextons to his Grave.  
Shov'ling his Monarchy, as if it must  
Fellow like Earth to Earth, and Dust to dust.   

How will the Hoogen Chandler's scorn our fate,  
When HEWSON vampes and underlayes the State?  
When PRIDE in Ale, and Dray-man Buffe shall sing  
I've slain Goliath with a Small-beer Sling.  
And drawn out Royalty so near the Lee,  
This Hand must tap a well hopped Anarchy.  
Their Baby- General is a fine thing,  
Such I have seen, in children's feast, King.  
Whose bloody Treasons only him engage  
As Obligation sealed under age.  
Now all's dispatched; were he demanded why  
He must send Post to CROMWELL for a Lye.  
'Tis time to pass from this infernal host,  
From whom I rise as from the Nethermost:  
And pass, as through a Purgatory flame,  
To a prepared Bliss in CHARLES his Name.  
Whilst I with trembling and Religious care,  
Do go unto my mourning, as my Prayer.  
I do repent, I have profaned his Hearse,  
And Sacred Ashes, with unhallowed Verse.  
To whom, as one Religious Votary,  
Three Pilgrim Kingdoms own their Piety.  
Though Saints too mean a Name for him, we know  
His Virtues Canonised him below:  
In Navigation, as the Mariner  
Steer's not by th' Pole, but by the nearest Star.  
So that devotion errs not from the Text  
Which he inspires, whose Virtue was the next;  
So fare the same, they differ not at all,  
But as the Copy from th' Original.  
GOD did to him so much his Likeness deal,  
IT might seem his second Precept to repeal.  
Whose indisputable Divinity,  
None (but this Arrian army) dares deny.  
And now, to view his Constellation,  
Sadduces yield a Resurrection.  
So he all Heresies seems to confute,  
Which, at his Master's death, were in dispute.  
Clothed now with Light no Contrary he knows,  
Except the utter darkness of his Foes.  
What Comets should have ushered his fall,  
Do wait as Torches at his Funeral.  
He so be-dayes the Night, th' ginger  
That GOD hath snuffed the Firmament does swear.  
He appears not only Star to every sense,  
But Sphere; and he his own Intelligence.  
So glorious, that this Riddle he begets,  
The Sun then solely rises when he sets.  
Whose Guide his saving light is, ere they rest  
Shall overtake the Wisemen of the East.  
Who so his wisdom's just Admirer is,  
Says Solomon's was Typical to his.  
Had they, and Shebah's Queen, lived at one time,  
With what desire would she have Cuckold Him!  
Although his Continence was so divine,  
He it alone embraced as Concubine.  
A Vestal might have laid with Him in Bed,  
And rise with her Religious Maidenhead.  
How did he in St. Michael's Angell-vein  
Confute those Devils which durst him arraign!  
If we the Musterroll of Virtues call,  
The Name of CHARLES may answer for them all.  
As what we attribute to God must be  
Itself, the absolute Divinity.  
So Reason coupled with morality,  
This Definition gets that they were he.  
Who now for either seeks (he being spent)  
Without a Substance looks for Accident.   

But, as the Sun sets only unto Us,  
And never shines himself less glorious,  
Our Sol's eclipse was to improve his Light,  
But smother us in an Egyptian Night.  
As Earthquakes do destroy from Mile to mile,  
And fast foundations Filip Cross and Pile,  
The Centre yet being never stirred at all;  
So we (not CHARLES) are bruised in his Fall.  
His Execution was his Subject's Pain,  
They lost their King, and yet their King doth reign  
Not as a Deaths-head Shell, or a Grave-Stone,  
Memento's are for Mortals of their own.  
In this sad Paper every one may see,  
His Epitaph, in his own Elegy.  
Without a Contradiction it may be said,  
Though he did Die, not he, but we are Dead.  
What dying life is ours, that He must die,  
And we, that do survive him, Putrify?  
But stay his Urn is warm; and, at his Name,  
His Ashes start, and wake into a flame.  
Through all the Shop of sublunary things,  
Two are immortal, Phoenixes, and Kings.  
Like Angels, each a Species, makes alone,  
Yet neither dyes without Succession.  
Draw, draw, great Son; and let thy thirsty Steel,  
Their Bowels tap till thy full vengeance reel.  
Ride like a Whirlwind driving on the flood,  
That Thames may know no full Sea, but of blood.  
He that not follows may he drown i'th' Stream  
Till brave Revenge hath swept the Land so clean  
That all thy blasted Enemies we see,  
Like Sodoms' Apples rot upon the tree.  
And Travellers praise thy Executions,  
For Paving road-ways with the Rebels Bones.   
FIN.