His foes shall all tremble before him,
His friends little less than adore him,
And the mobile crowd
Who so foolishly bow’d
To the pageant of royalty, fondly mistaken,
Shall at last from their dream of rebellion awaken;
And now ev’ry tongue shall make open confession
That York, royal York, is the next in succession.

All the grandeur he possesses,
He gratefully confesses,
Is deriv’d from the caresses
Of Charles, the gracious donor;
Therefore let us sing the praises
Of the man whom virtue raises,
Whose worth the world amazes,
And the King delights to honour.

Mighty Charles, though join’d with thee
Equal in his pedigree
Noble York by nature stands,
Yet he owns thy sov’reignty,
And readily obeys all thy commands.
His quick obedience still aspires
To take for such thy least desires:
Wish him begone to foreign soils,
Or into the extremest isles,
The greatest hardship he defies.
Such forward duty in a brother lies
As has outdone,
And ought to shame, even a son.

But thanks be to Heaven, he’s now return’d again,
Welcome to all, and most to his Sov’reign,
Whose honour as before he’ll still maintain.
Long live great Charles, the Genius of this land,
And valiant York, his foes to withstand:
York the obedient, grateful, just,
Courageous, punctual, mindful of his trust.
Never, O never may this royal pair
Again be separate, till Time and Fate
Shall add to Heav’n the life of shortest earthly date;
Still may great Charles cherish with princely care
This royal mate.

May all factious troubles cease,
Rumours of war convert to peace;
May all things in this happy Isle
As at the Restoration smile,
And this conjunction calms divine,
As when the Twin Stars together shine.