CAROLI Του Μαχαρίτου ΠΑΛΙΓΓΕΝΕΣΊΑ. Printed Ann. Dom. 1649. CAROLI {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}. I Come, but come with trembling, lest I prove Th' unequal Greece of Semele and Jove. As She was too obscure, and He too bright, My theme's too heavy, and my Pen too light. And whilst, like Midas, I presume to sit In wise Apollo's Chair, without HIS wit, Is it not just t'expect, that He, who dares Higher than Midas, should wear longer ears? May I not fear Patroclus' Fate, and feel The dangerous honour of Achilles' Steel? Just like that busy Elf, whose venturous Pride Found none but Titan Titan's Coach could guide? Why; he'll not stand in Verse. Can I enclose * De Catone ve●us dict●m, Ultimus Romanorum, Primus Hominum. Him, whom the greatest liberty of Prose Wants room to hold? And whose unwieldy Name, Is big enough to fill the Trump of Fame? An individual species? like the Sun, At once a Multitude, and yet but One? One of such vast Importance, that He fell The festival of heaven, and England's Hell? One, who for Eminence was these two things, The last of Christians, and the first of Kings? One so diffusive, that he lived to all, And One that died the whole world's Funeral? For Charles being thus dismounted, and the Swain High shooed Boötes leapt into the Wain, Is not old Beldame Nature truly said T'advance her heels, and stand upon her Head? Does not the judge, and Law too for a need, The stirrup hold, whilst Treason mounts the Steed▪ Is not God's Word, and's Providence besides Used as a Laquy, whilst th' white Devil rides! Sure all things thus into Confusion hurled Make, though an universe, yet not a World. And so our sovereign's, like our saviour's Passion, Becomes a kind of Doomsday to the Nation. If Deadmen did not walk, 'twould be admired (The Breath of all our Nostrils thus expired) What 't is that gives us motion. And can I, Who want myself, write Him an elegy? Though Virgil turned Evangelist, and wrote, Not from his Tripod, but God's Altar taught; Though all the Poets of the Age should sit In Inquest of Invention, and club wit, To make words Epigrams; should they combine To crowd whole stock of fancy in each line; Sell the Fee-simple to advance one sum, (As Eglis spoke but once, and then lived dumb) ‛ I were all as inarticulate, and weak, As when those men make signs, that cannot speak. But where the Theme confounds us, * {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}. Longin. 'tis a sort Of glorious Merit, proudly to fall short. Despair sometimes gives courage; any one May lisp him out, who can be spoke by none; None but a King; No King, unless He be As Wise, as just, as Good, as Great as He. When Late Posterity shall run t'advise With Times impartial Register, how Wise This Great-one was, they'll find it there enrolled That He was ne'er in's Nonage. but born old. View him whilst Prince of Wales, and it appears His wisdom did so antedate his years, Th●t He was full i'th' Bud, and's Soul divine, Nestor, might be Great-Grandfather to thine. View him again, where he so ripe was grown, As not to rise, but drop into a Throne. How did those rays of majesty, which were scattered in other Kings, concentre here? As if h''ve got King sapours sphere, and proved How each Intelligence his orb had moved▪ Wise Charles, like them, sat steering at two helms, King of himself, but Father of his Realms: And just as if old Trismegistus Cup Had by his thirsty Soul been all drunk up, His understanding did begirt this All, As t' were ecliptic or meridional. ●uppose a diet of all Christian Kings And Bishops too, convened to weigh the things Of Church and State: Nay add inferior men, Those of the Sword, the pencil, and the pen. From th' sceptre to the sheephook, Charles in all Must have been umpire ecumenical. He lived a Perpendicular; The Thread His wisdom was; Humility the Lead, By which he measured Men and Things; took aim At actions crooked, and at actions plain. He and all from him into Cubes did fall, And yet as perfect as the Circle, all, 'Twas He took nature's breadth, & Depth, and height, Knew the just difference twixt Wrong, and Right. He saw the points of things, could justly hit, What must be done, what may; what's just, what sit. As if, like Moses he had had resort Unto God's council, ere he was of's Court. Hence his Religion was his choice, not Fate, Ruled by God's Word, not Interest of State. Others may thank their stars. He his inquest, Who, sounding all sides, anchored in the best. His Crown contained a mitre; He did twist Moses and Aaron, King and Casuist. When the Mahometan or Pope shall look On his Soul's best Interpreter, his Book; His Book, his Life, his Death, will henceforth be The Church of England's