A Pindarick on the death Of Our Late Sovereign With An Ancient Prophecy on his Present Majesty. Written by A. Behn |
 |
 | A Pindarick on the death Of Our Late Sovereign |  |
1
A PINDARICK ON THE DEATH Of Our Late SOVEREIGN:
With an Ancient Prophecy on His Present MAJESTY.
[I.]
Sad was the Morn', the sadder Week began,And heavily the God of Day came on:
From Ominous Dreams my wondering Soul lookt out,
And saw a Dire Confusion round about.
My Bed like some sad Monument appear'd,
Round which the Mournful Statues wring their hands and weep;
Distracted Objects all! with mighty Grief, prepar'd
To rouse me from my painful Sleep.
2
(With wild neglect throu'out the peopl'd street,
With a Prophetick rage affrighting all they meet)
Had mightier Pangs of sorrow, mightier throes;
Ah! wretch, undone they Cry! awake forlorn,
The King! the King is Dead! rise! rise and Mourn.
II.
Again I bid 'em tell their sorrows Theam,Again they Cry, The King! the King is Dead!
Extended, Cold and Pale, upon the Royal Bed;
Again I heard, and yet I thought it Dream.
Impossible! (I raving Cry)
That such a Monarch! such a God should dye!
And no Dire Warning to the World be given:
No Hurricanes on Earth! no Blazing Fires in Heaven!
The Sun and Tyde their constant Courses keep:
That cheers the World with its Life-giving Reign,
This hasts with equal Motion to the Deep;
And in its usual turns revives the Banks again,
And in its soft and easie way,
Brings up no Storms or Monsters from the Sea,
No Show'rs of Blood, no Temples Vale is rent,
But all is Calm, and all is Innocent.
When Nature in Convulsions should be hurl'd.
And Fate should shake the Fabrick of the World;
Impossible! Impossible I Cry!
So Great a King! so much a God! so silently should dye!
III.
True I Divin'd! when loe a Voice arriv'd,Welcom as that which did the Crowd surprise,
When the Dead Lazarus from the Tomb reviv'd
And saw a Pitying God attend his rise!
3
Our Sovereign lives! Heaven adds one Wonder more,
To the Miraculous History of his Num'rous store:
Suddain as thought, or winged Light'ning flys,
This cha'sd the Gloomy Terrors from our Eyes,
And all from Sorrows, fall to Sacrifice,
Whole Hacatoms of Vows the Altars Crown,
To clear our Sins that brought this Vengeance down;
So the Great Saviour of the World did fall,
A Bleeding Victim to attone for all!
Nor were the Blest Apostles more reviv'd,
When in the Resurection they beheld
Their Faith Establisht, and their Lord surviv'd,
And all the Holy Prophesies fulfill'd.
Their Mighty Love, by Mighty Joy they show'd!
And if from feabler Faith before,
They did the Deity, and Man Adore:
What must they pay, when He confirm'd the God?
Who having finisht all His wonders here,
And full Instructions given,
To make his bright Divinity more Cleer;
Transfigur'd all to Glory, Mounts to Heaven!
IV.
So fell our Earthly God! so Lov'd, so Mourn'd,So like a God again return'd.
For of His Message, yet a part was unperform'd,
But oh! our Pray'rs and Vows were made too late,
The Sacred Dictates were already past;
And open laid the Mighty Book of Fate,
Where the Great MONARCH read his lifes short date;
And for Eternity prepar'd in hast.
He saw in th'everlasting Chains
Of long past Time and Numerous Things,
The Fates, Vicisitudes, and pains,
Of Mighty Monarchies, and Mighty Kings,
4
Where Zealous Mischiefs, Frauds, Rebellions, Reign:
Like Moses, he had led the Murm'ring Crowd,
Beneath the Peaceful Rule of his Almighty Wand;
Pull'd down the Golden Calf to which they bow'd,
And left 'em safe, entring the promis'd Land;
And to good JOSHUA, now resigns his sway,
JOSHUA, by Heaven and Nature pointed out to lead the way.
V.
Full of the Wisdom and the Pow'r of God,The Royal PROPHET now before him stood:
On whom His Hands the Dying MONARCH laid,
And wept with tender Joy, and Blest and said:
To Thee, kind Aid in all my Fates and Pow'rs,
Dear Partner of my sad and softest Hours,
Thy Parting King and Brother recommends.
His frighted Nations, and his Mourning Friends,
Take to Thy Pious Care, my Faithful Flock.
And tho' the Shelt'ring Cedar Fade,
Regard said he, regard my tender Stock;
The Noble Stems may shoot and grow
To Grace the spacious Plains, and bow
Their spreading Branches round Thee a defensive shade.
The Royal SUCCESSOR to all he hears
With sighs assented, and confirming Tears.
Much more he spoke! much more he had Exprest,
But that the Charming Accents of his Tongue
Flew upwards, to Compose a Heav'nly Song,
And left his speaking Eyes to Bless and tell the rest,
His Eyes so much Ador'd! whose less'ning light
Like setting Suns that hasten on the Night;
(Lending their Glories to another Sphere)
Those Sacred Lights are fading here,
Whilst every Beam above informs a Star,
5
VI.
