Majesty in Misery, Or an Imploration to the KING OF KINGS; Written by His late Majesty King Charles the First, in his durance at Carisbrook Castle, 1648.  
GReat Monarch of the World, from whose arm springs  
The Potency and Power of Kings,  
Record the Royal Woe, my Sufferings.  
And teach my tongue, that ever did confine  
Its faculties in truth's Seraphic line,  
To tract the treasons of thy foes and mine.  
Nature and Law by thy Divine Decree,  
The only work of righteous Loyalty,  
With this dim Diadem invested me.  
With it the sacred Sceptre, purple Robe,  
Thy holy Unction, and the Royal Globe,  
Yet I am levelled with the life of Job.  
The fiercest furies that do daily tread,  
Upon my grief, my grey discrowned head,  
Are those that owe my bounty for their Bread.  
They raise a War, and christian it the cause,  
Whilst Sacrilegious persons have applause,  
Plunder and Murder are the Kingdom's Laws.  
Tyranny bears the Title of Taxation,  
Revenge and Robbery are Reformation,  
Oppression gains the name of Sequestration.  
My Loyal Subject who in this bad season  
Attended me, (by the Law of God and Reason)  
They dare impeach and punish for High-Treason.  
Next at the Clergy do their fury's frown,  
Pious Episcopacy must go down,  
They will destroy the Crozier and Crown.  
Churchmen are chained, and Schismatics are freed,  
Mechanics preach, and holy Fathers bleed,  
The Crown is crucified with the Creed.  
The Church of England does all Faction foster,  
The Pulpit is usurped by each Imposter▪  
Extempore excludes the Pater Noster.  
The Presbyter and Independent's Seed,  
Springs from broad blades to make Religion bleed,  
Herod and Pontius Pilate are agreed.  
The corner Stones misplaced by every Pavier▪  
With such a bloody Method and Behaviour,  
Their Ancestors did crucify our Saviour.  
My Royal Consort from whose fruitful Womb,  
So many Princes legally have come▪  
Is forced in Pilgrimage to seek a Tomb.  
Great Britain's Heir is forced into France,  
Whilst on his Father's Head his Foes advance,  
Poor Child! he weeps out his Inheritance.  
With my own Power my Majesty they wound,  
In the King's name the King himself's uncrowned,  
So doth the dust destroy the Diamond.  
With Propositions daily they inchant,  
My People's Ears, such as due Reason daunt,  
And the Almighty will not let me grant.  
They promise to erect my Royal Stem,  
To make me great, t' advance my Diadem,  
If I will first fall down and worship them.  
But for Refusal they devour my Thrones,  
Distress my Children, and destroy my Bones,  
I fear they'll force me to make Bread of Stones.  
My Life they prise at such a slender rate,  
That in my absence they draw Bills of Hate,  
To prove the King a Traitor to the State.  
Felons attain more Privilege than I,  
They are allowed to answer e'er they die;  
'Tis death to me to ask the reason why.  
But sacred Saviour with thy words I woe  
Thee to forgive, and not be bitter to  
Such as thou knowst do not know what they do  
For since they from the Lord are so disjointed,  
As to contemn the Edict he appointed,  
How can they prise the Power of his Anointed?  
Augment my Patience, nullify my Hate,  
Preserve my Issue, and inspire my Mate,  
Yet though we perish, bless this Church and State▪  Vota dabant quae bella negarunt.  

London, Printed Anno Domini 1681.