Vaticinium Votivum or, Palaemon's Prophetick Prayer. Lately presented Privately To His now Majestie In a Latin Poem; and here Published in English. To which is annexed a Paraphrase on Paulus Grebnerus's Prophecie. With several elegies on Charls the First. The Lord Capel. The Lord Francis Villiers [by George Wither] |
 |
 | Vaticinium Votivum |  |
Upon His Maiesties Arrival at the Isle of Wight.
Let Turkie boast of Empire; France of Law;Venice of Site; Gold, India; Water, Spaw.
Trade and Religions, London, Amsterdam;
Of Greatness Florence; or the Tartar Cam.
All these concenter in one spot, one span,
The Isle of Wight, and Charls the Ile of Man.
A Man whose mind's above the Turkish Crest,
A King who make's good Laws, and keep's them best:
A Prince who like to well-built Venice stand's,
In mid'st of Waters, yet in sight of Lands:
Whose Roial Breast's an India, where's a Mint
Of Golden thoughts; base ones were ne're coin'd in't.
Whose Gift (as waters have a fame) can heal
Th'Evil, Oh would it might the Common-weal!
Hee trade's not in Religions; yet own's one
Profest by most, Practis'd by Him, or none.
Fortunate Isle! to thee ill fortune bring's
If not the Greatest, yet the Best of Kings.
11
PALÆMONIS Vaticinium Votivum.
[1.]
Scarce had the Summer with her dounie wingBrush't, & lai'd by the Wardrope of the Spring,
When Princelie Charls with his fair Train did pleas
T'expose His Sacred Person to the Seas;
Trusting to th'mercie of the Ocean more
Then those Land-Monsters which hee left on Shore.
And now great France (in greatness more increa'st,)
Court's the Arrival of this stately guest;
Whose coming there was onely to resign,
And offer up his Sorrows at the shrine
Of His dread Mother; who to make Her Moan
And Mourning less, did intermix his own.
12
And bandied Thee from Britain to the Coast
Of France! where Sein displaie's her silver-floods,
And grand Saint German vannteth her vast woods.
2.
To this calm Rendezvouz sad Charls repair'sWith Sports to cozen and beguil his Cares:
Somtimes Hee Hunt's, and with his Vocal Horn,
Summon's Aurora, and the loitering Morn:
Somtimes Hee read's; and equally impart's
His well-divided hours for Arms or Arts.
Yet most Hee sport's in Martial Skirmishes,
(Wch may b' in Earnest when just Heaven shall pleas.)
Somtimes Hee plaie's at Tennis; then again
Expert in Feats of Chivalrie, strive's to train
The stubborn Steed; and his rough fetlocks bring
Within the Cube and Compass of the Ring.
But ah! these Pastims are too short and brief
To flatter Sorrow, or to dandle Grief.
His Cares thus crush't, obtrude; and still abuse
His busie Fancie, with the whisper'd News
Of good or bad Events, which still relate
T'a Kingdom's Fortune, or a Father's Fate.
13
The worst of Chance, and out-dare Destinie,
Since the designed Time, and hovering Hours
At hand to Punish those Usurping Powers;
To put a Snaffle in the Head-strong-Jaws
Of Hot-spur-Rebels, who have tir'd all waies:
Wh' have jaded, spurgall'd Pitie; and let loos
Her Reins; and made tame Mercie of no use.
3.
Thus Ruminate's sad Charls, and float's betwixtDutie and Zeal; unstable and unfix't,
Touch't with the mutual Sens of th'One and Other,
Of a Dear Father and Indulgent Mother;
At length the Ponderous thoughts of His Sire's fate
Weigh'd down the Scales, and ended the Debate.
Then from the Frontiers of fair France Hee post's,
And re-imbarck'd, arrive's on Belgia's Coasts;
Whose Continent before Hee well survei'd
Hee left, and in all haste His Anchors weigh'd,
Putting to Sea; where Nereus, with a Fleet
Of well-rigg'd-shipping, did his Higness greet.
A gallant Navie! whose full number might
Out-brave the boisterous Billows, and affright
14
Which Tole the Waters and Excise the Seas.
4.
These did propitious Providence provide,And pre-ordain to bee great Charls His Guide:
Whose just Desertion of a ship-wrack't Caus,
Buoi'd up and born by Usurpation was,
Som luckie Omen of Blest Charls Success,
Which made His Power grow greater, and theirs less.
And thus re-ent'ring with His Roial Train,
Hee plow's the fertile Furrows of the Main.
And with low-bended-knees, but loftie eies
Implore's high Heaven to bless his Enterpize.
The Cannons clos'd th'Amen: and did inlarge
Their wide-stretch't-Organs to Report the Charge:
Both Rocks and Rivers trembled at the stroaks
Of louder Guns; whose Center-shaking-shocks
Like the Cloud-cleaving Thunder, seem'd to tear
The troubled Welkin, and affright the Air.
The prettie Tritons did that daie belabor
Their well-tun'd-shells, which sounded like som Tabor,
Whiles the whole Chore of Sea-Nymphs did advance
And teach the Capering Surges how to dance.
15
5.
Thus with His Princelie Fleet whiles Hee doth sailNear Britain's Coast, fann'd with a whispering Gale,
Tridented Neptune plac't Him at the Helm,
Himself doing Homage to his three-fold Realm.
But poor Palæmon at His Launching plie's
His task, and swell's the Canvass with his Sighs,
Whose trickling tears fell down like showers of Rain,
Striving to mix fresh Water with the Main.
Long in these doleful dumps hee stood for lack
Of his lov'd Soveraign, and at last thus spake.
6.
“O Thou whose wonders are seen in the Deep“Unbottom'd Bowels of the Ocean! keep
“And Crown His Sacred Highness with divine
“Glories; whose Scepter is a Type of Thine.
“O! let th'obseqvious windes, and waves allaie
“Their surlie looks, and studie to obeie.
“O! let all storms bee chain'd up in abstruse
“And lonely caverns, and no more break loos,
“Whiles the whole Rabble of black Tempests sleep,
“Lull'd by the warbling Musick of the Deep.
“Let this Daie's Jubilee with Peace bee blest
“And hush't, as when Halcyon build's her nest:
16
“T'encounter with Rebellion, and repair
“The Ruines of three Kingdoms, to increas
“His enemies Horror, but His Subjects Peace.
7.
Dread Sovereign! whose verie name give's fireTo my dull Muse, which stand's but to admire;
And in th'amazement of that Zeal doth greet
Thy Sacred Highness with unequal Feet.
Pass on in triumph with a prosperous Tide,
Whiles Zephyrus is thy Pass-port and thy Guid:
Hee, Hee's thy Harbinger who swiftlie clear's
The Coast from Tempests when thy Pilot steer's;
How doth Hee smile, and smooth His chearful brow
Ballanc't with so divine a weight as Thou!
The ship which wafted Jason to the shore
Of Colchis, which the vulgar did adore
And Deïfie so much, that they did prize
Each Planck as Trophies to bee fix't ith' Skies;
That Ship was but a Cock-boat to thy Sail,
Or som poor punie Whiting to a Whale.
Had Hee been Fraught with Thee, hee ne'r had thought
Of that vain Voiage, and so dearly bought
17
Would brag no longer of her Phrygian Fleece:
Those Pageant-pot-gun-Triumphs (if their storie
Were true) were but meer Atoms to Thy Glorie,
Wch flame's like Heaven's bright blazing lamp through th'whole
World, from th'Artick to th'Antartick Pole.
6.
Goe then blest Mirror of Great Britain! go,Implore Heaven's Aid above, whiles here below
Thy Subjects linger, readie with th'Expense
Of their dear Blood, to fall in Thy Defence:
Fresh Trophies Court Thee; richer then that old
Fleece, fetch't from Phrygia, though each lock were gold:
Thy Caus awake's th'whole world, and clamor's high
For Vengeance, from a Supreme Deïtie.