Which shall a Nobler Business know,And Influence his best lov'd Friends below.
But oh!
No Humane thought can paint the Grief and Love,
With which the Parting Hero's strove.
Sad was the Scene, soft looks the Voice supplies,
Anguish their Hearts, and Languishment their Eyes;
Not God-like Jonathan with greater pain,
Sigh't his last Farwell to the Royal Swain;
While Awful silence fill'd the Gloomy place,
And Death and Midnight hung on ev'ry Face.
And now the fatal Hour came on,
And all the Blessed Pow'rs above,
In hast to make him ALL their own,
Around the Royal Bed in shining order move.
Once more he longs to see the Breaking Day,
The last his Mortal Eyes shall e're behold,
And oft he ask'd if no Kind Ray,
Its near Approach foretold.
And when he found 'twas Dawning in,
(With the Cold Tide of Death that flow'd all o're)
Draw, draw, said he, this Clowd that hangs between,
And let me take my last adieu;
Oh let me take my last—last view,
For I shall never, never see it more.
And Now—
Officious Angels catch his dying Sighs,
And bear 'em up in Triumph to the Skys,
Each forms a Soul! of the Divinest dress!
For New-born Kings and Heroes to possess.
The last, that from the Sacred Fabrick flew,
Made CHARLES a God! and JAMES a Monarch too!
6
To His Sacred MAJESTY, KING JAMES II.
All Hail Great Prince! whom ev'ry Miracle
Preserv'd for Universal Rule;
When Time Your wond'rous Story shall unfold,
Your Glorious Deeds in Arms, when yet but Young;
Your strange Escapes, and Danger shall be told,
Your Battails Fought, Your Gilded Lawrels won,
When yet the Elder Generals (not in Fame)
Your Perils dar'st not share,
Alone the raging Torrent You wou'd stem,
And bear before You the fierce Tide of War.
How Spain Records Your Glorious Name;
And how when Danger call'd, for Britains good,
You paid the lavish Ransom of Your Blood.
When the Ingrates shall Blushing read,
How far great Souls the Vulgar can exceed
In Patience, Suffering, and Humility,
Your Condiscention, and Your Banishment,
Then let the Obstinate (convinc'd) agree;
You only were preserv'd, and fit, for Sacred Government.
Preserv'd for Universal Rule;
When Time Your wond'rous Story shall unfold,
Your Glorious Deeds in Arms, when yet but Young;
Your strange Escapes, and Danger shall be told,
Your Battails Fought, Your Gilded Lawrels won,
When yet the Elder Generals (not in Fame)
Your Perils dar'st not share,
Alone the raging Torrent You wou'd stem,
And bear before You the fierce Tide of War.
How Spain Records Your Glorious Name;
And how when Danger call'd, for Britains good,
You paid the lavish Ransom of Your Blood.
When the Ingrates shall Blushing read,
How far great Souls the Vulgar can exceed
In Patience, Suffering, and Humility,
Your Condiscention, and Your Banishment,
Then let the Obstinate (convinc'd) agree;
You only were preserv'd, and fit, for Sacred Government.
Come listen all, whom needless fears possess,
And hear how Heav'n confirms Your Happiness:
Behold the Sacred Promis'd Prince,
Whom wond'rous Prophets Ages since
Told, When the Mistick Figures of the Year,
To such a Number should Amount,
(As fill this Lucky Years Account)
O're England there should Reign a Star
Of that Divine and Gracious Influence,
Should make proud Neighbouring Nations fear:
And Mightier Britains happy Genius prove,
And bless the Land with Plenty, Peace, and Love.
'Tis YOU, oh Sacred Sir, for Empire Born,
Shall make the great Prediction true,
And this last Miracle perform,
To make us Blest, and make us own it too.
Oh may Your Luster with Your Life renew!
Long may You Shine, and spread Your Beams as far,
As from the Morning to the Ev'ning Star;
'Till Your Convincing Rays, Your Foes o're come,
And for Your Glorious Magnitude the scanted Globe want room.
And hear how Heav'n confirms Your Happiness:
Behold the Sacred Promis'd Prince,
Whom wond'rous Prophets Ages since
Told, When the Mistick Figures of the Year,
To such a Number should Amount,
(As fill this Lucky Years Account)
O're England there should Reign a Star
Of that Divine and Gracious Influence,
Should make proud Neighbouring Nations fear:
And Mightier Britains happy Genius prove,
And bless the Land with Plenty, Peace, and Love.
'Tis YOU, oh Sacred Sir, for Empire Born,
Shall make the great Prediction true,
And this last Miracle perform,
To make us Blest, and make us own it too.
Oh may Your Luster with Your Life renew!
Long may You Shine, and spread Your Beams as far,
As from the Morning to the Ev'ning Star;
'Till Your Convincing Rays, Your Foes o're come,
And for Your Glorious Magnitude the scanted Globe want room.
FINIS.
| A Pindarick on the death Of Our Late Sovereign | |