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GREAT BRITTAINS BEAUTY; OR, LONDON'S DELIGHT, by                    
First Line: Go view earth's globe, take eagles wings and fly
Last Line: Thoul't be the worlds chief metropolitan.
Subject(s): London; London Fire (1666); Great Fire Of 1666


Go View Earth's Globe, take Eagles wings and fly,
Search every Kingdom underneath the Sky;
The great Imperial Seats of this vast round,
Whether above or underneath the ground;
Survey each City on Earths mighty Ball,
Her Metropolitans, yea, view them all.
Ascend the Clouds, ride on the wings o'th Wind;
Search every Corner of the World to find
A City standing on the Ground, which can
Compare with Brittains Metropolitan.
Europe's amaz'd, the Whole World doth admire,
That LONDON which so late was burnt with Fire,
In so short space, should with such splendor rise,
As all the Cities underneath the Skies
Are quite eclips'd; Their Glory and Renown,
Now London's risen, quite doth tumble down.
Go view each Street, and stand amaz'd to see,
With what fair Fabricks they adorned bee;
Each House a Palace, and may entertain
A KING in State, with all his Noble Train.
Her stately Structures causeth admiration
To every Empire, Kingdom, Ile, and Nation
Under the Cope of Heaven; Every Land
Rings forth thy praise, and doth amazed stand,
To see that LONDON, which so late was hurl'd
Into a Chaos of the Western World,
Should be Metropolis: Great Brittains Ile
Standeth on Tiptoes with a pleasant smile,
To see fair London (Phoenix like) to rise
Out of her Ashes, up into the Skies.
The stateliest Structure, and the goodliest round
That e're was built, or stood upon the ground,
Within the Bowels of fair London stands;
A Mighty KING did with his Sacred Hands
Lay the Chief Corner-Stone; His Royall Brother
With his Own Hands did also lay another.
French, Spanish, Dutch, the Noble Tuscanite,
The Portugall, the Mighty Muscovite,
The Swede, the Dane, and from all Christendome
Which from beyond Sea to our CITY come,
Stands gazing on it with delighted Eyes,
Sayes, 'Tis the stateliest Structure under Skies;
Takes Pen in hand, writes in the Commendation
Of Englands KING, the CITY, and the NATION.
So sweet a Soyl, and pleasant Plot of ground,
In all this Mighty Ile cannot be found,
To build so great a City on; The Nile,
If that it ran through Brittains famous Ile,
'Twould not be valu'd. Such a Stream doth run
By Lovely London, as under the Sun
There's not the like: For on that River floats,
Upon account, at least Seven Thousand Boats.
Gold, Silver, Pearl, Wine, Oyl, and what we lack,
Comes to our CITY swimming on its Back.
But that which makes her Name through Earth to Ring,
She is the Chamber to our Soveraign KING:
The Place in which the Parliament doth sit,
For to determine things most requisite;
In it all Causes at the Law are tride,
In it the Nobles of the Land abide.
The Worlds Chief Mart, Rich Christendoms
Rare Inn,
Which from all Cities doth the Garland win:
She now hath stood almost Three Thousand Years,
As by the best Chronologers appears.
But now, Good Reader, I will give account,
To what vast Number all those Souls amount,
That breath therein, Mr. James Howell sayes,
Thirty years since, in good King Charles his dayes,
The King commands a Scrutiny to make,
And that the Mayor a strict account should take
Of all the Catholiques: that he might know
How to suppress them, 'fore they headstrong grow;
And thereupon they took a just account
Of all in general, there did surmount,
Seven hundred Thousand. But what are those,
To that vast Number now she doth enclose
In her wide Womb? For she doth comprehend
Full Fifteen hundred Thousand, which do spend
Their dayes therein. But for her Scituation,
Her wholsome Ayr, her fast and firm foundation,
Her Temples, Schools, her Colledges and Halls,
Her Inns of Courts, and her Hospitals,
Her Lawes, her Manners, and her Fabricks Fair,
Her Sober Senators, and prudent Maior:
Her wise Inhabitants, her Grave Divines;
There's not a City on which Sun now shines;
No not in Europe, one that I can tell,
May with our City stand in parallel.
Nor on Earths Globe, is there a City can
Compare to Brittains Metropolitan.
And now, O London, I have let thee see,
There's not a City can compare to thee
On Earths Circumference: Give God the praise,
And to his Glory ever spend thy daies;
Honour thy KING, and humbly him obey,
And to the GOD of Heaven ever pray,
That on his Head the Royall Crown may stand,
And the Great Scepter of this Famous Land
May still be swaid by Him that now doth Raign,
And by his Seed, till Shilo come again.
Forsake all Sin, and to Gods Glory spend
Thy precious Time; That Heaven may not send
Such Dreadful Judgments, but Thee ever blesse
Above all Cities on Earths Universe.
Then let thy Foes say what they will or can,
Thoul't be the Worlds Chief Metropolitan.





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