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RADIUS HELICONICUS:
OR, THE RESOLUTION OF A FREE STATE
Emori per virtutem præstat, quam vitans miseram atque inhonestam, ubi alienæ superbiæ ludibrio fueris, per dedecus amittere.
Salust.
Fame is the life of action. He that will
Grasp at a world, must not be scar'd with ill,
Or any puling Sophistry that may
Clog a brave mind, or rust it by delay.
But Gallantry should ramble in the stile
Of roaring Torrents, over-run or foile
That worm Obstruction: no Attempts can be
Beyond true Valours equipollencie.
Beasts were decreed to serve: Man hath a free
Tenure and birthright of his libertie.
Custome enslaves us all: Our fathers were
Blinded, and we born heires of their feare.
But our deliv'rance dawns; and Nature seems
To joy there is a Seed that dare redeem's.
Hang old Descents, those antique Confirmations
Of blushing Cowardise, the shame of Nations.
We are those limbs of earth which scorn to stoop
To that thing Monarchy, or kisse the poop
Of any Lawn-sleev'd hrother: Nay, so far
From worshipping a Meteor or a Star
In this our Element, we soar above
Such Sphears, own no Superior lesse then Jove.
Lawes were the curbs of Conquest: thence constraint
Made them compulsive duties; which our quaint
Insinuating Politiques did give
Soon the fain'd name of a Prerogative:
A mild construction, or a glosse upon
The cruelty of Domination.
Thus captiv'd in Succession ran the Times,
And the long Vass'lage of these Northern Climes
Link'd to one Family and will. But we
That set them up, have vow'd a nullitie
Of that grand pressure: Hence our lives & swords
Shall be the seals and labels of our words.
Religion wings the Cause; and he that dies
In its defence, ne're sinks, but falls to rise.
The Creatures, Day, and Elements are things
We equally partake both slaves and Kings:
The Earths productions, Rain, and Seasons are
Bounties predestin'd to a common share.
Why should we cramp our selvs? nay, not content
With the reins of our Civil Government,
There is a pack which strive even as they please
To force our soules, and wrest our consciences.
But faith will not be pinn'd on any one
Synod's decree, or mans opinion.
No, there's a freedome still reserv'd in all
For the election of their severall
Professions here: which as a publique right
We're bound to vindicate 'gainst Hells despight.
And therefore heightned with Camilla's zeale,
In rescue of a free-born Common-weale
From the base yoke of bondage, we defie
All the dependencies of Tyrannie.
And by the dint of Arms shall make it plain,
There is a Truth commands a Soveraign.
Let grov'ling Animals submit for feare,
And bow their necks: we cannot center there.
Our Resolutions strike a higher string
Then Tarquin's Base, Tenor, or Minikin.
Which time shall ripen, and successe befriend:
The glory of a war is in the end.
Servility's a plague look'd to be known
When snapt by Moores or Tartars: but at home,
Even in the womb conceiv'd us, is a curse
Not to be parallel'd in death, or worse.
He then that will not when he may go free,
Commits a sinne against Nativitie.
We are not born in fetters; Nature gives
A manumission to each that lives.
No Marshals of restraint which may controule's;
The ties we find are seated in our soules.
Transgression's check'd by Reason; great Crimes by
An inbred Justicer, Civility.
These by instinct: the rest we do imbrace
As supernaturals, devolve from grace.
Adam knew no Star-chamber, (as we see)
Unlesse you mean the heav'nly Canopie:
And there few Bishops sate. The pride and will
Of most extortious Tyrannies, are still
The sinew of our quarrels, which alone
Compell'd us to a Reformation.
And since we have begun that fatal work,
Wee'll perfect our Attempts, maugre the Turk,
Or any humane nay: howe're, wee'll fall
From brave designs and gallant, if at all.
Heathens were wont to sell their Libertie
With universal ruine: Why should we
Be lesse couragious? Though not Roman bands,
Yet we have Roman hearts, and Roman hands.
Let envy swell and burst; Malignancie
Curse its hard fate, grow sullen, sick, and die:
Whiles our triumphant palms spread & increase;
Like the preservers of a common peace.
Cæsar, and Cromwell: why, 'tis all but C.
And why not England now, as Italie?
Rome's Basis was as small, as this whereon
We hope to raise our Fame's encomion:
Nay, our encouragements are rather more.
Smile gentle Fortune, as thou didst before.
Then Thames as Tybur shall rejoice to be
Crown'd with the spoiles of the worlds royaltie:
And all the neighb'ring Continents implore
To be imbrac'd under the British lore.
'Tis but assay'd, and finish'd; try'd, and done:
The act's half perfect, that is well begun.
R. Fletcher.
FINIS.
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