 | Poems on Affairs of State |  |
The City's Advice to the King.
But t'other day from Exile not by Force,
With shouts of Joy, as Troy their Trojan Horse,
We took thee in and plac'd thee on the Throne,
Prefer'd thy Happiness before our own;
And shew'd the World there is no other thing
Holds half the Plagues in't as a thankless King.
With shouts of Joy, as Troy their Trojan Horse,
We took thee in and plac'd thee on the Throne,
Prefer'd thy Happiness before our own;
And shew'd the World there is no other thing
Holds half the Plagues in't as a thankless King.
We full of Peace, of Honour, and of Trade,
Were with soft Ease and Riches wanton made;
And such a Surfeit took of Happiness,
'Twas only thou couldst cure our great Excess;
And thy dear Dose hath done it in a minute,
And cur'd us quite, or else the Devil's in it.
We then cou'd go to Bed without the Fears
Of having our Houses fir'd about our Ears.
Secure we slept without the dismal fright
Of Murders, Rapes and Massacres i'th' Night.
But thou, great Prince, hast cur'd us of this Ease,
When e'er we die 'twon't be of that Disease:
For now our Sleep like those in Hell appears,
We always wake with Flames about our Ears.
Most graciously we once wholesale were burn'd,
And more than all our City to Ashes turn'd:
E'er since with retail Fires, now here, now there,
As pleas'd Rome's Rage, and as their Mark cou'd bear.
Were with soft Ease and Riches wanton made;
And such a Surfeit took of Happiness,
'Twas only thou couldst cure our great Excess;
And thy dear Dose hath done it in a minute,
And cur'd us quite, or else the Devil's in it.
We then cou'd go to Bed without the Fears
Of having our Houses fir'd about our Ears.
Secure we slept without the dismal fright
Of Murders, Rapes and Massacres i'th' Night.
But thou, great Prince, hast cur'd us of this Ease,
When e'er we die 'twon't be of that Disease:
For now our Sleep like those in Hell appears,
We always wake with Flames about our Ears.
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And more than all our City to Ashes turn'd:
E'er since with retail Fires, now here, now there,
As pleas'd Rome's Rage, and as their Mark cou'd bear.
And now the new Health 'mongst the Tory Crew,
Is to our second Conflagration; strange, but true!
Yet these thy Darlings are, and only please thee,
Not one that honest is, in England's easy:
Poor Prince! how hast thou lost thy worthy Braves
For such a cursed pack of Fools and Knaves.
Consider, Charles, was't we, or this vile Rout
Made thy Return, and ev'ry Street to shout?
They drank thy Health, and damn'd themselves or so;
But greater good ne'er did, nor can they do:
What Fund is this for either Peace or Wars?
An Angel's Art can't steer by such Pole-Stars.
Is to our second Conflagration; strange, but true!
Yet these thy Darlings are, and only please thee,
Not one that honest is, in England's easy:
Poor Prince! how hast thou lost thy worthy Braves
For such a cursed pack of Fools and Knaves.
Consider, Charles, was't we, or this vile Rout
Made thy Return, and ev'ry Street to shout?
They drank thy Health, and damn'd themselves or so;
But greater good ne'er did, nor can they do:
What Fund is this for either Peace or Wars?
An Angel's Art can't steer by such Pole-Stars.
Go poll each starved Courtezan and Whore,
Each Clergy Wight and Tory, then give o'er,
For all the Land won't yield thee one Man more.
For ev'ry Soul besides (thine Eyes may see)
Are English now again, thank God and thee.
Each Clergy Wight and Tory, then give o'er,
For all the Land won't yield thee one Man more.
For ev'ry Soul besides (thine Eyes may see)
Are English now again, thank God and thee.
Betimes consider then thy wandring State,
The Wheel runs swift, it soon may be too late.
Thy People yet would fain preserve thy Throne,
Don't force 'em make thy Brother's Crimes thine own;
For tho they don't believe thee free from Guilt,
Yet they'll ne'er spy thy Faults unless thou wilt.
The Wheel runs swift, it soon may be too late.
Thy People yet would fain preserve thy Throne,
Don't force 'em make thy Brother's Crimes thine own;
For tho they don't believe thee free from Guilt,
Yet they'll ne'er spy thy Faults unless thou wilt.
Close quickly then, let go thy Brother Elf,
Or next remove of Rage may find thy self.
By Nature English People willing are
To whip their Princes Mates, but them to spare:
But if to ruin them their Rulers go,
And will protect their own and Peoples Foes,
No Man (or Men) their Fury then e'er knows.
Or next remove of Rage may find thy self.
By Nature English People willing are
To whip their Princes Mates, but them to spare:
But if to ruin them their Rulers go,
And will protect their own and Peoples Foes,
No Man (or Men) their Fury then e'er knows.
Take then Advice before the time be gone;
Sad Fate of Father shou'd instruct the Son:
The self-same Crew was his delight, are thine;
The best he lowr'd on, and on the worst did shine.
Teagues, Tories, Ruffians pleas'd him to the heart:
But ill-plac'd Pleasures ever end in smart.
Sad Fate of Father shou'd instruct the Son:
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The best he lowr'd on, and on the worst did shine.
Teagues, Tories, Ruffians pleas'd him to the heart:
But ill-plac'd Pleasures ever end in smart.
How will the Age unborn thy Conduct mock,
If thou shalt split upon the self-same Rock.
As th'ill-skill'd Pilot's blam'd, and not his Luck,
That runs same spot he saw his Lanthorn struck:
So write for Oracle, same Foes, same Friends,
Bring them that follow them, to th'self-same Ends.
If thou shalt split upon the self-same Rock.
As th'ill-skill'd Pilot's blam'd, and not his Luck,
That runs same spot he saw his Lanthorn struck:
So write for Oracle, same Foes, same Friends,
Bring them that follow them, to th'self-same Ends.
| Poems on Affairs of State | |