Angels and Men are mov'd; when Devils dare
Intrench on Princes, and usurp the Chair
Of Sovereign Power; A Fact that cannot hold
Comparison; unless referr'd to th'old
Unweildie Giants, threatning to unthrone
Their Jove, and scale the Castles of the Sun;
But as their brainless Furie was confin'd
And nail'd to Ætna; so let these Youths finde
18
Earth from her Center, and unhing'd the World.
How would two Houses pull twelv 'bout their ears,
Those twelv Celestial Mansions of the Spheres?
Whiles Stars, nay Moon and Sun may shine alone,
Since our New Lights have Lanthorns of their own.
Thus have these Phaëtons fir'd, and turn'd each Town
(Heart-burn't before) t'a Conflagration.
Strange Babel-By-Blows! t'untile Thrones by a trick
Of State, and build a Common-wealth with Brick:
Dismantling Earthlie Kingdoms, to prepare
Mountains i'th Moon, and Castles in the Air.
9
Then sail auspicious Prince! and wafted o'reThe officious Waves, review Thy Native Shore;
New string thy nervless Subjects; and impart
Fivers and Arteries to the Peoples heart;
Resolv'd to hazard all, and to make good
Thy Roial Title, sealed in their Blood.
10.
And now I grow Prophetick 'bove all Fiction;And breathe Divinitie in my wish't prediction.
Black Clouds dissolv, and gloomie Horror go's
Back to that cursed Chaös whence shee rose.
19
When Charls shall in bright Majestie approach.
As when great Titan Charioter to the daie,
Rideth his Circuit in his rich Arraie;
The conscious Night retire's, and to bewail
Her Guilt the more, put's on a Mourning Vail.
Or look as when Sol's melting Beams pearch't high
To their Meridian, how the poor Herds flie
Head-long in Droves! as though they were affraid
Of those pale shadows which their flight hath made!
So may those Gobling Ghosts, those Beasts of Prey
Sneak to their sootie Hen-roosts, and with-draw
At Thy dread-looks: so may those Serpents hiss
Back, countermanded to their first Abyss.
Let them Repent that Daie, and Text it in
Their fatal Rubrick, when they first did sin
Against their Sovereign, daring to Conspire
And Spawn black Treason 'gainst Thy Sacred Sire.
Let them Repent, when Vengeance and Heaven too
Shall paie their Score, and give them what's their Due.
11.
Thus did that good Anchises son of oldBy th'Authentick Sybils Oracle grow bold
20
A strange adventure through the Elizian shade;
Such was His private Pietie, but Thy Zeal
Involv's three Kingdoms and their Publick-weal:
Each Act is Sacred, and each aim of Thine
Center's in Heaven, and thence grow's Divine.
12.
O thou great-wonder-working God above!By whom the machine of th'whole Earth doth move;
Who rul'st both Sword and Scepter with a Rod,
And still'st the mutinous world with thy sole nod:
Inspire, inspire great Charls, and gently shed
Showers of Scepters on our Sovereign's Head;
That Justice may return t'arraign those known
Loos Outlaries Thine enemies, and their own:
That wee may injoie old Saturn's daies of old,
To re-convert our Iron into Gold.
With these throng'd Blessings was Thy Father Crown'd
Thrice seven long Summers, leaving a Renown'd
And Princelie Progenie, which shall secure
This Throne as long as Sun or Stars indure.
But may thy Scepter, and thy Regal Power
Brook no Corrival, nor Competitor;
21
Both of their lives and fortunes to the Peace
Of glorious Britain; and preserv'd thus, own
Their selvs and safeties to Thy Roial Throne.
13.
In this sad plight Palemon did imploreTh'Eternal Powers, and fain would have said more,
But did referr the sequel of his Praier
To Heaven's great Mercie, and th'Almightie's Care:
Besides Sol had unsadled (for their eas
His Steeds) and drench't his Chariot in the Seas:
The Fleet was out of sight too, and t'was best
For poor Palemon to conceal the rest.
14.
Yet since wing'd Vollies of his wishes mayWait on great Charls, as Convoies to His waie,
Hee send's them wrapt in Sighs; as griev'd to shew
How little hee could paie, how much must ow;
But whiles hee breathe's, hee'l deprecate those dire
Accursed Band-dogs that have fann'd this fire
Of Civil Discords; letting loos th'unjust
Reins to licentious Murther, and black Lust:
Who welt'ring in their gore, have swam to th'chin
In Bloodie Riot, and Seditious Sin.
22
Of Thy blest Presence, from this Brittish Isle.
Which last Act, when their Fate grow's mellow, shall
Add to their Weight, and Crush them in the fall.
15.
Go then great Champion; go; make good the storieThat cite's Alcides, O may Thy first glorie
Bee vow'd to Mars: whiles miscreants are thence made
The Maiden-handsils of thy fatal Blade.
And though 'tis pittie such base Blood should stain
A Roial Fauchion; and but little gain
To kill such Hedg-hogs. Let not this Plea sue
Their Pardons, nor debar them of their due:
Since the griev'd Realm doth groan, and groan agen,
Big with those Monsters, in the shape of men:
Whose violent pangs, and long Convulsion-fits
Have half bereft, and robb'd her of her wits.
Bee Thou then her Lucina, bee, and close
Her womb, expanded through her teeming-throws;
And as they Brood still quell, and dissipate
The abortive Hydra's of an Headless State.
May Men and Angels further Thy intent
In this great Work, and wait upon th'event;
23
Are near to powr down vengeance on their Crimes:
And th'hour's at hand (if Souldiers may divine)
To seek their Ruines that have thus sought Thine.
FINIS.
27
A short Paraphrase on the fore-going Prophecie.
How well could Grebner in those Blinde Times see!
And in these Seeing-Times how blinde are wee?
Our new-Found-Lights are lost; those squint-ei'd-Elvs,
And purblinde Seekers, may now seek themselvs;
Who have thus err'd, imagining Prediction
Of Sacred Prophesie, but som feigned Fiction.
And in these Seeing-Times how blinde are wee?
Our new-Found-Lights are lost; those squint-ei'd-Elvs,
And purblinde Seekers, may now seek themselvs;
Who have thus err'd, imagining Prediction
Of Sacred Prophesie, but som feigned Fiction.
But wee (blest Grebner!) who have still admir'd,
And look't upon thee as som Soul inspir'd;
Will hold thy Saws no longer in suspens,
Wch now w'have reach't with th'Opticks of our Sens;
Since what was once Apocalyps, is known
The unridled Truth of Revelation.
And look't upon thee as som Soul inspir'd;
Will hold thy Saws no longer in suspens,
Wch now w'have reach't with th'Opticks of our Sens;
Since what was once Apocalyps, is known
The unridled Truth of Revelation.
Those two grand Champions (that trode on the Neck
Of Nations, and had Kingdom's at Their Beck)
Are both exstinct; and Fame can onely give
A bare relation that They once did live.
Of Nations, and had Kingdom's at Their Beck)
Are both exstinct; and Fame can onely give
A bare relation that They once did live.
28
But Thou renowned Charls, whose matchless Fate
Design'd Thee a Victim to the People's Hate;
(Maugre the malice of Thy Foes) wert hurl'd
With Haleluiahs from the wondring vvorld,
A Conqueror o're Thy doom; from vvhence vvee may
Infer, Thou onely liv'dst, vvee di'd that daie.
Design'd Thee a Victim to the People's Hate;
(Maugre the malice of Thy Foes) wert hurl'd
With Haleluiahs from the wondring vvorld,
A Conqueror o're Thy doom; from vvhence vvee may
Infer, Thou onely liv'dst, vvee di'd that daie.
And now look back; look back; and have recours
From whence these streams of Mischief had their sours,
Whiles those promiscuous Hodg-podg-Powers oppose,
Like high-swoln Floods that River whence they rose.
The Eagle thus dislodg'd; a Wren-like race
Of dunghil-Dors, soon pierch't-up in His Place.
And Lapwing-Libertie e're fleg'd, take's flight,
First hath her Champion-Earl; the next a Knight,
Whose heavie Pressure hath so imp't her wings,
Shee hath lost by Consuls what shee got by Kings.
