The Poems of Charles Sackville Sixth Earl of Dorset: Edited by Brice Harris |
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III. State Affairs
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 | The Poems of Charles Sackville |  |
47
III. State Affairs
49
Catch
When rebels first push'd at the Crown,Both p--- and prelate then went down.
No men to f--- were inclin'd;
Poor c--- to death was almost pin'd.
In every street
We daily did meet
Instead of whores an armed train.
But now honest c---
Shall flourish as 'twas wont,
For the King enjoys his own again.
50
On the Young Statesmen
51
[My muse and I are drunk tonight,
And both of us must spew;
This indigested stuff I write
To ease my mind I must indite,
And libel must ensue.
And both of us must spew;
This indigested stuff I write
To ease my mind I must indite,
And libel must ensue.
Shall I the morals of the Court
Or politics display?
Their morals will make the best sport,
For little wit of the worser sort
Will go a mighty way.
Or politics display?
Their morals will make the best sport,
For little wit of the worser sort
Will go a mighty way.
Of little cheats the Court is full;
Our princes only dream.
Nay even our new made Governor of Hull
By Dryden's help is not so dull
On such an ample theme.]
Our princes only dream.
Nay even our new made Governor of Hull
By Dryden's help is not so dull
On such an ample theme.]
Clarendon had law and sense,
Clifford was fierce and brave,
Bennet's grave look was a pretense,
And Danby's matchless impudence
Help'd to support the knave.
Clifford was fierce and brave,
52
And Danby's matchless impudence
Help'd to support the knave.
But Sunderland, Godolphin, and Lory
Turn politics to jests
And will appear such chits in story
To be repeated like John Dory,
When fiddlers sing at feasts.
Turn politics to jests
And will appear such chits in story
To be repeated like John Dory,
When fiddlers sing at feasts.
Protect us, mighty providence;
What would these madmen have?
First, they would bribe us without pence,
Deceive us without common sense,
And without power enslave.
What would these madmen have?
First, they would bribe us without pence,
Deceive us without common sense,
And without power enslave.
Shall freeborn men in humble awe
Submit to servile shame,
Who from consent and custom draw
The same right to be ruled by law,
Which kings pretend to reign?
Submit to servile shame,
Who from consent and custom draw
The same right to be ruled by law,
Which kings pretend to reign?
The Duke shall wield his conq'ring sword,
The Chancellor make a speech,
The King shall pass his honest word,
The pawn'd revenue sums afford—
And then come kiss my breech.
The Chancellor make a speech,
The King shall pass his honest word,
The pawn'd revenue sums afford—
And then come kiss my breech.
So have I seen a king at chess,
(His rooks and knights withdrawn,
His queen and bishops in distress)
Shifting about, grow less and less,
And here and there a pawn.
(His rooks and knights withdrawn,
His queen and bishops in distress)
Shifting about, grow less and less,
And here and there a pawn.
[But oh! the whore, the mighty whore,
Joined with thy hair-brain'd brother,
Will keep thee still despised and poor
'Till rebels turn thee out of door,
And France brings in another.]
Joined with thy hair-brain'd brother,
Will keep thee still despised and poor
'Till rebels turn thee out of door,
And France brings in another.]
55
My Opinion
56
After thinking this fortnight of Whig and of Tory,
This to me is the long and the short of the story:
They are all fools and knaves, and they keep up this pother
On both sides, designing to cheat one another.
This to me is the long and the short of the story:
They are all fools and knaves, and they keep up this pother
On both sides, designing to cheat one another.
Poor Rowley, whose maxims of state are a riddle,
Has plac'd himself much like the pin in the middle;
Let which corner soever be tumbl'd down first,
'Tis ten thousand to one but he comes by the worst.
Has plac'd himself much like the pin in the middle;
Let which corner soever be tumbl'd down first,
'Tis ten thousand to one but he comes by the worst.
'Twixt brother and bastard, those Dukes of renown,
He'll make a wise shift to get rid of his crown;
Had he half common sense, were it ne'er so uncivil,
He'd have had 'em long since tipp'd down to the Devil.
He'll make a wise shift to get rid of his crown;
Had he half common sense, were it ne'er so uncivil,
He'd have had 'em long since tipp'd down to the Devil.
The first is a Prince well fashion'd, well featur'd,
No bigot to speak of, not false nor ill-natur'd;
The other for government can't be unfit,
He's so little a fop and so plaguy a wit.
No bigot to speak of, not false nor ill-natur'd;
The other for government can't be unfit,
He's so little a fop and so plaguy a wit.
Had I this soft son and this dangerous brother,
I'd hang up the one and I'd piss on the other;
I'd make this the long and the short of the story:
The fools might be Whigs, none but knaves should be Tories.
I'd hang up the one and I'd piss on the other;
I'd make this the long and the short of the story:
The fools might be Whigs, none but knaves should be Tories.
57
On the Statue in the Privy Garden
60
He scourged their sin with famine, plague, and sword.
All they and more could no repentance bring;
Then in a greater rage he sent them such a king,
A James-like king, as his severest rod,
The utmost vengeance of an angry God.
God in his wrath gave Saul to sinful Jewry
And Second James to us in greater fury,
For Saul in sin was no more like our James
Than little Jordan can compare with Thames.
61
On King William's Happy Deliverance from the Intended Assassination
The youth whose fortune the vast globe obey'd,Finding his royal enemy betray'd
And in his chariot by vile hands opprest,
With noble pity and just rage posses't,
Wept at the fall of so sublime a state
And with the traitor's death reveng'd the fate
Of monarchy profane; so acted too
The generous Caesar when the Roman knew
A coward king had treacherously slain
One he scarce foil'd on the Pharsalian plain.
The doom of his fam'd rival he bemoan'd
And the base author of the crime dethron'd.
So virtuous was the actions of the great,
Far from the guilty acts of desperate hate:
They knew no foe, but in the open field,
And to their cause and to their gods appeal'd.
62
Dispute his right by arms, he'll meet them there
Where Jove, as once on Ida, holds the scale
And lets the good, the just, the brave prevail.
| The Poems of Charles Sackville | |