Divine poems Containing The History of Ionah. Ester. Iob. Sampson. Sions Sonets. Elegies. Written and newly augmented, by Fra: Quarles |
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Medita. 8.
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 | Divine poems |  |
Medita. 8.
Of all diseases in a publike weale,
No one more dangerous, and hard to heale,
(Except a tyrant King) then when great might
Is trusted to the hands, that take delight
To bathe, and paddle in the blood of those,
Whon jealousies, and not just cause oppose:
For when as haughty power is conjoynd
Vnto the will of a distemper'd mind,
What ere it can, it will, and what it will,
It in itselfe, hath power to fulfill:
What mischiefe then can linger, unattemted?
What base attempts can happen, unprevented?
Statutes must breake, good Lawes must go to wrack
And (like a Bow that's overbent) must cracke:
Iustice (the life of Law) becomes so furious,
That (over-doing right) it proves injurious:
Mercy (the Steare of Iustice) flyes the City,
And falsly must be term'd a foolish Pity,
Meane while the gracious Princes tender brest
(Gently possest with nothing but the best
Of the disguis'd dissembler) is abus'd
And made the cloke, where with his fault's excus'd:
The radient beames that warme, & shine so bright,
Comfort this lower world with heat and light,
But drawne, and recollected in a glasse,
They burne, and their appointed limits passe:
Even so the power from the Princes hand,
Directs the subject with a sweet command,
But to perverse fantasticks if confer'd,
Whom wealth, or blinded Fortune hath prefer'd,
It spurres on wrong, and makes the right retire,
And sets the grumbling Common-wealth on fire:
Their foule intent, the Common good pretends,
And with that good they maske their private ends,
Their glorie's dimme, and cannot b'understood,
Vnlesse it shine in pride, or swimme in blood:
Their will's a Law, their mischiefe Policy,
Their frownes are Death, their power Tyranny:
Ill thrives the State that harbours such a man,
That can, what e're he wills; wills what he can.
No one more dangerous, and hard to heale,
(Except a tyrant King) then when great might
Is trusted to the hands, that take delight
To bathe, and paddle in the blood of those,
Whon jealousies, and not just cause oppose:
For when as haughty power is conjoynd
Vnto the will of a distemper'd mind,
What ere it can, it will, and what it will,
It in itselfe, hath power to fulfill:
What mischiefe then can linger, unattemted?
What base attempts can happen, unprevented?
Statutes must breake, good Lawes must go to wrack
And (like a Bow that's overbent) must cracke:
Iustice (the life of Law) becomes so furious,
That (over-doing right) it proves injurious:
128
And falsly must be term'd a foolish Pity,
Meane while the gracious Princes tender brest
(Gently possest with nothing but the best
Of the disguis'd dissembler) is abus'd
And made the cloke, where with his fault's excus'd:
The radient beames that warme, & shine so bright,
Comfort this lower world with heat and light,
But drawne, and recollected in a glasse,
They burne, and their appointed limits passe:
Even so the power from the Princes hand,
Directs the subject with a sweet command,
But to perverse fantasticks if confer'd,
Whom wealth, or blinded Fortune hath prefer'd,
It spurres on wrong, and makes the right retire,
And sets the grumbling Common-wealth on fire:
Their foule intent, the Common good pretends,
And with that good they maske their private ends,
Their glorie's dimme, and cannot b'understood,
Vnlesse it shine in pride, or swimme in blood:
Their will's a Law, their mischiefe Policy,
Their frownes are Death, their power Tyranny:
Ill thrives the State that harbours such a man,
That can, what e're he wills; wills what he can.
May my ungarnisht quill presume so much,
To glorifie it selfe, and give a touch
Vpon the Iland of my Soveraigne Lord?
What language shall I use, what new-found word,
T'abridge the mighty volume of of his worth,
And keepe me blamelesse, from th'untimely birth
Of (false reputed) flattery? He lends
No cursed Haman pow'r, to worke his Ends
Vpon our ruine, but transferres his grace
On just desert, which in the ugly face
Of foule detraction, (untouch't) can dare,
And smile, till black-mouth'd Envy blush, and tare
Her Snaky fleece. Thus, thus in happy peace
He rules, to make our happinesse increase,
Directs with love, commands with Princely awe,
And in his brest he beares a living Law:
To glorifie it selfe, and give a touch
Vpon the Iland of my Soveraigne Lord?
What language shall I use, what new-found word,
T'abridge the mighty volume of of his worth,
And keepe me blamelesse, from th'untimely birth
Of (false reputed) flattery? He lends
No cursed Haman pow'r, to worke his Ends
Vpon our ruine, but transferres his grace
On just desert, which in the ugly face
129
And smile, till black-mouth'd Envy blush, and tare
Her Snaky fleece. Thus, thus in happy peace
He rules, to make our happinesse increase,
Directs with love, commands with Princely awe,
And in his brest he beares a living Law:
Defend us thou, and heavens thee defend,
And let proud Haman have proud Hamans end.
And let proud Haman have proud Hamans end.
| Divine poems | |