To the KING. On His Recovery from Sickness, and being expected to D•••••• at Guild-hall the last Lord-Mayors-Day.
AFter dark, dismal, gloomy Winters day
Summer approaching, and bright Phoebus Ray,
Each Vegetable buds, the Trees look green,
Birds fall a-singing as the Sun is seen;
So doth your welcom Royal Presence bring,
After Autumnal Grief, a Joyful Spring.
The Fogs and Clouds (Great Sir) offending you,
Caus'd an Eclipse on your great City too;
(Before Consumptive) then she lay ev'n dead,
Dangers and Sickness threatning you the Head,
Fainted and pined, felt by sympathy
Malignant Rome, and your less Malady.
But now that your Majestick beams dispence
From your own Health a healing Influence.
('Tis as a Resurrection) she Revives,
Scorns to be Bed-rid, Lives, and Hopes, and Thrives.
Verdure and Blossoms spring up in her Face,
With'ring Time ceaseth as you warm the place.
This turns October into pleasant May,
And makes my Lord Mayors as a Jub'lee day: