THE QUAKERS ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF CHARLES LATE King of England.  WRITTEN By W. P. a sincere Lover of CHARLES and JAMES. 
WHat wondrous Change in Waking do I find!  
For a strange Something does my Sense unbind;  
Truth has possessed my Darkened Soul all o'er  
With an unusual Light not known before,  
And doth inform me, that some Star is gone  
From whose kind influence we had Life alone;  
No sooner has this Stranger seized my Soul,  
But Rachel knocked, to raise me from my Bed,  
And with a Voice of Sorrow did condole  
The loss of CHARLES, whom she declared was Dead.  
CHARLES dost thou mean, we King of England call,  
That Lived within the Mansion named Whitehall?  
Yea— 'Tis too true— confusion's in the street,  
Distraction in the face of all we meet;  
As if the Chain of Causes now did break,  
And we all saw the Dreadful Day of Doom;  
No Tongue, but Faces, Eyes, and Actions speak;  
They walk like Men just risen from a Tomb.  
With that my Garments I in haste put on,  
And in the Spirit uttered many a Groan.  
Whilst I in this disordered Gesture move,  
Some Friends of mine, that CHARLES did always Love,  
With Zealous hast Approached me, full of Tears,  
Unmanly Actions caused from jealous Fears.  
The City-Wives the Book of Martyrs Read,  
And with those Thoughts their Easy Husbands Led;  
They talk of Christians Spitchcockt, Roasted, broiled,  
Of Martyred Consciences in Smithfield Fire,  
With newfound Deaths their Thoughts are Toiled,  
Their's nought but Treason does their Hearts Inspire.  
But we do that opinion Disallow,  
And for the future will to CAESAR bow.  
Entering dispute, precisely we run o'er  
The Signal Graces He to us had shown,  
(For we Dissented on a Different Score,  
Though we withdrew, we ne'er opposed the Crown)  
By oft forgiving, Wooing us to be,  
By His Example, joined in Harmony  
With England's Church, and Truth's Integrity:  
Though finding us a stiff, Misguided Crew,  
Yet daily still His Love he did renew,  
And moderates the Rigour of the Law,  
Which our selfwill doth hourly on us Draw;  
And doth consent the Pensylvanian Shore  
We may possess, and tempt his Laws no more.  
As Saul among the Prophets, here CHARLES stood,  
But greater far, being exquisitely Good:  
Anointed both, yet CHARLES the Laurel got,  
He Moses' Meekness had, Saul had it not:  
Saul as a scourge was to his people given,  
CHARLES as a Guardian Angel sent from Heaven.  
For us to speak thy Praise, or show thy worth,  
Which is above the reach of Flattery,  
Is much too hard for a weak Holderforth:  
None but thy Brother e'er could equal thee.  
We never knew, Whilst we the Wealth Enjoyed,  
The Value of our all-forgiving Prince,  
Until the Tyrant Death our hopes Destroyed,  
To place him on a Throne, far, far, from hence,  
In the Immortal Mansion of the Sun,  
Where he receives a never-fading Crown;  
And left his Earthly to a Prince, whose Fame  
The World shall fear, and tremble at his Name;  
The Second JAMES his Brother, and his Friend;  
Though Factious Crowds did for his Right contend  
To hang it o'er a Disobedient Head,  
Whom with a Crown these Tantalise a while,  
As Richard they, when Oliver was Dead,  
Proclaim the Man, but at the Bubble smile.  
We take not Absaloms, but David's part;  
Nor no Achitophel, with his false Art,  
Nay, joined with Zimries' Poison, ever shall  
Like the Disloyal Corah make us fall.  
Had we but Lordships in a fertile Plain,  
To enable us in Parliament to set,  
Our Native true Obedience we'd regain,  
By Loyal Votes that want Example yet.  
In Wisdom, Valour, Conduct, High Renown,  
Thou all thy Ancestors that wore this Crown,  
Exceed'st, in every Excellence as far  
As Midday Sun outshines a Midnight Star;  
To those we no Addition e'er could give,  
But we such heaps of Treasure would bestow,  
That Thou to so much Splendour shouldst arrive,  
As Time's Record, to Mortals cannot show.  
Accept, O Mighty JAMES, our Prayers the while;  
May Years of Peace and Plenty on Thee smile;  
May Fortune always wait Thee with Success,  
And Loyal Subjects numberless increase;  
May many Sons Thy Royal CONSORT bear,  
Endowed with Both Your Princely Virtues here,  
And Heirs to Glory when You change Your Sphere;  
And may this Crown still flourish in Thy Name,  
Till Time shall cease, and all the World expire,  
May all Thy Foes become ignobly tame.  
But may'st Thou always have thy Princely hearts desire.  
Pardon us JAMES, who must to Thee declare,  
'twas Loyal Zeal made us presume thus far,  
We ne'er were Poets upon Oliver.  
FINIS.   

LONDON, Printed by J. P. for Henry Playford, near the Temple-Church: 1685.