AN ELEGY On 

The Meekest of Men,  
The most glorious of Princes,  
The most Constant of Martyrs,   CHARLES the I. etc.   printer's or publisher's device 
Printed in the Year, 1649.   

AN ELEGY, etc.  
Most cruel men,  
CAn you a winged souls swift flight restrain,  
And lure her to her widowed home again?  
Or bound the wander of the floating blood?  
And to his purple channel charm his flood?  
Can you a gasping hearts fall'n heat repair,  
And into breath coin the unfashioned air?  
Can you unweave the Nerves, then twist their thread,  
And to th'unravelled corpse refit the head?  
Who can do less than this, should fear to kill:  
Best pulling down is by a Builder still.  
But cool debates you can embrace no more  
Than Caesar's Lion, who his Teacher tore.  
From meaner gore, and Subjects courser flood,  
Your curious Treason thirsts your Prince's blood:  
And fleshed in under-slaughter, boldly brings  
Raised appetite to diet on your Kings.  
No Epicure like thriving Murder's found:  
Her Stream tastes foul, unless her Spring be crowned.  
But though who Thrones and Majesty betray,  
As largest guilt, so reap the largest prey,  
And sage projecting Hell her snares might fear,  
But that she bids, high pay, and damns some dear:  
Yet few have levelled at a Prince's fall,  
But such whose claim did for succession call:  
Whose bordering title tired to be kept down,  
Cast trains less for his ruin, than his Crown.  
But here the desperate Rebel strikes at sway,  
Not for who shall succeed, but that none may:  
Deeming the crime less daring, of less height  
To ravish Sceptres, then to break them quite:  
As if an ampler beam of power were hurled  
To hatch a Chaos, then create a world.  
No  concealment leads this murder in;  
That were too much the Modesty of sin.  
No closet-ambush, unsuspected pill,  
No mingled cup, no secret drug must kill,  
Success hath raised them up to opner crimes,  
Rolfe was an Instrument for doubtful times.  
A mock Tribunals built, a pageant Court,  
Which but for matchless crimes, might pass for sport,  
So frail and lawless; Faith hath no defence  
To credit, 'tis at all but insolence.  
No fond Romance, no famed Arcadia treats,  
Of such Eutopian, frantic Judgement Seats:  
At whose dire black decrees, we wondering stand,  
As some pale Ghosts dim taper, and cold hand  
Did waft us through the shades, until he brings  
Where Fairy Traitor's murder airy Kings:  
While slumbering we invoke the morning's light,  
To chase the Legend-vision from our sight.  
High in this dream, in this fantastic Bench,  
Bold apparition Bradshaw doth entrench.  
One whom the genuine Bar did seldom see,  
Whose obscure tongue scarce boasts a seven years Fee.  
Whose Lungs are all his Law, whose pleading noise,  
And silence, dearer then discreeter voice.  
Whose conscience wears a face for every dress;  
Religion justifies the Savages.  
Factioned, and byased, for who gives most fair,  
Chameleon through, only not hired with Air.  
Whose insolence no presence can relax,  
Whose carriage wounds his King worse than the Axe.  
This needy Orator, now richer dressed,  
And higher placed, is Image still at best:  
Who though from hell, he his glib dictates hold,  
As Satan talked i'th' Idols tongues of old;  
Yet the close drift of this bright pomp and shrine,  
Is nor the Devil; nor He, but worse design.  
The Ephesian workmen great Diana made,  
Not for Diana's sake, but their own trade.  
Our Sovereign's sighs, the People's louder groan  
Is not black Incense burnt to Bell alone,  
But strew their Altars round, and we shall meet  
An undistinguished rapines numerous feet.  
The Bloody Rebels conscious of their slain,  
Like the first murderer, the guilty Caine.  
Though just Remorse looks nobler than offence,  
Prefer continuance to penitence.  
Weigh crimes 'gainst mercies, down the Balance bear,  
Much with their sins, but most with their despair.  