From whence these streams of Mischief had their sours,
Whiles those promiscuous Hodg-podg-Powers oppose,
Like high-swoln Floods that River whence they rose.
The Eagle thus dislodg'd; a Wren-like race
Of dunghil-Dors, soon pierch't-up in His Place.
And Lapwing-Libertie e're fleg'd, take's flight,
First hath her Champion-Earl; the next a Knight,
Whose heavie Pressure hath so imp't her wings,
Shee hath lost by Consuls what shee got by Kings.
And now (but life's in Prophecie) wee might
Die, and despair to see Thy Second Light,
Great Charls, who like the Bridegroom of the daie,
Shalt gil'd sad Britain with Thy glorious Raie;
Whiles all those shower-shot Mushroms, and those new
Created Brats, melt like the morning dew;
And all those Ignes fatui shrink and run
Like Exhalations at the rising Sun.
Die, and despair to see Thy Second Light,
Great Charls, who like the Bridegroom of the daie,
Shalt gil'd sad Britain with Thy glorious Raie;
Whiles all those shower-shot Mushroms, and those new
Created Brats, melt like the morning dew;
29
Like Exhalations at the rising Sun.
This is the Wish great King, and pious Care
Of those who piece-forth Prophecie with their Praier;
O may blest Grebner bee added to the Small
Prophets! and prove each line Canonical;
Whiles what in th'old Queen's Reign hee did divine,
May bee fulfill'd, and ratifi'd in Thine:
O mai'st Thou Reign in Thy known Realms, who art
Inthron'd alreadie in Thy People's heart!
O mai'st Thou Rule! and spread Thy Fame through th'whole
Earth; from the Artick to t'Antartick Pole.
Till the just world with Grebner shall maintein
Thee a mightier Monarch then brave Charlemain.
Of those who piece-forth Prophecie with their Praier;
O may blest Grebner bee added to the Small
Prophets! and prove each line Canonical;
Whiles what in th'old Queen's Reign hee did divine,
May bee fulfill'd, and ratifi'd in Thine:
O mai'st Thou Reign in Thy known Realms, who art
Inthron'd alreadie in Thy People's heart!
O mai'st Thou Rule! and spread Thy Fame through th'whole
Earth; from the Artick to t'Antartick Pole.
Till the just world with Grebner shall maintein
Thee a mightier Monarch then brave Charlemain.
FINIS.
36
To the Sacred Memorie of that late High and Mightie Monarch, Charls the First;
Hee who fell Jan. 30. 1648. the Princelie Proto-Martyr of Great Britain, &c.
In iniquitatibus illorum Gloriam Tuam perfecisti.
No more of Annals; let great Rome grow mute
In quoting Catiline, or recording Brute:
Britain now wear's the Sock; the Theater's clean
Transplanted hither, both in Place and Scene.
No Vail nor Periwig-vizor; Murther, here
Without a mask dare's on the Stage appear,
Out-facing even the Sun, which oft hath fled,
And at less crimes shrunk in his frighted head.
In quoting Catiline, or recording Brute:
Britain now wear's the Sock; the Theater's clean
Transplanted hither, both in Place and Scene.
No Vail nor Periwig-vizor; Murther, here
Without a mask dare's on the Stage appear,
Out-facing even the Sun, which oft hath fled,
And at less crimes shrunk in his frighted head.
Rome had som Plea (though shee ne're justifi'd)
Those fatal Swords by which great Cæsar di'd.
But here a greater far then Cæsar fall's
By a spurious Senate and her Cannibals.
How do that Monster-headless-multitude
Gaze on the Beams, and giddily intrude
On's Sacred Person! murthering Him before
The eies of Heaven! and at His own Door!
A Prince so sweetly Pious, Rebels must
Confess 'tis they were guiltie, but Hee Just!
Those fatal Swords by which great Cæsar di'd.
37
By a spurious Senate and her Cannibals.
How do that Monster-headless-multitude
Gaze on the Beams, and giddily intrude
On's Sacred Person! murthering Him before
The eies of Heaven! and at His own Door!
A Prince so sweetly Pious, Rebels must
Confess 'tis they were guiltie, but Hee Just!
And now behold the Scene! White-hall's decreed
The fatal shambles where the Lamb must bleed;
White-hall! from whence Hee oft dispers'd and hurl'd
His Sacred Oracles through the Peaceful world:
There with an uncontrolled Courage, (higher
Far then that Scaffold) did His Soul asspire
In glorious Elohims, making His last state
His Haleluiah, or Magnificat.
Thus Great Augustus falling, did bequeath
New Edicts to the world, even at His Death,
Such as did Screen His Memorie from the rust
Of black Oblivion; and embalm His Dust.
The fatal shambles where the Lamb must bleed;
White-hall! from whence Hee oft dispers'd and hurl'd
His Sacred Oracles through the Peaceful world:
There with an uncontrolled Courage, (higher
Far then that Scaffold) did His Soul asspire
In glorious Elohims, making His last state
His Haleluiah, or Magnificat.
Thus Great Augustus falling, did bequeath
New Edicts to the world, even at His Death,
Such as did Screen His Memorie from the rust
Of black Oblivion; and embalm His Dust.
But Thou blest Charls, whom Historie shall stile
The Princelie Proto-Martyr of this Isle.
Fell'st Champion of the Church; and did'st make good
The Realms grand Charter sealed in Thy Blood.
And could this dismal shock of Thunder light
Onely on Britain's breast? and not affright
The Univers? to let us understand,
The general Dooms-daie of the world's at hand?
Children unborn shall still bewail the time
Of this sad Hour; and deprecate the Crime
Of those dire Regicides, whose blushing guilt,
For Vengeance crie's loud as that Blood th'have spilt.
Thy Caus invoke's just Heaven, and doth implore
Confederate Princes to the farthest Shore
Of all the world; as far as Phœbus raie
Doth guild the Zodiack, and proclaim's the daie.
And yet should all these fail; Blest Charls 'tis known
Thou'st left a Princelie Progenie of Thine own.
Who'l expiate Thy Murther, or resign
Their own Lives too, as Offerings at Thy Shrine.
The Princelie Proto-Martyr of this Isle.
38
The Realms grand Charter sealed in Thy Blood.
And could this dismal shock of Thunder light
Onely on Britain's breast? and not affright
The Univers? to let us understand,
The general Dooms-daie of the world's at hand?
Children unborn shall still bewail the time
Of this sad Hour; and deprecate the Crime
Of those dire Regicides, whose blushing guilt,
For Vengeance crie's loud as that Blood th'have spilt.
Thy Caus invoke's just Heaven, and doth implore
Confederate Princes to the farthest Shore
Of all the world; as far as Phœbus raie
Doth guild the Zodiack, and proclaim's the daie.
And yet should all these fail; Blest Charls 'tis known
Thou'st left a Princelie Progenie of Thine own.
Who'l expiate Thy Murther, or resign
Their own Lives too, as Offerings at Thy Shrine.
And now see! see! another Phenix rise!
From the blest ashes of this Sacrifice!
A Second Charls! who shall in fame asspire,
And grow more Mightie then His Princelie Sire.
And now, O may th'unanimous world inthrone
Him soon! and re-invest Him in His Own.
May Hee out-live old Nestor's daie and go
Not hence, but cloathed in a Robe of Snow;
And then when envious Heaven too shall remove
His Swaie from Earth, O may Hee Reign above!
And meet His Sire, wh' (having past this flood
In Robes of scarlet di'd in His own Blood)
From the blest ashes of this Sacrifice!
A Second Charls! who shall in fame asspire,
And grow more Mightie then His Princelie Sire.
39
Him soon! and re-invest Him in His Own.
May Hee out-live old Nestor's daie and go
Not hence, but cloathed in a Robe of Snow;
And then when envious Heaven too shall remove
His Swaie from Earth, O may Hee Reign above!
And meet His Sire, wh' (having past this flood
In Robes of scarlet di'd in His own Blood)
Sit's now a Crowned Martyr, and hath free
Title to add a Fourth Crown to His Three.
Title to add a Fourth Crown to His Three.
