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 | Poems on Affairs of State |  |
Historia Tuta.
Henry the Prince fell by his trembling Sire,Who by his Recreant Son did next expire.
Proud of his ill-got State, enthron'd he stands,
And on the People lays oppressive Hands.
They unaccustom'd to the heavy Yoke,
Punish his Rapines by a fatal Stroke.
A Brother to the next creates much Strife,
Aims at his Crown, and daily seeks his Life:
Him easy, vain, and weak Court-Pimps deceive,
And Brother's Crimes Priests bid him not believe;
Hence stupid grown, Sloth, Lust, and want of Care
Draw dismal Ruin on him unaware.
This Truth the Roman Poets sang of old,
And in Majestick Satire did unfold:
Kings without Wounds rarely resign their Breath,
And Tyrants never die a Civil Death.
| Poems on Affairs of State | |