I.

THUS long my grief has kept me dumb;
Sure there's a lethargy in mighty woe,

Tears ftand congeal'd, and cannot flow;

Aud the fad foul retires into her inmost room s

Tears, for a ftroke foreseen, afford relief;
But, unprovided for a fudden blow,
Like Niobé we marble grow;

And petrify with grief.

Our British heaven was all ferene,
No threatening cloud was nigh,

Not the leaft wrinkle to deform the sky;
We liv'd as unconcern'd and happily
As the first age in nature's golden scene;

Supine amidst our flowing ftore,
We flept fecurely, and we drermt of more:
When fuddenly the thunder-clap was heard,
It took us unprepar'd and out of guard,
Already loft before we fear'd.

Th' amazing news of Charles at once were spread,
At once the general voice declar'd,

"Our gracious prince was dead."
No fickness known before, no flow difeafe,
To foften grief by just degrees,
But like an hurricane on Indian feas,
The tempeft rofe;

An unexpected burst of woes:
With scarce a breathing space betwixt,
This now becalm'd, and perifhing the next.
As if great Atlas from his height
Should fink beneath his heavenly weight,
And with a mighty flaw, the flaming wall
As once it fhall,

Should gape immenfe, and rushing down, o'erwhelm this nether ball;

So fwift and fo furprising was our fear :

Our

Atlas fell indeed; but Hercules was near.

II.

His pious brother, fure the best Who ever bore that name,

Was newly rifen from his reft,

And, with a fervent flame,

His ufual morning vows had just addrest
For his dear fovereign's health;
And hop'd to have them heard,
In long increase of years,

In honour, fame and wealth:

Guiltlefs of greatness thus he always pray'd,
Ner knew nor wifh'd thofe vows he made,
On his own head should be repay'd.
Soon as th' ill-omen'd rumour reach'd his ear,
Ill news is wing'd with fate, and flies apace,
Who can defcribe th' amazement of his face!
Horror in all his pomp was there,

Mute and magnificent without a tear:
And then the hero first was seen to fear,
Half unarray'd he ran to his relief,
So hafty and so artless was his grief:

Approaching greatnefs met him with her charms
Of power and future state;

But look'd se ghastly in a brother's fate,
He fhook her from his arms.
Arriv'd within the mournful room he saw
A wild distraction, void of awe,
And arbritrary grief unbounded by a law.
God's image, God's anointed, lay

Without motion, pulfe, or breath,
A fenfeless lump of facred clay,

An image now of death.
Amidft his fad attendants groans and cries,
The lines of that ador'd forgiving face.
Distorted from their native grace,
An iron flumber fat on his majestic eyes.
The pious Duke-Forbear audacious Mufe!
No terms thy feeble art can use

Are able to adorn fo vaft a woe:

The grief of all the reft like fubject-grief did fhew,
His like a fovereign did transcend;
No wife, no brother, such a grief could know,
Nor any name but friend.

O wonderous changes of a fatal scene,
Still varying to the last!

Heaven, though its hard decree was past,
Seem'd pointing to a gracious turn again :
And death's uplifted arm arrefted in its hafte.
Heaven half repented of the doom,
And almost griev'd it had foreseen,

What by forefight it will'd eternally to come. Mercy above did hourly plead

For her refemblance here below; And mild forgiveness intercede

To ftop the coming blow.

New miracles approach'd th' ethereal throne,
Such as his wondrous life had oft and lately
known,

And urg'd that ftill they might be fhewn,
On earth his pious brother pray'd and vow'd,
Renouncing greatness at fo dear a rate,
Himself defending what he could,
From all the glories of his future fate,
With him th' innumerable crowd,
Of armed prayers

Knock'd at the gates of heaven, and knock'd aloud; The first well-meaning rude petitioners.

All for his life affail'd the throne,

All would have brib'd the skies by offering up their own.

So great a throng not heaven itself could bar; 'Twas almost born by force as in the giants'

war.

The prayers at least for his reprieve were heard,
His death, like Hezekiah's, was defer'd:
Against the fun the fhadow went;

Five days, those five degrees, were lent
To form our patience and prepare th' event.
The fecond caufes took the fwift command,
The medicinal head, the ready hand,

All eager to perform their part;

All but eternal doom was conquer'd by their art: Once more the fleeting foul came back

T' inspire the mortal frame;

And in the body took a doubtful stand,

Doubtful and hovering like expiring flame, That mounts and falls by turns, and trembles o'er the brand.