44
Memoriæ Sacrum Optimi Maximi CAROLII.
Great Sir, Your pardon that my ruder Vers
Dare's with her Feet profane Your Sacred Hers;
True Grief no Manners know's; and to begin
With Courtship, were but ceremonious sin.
Whiles You surviv'd, blest Sir, my Loial breath
Still waited on Your Service; and since Death
(Sent by the Actors of so black a Treason,
As puzzles Faith, and quite confounds all Reason)
Hath hurl'd You hence; You justly Sir may call
My Bodied thoughts to wait Your Funeral.
Dare's with her Feet profane Your Sacred Hers;
True Grief no Manners know's; and to begin
With Courtship, were but ceremonious sin.
Whiles You surviv'd, blest Sir, my Loial breath
Still waited on Your Service; and since Death
(Sent by the Actors of so black a Treason,
As puzzles Faith, and quite confounds all Reason)
Hath hurl'd You hence; You justly Sir may call
My Bodied thoughts to wait Your Funeral.
My dwindling-dwarf-like-Fancie swell's not big,
Nor know's to wear a borrowed Periwig
Of Metaphors, nor from Parnassus rise
To ransack far-fetch't Phrases from the Skies;
Since all those pidling Epithites are too brief,
Great Charls, to shew Thy Glorie, or my Grief.
Go thou grim Conqueror; search thy kingdom through,
Examine everie Urn and Pitcher too;
Taste all thy Earths, and call at everie Grot,
Even those whose Names, Rust & the Worms have got;
And tell mee if in all thy Dark-hous bee
Such a Prince faln, and Prince though faln, as Hee.
Greatness and Goodness too, which seldom fall
Within the Compass of the self-same Scale,
In Him were poized, and divinely met;
Whose Meekness made Him Good, and Mercie Great.
His Meekness, oh! that inexhausted Mine
And Magazine of Moral and Divine
Graces, which like the influence, and the bright
Beams of the Sun, fill'd Britain with their Light.
Nor know's to wear a borrowed Periwig
Of Metaphors, nor from Parnassus rise
To ransack far-fetch't Phrases from the Skies;
Since all those pidling Epithites are too brief,
Great Charls, to shew Thy Glorie, or my Grief.
45
Examine everie Urn and Pitcher too;
Taste all thy Earths, and call at everie Grot,
Even those whose Names, Rust & the Worms have got;
And tell mee if in all thy Dark-hous bee
Such a Prince faln, and Prince though faln, as Hee.
Greatness and Goodness too, which seldom fall
Within the Compass of the self-same Scale,
In Him were poized, and divinely met;
Whose Meekness made Him Good, and Mercie Great.
His Meekness, oh! that inexhausted Mine
And Magazine of Moral and Divine
Graces, which like the influence, and the bright
Beams of the Sun, fill'd Britain with their Light.
But why am I thus partial? when that all
His Thoughts, Words, Actions, were Angelical?
Which like fix't Load-stars, did direct most men
To sail by th'Compass of His Life and Pen:
Each pious action was so chaste, and such
As held it sin to think, but death to touch;
His Mercie such, as if Hee did but live
To know His Subjects failings, and forgive.
Unheard of Love! which could offences mask
And sooner grant their Pardon, then they ask!
His Thoughts, Words, Actions, were Angelical?
Which like fix't Load-stars, did direct most men
To sail by th'Compass of His Life and Pen:
Each pious action was so chaste, and such
As held it sin to think, but death to touch;
His Mercie such, as if Hee did but live
To know His Subjects failings, and forgive.
46
And sooner grant their Pardon, then they ask!
Thus was His Life un-pattern'd! but His Death!
Oh how the sens which suffocate's my breath
Curdle's my blood! and, like swift poison, flie's,
In curling flames through all my Arteries!
Hee di'd by th'barbarous hands of such a Frie
As fed on Furies, and have dreined Drie
The Lerna of all Murthers, to new-stock
Mankinde with spreading Crimes; such as may mock
Preceding Treasons, and the world supplie
With a strange Mould to cast all Future by:
All former Acts were fictions unto this;
Raviliacks too is a Parenthesis;
A Murther so transcendent, Annals shall
Henceforth grow faithless and Apochryphal.
Oh how the sens which suffocate's my breath
Curdle's my blood! and, like swift poison, flie's,
In curling flames through all my Arteries!
Hee di'd by th'barbarous hands of such a Frie
As fed on Furies, and have dreined Drie
The Lerna of all Murthers, to new-stock
Mankinde with spreading Crimes; such as may mock
Preceding Treasons, and the world supplie
With a strange Mould to cast all Future by:
All former Acts were fictions unto this;
Raviliacks too is a Parenthesis;
A Murther so transcendent, Annals shall
Henceforth grow faithless and Apochryphal.
But Thou blest Martyr, who hast here laid down,
And chang'd a Temporal for a Glorious Crown;
Hast finish't Thy great Work, and by th'event,
Attain'd more then they promis'd, but ne'r meant.
Rest Royal Sir, rest in Your Sacred Hers
While wee embalm Your Memorie with our Vers,
And trickling Tears, which shall like Pearls refine
Your Urn, and serv for Diamonds to your Shrine.
You need no other Monument, who have
No less then three whole Kingdoms for Your Grave:
Whiles from the melting Marble of their Eies
Is Crystalliz'd this Epitaph
And chang'd a Temporal for a Glorious Crown;
Hast finish't Thy great Work, and by th'event,
Attain'd more then they promis'd, but ne'r meant.
Rest Royal Sir, rest in Your Sacred Hers
While wee embalm Your Memorie with our Vers,
47
Your Urn, and serv for Diamonds to your Shrine.
You need no other Monument, who have
No less then three whole Kingdoms for Your Grave:
Whiles from the melting Marble of their Eies
Is Crystalliz'd this Epitaph
Here lie's
“Honor's rich Fountain, the True Faith's Defender;
“Religion, and the Law's Prop, and Extender;
“The purest quintessence of Christian Zeal,
“Best Father both of Church and Common-weal!
“Virtues rare Patern; Wedlocks chastest Mirror;
“Rebellions and bold Treasons, Scorn and Terror;
“The spotless Sacrifice, for the wilde flood
“Of's People's loud sins. Charls the Great, the Good.
“Honor's rich Fountain, the True Faith's Defender;
“Religion, and the Law's Prop, and Extender;
“The purest quintessence of Christian Zeal,
“Best Father both of Church and Common-weal!
“Virtues rare Patern; Wedlocks chastest Mirror;
“Rebellions and bold Treasons, Scorn and Terror;
“The spotless Sacrifice, for the wilde flood
“Of's People's loud sins. Charls the Great, the Good.
48
CHRONOSTICHON Decollationis Caroli Regis, &c. tricesimo die Januarii, secunda hora Pomeridiana, Anno Dom. MDCXLVIII.
Ter Deno IanI Labens ReX SoLe CaDente
CaroLVs eXVtVs SoLIo SCeptróqVe SeCVre.
CaroLVs eXVtVs SoLIo SCeptróqVe SeCVre.
Charls!—ah forbear, forbear! lest Mortals prize
His Name too dearly; and Idolatrize.
His Name! Our Loss! Thrice cursed and forlorn
Bee that Black Night, which usher'd in this Morn.
His Name too dearly; and Idolatrize.
His Name! Our Loss! Thrice cursed and forlorn
Bee that Black Night, which usher'd in this Morn.
Charls our Dread Sovereign!—hold! lest Out-law'd Sens
Bribe, and seduce tame Reason to dispens
With those Celestial Powers; and distrust
Heaven can Behold such Treason, and prove Just.
Bribe, and seduce tame Reason to dispens
With those Celestial Powers; and distrust
Heaven can Behold such Treason, and prove Just.
49
Charls our Dread Sovereign's murther'd!—Tremble! and
View what Convulsions Shoulder-shake this Land;
Court, Citie, Countrie, nay three Kingdoms run
To their last Stage, and Set with Him their Sun.
