When the King Enjoys his own again (1642/3) by Martin Parker

There is no astrologer, then I say, Can search more deep in this than I, To give you a reason from the stars, What causeth peace, or civil wars: The man in the moon, may wear out his shoone, In running after Charles his Wain, But all to no end, for the times they will mend When the King comes home in peace again.

    Though for a time you may see Whitehall, 
        With cobwebs hanging over the wall,
    Instead of silk, and silver brave,
        As formerly it used to have:
    In every room, the sweet perfume,
        Delightful for that princely train,
    The which you shall see, when the time it shall be,
        That the King comes home in peace again.

    Full forty years the royal crown,
        Hath been his fathers and his own, 
    And I am sure there’s none but he
        Hath right to that sovereignty:
    Then who better may the sceptre to sway,
        Than he that hath such right to reign:
    The hopes of your peace, for the wars will then cease,
        When the King comes home in peace again.

Oxford and Cambridge shall agree, Crowned with honour and dignity, Learned men shall them take place, And bad men silenced with disgrace: They’ll know it then to be a shameful strain, That hath so long disturbed their brain. For I can surely tell, that all things shall go well When the King comes home in peace again.