IV.

The joyful fhort-liv'd news foon spread around,
Took the fame train, the fame impetuous bound:
The drooping town in fmiles again was drest,
Gladness in every face expreft,

Their eyes before their tongues confeft.
Men met each other with erected look,
The steps were higher that they took,
Friends to congratulate their friends made hafte
And long inveterate foes faluted as they past:
Above the rest heroic James appear'd
Exalted more, because he more had fear'd:
His manly heart, whose noble pride
Was ftill above

Diffembled hate or vanish'd love,

Its more than common tranfport could not hide : But like an eagre rode in triumph o'er the tide. Thus, in alternate course,

The tyrant paffions, hope and fear,

Did in extremes appear,

And flash'd upon the foul with equal force.
Thus, at half ebb, a rolling fea
Returns and wins upon the fhore;
The watery herd, affrighted at the roar,
Reft on their fins a while, and stay,

Then backward take their wondering way:
The prophet wonders more than they,

At prodigies but rarely feen before, [their sway,
And cries, a king muft fall, or kingdoms change
Such were our counter-tides at land, and fo
Prefaging of the fatal blow,

In their prodigious ebb and flow.
The royal foul, that, like the labouring moon,
By charms of art was hurried down,
Forc'd with regret to leave her native sphere,
Came but a while on liking here:

Soon weary of the painful ftrife,
And made but faint eflays of life;
And evening light
Soon fhut in night:

Th' impregnable disease their vain attempts did
They min'd it near, they batter'd from afar
With all the cannon of the medicinal war;
No gentle means could be effay'd,

'Twas beyond parly when the fiege was laid:
Th' extremeft ways they first ordain,
Prefcribing fuch intolerable pain,
As none but Cæfar could fustain :
Undaunted Cæfar underwent
The malice of their art, nor bent

Beneath whate'er their pious rigour could invent:
In five fuch days he fuffer'd more
'Than any fuffer'd in his reign before;
More, infinitely more, than he,

Against the worst of rebels, could decree,
A traitor or twice-pardon'd enemy.
Now art was tir'd without fuccefs,

No racks could make the ftubborn malady confefs.
The vain infurancers of life,

And he who moft perform'd and promifs'd lefs,
Ev'n Short himself forfook th` unequal ftrife.
Death and despair were in their looks,
No longer they confult their memories or books;
Like helpless friends, who view from shore
The labouring fhip, and hear the tempeft roar;
So ftood they with their arms across;
Not to affift, but to deplore

Th' inevitable lofs.

VI.

Death was denounc'd; that frightful found
Which ev'n the beft can hardly bear,
He took the fummons void of fear;
And unconcern'dly caft his eyes around;
As if to find and dare the griefly challenger.
What death could do he lately try'd,
When in four days he more than dy'd.
The fame affurance all his words did grace:
The fame majestic mildness held its place :
Nor loft the monarch in his dying face.
Intrepid, pious, merciful, and brave,
He look'd as when he conquer'd and forgave.

VII.

As if fome angel had been fent
To lengthen out his government,
And to foretel as many years again,
As he had number'd in his happy reign,
So cheerfully he took the doom
Of his departing breath;

Nor fhrunk nor ftept afide for death:
But with unalter'd pace kept on;

Providing for events to come,
When he refign'd the throne.
Still he maintain'd his kingly ftate;
And grew familiar with his fate.
Kind, good, and gracious, to the last,

On all he lov'd before his dying beams he cast:
Oh truly good, and truly great,

For glorious as he rose benignly so he set!
All that on earth he held most dear,
He recommended to his care,

To whom both heaven,

The right had given

And his own love bequeath'd fupreme command
He took and preft that ever-loyal hand,
Which could in peace fecure his reign,
Which could in wars his power maintain,
That hand on which no plighted vows were eve
vain.

Well, for fo great a trust he chose

A prince who never disobey'd:

Not when the most fevere commands were laid;
Nor want, nor exile, with his duty weigh'd:
A prince on whom, if heaven its eyes could clofe
The welfare of the world it fafely might repofe.

VIII.

That king who liv'd to God's own heart, Yet lefs ferenely died than he :

Charles left behind no harsh decree

For schoolmen with laborious art
To falve from cruelty:

Thofe, for whom love could no excuses frame,
He graciously forgot to name.