Their own pale fears arm to this desperate thrust,  
Their King can pardon, but they cannot trust.  
The haughty Tigers dare the Lion's spite,  
And force bold inroads through their Sovereign's right;  
But if retireing from encroaching pride,  
They make their proper confines bound their tide:  
A faithful truce is struck, peace shuts in wars,  
And fresh assurance springs even from their jars;  
One equal desert shrowds their pastime still,  
And each intrust their slumbers to one hill.  
But jealous guilt, nor fence, nor safety hath:  
A Rebel is a Tiger without faith.  
But though stung conscience press to be secure,  
And would be wary when she can't be sure;  
Yet oft she most encounters what she flies,  
And all her ruin in her Refuge lies.  
For had their Foes conspired, and framed a pit,  
Whose train, whose deepest artifice should hit:  
They none so speeding, none so fleet could bring,  
As what themselves have shaped, their slaughtered King.  
By this, they naked lie to weakest eyes,  
And quit their ablest guard, their long disguise;  
Whose strength like men's in ambush, still hath been,  
Not from their strength, but cause their strength's unseen.  
Whom shall they combat now in's own defence,  
And whom bring home only by driving hence?  
Whom shall they disobey to serve his will?  
Whom shall their Canon court, and humbly kill?  
Whose omnipresence space shall reconcile;  
Be here, and yet be hence a hundred mile?  
Whose doubtful seal shall, while it is betwaine,  
And burnt from phenix-cinders bud again?  
They, whose thick vows, exalted hearts and eyes,  
High as the skies, and stable as the skies;  
Who know their lives are frail, short recompense,  
And cheap oblation weighed with conscience:  
Will now no longer gorge their venomous pills,  
Nor by elusions steer enlightened wills;  
Nor prise the shame of finding former sin  
At the sad rate of wading farther in.  
But haste returns as vigorous as mistake,  
And hate the ghastly dream the more they wake:  
No longer brook a Tyler or a Cade,  
Those Dunghill Tyrants whom themselves have made:  
Which like dire comets mounted in the air,  
Rain plagues on earth, whose vapours placed them there.  
They find this hot impatience 'gainst the throne,  
Is by its embers but to light their own.  
Like him, who raised his Gods adored head,  
To make his own blaspheme it in the stead.  
Hence their Agreement, chains and shackles throws,  
As not what we Agree, but they impose;  
Gild the peircing'st flames with specious smoke,  
Glozing it our consent, which is their yoke.  
Were their dark arts soft as their glistering shows,  
Did their thronged chapplets scatter nought but Rose:  
Did they a Freedom give, was ours before,  
Which the King's slaughter were but to restore,  
Yet the Acceptance ought to prove ours still,  
And none obtrude a bliss against our will:  
'Tis not a Liberty we needs must have,  
And he is only free, who may be slave.  
Nay, were't our keen request, and eager cry,  
It might so fall, 'twere nobler to deny;  
Their bounty, us might to our ruin arm,  
And better not bestow, then give to harm:  
Who weapons one, who seeks himself to kill,  
Bestows a murder, and a Liberal Ill  
And such is theirs, and worse, for they afford  
Not only means to kill, but prompt the Sword.  
men's frenzy bated now, and could endure  
To hear of physic, though 'twere far from cure;  
When cruel they break in, and crying, save,  
Entomb the Nation in their Sovereign's grave.  
The Heathen Brutus did at murder stay,  
Who, though he durst eject, he durst not slay:  
His bare deposing too, no shelter brings,  
But that it fastened on the wrost of Kings:  
The Public curse had blasted all his praise,  
Had his attempt been up ere Tarquin's days.  
Where shall they build their plea, who at once do  
Destroy the best of Men, and Princes too?  
Whose rooted Thrones fair growth did less improve  
From clear unenvied claim, than Subjects love,  
Whose boundless worth, and rate had given Him sway,  
Though His descent and title were away.  