best apology. Thus Dove and Serpent kissed, as if they meant To render him as wise, so innocent. His own good Genius knew not, whether were His Heart more single, or his Head more clear. Virtue was his Prerogative; and thus Charles ruled the King, before the King ruled us. He knew that to command, his only way Was first to teach his Passions to obey. And his incessant waiting on God's Throne Gave him such meek reflections on his own, That, being forc●● to censure, he expressed A judge's Office with a mother's breast. And when some sturdy violence began T'unsheath his sword, unwilling to be drawn He but destroyed (and so soft mercy can) The malefactor, to preserve the Man. Even Hell's blind journeymen, those Sons of Night Who look on scarlet murder, and think't white, Unwillingly confessed, The only thing Which made him guilty was, That He was King. He was Incarnate justice, and 'tis said Astraea lived in him, yet died a Maid. We want an Emblem for him: Phoebus must Stand still in Libra, to speak Charles the Iust. And yet though he were such, that nothing less Than Virtue's mean stretched to a just excess Flew from his Soul; He, like the Sun, was known To see all excellence, except his own. His Modesty was such, that All which He ‛ Ere spoke or thought of's self, was Calumny; But yet so mixed with state, that one might see It made him not less Kingly, but more free. He was not like those Princes, who t'express A learned surfeit, a sublime excess, Send to dispeople all the Sea of Fish, Depopulate the air to make one dish, (Such skilful luxuries, as only serve To make their minds more plentifully starve) Whatever Dainties filled his Board by chance, His only constant Dish was (a) Evagr. l. 1. c. 21. de Monachis quisusdam, {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}. Temperance. His Virtue did so limit him, his Court Implied his cloister; and his very sport Was self-denial. Nay, though he were seen So roabed in purple, and so matched t' a Queen, As made him glitter like a Noon day Sun, Yet still his Soul wore sackcloth, and lived Nun. (b) Evagr. l. 1. c. 13. {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}. Simeon the Stylite in his Pillar penned Might live more strict, but not more innocent. So wise, so just, so good, so great and all, What is't could set him higher, but his fall? When he caught up by a Celestial Train Began his second, and more solid reign. How to that Haven did this Pilot steer Twixt th' Independent, and the Presbyter, Placed in the confines of two shipwrecks? thus The Greeks are seated twixt the Turks and us. Whom did Byzantium fre●, Rome would condemn; And freed from Rome, they are enslaved by them. So placed betwixt a Precipice and Wolf, There the Aegaean, here the Venice-gulf, What with the rising and the setting Sun, By these theyare hated, and by those undone. Thus virtues hemmed with vices, and though either Solicits her consent, she yields to neither. Nay thus our Saviour, to enhance his grief, Was hung betwixt a Murderer, and a Thief. Now Charles as King, and as a good King too Being Christ's adopted self, was both to do And suffer like him; both to live and die So much more humble, as he was more high Than his own Subjects. He was thus to tread In the same footsteps, and submit his Head To the same thorns: when spit upon, and beat, To make his Conscience serve for his retreat, And overcome by suffering: To take up His saviour's cross, and pledge him in his Cup. Since than our sovereign, by just account, Lived o'er our saviour's Sermon in the Mount, And did all Christian Precepts so reduce, That's Life the Doctrine was, his Death the Use; Posterity will say, he should have dy'd No other Death, then by being Crucified. And their renownedst Epocha will be Great Charles his Death, next Christ's Nativity. Thus Treason's grown most Orthodox; who since They said they'd [make him the most glorious Prince In all the Christian World] 'tis plain, this way They only promised, what they meant to pay. For now (besides that beatific Vision Where all desire is lost into fruition) The stones, they hurled at him, with intent To crush his fame, have proved his monument. Their Libels his best obelisk; To have A fit Mausóle, were to want a Grave; His Scaffold, like mount Tabor, will in story Become the proudest theatre of Glory, Next to the blessed cross: and thus 'tis sense, T'affirm him murdered in his own Defence. For though all hell's Artillery and skill Combined together to besiege his Will; And when their malice could not bring't about To hurt God's Image, they razed Adam's out, (Like men repulsed, whose Choler thinks it witty To burn the Suburbs, when they can't the City) Howe'er they stormed his walls, and