John Adamson


Great Man Of God, Whom God Doeth Call, And Choose - Poem by John Adamson

Great Man of God, whom God doeth call, and choose
On Earth his great Lieutenents place to use,
Wee blesse the tyme, wherin the threefold Croun
And Diademe with peace, and great renoun
In that so long fore-told, and fatal cheare
Thou on thy braue, and royall brow didst beare:
As from that tym thy absence bred our bane,
Thy presence now restores our Joy's againe:
Thou went away to Scotlands deip displeasure
But thy return brings mirth beyond all measure.

Astraea doth pronunce by thy sueit tong
What shuld of right to Kings on earth belong:
Thy myld aspect doeth realmes and cities nurish,
And as thou frouns or faun's they fall & floorish:
These suords the sherp, and bloodie tools of warr,
Which peace hath sheath'd in rust, shall from a farr,
Bee drawn agane, and when thou thinks it good
Thy angrie brow shall bath the world in blood,
Thou canst Dethrone, and giue the royall wreathe
And hyd thy suord, and hold it in the sheath.

Yet now thou deign's to visit our cold North,
And with thy Court hast crost the sinuose Forth,
Which with Meanders winding heer and there
Great Britans King upon her back did beare,
Whois bouldin billoes (as they did of yore)
Shall set thee sure upon there yonder shore.
And statelie Tay with stryving streams which marches
And skorns his course shuld be controld with Arches,
Who with his speats in spightfull raige hath dround
The famose Perths faire Bridge, & broght to groud,
Shall straine the strenght of his strong streams thow'll see,
And be at peace with all the world for thee.

THOW shall not loose thy labors, nor thy loue,
Which in a Prince most rare, most rare dooth proue:
This bontie singular, which thou imparts,
Encounters not with mis-conceiving hearts
Nor with ingratefull subjects, for each One
Aknowledgeth the good which thou hast done:
Man neuer was more loved by ane other,
Not David by kynd Jonathan his brother
As thou by vs, thou dwels in each mans heart,
Our Joy, and our felicitie thou art:

O had our breists of stuff transparent bene,
That all our thoughts might so to thee be sene,
Thy Scotland do'th (thy royall grace wold tell)
For Courage, Truth, and Loue, the World excell:
And wee confesse, our Joyes are perfect now,
Iff they could proue perpetuall, heauens allow
A longer stay then thou intends, that so
Our loue-seik hopes might to the full tyd flo.

To toyll and travell man is borne wee see,
As sparks of fire by nature upward flie,
Thy travell yet shalbe compenst with pleasure
Thou shalt haue sports, and pairt of all our treasure:
Wee'll keep that custome with thy sacred grace
Which Athenaeus writes was keept in Thrace,
`The subjects gaue their King when euer hee wanted,
`When they wax'd poore, their suit's by him wer granted:
Thus each in loue supplied an others neid,
Both peace, and wealth, this kynd comerce did breid.
And Persians when they did pr&ecedil;sent their King,
Some rare propyne they alwayes vs'd to bring.

But put the case, this forme which Persians used
Wer by some base and wretched wormes refused,
Thy faithfull Quaestors, full of loue and paine,
(Whois betters haue not bene, whois lyk againe
Thou canst not find) shall such aboundance bring,
As King nor Court shall want no kynd of thing:
Not lyk those lowns, whom Athens old did trust,
They wer but Theiv's vnhonest, and injust.
These Tamij the treasure stole by night,
And then they burnd the Citadel by flight,
That by this fire their fraud shuld not be seene,
Nor they accus'd, that had so knavish beene:
Thy Quaestors here are honest, wyse, and true;
Thy treasure saiff, thy Bastils bvilt of new:

Stay then (dread Leige) O stay with ws a while
With pleasing sports the posting tyme begyle:
Thy fynest Hawks and fleitest Hounds shall find
Of fowls and beasts, a pray of euerie kynd.
For morning both and euenyng flight, each day
Each Hawk thou hast, shall haue her proper pray;
Each fowl that flies shall meit thee in thy way,
And in their sorts shall Ave Caesar say.