View what Convulsions Shoulder-shake this Land;
Court, Citie, Countrie, nay three Kingdoms run
To their last Stage, and Set with Him their Sun.
Charls our Dread Sovereign's Murther'd at His Gate!
Fell Fiends! dire Hydra's of a Stiff-neck't-State!
Strange Bodie-Politick! whose Members spread,
And, Monster-like, swell bigger then their Head.
Fell Fiends! dire Hydra's of a Stiff-neck't-State!
Strange Bodie-Politick! whose Members spread,
And, Monster-like, swell bigger then their Head.
Charls of Great Britain! Hee! who was the known
King of three Realms, lie's murther'd in His Own.
Hee! Hee! who liv'd, and Faith's Defender stood;
Die'd here to re-Baptize it in His Blood.
King of three Realms, lie's murther'd in His Own.
Hee! Hee! who liv'd, and Faith's Defender stood;
Die'd here to re-Baptize it in His Blood.
No more, no more. Fame's Trump shall Eccho all
The Rest in dreadful Thunder. Such a Fall
Great Christendom ne're Pattern'd; and 'twas strange
Earth's Center reel'd not at this dismal Change.
The Rest in dreadful Thunder. Such a Fall
Great Christendom ne're Pattern'd; and 'twas strange
Earth's Center reel'd not at this dismal Change.
The Blow struck Britain blinde, each well-set Limb
By Dislocation was lop't off in Him.
And if Shee yet live's, Shee live's but to condole
Three Bleeding Bodies left without a Soul.
By Dislocation was lop't off in Him.
And if Shee yet live's, Shee live's but to condole
Three Bleeding Bodies left without a Soul.
50
Religion put's on Black. Sad Loialtie
Blushe's and Mourn's to see bright Majestie
Butcher'd by such Assassinates; nay both
'Gainst God, 'gainst Law, Allegiance, and their Oath.
Blushe's and Mourn's to see bright Majestie
Butcher'd by such Assassinates; nay both
'Gainst God, 'gainst Law, Allegiance, and their Oath.
Farewel sad Isle! Farewel! Thy fatal Glorie
Is Summ'd, Cast up, and Cancell'd in this Storie.
Is Summ'd, Cast up, and Cancell'd in this Storie.
FINIS.
51
OBSEQUIES ON That unexemplar Champion of Chivalrie, and Pattern of true Prowess, Arthur Lord Capel .
T'is fals Astronomie.—Nor are wee yet
In utter darkness, though the Sun bee set;
Since Thy star-beaming-influence prove's all
Those Rules Excentrick, and Apocryphal.
Thou'rt hight'ned by Thy Fall, and dost now shine
With doubled lustre, since Thy last Decline.
In utter darkness, though the Sun bee set;
Since Thy star-beaming-influence prove's all
Those Rules Excentrick, and Apocryphal.
Thou'rt hight'ned by Thy Fall, and dost now shine
With doubled lustre, since Thy last Decline.
Bright mirror of our Sphere! who art no less
Then Valor's wonder; Virtue's Master-piece;
Filling whole Volums with Thy Fame; to tell
The World Thy Worth was her own Chronicle:
To tell the World, those Praises in the Wars
Thou'st purchas'd, might bee numbred with the Stars;
And had Thy well-proportion'd-Daies been Spun
Out by Thy Deeds, Thou had'st out-liv'd the Sun;
Forcing the World's great Luminarie t'have
His Chaös climacterick with Thy Grave.
Then Valor's wonder; Virtue's Master-piece;
Filling whole Volums with Thy Fame; to tell
The World Thy Worth was her own Chronicle:
To tell the World, those Praises in the Wars
Thou'st purchas'd, might bee numbred with the Stars;
52
Out by Thy Deeds, Thou had'st out-liv'd the Sun;
Forcing the World's great Luminarie t'have
His Chaös climacterick with Thy Grave.
Thus Thy renowned Meeds like Incens hurl'd
On flaming Altars, have Perfum'd the World
With such rich Odors, that scarce Envie knew
Whether Thou wer't to King or Realm most true.
Let State-Chronographers admire, and plead
Those Rites they ow to Honor; when they read
Thy rare Atchievements; studying to refine
The truth of Modern Historie by Thine.
Carthage bee dumb! our Colchester stand's now
Corrival with thee, and dare's more then Thou;
And all those Punick Wars, thy Walls could boast,
Have o're and o're been travers'd on her Coast.
Rome's three Horatii are pos'd; our Isle
Hath bred a Capel, Lucas, and a Lisle:
Whose matchless deed's have Dub'd them with that late
And glorious title of Triumvirate;
Whiles their transcendent merit strut's, and strive's
To stand on tip-toe in Superlatives.
On flaming Altars, have Perfum'd the World
With such rich Odors, that scarce Envie knew
Whether Thou wer't to King or Realm most true.
Let State-Chronographers admire, and plead
Those Rites they ow to Honor; when they read
Thy rare Atchievements; studying to refine
The truth of Modern Historie by Thine.
Carthage bee dumb! our Colchester stand's now
Corrival with thee, and dare's more then Thou;
And all those Punick Wars, thy Walls could boast,
Have o're and o're been travers'd on her Coast.
Rome's three Horatii are pos'd; our Isle
Hath bred a Capel, Lucas, and a Lisle:
Whose matchless deed's have Dub'd them with that late
And glorious title of Triumvirate;
Whiles their transcendent merit strut's, and strive's
To stand on tip-toe in Superlatives.
53
And still there's somthing more; for, what was mixt
Promiscuously in these, in Thee was fixt.
In Thee that Pythagorean Maxime's true;
And what was stale Philosophie, prove's new
Divinitie, since th'Souls of all those Nine
Renowned Ones Transmigrated in Thine.
Promiscuously in these, in Thee was fixt.
In Thee that Pythagorean Maxime's true;
And what was stale Philosophie, prove's new
Divinitie, since th'Souls of all those Nine
Renowned Ones Transmigrated in Thine.
But why do wee Adore Thee, made immens
And far sublim'd above our Sphere of Sens?
Scorning bright Obelisques of Brass, or Stone
Should rais Thy Monument, who art Thine own.
Yet should'st Thou exspect a Shrine on Earth, wee must
Make Colchester th'Exchequer of Thy Dust:
Nor is it more then reason, since 'twere pitie
To give Thee a less Church-yard then that Citie,
T'Interr Thee in her Breaches, and o're-turn
Her stately Bulwarks, to support Thine Urn;
Whil'st the throng'd streets would justle to make room
And spread their Towrs, as Trophies o're Thy Tomb.
And far sublim'd above our Sphere of Sens?
Scorning bright Obelisques of Brass, or Stone
Should rais Thy Monument, who art Thine own.
Yet should'st Thou exspect a Shrine on Earth, wee must
Make Colchester th'Exchequer of Thy Dust:
Nor is it more then reason, since 'twere pitie
To give Thee a less Church-yard then that Citie,
T'Interr Thee in her Breaches, and o're-turn
Her stately Bulwarks, to support Thine Urn;
Whil'st the throng'd streets would justle to make room
And spread their Towrs, as Trophies o're Thy Tomb.
But this grand Task I recommend to those,
Who can limm Fancies in more lively Prose;
Whose Rhetorick may richly guild this Pile,
And rais Invention to a loftie stile;
Such as may Conjure Horror, and oblige
Faith-founder'd-Zelots to confess that Siege,
That fatal Siege, whose Trenches were or'e-spread
With mangled trunks and bodies of the Dead;
Till the discolour'd Earth, thus di'd in Grain,
Blush't to behold such Shambles of the Slain:
And the pale Furies stood like heartless Elvs,
Trembling, to see Men do more then Themselvs.
The Center-shaking-Brass grew hot, and spoke
In Flames of Lightning, and in Clouds of Smoke;
And Charon fainted, Ferrying Souls to Hell,
When Hecatombs of the Besiegers fell.