Thus far my Mufe, though rudely, has defign'd
Some faint refemblance of his godlike mind:
But neither pen nor pencil can express
The parting brother's tenderness:
Though that's a term too mean and low;
The bleft above a kinder word may know;
But what they did, and what they said,
The monarch who triumphant went,

The militant who staid,

[fpent

Like painters, when their heightening arts at

I caft into a fhade.

That all-forgiving king,
The type of him above,
That unexhaufted spring
Of clemency and love;

Himself to his next felf accus'd,

And afk'd that pardon which he ne'er refus'd:
For faults not his, for guilt and crimes
Of godless men, and of rebellious times:
For an hard exile, kindly meant,
When his ungrateful country fent
Their best Camillus into banishment:
And forc'd their fovereign's act, they could not hi

confent.

Oh how much rather had that injur❜d chief
Repeated all his fufferings paft!
Than hear a pardon begg'd at last,
Which given could give the dying no relief;
He bent, he funk beneath his grief:
His dauntless heart would fain have held
From weeping, but his eyes rebell'd.

For all thofe joys thy restoration brought, For all the miracles it wronght,

For all the healing balm thy mercy pour'd
Into the nation's bleeding wound,
And care that after kept it found,

For numerous bleffings yearly fhower'd,
And property with plenty crown'd;
For freedom, ftill maintain'd alive,
Freedom which in no other land will thrive,
Freedom, an English subject's fole prerogative,
Without whofe charms even peace would be
But a dull quiet flavery:

For thefe and more, accept our pious praise ;
Tis all the fubfidy

The prefent age can raife,

The reft is charg'd on late pofterity.

Pofterity is charg'd the more,

Because the large abounding store

[thee.

To them and to their heirs, is ftill entail'd by

Succeffion of a long defcent

Which chaftely in the channels ran,

And from our demi-gods began,

Equal simoft to time in its extent,

Through hazards numberless and great,

Thou haft deriv'd this mighty bluffing down,

And fxt the fairest gem that decks th' imperial

crown:

Not faction, when it fook thy regal feat,
Net fenates, infolently loud,
Thefe echoes of a thoughtless crowd,
Not foreign or domeftic treachery,
Could warp thy foul to their unjust decree.
So much thy foes thy manly mind mistook,
Who jadg'd it by the milonefs of thy look:
Like a well-temper'd fword it bent at will;
But kept the native toughnefs of the fteel,

XI.

Be true, O Clio, to thy hero's name! But draw him ftrialy fo,

That all who view, the piece may know; He needs no trappings of fictitious fame :

The load's too weighty: thou may'st choose
Some parts of praife, and fome refuse:
Write, that his annals may be thought more lavisa
than the Muse.

In fcanty truth thou haft confin'd
The virtues of a royal mind,

Forgiving, bounteous, humble, just, and kind :
His converfation, wit, and parts,

His knowledge in the nobleft useful arts,
Were fuch, dead authors could not give;
But habitudes of those who live;

Who, lighting him, did greater lights receive :
He drain'd from all, and all they knew;
His apprehenfion quick, his judgment true:
That the most learn'd, with fhame, confefs
His knowledge more, his reading only lefs.

XII.

Amidst the peaceful triumphs of his reign, What wonder if the kindly beams he shed, Reviv'd the drooping arts again,

If fcience rais'd her head,

And foft humanity that from rebellion fled?
Our ifle, indeed, too fruitful was before;
But all uncultivated lay

Out of the folar walk and heaven's high way;

With rank Geneva weeds run o'er,

And cockle, at the best, amidst the corn it bore: The royal husbandman appear'd,

And plough'd, and fow'd, and till'd,

The thorns he rooted out the rubbish clear'd,
And blefs'd th' obedient field.
When ftrait a double harvest role,
Such as the fwarthy Indian mows;
Or happier climates near the line,

Or paradife manur'd and dreft by hands divine.

XIII.