Throgh forests, Parks, and feilds hunt stag, & Haire
It helps the health to haue the natiue air.
Hee that taks pains and travell sleepeth best,
With greidines hee taks refreshing rest,
His meate to him seems savorie, sweet, and fyne,
Hee glaidlie drinks the heart-comforting wyne:
Good blood, quick spirits, travell sweet do'th cherish
And maks offensiue humors for to perish.
And wyse-men write that Colik, Gout, and Gravel,
The woefull fruits of rest, ar cur'd by travel:
Let not thy horses fatt, for standing Idle,
They'll grow stiff neck'd, and disobey the brydle.

Let faithfull Turbo menage thy affaires
And kill himselfe with care, to ease thy caires.
Thou shalt not trauel, throgh hott barren bounds
Of Arabie, nor cold, and snowie sounds
Of Norwa, nor the Schythian savage montans,
Nor fenni Flanders skant of healthfull fontans,
Nor throgh thy France so full of fearfull Jarrs,
Where King and subjects waige intestine warrs,
But throgh Braue Britan of all realms the best,
With pleasours all, with peace, and plentie blest,
Which God sejoyns from all the world (wee see)
That none but Neptune shuld thy neighbour bee.

Let not Our Loue infer the least offence,
Thou art our Lord our kyndlie King, our Prence:
Our int'rest so is such (Dread Leige) in thee
Thogh Earths great Glob wer thyne, ours thou must bee,
From Jacob learne to loue Canaan best,
The native soill: for when his sonnes wer blest,
Hee charged them to take him heame againe,
Him to interre in Ephrons flowrie plaine:
Abraam there, and Sara sleep, said hee,
There Jsaak, and Rebecca both doe lye,
And there I buried Lea: Joseph weiped,
In Ephron Jacob with his fathers sleiped:

Joseph waxd chief in Pharaos court, and yet
Knowing the Tribs wold out of Egipt flitt,
Hee took his brethren, and the people sworne
His bones from thence shuld be to Ephron borne,
To keip their oath his brethren, and the rest
Imbalmed him and put him in a chest,
And when they fled from Egypt (as they sweare)
Moyses with him good Josephs bones did beare:

Liue Nestors dayes King James but liue among vs
By blood and birth thou do'st alone belong vs,
Stay then at home, to Thames make no returne,
Sleip with thy fathers in thy fathers vrn.

But wee'r too bold to beg thy longer stay,
Since God sets doun thy Jests, and gyds thy way,
From death in famine God deliuereth thee,
From sword in battell thou shall still be frie,
Destruction thou shall skorne, and laugh at dearth,
And shall not feare the cruell beasts on earth,
Ston's of the feild shall be in league with thee,
And beasts at peace with great King James shall be,
Yea thou shall know peace dwells thy tents within,
In spight of Babell and that Man of sin:
To thy great Joy ô King thou shall perceaue,
Thy seed as grasse on earth: Thou shall to graue
In fullest aige (like to a rig of Corne
Broght to the Barne in season due) be borne.

And if the Lord hes said that thou must leaue vs,
If England must of this our Joy bereaue vs,
If thou wilt go, and leaue vs full of sorrow,
This prayer short from Paynim pen wee borrow.

Our sacred King, wyse James the Lord defend,
And royall seed, till all this All tak end,
Heavens grant to him, his faire and verteous wyfe
In peace and plentie, long and happie lyfe.
Lord blesse, preserue, and keep him frie from ill,
Of happie Kings let him be happiest still:
And, whilst he lives, let him not see, nor heare,
The death of one, that to his Grace seems deare,
Let his Dominions farr, and long perseuer,
And (still adornd with Justice) last for euer:
Tyme stay thy hast, relent thy former furie,
And let King James our childrens children burie.
O touch him not proud Fortune but in kyndnes,
Or if thou do'st, hee still defyes thy blindnes:
Heavens grant this Ile, with toyls tormoyled long
May be his meanes, be cur'd from sin and wrong:
GOD grant hee saue Religion from decay,
And reestablish such as runne astray:
Lord let this Starr in brightnes still abound,
To light the World so long in Darknes dround:
And let each true, and faithfull subject sing
With heart and woyce conjoynd, God saue the King.

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, September 28, 2010

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