Thalia Rediviva The Pass-times and Diversions of a Countrey-muse, In Choice Poems on several Occasions. With Some Learned Remains of the Eminent Eugenius Philalethes. Never made Publick till now [by Henry Vaughan] |
 |
|
| 1. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
|
The King Disguis'd. |
|
|
 | Thalia Rediviva |  |
The King Disguis'd.
A king and no King! Is he gone from us,
And stoln alive into his Coffin thus?
This was to ravish Death, and so prevent
The Rebells treason and their punishment.
He would not have them damn'd, and therefore he
Himself deposed his own Majesty.
Wolves did pursue him, and to fly the Ill
He wanders (Royal Saint!) in sheep-skin still.
Poor, obscure shelter! if that shelter be
Obscure, which harbours so much Majesty.
Hence prophane Eyes! the mysterie's so deep,
Like Esdras books, the vulgar must not see't.
And stoln alive into his Coffin thus?
This was to ravish Death, and so prevent
The Rebells treason and their punishment.
He would not have them damn'd, and therefore he
Himself deposed his own Majesty.
Wolves did pursue him, and to fly the Ill
He wanders (Royal Saint!) in sheep-skin still.
Poor, obscure shelter! if that shelter be
Obscure, which harbours so much Majesty.
Hence prophane Eyes! the mysterie's so deep,
Like Esdras books, the vulgar must not see't.
Thou flying Roll, written with tears and woe,
Not for thy Royal self, but for thy Foe:
Thy grief is prophecy, and doth portend.
Like sad Ezekiel's sighs, the Rebells end.
Thy robes forc'd off, like Samuel's when rent,
Do figure out anothers Punishment.
Nor grieve thou hast put off thy self a while,
To serve as Prophet to this sinful Isle;
These are our days of Purim, which oppress
The Church, and force thee to the Wilderness.
But all these Clouds cannot thy light confine,
The Sun in storms and after them, will shine.
Thy day of life cannot be yet compleat,
'Tis early sure; thy shadow is so great.
Not for thy Royal self, but for thy Foe:
Thy grief is prophecy, and doth portend.
Like sad Ezekiel's sighs, the Rebells end.
2
Do figure out anothers Punishment.
Nor grieve thou hast put off thy self a while,
To serve as Prophet to this sinful Isle;
These are our days of Purim, which oppress
The Church, and force thee to the Wilderness.
But all these Clouds cannot thy light confine,
The Sun in storms and after them, will shine.
Thy day of life cannot be yet compleat,
'Tis early sure; thy shadow is so great.
But I am vex'd, that we at all can guess
This change, and trust great Charles to such a dress.
When he was first obscur'd with this coarse thing,
He grac'd Plebeians, but prophan'd the King.
Like some fair Church, which Zeal to Charcoals burn'd,
Or his own Court now to an Ale-house turn'd.
This change, and trust great Charles to such a dress.
When he was first obscur'd with this coarse thing,
He grac'd Plebeians, but prophan'd the King.
Like some fair Church, which Zeal to Charcoals burn'd,
Or his own Court now to an Ale-house turn'd.
But full as well may we blame Night, and chide
His wisdom, who doth light with darkness hide:
Or deny Curtains to thy Royal Bed,
As take this sacred cov'ring from thy Head.
Secrets of State are points we must not know;
This vizard is thy privy Councel now,
His wisdom, who doth light with darkness hide:
Or deny Curtains to thy Royal Bed,
As take this sacred cov'ring from thy Head.
Secrets of State are points we must not know;
This vizard is thy privy Councel now,
Thou Royal Riddle, and in every thing
The true white Prince, our Hieroglyphic King!
Ride safely in his shade, who gives thee Light:
And can with blindness thy pursuers smite.
O may they wonder all from thee as farr
As they from peace are, and thy self from Warr!
And wheresoe're thou do'st design to be
With thy (now spotted) spottles Majestie,
Be sure to look no Sanctuary there,
Nor hope for safety in a temple, where
Buyers and Sellers trade: O strengthen not
With too much trust the Treason of a Scot!
The true white Prince, our Hieroglyphic King!
Ride safely in his shade, who gives thee Light:
And can with blindness thy pursuers smite.
O may they wonder all from thee as farr
As they from peace are, and thy self from Warr!
And wheresoe're thou do'st design to be
With thy (now spotted) spottles Majestie,
Be sure to look no Sanctuary there,
Nor hope for safety in a temple, where
3
With too much trust the Treason of a Scot!
| Thalia Rediviva | |