Who can limm Fancies in more lively Prose;
Whose Rhetorick may richly guild this Pile,
And rais Invention to a loftie stile;
54
Faith-founder'd-Zelots to confess that Siege,
That fatal Siege, whose Trenches were or'e-spread
With mangled trunks and bodies of the Dead;
Till the discolour'd Earth, thus di'd in Grain,
Blush't to behold such Shambles of the Slain:
And the pale Furies stood like heartless Elvs,
Trembling, to see Men do more then Themselvs.
The Center-shaking-Brass grew hot, and spoke
In Flames of Lightning, and in Clouds of Smoke;
And Charon fainted, Ferrying Souls to Hell,
When Hecatombs of the Besiegers fell.
Amidst these Tragick Triumphs did'st Thou rear
Thy brave Top-gallant, 'bove the reach of Fear;
Undauntedly exposing Thy bold Head
To shocks of Thunder, and thick showrs of Lead:
Those Bullets were then Tame; and wee may tax
The partial Sword that spar'd Thee for the Ax.
The Field (th'Asylum of great Spirits) clean
Is changed here; the Citie is the Scene;
The Cannon shew'd fair-plaie: But Thou wer't pack't
Away, not by an Ordnance, but an Act.
The Scaffold turn'd a Stage: Where 'tis confest,
The last Act (though most Bloodie) prov'd Thy Best:
It prov'd Thy solemn Coronation, since
The Yard's Thy Palace; and a Glorious Prince
Thy President: Who after Him art hurl'd
To meet Thy Sovereign in another World.
Transferr'd from Earth to Heaven, to remain
A fixed Star, and wait on Charls his Wain.
Thy brave Top-gallant, 'bove the reach of Fear;
Undauntedly exposing Thy bold Head
To shocks of Thunder, and thick showrs of Lead:
Those Bullets were then Tame; and wee may tax
The partial Sword that spar'd Thee for the Ax.
The Field (th'Asylum of great Spirits) clean
Is changed here; the Citie is the Scene;
The Cannon shew'd fair-plaie: But Thou wer't pack't
Away, not by an Ordnance, but an Act.
55
The last Act (though most Bloodie) prov'd Thy Best:
It prov'd Thy solemn Coronation, since
The Yard's Thy Palace; and a Glorious Prince
Thy President: Who after Him art hurl'd
To meet Thy Sovereign in another World.
Transferr'd from Earth to Heaven, to remain
A fixed Star, and wait on Charls his Wain.
56
OBSEQUIES Offered up to the Memorie of the ever Renowned and never to bee forgotten, Arthur, Lord Capel.
Do; paddle still in Blood, for 'tis not strangeNow if your thirstie dropsi'd Blades do range
On the whole stock of Man; or that they spread
To Trunck and Boughs, since they have lop't the Head:
For since the King, who like one general Soul,
Did through each nerv and agile muscle rowl;
And like som publick Conduit did dispence
To everie Vein, both Sap and Influence;
Shine's in His Crown of Martydom above,
Guilt and enamel'd with the Beams of Love;
The Cement thus unfix't and slack't, wee must
Needs languish in to shuffled heaps of Dust:
And as in Bodies, where the Head is lop't
From off the weeping Stem, som Spirits drop't
57
And left as Legacies unto the Heart;
Contract the Joints and Hands, then make them spread
As if they catch't at the dislodging Head;
So after this vast Ruin, though the Frame
Of Nature were both discompos'd and lame;
Yet in this crippled Structure, there might bee
Som starts and leaps, wch flow'd (brave Lord!) from Thee;
On whom, as som not yet discovered Sours,
Which doth to th'suppled Earth fresh Sap disburs,
And through her veins melt's in a purling rill,
Th'expiring King His Vigor did distil.
And as som sullen Vapor which was spun
From th'Earth's cours Wardrobe, by the glaring Sun,
To som wilde Meteors, hover's in the Air,
And on each Cloud shed's its unravel'd hair;
But wanting Active Heat to waft it higher,
Doth in dull Slime and sluggish Mists exspire:
So before Capel was (like th'early Flower
Which ruder Hands tore from the mangled Bower)
Rent from His Bleeding stalk, wee might perchance,
Like vapors wing'd with His brave heat, advance
58
His Flames shot-up no new Supplie t'allow.
Wee crumble shall to Ruin streight, and run
Into a wilde Precipitation.
And as when Morning from the Azure Towers
Powr's out the daie, and pluck's out th'unfledg'd hours;
The Earth unlock's its womb, each flower unweav's
Its odorous tresses, and untie's its leavs,
That so they may bee spangled by that blaze
That from the blooming Sun's gilt lustre strai's;
So now vvhen Hee like a nevv-budded Star
That stud's the Orb's above, doth from a far
Point out his Beams to us, let their clear Light
Steer us through the perplexed maze of night;
And our benum'd and frozen Souls so thavv,
Hee may both our Example bee and Lavv;
For though that Man's a vvorld vvithin himself;
In Him no Passion svvell'd into a Shelf
To split His even thoughts, no Rock of Pride
Did intercept or justle the free Tide
Of vvell-poiz'd actions, and no Mountain there
Was by Ambition made, or Gulf by Fear.
59
Still in such comlie and vvell-ballanc't feet,
And vvere so fairly knit, you'd think they'd been
Each one the Transcript of His Soul within;
No Byas His Religion vvarp't avvrie
Into a crooked Excentricitie,
'Tvvas sullied vvith no Ends; Hee could not tell
Hovv to vamp Calvin vvith dark Machiavel.
No Widdovvs cooler sighs did fan His Cup,
Hee drank in's Wine no Tears of Orphans up;
His Pregnant Fields vvere moist'ned by the Skies,
Not vvet vvith shovvers rain'd from His Tenants eies;
And having thus vvith Virtue pav'd the Track
Which to His Urn did guid His foot-steps back;
Hee, vvhen His full-fledg'd Soul cast off her Claie,
To bathe in Tides of never-ebbing daie,
Did in so soft a Calm dismiss His breath,
As if 't vvere His Espousals, not His Death;
And that in His cold shroud Hee vvere to meet
The Portraict onely of His Genial sheet.
63
OBSEQUIES On the untimely Death, of the never to bee too much praised and pitied Francis Lord Villiers.
Hence fond Philosophie! it cannot bee;
The crazie World crawl's t'his last Jubilee;
And though the Circle of the Year hath been
A Snake in embleme, it can't cast his skin.
At least I can't beleev't; when everie daie,
Som stately piece is swallowed up in claie;
When Cedars feel the fate of Shrubs, and when
Great Peers expire, and tamely die like men.
How could'st Thou els thus steal away unheard,
Without a Troop of Angels for thy guard?
Without th'Artillerie of the Clouds, at this
Thy great and glorious Metempsycosis?
The Age is sure forgetful; or perchance
Nature Her self laie Bed-rid in a Trance,
And those Torch-Constellations which shine
At others Herses, were all set in Thine;
As if they fell with Thee, and Fate would have
Their Chaös clymacterick with Thy Grave.
The crazie World crawl's t'his last Jubilee;
And though the Circle of the Year hath been
A Snake in embleme, it can't cast his skin.
At least I can't beleev't; when everie daie,
Som stately piece is swallowed up in claie;
When Cedars feel the fate of Shrubs, and when
Great Peers expire, and tamely die like men.
How could'st Thou els thus steal away unheard,
Without a Troop of Angels for thy guard?
Without th'Artillerie of the Clouds, at this
Thy great and glorious Metempsycosis?
The Age is sure forgetful; or perchance
Nature Her self laie Bed-rid in a Trance,
64
At others Herses, were all set in Thine;
As if they fell with Thee, and Fate would have
Their Chaös clymacterick with Thy Grave.
But, why do I epitomize a Theme
In this small Scedule which deserv's a Ream?
A Theme whose charming Magick might inspire
A cold Carthusian; and with Enthean fire
Kindle such raptures, as may re-ingage
Those Buskin-Bonaerges of our Age
To Personate Thee with more lively tread,
And in loud language shew the world who's dead.
Let brave Bellona, who hath lately known
Thy Meeds, proclaim them; and with War-like tone,
High as the sulphur-breathing-Brass, inlarge
Thy spreading triumphs, and report her charge;
Shee, Shee shall rear Thy Trophies, and displaie
Thy matchless Chivalrie, on that black daie
Thou copd'st with Destinie, and did'st resign
Thy Temporal-Title, for a more Divine.