As when the new-born phoenix takes his way, His rich paternal regions to furvey,

Of airy choristers a numerous train

Attend his wondrous progrefs o'er the plain;
So, rifing from his father's urn,

So glorious did our Charles return;
Th' officious Mufes came along,

A gay harmonious quire like angels ever young:
The Mufe that mourns him now his happy tri-

umph fung,

Ev'n they could thrive in his aufpicious reign;
And fuch a plenteous crop they bore

Of pureft and well-winow'd grain,

As Britain never knew before.
Though little was their hire, and light their gain,
Yet fomewhat to their fhare he threw;
Fed from his hand, they fung and flew,
Like birds of paradife that liv'd on morning
dew.

Oh never let their lays his name forget!
The pension of a prince's praife is great.
Live then, thou great encourager of arts,
Live ever in our thankful hearts;
Live bleft above, almost invok'd below;
Live and receive this pious vow,

Our patron once, our guardian angel now,

Oh frail eftate of human things,
And flippery hopes below!

Now to our coft your emptinefs we know ;
For 'tis a leffon dearly bought,
Affurance here is never to be fought.
The best, and beft-belov'd of kings,
And beft deserving to be so,

When scarce he had escap'd the fatal blow
Of faction and confpiracy,

Death did his promis'd hopes destroy:
He toil'd, he gain'd, but liv'd not to enjoy.
What mifts of Providence are these
Through which we cannot fee!
So faints, by fupernatural power set free,
Are left at last in martyrdom to die;
Such is the end of oft-repeated miracles.
Forgive me, heaven, that impious thought,
"Twas grief for Charles, to niadnefs wrought,
That question'd thy fupreme decree!
Thou didst his gracious reign prolong,
Ev'n in thy faints and angels wrong,
His fellow citizens of immortality:
For twelve long years of exile borne,

Twice twelve we number'd fince his bleft return:
So ftrictly wert thou just to pay,
Ev'n to the driblet of a day.

Yet ftill we murmur and complain,

The quails and manna fhould no longer rain;
Thofe miracles 'twas needlefs to renew ;

[view.

The chofen flock has now the promis'd land in

XV.

A warlike prince afcends the regal state, A prince long exercis'd by fate : Long may he keep, though he obtains it late! Heroes in heaven's peculiar mold are caft, They and their poets are not form'd in haste; Man was the first in God's defign, and man was made the laft.

False heroes, made by flattery so,

Heaven can strike out, like fparkles, at a blow;
But ere a prince is to perfection brought,
He cofts Omnipotence a fecond thought.
With toil and sweat,

With hardening cold, and forming heat,
The Cyclops did their strokes repeat,
Before th' impenetrable fhield was wrought.
It looks as if the Maker would not own
The noble work for his,

Before 'twas try'd and found a master-piece.

XVI.

View then a monarch ripen'd for a throne. Alcides thus his race began,

O'er infancy he swiftly ran;

The future God at first was more than man;
Dangers and toils, and Juno's hate
Ev'n o'er his cradle lay in wait;

And there he grappled firft with fate:

In his young hands the hiffing fnakes he preft,
So early was the Deity confest;

Thus by degrees he rose to Jove's imperial feat;

Thus difficulties prove a foul legitimately great.
Like his, our hero's infancy was try'd;
Betimes the Furies did their snakes provide;
And to his infant arms oppofe

His father's rebels, and his brother's foes;
The more oppreft, the higher still he rofe;
Those were the preludes of his fate,
That form'd his manhood, to fubdue
Thy hydra of the many-headed hiffing crew.

XVII.

As, after Numa's peaceful reign,
The martial Ancus did the fceptre wield,
Furbish'd the rufty fword again,
Refum'd the long-forgotten fhield,
And led the Latins to the dusty field;
So James the drowsy genius wakes
Of Britain long entranc'd in charms,
Reftiff and flumbering on its arms:
'Tis rous'd, and with a new-ftrung nerve, the
fpear already shakes.

No neighing of the warrier fteeds,
No drum, or louder trumpet, needs
T'infpire the coward, warm the cold,

His voice, his fole appearance makes them bold.
Gaul and Batavia dread th' impending blow;
Too well the vigour of that arm they know;
They lick the duft, and crouch beneath their
fatal foe,

Long may they fear this awful prince,
And not provoke his lingering fword;
Peace is their only fure defence,
Their beft fecurity his word:

In all the changes of his doubtful state,
His truth, like heaven's, was kept inviolate,
For him to promife is to make it fate.
His valour can triumph o'er land and main;
With broken oaths his fame he will not ftain;
With conqueft bafely bought, and with in-
glorious gain.