THE IN-SECURITIE OF PRINCES.
O How doth sad experience verifie
His perilous estate that sits on high!
The lowly shrub stands ever firm and fast,
Whil'st lofty Cedars shake with every blast
No stormy winds disturb the humble vale,
Whilst the proud mountain feels the smallest gale.
Safety but seldom at the Court resides:
It flies the Prince, and with the Peasant 'bides.
From Palaces contentment keeps aloof:
[A cottage-guest] it loves the low-set roof.
VOTUM AUTORIS.
WEre I then of the twain my choice to make
I'de leave the Palace, and the Cottage take
ANOTHER.
O To what dangers, to what cares and fears,
Is he exposed that the Sceptre bears!
[...] [...]What though a golden Crown his brows adorns?
'Tis little better than a crown of thorns.
Such cares his head molest, his heart such fears,
Whose head the Crown, whose hand the Sceptre bears.
The saying's old, but true: were it but known
To him that in the streets should find a Crown,
What cares attend the same, he would not stoup
[As hardly worth the pains] to take it up.
No Crown without a crosse: the Crown and Care,
Like Sin and Sorrow, undivided are.
'Twixt this and that as great affinitie,
As 'twixt Effect and Cruse; 'twixt Fruit and Tree.
For worldly crowns how fond is then the strife!
No crown for me, except the Crown of Life!
Those, like to worldly glory, post away,
This immarcessible, and lasts for ay.
Though robbed of the former, yet the head
Of brave King CHARLES with this is garnished:
And he triumphant sits aloft and fings
Continuall praises to the King of kings.
Above the reach of those malignant ones,
Rebellious Corahs, worst of Belials sons;
Whom as he here with patience, so there
Beholds with pitie, and with smiling cheer.
Laughs at their malice, disappointed so,
That making him a mortall crown forgo,
A crown immortall he hath gaind. Fond men!
Tis you, not he, that are the losers then
For you have lost a Prince, of whom Fame swore,
There never was his like nor should be more.
For Intellectuals, t'admiration rare,
And for his Morals beyond all compare.
For his Religion, past example sound,
And for Devotion ne're enough renownd.
Whether as Husband, Parent, Master, he
A Myrror fit for all posterity.
In short, say Malis what soe're she can,
The Sun ne're shone upon a braver man:
And of his Country such a tender Father,
That, than wrong it, he Martyrdom chose rather.
And thus unto some few mens lawlesse pleasure
VVas sacrific'd three Kingdoms choicest treasure.
VVhilst villany with villanie's upheld;
And Murder for Rebellion made the shield.
Thus bad beginnings to worse ends are ty'd:
A Rebell first, and then a Regicide.
No other plea, that ever I could see,
For that their so much urg'd NECESSITIE.
Necessitie? ô heavens! curs'd be that need,
That makes a sinner in his sin proceed!
If these be saints, if this their doctrine be,
From it and them good Lord deliver me!
If saints are understood in this large sence,
Twixt Saints and Devils what's the difference?
If these be saints, this their divinitie,
A sinner rather than a saint for me!
This seems more like the voice of Hell or Room,
Into whose secrets let not my soul come!
But see, what by fair words you promised,
By your foul deeds is now accomplished,
Though in a better sence; good out of ill
Heavens midwifery producing, spight of hell.
For, maugre men and devils, he's become
So glorious as no Prince in Christendome.
And is by so much more exalted now,
As lately trampled under foot by you.
Experience thus confirms the
Vincit qui patitur.
Adagy:"That he that suffers gets the victory.
VOTUM AUTORIS.
IS suffering then to heaven the Kings high-way?
Goes the voluptuous worldling clean astray?
Then Mammonists sing Requiems to your souls!
Let Bacchus boyes carowse Their wine in bowls:
Let Gluttons of their bellies make their god:
Let the Proud glory to be richly clad:
Let Sluggards stretch themselves on beds of down:
Their heads with rose-buds let the Wantons crown:
Let the ambitious love to towr on high:
Let the malicious hugg his evil ey:
Whilst the proud Rebell triumpheth that he
Himself can rise by fall of Monarchy:
Whilst the Sacrileg'st celebrates the day,
That made Church-lands become his lawfull prey:
But thou, my Soul! abhorre such prostitutions:
Such sensual, Epicurean, base pollutions!
Meer by-paths those, for Straglers: wayes that tend,
Like that broad road, unto some dismall end.
The Crosse let be thy Portion, sanctifi'd!
Thy Soveraign, next thy Saviour be thy guide!
Went thy sacred Saviour to the fatall tree,
Thy Soveraigne to the block, so willingly?
And wilt thou startle at a petty Crosse?
A light affliction, some slight temporall losse?
Such Captains, and a Coward? No, thus led,
Ile scorn it should be said I flinch'd, or fled.
Heavens say Amen! and grant I henceforth may,
The broad declining, chuse the narrow way!
There though hearts grief may by the way offend,
Yet true hearts-ease shall crown my jonrneys end
Such as no eye hath seen, ear heard, nor can
Conceived be by heart of mortall man.
A period therefore sure. Let admiration
Make up the rest in silent contemplation.
FINIS.