Nor could Thy Courage stop, or make a paus,
Where Honor call'd so loud; and such a Caus
As might provoke an Hermit, and make room
With His own Flame to meet His Martyrdom.
Armed with these resolvs, encountring Fear
Thou foild'st her quite, whil'st in a brave career
Thou did'st out-dare the Destinies, and tread
A loftie measure through whole showres of Lead;
(Spight of the furie of th'opposing croud)
Cleaving Thy waie, like Lightning, through a Cloud.
In this small Scedule which deserv's a Ream?
A Theme whose charming Magick might inspire
A cold Carthusian; and with Enthean fire
Kindle such raptures, as may re-ingage
Those Buskin-Bonaerges of our Age
To Personate Thee with more lively tread,
And in loud language shew the world who's dead.
Let brave Bellona, who hath lately known
Thy Meeds, proclaim them; and with War-like tone,
High as the sulphur-breathing-Brass, inlarge
Thy spreading triumphs, and report her charge;
Shee, Shee shall rear Thy Trophies, and displaie
Thy matchless Chivalrie, on that black daie
Thou copd'st with Destinie, and did'st resign
Thy Temporal-Title, for a more Divine.
Nor could Thy Courage stop, or make a paus,
Where Honor call'd so loud; and such a Caus
65
With His own Flame to meet His Martyrdom.
Armed with these resolvs, encountring Fear
Thou foild'st her quite, whil'st in a brave career
Thou did'st out-dare the Destinies, and tread
A loftie measure through whole showres of Lead;
(Spight of the furie of th'opposing croud)
Cleaving Thy waie, like Lightning, through a Cloud.
Thus mid'st these tragick Triumphs wer't Thou hurl'd
With loud Field-Musick from th'affrighted world,
A Conqueror o're Thy doom; witness that Peal
And vocal Vollie which chim'd forth Thy Knell;
To tell the world Thy Merit, maugre Fate
Still, still survive's, and is Invulnerate.
How large the storie, or how ample; wee'l
Not now remember, since 'twas writ with steel
And register'd in Blood. Th'indented Face
(Though no great Volume) was the Common-Place,
And Index of Thy Valor: everie scar
Seeming at least som mistick Character;
While's wee admire those Marginal Notes, and vext,
Wee cannot Comment on so deep a Text.
With loud Field-Musick from th'affrighted world,
A Conqueror o're Thy doom; witness that Peal
And vocal Vollie which chim'd forth Thy Knell;
To tell the world Thy Merit, maugre Fate
Still, still survive's, and is Invulnerate.
How large the storie, or how ample; wee'l
Not now remember, since 'twas writ with steel
And register'd in Blood. Th'indented Face
(Though no great Volume) was the Common-Place,
And Index of Thy Valor: everie scar
Seeming at least som mistick Character;
While's wee admire those Marginal Notes, and vext,
Wee cannot Comment on so deep a Text.
66
But why do I revolv the short-writ-storie
Of fading Youth; or recollect the Glorie
Of Thy blest Beautie (which though once the Throne
Oth' Lillie and Rose) was blasted before blown?
Prepo'strous Fate! t'anticipate and bring
On Winter e're Thou did'st enjoie Thy Spring!
To obnubilate Thy Morning-Sun, and shroud
Thy dawning splendor in a gloomie Cloud!
But ah! Complaints are shadows, and too brief
To shew the world Thy Goodness or our Grief;
Nor can wee circumscribe, or with weak sens
Define Thy Merit, which is so immens.
Alas! wee knew 't was not the Cob-web-shrine
Of Flesh could lodg so bright a Soul as Thine;
T'was not a Cabinet of Claie could hold
So rich a Jewel; nor the brittle Mould
Of Earth contain a Seraphin, in all
His blest dimensions so Angelical.
Why should wee fondly then repine; or why
Thus pitie Him, wee rather should envie?
His state transcend's our Passions; nor may wee
Revers or Counterman'd Heav'ns grand Decree:
Though Wee could weep a deluge to ingross
Our Griefs, and make them ample as His Loss.
Of fading Youth; or recollect the Glorie
Of Thy blest Beautie (which though once the Throne
Oth' Lillie and Rose) was blasted before blown?
Prepo'strous Fate! t'anticipate and bring
On Winter e're Thou did'st enjoie Thy Spring!
To obnubilate Thy Morning-Sun, and shroud
Thy dawning splendor in a gloomie Cloud!
But ah! Complaints are shadows, and too brief
To shew the world Thy Goodness or our Grief;
Nor can wee circumscribe, or with weak sens
Define Thy Merit, which is so immens.
Alas! wee knew 't was not the Cob-web-shrine
Of Flesh could lodg so bright a Soul as Thine;
T'was not a Cabinet of Claie could hold
So rich a Jewel; nor the brittle Mould
Of Earth contain a Seraphin, in all
His blest dimensions so Angelical.
Why should wee fondly then repine; or why
Thus pitie Him, wee rather should envie?
His state transcend's our Passions; nor may wee
Revers or Counterman'd Heav'ns grand Decree:
67
Our Griefs, and make them ample as His Loss.
And You blest Madam (mirror of Your Sex,
And wonder of our Age) surceas to vex
Your Soul wth sad Remembrance; whiles You smother
And burie quick all Comforts in a Brother.
Those Diamond-Tears You daily shed (of more
Account then all those on the Indian shore)
Are spent in vain; and You profusely prize
His loss, to waste the Treasure of Your eies.
His Fame require's no Monumental-stone,
Nor Epitaph; why should You then bemoan
His Funeral-Obsequies, and thus make room
Ith' Tablet of Your Heart, t'erect His Tomb,
Where You, blest Votaress, piously resign
Your Sighs, as Incens, offer'd at His Shrine.
And wonder of our Age) surceas to vex
Your Soul wth sad Remembrance; whiles You smother
And burie quick all Comforts in a Brother.
Those Diamond-Tears You daily shed (of more
Account then all those on the Indian shore)
Are spent in vain; and You profusely prize
His loss, to waste the Treasure of Your eies.
His Fame require's no Monumental-stone,
Nor Epitaph; why should You then bemoan
His Funeral-Obsequies, and thus make room
Ith' Tablet of Your Heart, t'erect His Tomb,
Where You, blest Votaress, piously resign
Your Sighs, as Incens, offer'd at His Shrine.
Whil'st in the Torrent of these Tears You swim;
Madam, You do bewail Your Self, not Him
Who soar's above Your Sorrows; and sit's in
Commission, with som blest Cherubin,
Inthron'd in those Celestial Mansions, where
Hee shine's like Heaven's bright Champion, in His Sphere
Madam, You do bewail Your Self, not Him
Who soar's above Your Sorrows; and sit's in
Commission, with som blest Cherubin,
Inthron'd in those Celestial Mansions, where
Hee shine's like Heaven's bright Champion, in His Sphere
68
On the Martyrdom Of His Late MAJESTIE, &c.
Com, com, let's Mourn; all eies, that see this Daie,Melt into Showrs, and Weep your selvs awaie:
O that each Private head could yield a Flood
Of Tears, whil'st Britain's Head stream's out His Blood;
Could wee paie what His Sacred Drops might claim,
The World must needs bee drowned once again.
Hands cannot write for Trembling; let our Eie
Supplie the Quill, and shed an Elegie.
Tongues cannot speak; this Grief know's no such vent,
Nothing, but Silence, can bee Eloquent.
Words are not here significant; in This
Our Sighs, our Groans bear all the Emphasis.
69
Is not a Figure, when it speak's of Thee:
Thy Book is our best Language; what to this
Shall e're bee added, is Thy Meiösis:
Thy Name's a Text too hard for us: no men
Can write of it, without Thy Parts and Pen.
Thy Prisons, Scorns, Reproach, and Povertie
(Though these were thought too courteous Injurie)
How could'st Thou bear? Thou Meeker Moses, how?