drained his blood, Which moated round his Soul; yet still he stood Defender of the Faith, (and that which He Found sweeter than revenge) his Charity. This then the utmost was their rage could do, [It showed him King of his afflictions too.] untempted Virtue is but coldly good, (As she's scarce chaste, that's so but in cold blood) To scorn base Quarter is the best escape, (As Lucrece died the chaster for her rape) These two did Charles his Virtue most befriend, His glorious hardships first, and then his end. Death we forgive thee, and thy Bourreaux too, Since what did seem thy rape, proves but his due. For how could he be said to fall too soon, Whose green was mellow, & whose dawn was noon? Since Charles was only by thy courteous knife redeemed from this great injury of life To one so lasting, that 'tis truly said Not He, but his mortality is dead— To weep his Death's the treason of our eyes; Our Sun did only set, that he might rise. But we do mock, not cheat our grief, and sit Only at best t' upbraid ourselves in wit, And want him learnedly: such colours do Disguise disasters, not delude them too. For though, I must confess, a Poet can Fancy things better than another man, He can but fancy'um; and all his pains Is but to fill his belly with his brains. He may both petrified and famished sit, That wears his thoughts, and only dines on wit. Were I a Polypus, and could go on To be those very things I think upon, I would not then complain: but since I know To call things thus, is not to make them so, Great Charles is slain: and say we what we will, Yet we shall find, judgements are judgements still. For though 'tis true, that his now-immense Soul Doth hold commensuration with each Pole; Though he doth shine a Star more fixed and bright Then where the year makes but one day and night; And, lest he fill the zodiac, doth appear Not in the Eighth, but Empyraean Sphere; Yet we his Rise may our Descension call, As Libra's mounting is poor Aries fall. He was the only Moses that could stand Betwixt the sins and judgements of the Land. And what can we expect, our Lot being gone, But that a Hell from heaven should tumble down On our more sinful Sodom? unless we Are damned yet worse, to an impunity.) King's are God's once removed. It hence appears No Court but heaven's can try them by their Peer. So that for▪ Charles the Good to have been tried And cast by mortal Votes, was Deicide. No sin, except the first, hath ever past So black as this; no judgement, but the last. How does our Del●s, which so lately stood Unmoved, lie floating in her Pilots blood? And can we hope to Anchor, who discern Nought but the tempest ruling at the stern; Whilst Pluto's Rival, with his Saints by's side, Drawn by the Spirit of avarice and pride, Being fairly placed in the Chair of scorn Sits brewing Tears for Infants yet unborn? Vast stocks of misery, which his Guardian-rage Does husband for them till they come to age? When future times shall look what Plagues beef Egypt and Us, by'way of Parallel, They'll find at once presented to their view The Frogs and Lice, and Independents too. Only this signal difference will be known Betwixt those Egyptian judgements and our own, Those were God's Armies; but th' effect doth tell That these our Vermin are the Host of Hell. Pausanias and Herostratus will look Like Pygmy-Sinners writ in Times black-book. The Spanish Fleet, and Powder-plot will lack Their usual mentions in our almanac. — Nay, which is more, (c) Socrat. l. 7. c. 10. hoc Alarichiresponsum recitat. {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} [{non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman}.] Alaricus his name Will scarce be legible i'th' leaves of fame, When Cromwell shall be read. Nature was ne'er So blessedly reformed, since Lucifer. O for a Jeremy to lamemt our woe! From whom such tragic rhetoric might flow, As would become our misery, and dress Our sorrows with a dreadful gaudiness! For next those hovering judgements, which the fall Of One so great, so good, makes vertical. (And rushing down, may only be withstood If Charles his prayers cry louder than his blood) I say next that, It is our second cross We can't grieve worthy of so great a loss. To weep upon this subject, and weep sense, Requires we should be born ten Ages hence. The greater are the heights an Artist's hand Designs to take, the farther he must stand. And as when Sol's in's Zenith, He implies His dazzling glory best, that shuts his eyes, So, where the Theme's ineffable, the way To speak it is, (d) Herodot. l. 3. Psammetichus ad Cambysem, cùm Amicorum vicem lacrymis lugeret, suam verò silentio, {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} &c. Not to know what to say. THE END.