The Poetical Works of the Ingenious and Learned William Meston ... The Sixth edition |
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On the Death of CHARLES XII. King of Sweden.
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 | The Poetical Works of the Ingenious and Learned William Meston |  |
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On the Death of CHARLES XII. King of Sweden.
Oh! Who would boast himself of royal birth?Or seek t'enhance a spacious share of earth?
Who'd value crowns, or sceptres, wou'd desire,
Or prize the glaring splendour of empire?
When Sweden's glory, Europe's miracle,
Is fallen so cheap, when in his person fell
The King, the Captain, and the Centinel.
By tricks of state had he a crown obtain'd,
By faction or by fraud his title gain'd;
Had he usurp'd another's rightful throne,
First rob'd, and then proclaim'd the prize his own,
And, like a bloody varlet, sought to slay
The rightful owner to secure the prey;
Had he profan'd the sceptre which he bore,
Or stain'd the purple with the subjects gore,
Consum'd their wealth, and shed their purest blood,
To make his lame and groundless title good;
Or, as some courtiers do, if his but had
Worship'd the idol which their hands had made,
A thoughtless, dull, and meer precarious thing,
The faction's tool, a titulary king,
Drowned in lux'ry and ignoble ease,
Whom masques and balls, and vicious shows could please;
Then would the thinking world with joy relate
The monster's fall, the object of their hate,
And none bad mourn'd his too too early fate.
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The martial valour of Gustavus shin'd,
Augmented with his own superior fame,
Was heir to his great father's crown and name;
No petty duke, brought o'er from foreign lands,
To sway a sceptre with unwieldy hands;
No arbitrary prince, no menial thing;
The Swede was born an independent King,
And ne'er was prince more fit than he to reign.
He for his subjects good the sceptre sway'd,
And him they lov'd, and out of love obey'd.
“From servile fear unwilling homage springs;
‘The hearts of subjects are the strength of kings.”
God-like his courage seem'd, whom nor delight
Could soften, nor the face of death affright.
The vigour of his fiery soul appear'd
Before the downy blossoms of his beard.
So swift a course in honour's paths he ran,
He was a conqueror before a man.
Nor was he less devout than he was brave,
“The hero and the saint no jarrings have.”
So vast a courage, and such pious care,
Might conquer earth with arms, and Heaven with prayer.
And him they lov'd, and out of love obey'd.
“From servile fear unwilling homage springs;
‘The hearts of subjects are the strength of kings.”
God-like his courage seem'd, whom nor delight
Could soften, nor the face of death affright.
The vigour of his fiery soul appear'd
Before the downy blossoms of his beard.
So swift a course in honour's paths he ran,
He was a conqueror before a man.
Nor was he less devout than he was brave,
“The hero and the saint no jarrings have.”
So vast a courage, and such pious care,
Might conquer earth with arms, and Heaven with prayer.
His mighty deeds what tongue can well relate,
Or heart endure to hear his rigid fate!
A loss so great the world must needs regret.
Lament his fall, thou great Muscovian Czar,
Or heart endure to hear his rigid fate!
A loss so great the world must needs regret.
'Twas he who taught thee first the art of war;
His princely virtues charm'd thy Czarish mind,
Of a fierce foe made thee a real friend.
And thou, grand Sultan, drop some friendly tears,
How soon the dismal news shall reach thy ears;
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No nation so remote, but knew his name.
With bleeding heart bewail him, Britain's isle,
He would have brought thy Prince from his exile,
Wip'd off thy tears, and made thee gladly smile.
Lament him, Pole, lament him, France and Spain,
And every nation save the stupid Dane;
And all ye sons of Mars bewail his fate,
“Ye've lost a pattern fit to imitate.”
| The Poetical Works of the Ingenious and Learned William Meston | |