A POEM, On the Most Deplorable Death of the Mighty MONARCH CHARLES II. King of England, Scotland, France, and Ireland.  

COuld I compose my thoughts, and now bethink,  
Or keep my Eyes from blubbering my Ink;  
Could Passion let me speak, or Grief forbear,  
To let my Tongue go on without a Tear,  
Could I have respite but to wipe mine Eyes,  
A little to compose sad Elegies.  
Something perhaps my loaded Soul might vent;  
Something might flow from Spirits that are penned;  
But now confusion my sad Soul o'erwhelms,  
When the Great Monarch of three mighty Realms  
The Second CHARLES lies Dead, Oh here! Who can  
Go on to speak of such a Royal Man?  
What Pen so ready? What Tongue so eloquent?  
Invention good, or mind is so intent?  
That dares to offer at the least worthy praise  
Of him, or can his broken fancy raise,  
To write or speak or him enough and fit,  
Is sure beyond the reach of Humane Wit.  
Yet Love and Loyalty amongst the rest  
Will make me crowd my lines, tho' not the best,  
His Sacred MAJESTY, let all bemoan  
His Death, the best, do it best, but let none  
Forbear the Tribute of a mournful Verse,  
To lay upon their Gracious Sovereign's Hearse.   

Startle ye Princes o'th' Earth, let the News  
Of the Death of Great Britain's KING, infuse  
Such melancholy Thoughts, such Changes make  
Within your Breasts, may make your Hearts to ache.  
Doth England's KING lie breathless? Ah! Who then  
Is free from Fate among the Sons of Men?  
The Glories of your Birth and State must end,  
Your strongest Force, and Royal Limbs must bend  
To the King of Terrors, your loftiest thought,  
Will perish in that day and come to nought;  
Millions of Wishes, prayers, and long live,  
Cannot Death's Fatal Stroke i'th' least retreive.   

Is CHARLES the Second Dead? A Prince whose life,  
Was full of Wonders, Peace, but little Strife;  
A Prince that at whose Birth was never heard,  
So strange a thing, at Noon a Star appeared,  
Heaven thereby, denoting such strange things  
To him, not common unto other Kings.  
And so miraculous have been e'er since,  
And Great the doings of wise Providence.   

The Royal Oak a story still will tell,  
To the World of wonders, and so will Boscobell.  
His sufferings in his Exile, and Distress  
Long time beyond the Seas, will say no less:  
The Fury of his Foes their Usurpation,  
Decrees against him, yet his Preservation  
Are full of great Remarks, and Admiration.  
But yet a greater Miracle was May,  
The second Joyful Nine and Twentieth Day,  
When that again he was restored and brought  
Forth, as it were again, beyond the thought  
of Mortals, without spilling any Blood,  
Or by his Enemies i'th' least withstood.  
And still how prosperous have been his Days,  
His Government easy, peaceable his ways,  
Gentle his Reign, Gracious and Merciful,  
To those that would not wilful Vengeance pull  
O'th' Law upon them, and yet even to those  
Children, he would be kind of such his Foes.  
Careful of's people in's Life, and at his Death  
Enjoining their welfare with his latest Breath.  
Weep not then if you can, you that don't love  
Monarchy, yet can't so ill-natured prove,  
But you will grieve for him per force and say,  
Surely a Gracious KING is dead to Day:  
A Prince whose Royal and Heroic Worth,  
Can no more followed be than patterned forth.   

And see how freely all his Subjects come,  
To bring their Tears and pungent Sorrows home,  
There needs no Summons; the wants to Collect  
The Tribute of their Eyes, that with respect  
To neither Bounds nor Measures overflows  
Th' Exchequer, and no narrow limits knows.  
The Court, the City, Country all look sad,  
Who sees a Face that merry is or glad.  
The Mourners every where do pass the street,  
And with their mutual Sorrows others greet;  
A sadder time these Islands never knew,  
Since wretched Rebel 's Royal Father slew.  
And thus ends the Life, and so concludes the Reign  
Of Great Britain's Mighty Prince Charlemaign.   

But are our Comforts now all gone? Is there  
No other Sun within our Hemisphere?  
Is CHARLES now in his Wain? And doth no other  
Bright Star appear. Behold his Illustrious Brother,  
And lawful Successor, drying our Tears,  
Cheering our Hearts, taking away false fears;  
A Prince no Novice, but Wise, approved,  
Experienced, and of the best beloved.  
Sprung of the same great Stock, and Royal Race;  
Sharer in exile, troubles, and disgrace.  
Allotted now by Heaven to take a Close  
Of Royal Dignity, in spite of is Foes.  
And after is Brother now to wear the Crown,  
Tho' misled Zealots would have pulled him down.  
JAMES the Second in CHARLES the Seconds stead,  
As CHARLES' the First, did JAMES the First succeed.  
JAMES and CHARLES, and CHARLES' and JAMES do twine,  
And in two parts do make one Royal Line.  
And in that Line may England ever be  
Both happy now and to Posterity.   By a Loyal p. E. N.  

LONDON; Printed by E. Mallet, 1685.