Was ever Lion bit with Whelps till now
And did not roar? Thou England's David, how
Did Shimei's Tongue not move Thee? Where's the Man?
Where is the King? Charls is all Christian.
Thou never wanted'st Subjects, no; when they
Rebell'd, Thou mad'st Thy Passions to obeie.
Had'st Thou regain'd Thy Throne of State by Power,
Thou had'st not then been more a Conqueror.
(Though these were thought too courteous Injurie)
How could'st Thou bear? Thou Meeker Moses, how?
Was ever Lion bit with Whelps till now
And did not roar? Thou England's David, how
Did Shimei's Tongue not move Thee? Where's the Man?
Where is the King? Charls is all Christian.
Thou never wanted'st Subjects, no; when they
Rebell'd, Thou mad'st Thy Passions to obeie.
Had'st Thou regain'd Thy Throne of State by Power,
Thou had'st not then been more a Conqueror.
But Thou, thine own Soul's Monarch, art above
Revenge and Anger, Can'st Thou tame Thy Love?
How could'st Thou bear Thy Queen's Divorce? must Shee
At once Thy Wife, and yet Thy Widdow bee?
Where are Thy tender Babes once Princely bred,
Thy choicest Jewels, are They Sequestred?
Where are Thy Nobles? Lo, in stead of these
Base savage Villains, and Thine Enemies:
Egyptian Plague! 'twas onely Pharaoh's doom,
To see such Vermin in His Lodging-room.
What Guards are set, what Watches do they keep?
They do not think Thee safe, though lock't in Sleep.
Would they confine Thy Dreams within to dwell,
Nor let Thy Fancie pass their Centinel?
Are Thy Devotions dangerous? Or do
Thy Praiers want a Guard? These faultie too?
Varlets, 't was onely, when they spake for You.
Revenge and Anger, Can'st Thou tame Thy Love?
How could'st Thou bear Thy Queen's Divorce? must Shee
At once Thy Wife, and yet Thy Widdow bee?
70
Thy choicest Jewels, are They Sequestred?
Where are Thy Nobles? Lo, in stead of these
Base savage Villains, and Thine Enemies:
Egyptian Plague! 'twas onely Pharaoh's doom,
To see such Vermin in His Lodging-room.
What Guards are set, what Watches do they keep?
They do not think Thee safe, though lock't in Sleep.
Would they confine Thy Dreams within to dwell,
Nor let Thy Fancie pass their Centinel?
Are Thy Devotions dangerous? Or do
Thy Praiers want a Guard? These faultie too?
Varlets, 't was onely, when they spake for You.
But lo a Charge is drawn, a Daie is set,
The silent Lamb is brought, the Wolves are met.
Law is arraign'd of Treason, Peace of War,
And Justice stand's a Prisoner at the Bar.
This Scene was like the Passion-Tragedie,
His Saviour's Person none could Act, but Hee.
Behold what Scribes were here, what Pharisees!
What bands of Souldiers! What fals witnesses!
Here was a Priest, and that a Chief one; who
Durst strike at God, and His Vicegerent too.
Here Bradshaw, Pilate there: This make's them twain,
Pilate for Fear, Bradshaw condemn'd for Gain.
Wretch! could'st not thou bee rich, till Charls was dead?
Thou might'st have took the Crown, yet spar'd the Head.
Th'hast justifi'd that Roman Judg; Hee stood
And washt in Water, thou hast dipt in Blood.
The silent Lamb is brought, the Wolves are met.
Law is arraign'd of Treason, Peace of War,
And Justice stand's a Prisoner at the Bar.
This Scene was like the Passion-Tragedie,
His Saviour's Person none could Act, but Hee.
Behold what Scribes were here, what Pharisees!
What bands of Souldiers! What fals witnesses!
71
Durst strike at God, and His Vicegerent too.
Here Bradshaw, Pilate there: This make's them twain,
Pilate for Fear, Bradshaw condemn'd for Gain.
Wretch! could'st not thou bee rich, till Charls was dead?
Thou might'st have took the Crown, yet spar'd the Head.
Th'hast justifi'd that Roman Judg; Hee stood
And washt in Water, thou hast dipt in Blood.
And where's the Slaughter-Hous? White-hall must bee,
Lately His Palace, now His Calvarie.
Great Charls, is this Thy Dying-place? And where
Thou wer't our King, art Thou our Martyr there?
Thence, thence Thy Soul took flight; and there will wee
Not ceas to Mourn, where Thou did'st ceas to Bee.
And thus, blest Soul, Hee's gon: a Star, whose fall,
As no Eclips prove's Oecumenical.
That Wretch had skill to sin, whose Hand did know
How to behead three Kingdoms at one blow.
England hath lost the Influence of Her King,
No wonder that so backward was Her Spring.
O dismal Daie! but yet how quickly gon?
It must bee short, Our Sun went down at Noon.
Lately His Palace, now His Calvarie.
Great Charls, is this Thy Dying-place? And where
Thou wer't our King, art Thou our Martyr there?
Thence, thence Thy Soul took flight; and there will wee
Not ceas to Mourn, where Thou did'st ceas to Bee.
And thus, blest Soul, Hee's gon: a Star, whose fall,
As no Eclips prove's Oecumenical.
That Wretch had skill to sin, whose Hand did know
How to behead three Kingdoms at one blow.
England hath lost the Influence of Her King,
No wonder that so backward was Her Spring.
O dismal Daie! but yet how quickly gon?
It must bee short, Our Sun went down at Noon.
72
And now, yee Senators, is this the Thing
So oft declar'd; Is this your Glorious King?
Did you by Oaths your God, and Countrie mock,
Pretend a Crown, and yet prepare a Block?
Did you, that swore you'd Mount Charls higher yet,
Intend the Scaffold for His Olivet?
Was this, Hail Master? Did you bow the knee
That you might murder Him with Loialtie?
Alas! two Deaths! what Crueltie was this?
The Ax design'd, you might have spar'd the Kiss.
So oft declar'd; Is this your Glorious King?
Did you by Oaths your God, and Countrie mock,
Pretend a Crown, and yet prepare a Block?
Did you, that swore you'd Mount Charls higher yet,
Intend the Scaffold for His Olivet?
Was this, Hail Master? Did you bow the knee
That you might murder Him with Loialtie?
Alas! two Deaths! what Crueltie was this?
The Ax design'd, you might have spar'd the Kiss.
London, did'st thou Thy Prince's Life betraie?
What? could thy Sables vent no other waie?
Or els did'st thou bemoan His Cross? then, ah!
Why would'st thou bee the cursed Golgotha?
Thou once hadst Men, Plate, Arms, a Treasurie
To binde thy King, and hast thou none to free?
Dull beast! thou should'st, before thy Head did fall,
Have had at least thy Spirits Animal.
What? could thy Sables vent no other waie?
Or els did'st thou bemoan His Cross? then, ah!
Why would'st thou bee the cursed Golgotha?
Thou once hadst Men, Plate, Arms, a Treasurie
To binde thy King, and hast thou none to free?
Dull beast! thou should'st, before thy Head did fall,
Have had at least thy Spirits Animal.
Did You, Yee Nobles, envie Charls His Crown?
Jove beeing fal'n the Punie-gods must down:
Your Raies of Honor are eclip'st in Night,
The Sun is set, from whence You drew your Light.
Jove beeing fal'n the Punie-gods must down:
Your Raies of Honor are eclip'st in Night,
The Sun is set, from whence You drew your Light.
73
Religion Vail's her self; and Mourn's that shee
Is forc'd to own such horrid Villanie.
The Church and State do shake; that Building must
Exspect to fall, whose Prop is turn'd to Dust.
But ceas from Tears. Charls is most blest of men;
A God on Earth, more then a Saint in Heav'n.
Is forc'd to own such horrid Villanie.
The Church and State do shake; that Building must
Exspect to fall, whose Prop is turn'd to Dust.
But ceas from Tears. Charls is most blest of men;
A God on Earth, more then a Saint in Heav'n.
| Vaticinium Votivum | |