And now, since virtue vice doth best descry,  
As strait shows straightness and obliquity;  
His prudent sway, her beauty best affords,  
Drawn out, and shadowed by usurping Lords.  
Whose early first decree so loathed hath stood,  
By framers guilt, and injured strafford's Blood.  
Who suppled Laws, and gauged them to their wills,  
Not to support their Rights, but strengthen Ills.  
No resolves steady, no vote tumult strong,  
But ratified, or cancelled by th' next throng:  
Such floating levitieses their coin disgraced,  
Till cheap irreverence the mint defaced.  
Whence poorly conscious of their ticklish sway,  
They sweat to husband and improve their day;  
Working to steer their low designs about,  
Ere the next Faction shake their title out:  
They lease their interest, each suffrage rend,  
As the two Houses were their Tenement:  
Who chaffers best, buys mercenary throats,  
Reaps plenteous harvest in the next days votes:  
They shear the People, bear their fleece away,  
Not as their Orphan-wards, but happier prey;  
Place and preferments pass their market-curse,  
Not to the worthiest men, but strongest purse  
Succeed by families, relations scale,  
Make Patriots not our choice, but their Entail  
Desert, or hold their stations with the Tide:  
Ruin, or ruined, as Factions side.  
Near acting right, now suffering this alone,  
Their Usurpation fell with CHARLES His Throne.  
Who Antidote to all the ills of these,  
And all their poisons strict Antipodes,  
Who when his crowns foared highest, did even then  
Remember still he was a King of men,  
Made their advantage compass to his own,  
And ranked their freedom equal with his throne.  
Ne'er checked their Liberty till it licence stood,  
Nor asked their goods, but for their greater good.  
Who i'th'loud prejudice five Members sin,  
(Which hung Reforming out, but Ruin in)  
Armed with the Guards of unoffended State,  
Like one that would not crush it, but debate:  
Like Titus tamely wished confederates leave,  
Ask (bate his Empire) and they should receive.  
Which fertile showers of grace so thick expressed,  
They fell too weighty on their narrowed breast:  
And as the clamorous channels shallow womb  
Would force the bounteous Sea her streams resume,  
And from his banks doth soul contractions take,  
And for a Crystal flood repays a Lake:  
So their unsound receipt his bounty slew,  
Returned in Poison, what He shed in Dew.  
Nor did a happier arm His gifts dispense,  
Which private threw but vast munificence:  
When hands Himself had raised would reach Him down,  
And nerves His Alms had strengthened, shake His Crown.  
The Vultur's Rapine doth at Bounty stand;  
Who though she gorge the prey, she spares the hand.  
The Giant Elephant obeys for bread;  
And can forgo his rage where he is fed.  
Where shall unthankful men for place intrude?  
Nor Air nor Desert shrowds Ingratitude.  
Yet as the equal Sun o'er all doth tend,  
Though some use light only to see t'offend:  
And both the barren Bramble and the Flower  
Partake the juice o'th' undistinguished shower:  
Because the teeming Clouds descending flood  
Designs the many only, not the good:  
So His impartial bounty Blessings threw,  
Nor did the Recompense, but Gift pursue.  
His Temperance might an Anchorite rigour tell,  
And make the Palace Standard to the Cell.  
Not that its Laws from the thin board proceed,  
Where to abstain is Avarice or Need;  
Or that the coarseness of the cates might please,  
Like the great Conful caught a parching pease,  
But from the strict chastising Plenties wings,  
And the severest use of highest things.  
His Table grasped the seas, the earth, the air,  
Yet ne'er His surfeit was, nor others snare.  
His Bowls massacred none, nor did enrage,  
Till Subjects blood the Prince's wine assuage.  
No Orphans swum about his riotous cup,  
Like his who killed, but first drank Clitus up.  
Unbattered Chastity his reins and law,  
Firm 'gainst the lustre of all threatening thaw,  
Which though it want the checks of mean restraint,  
Where charge chills sin, and makes the goatish faint;  
Where Continence is dread lest Vice succeed,  
And trembles at the issue, not the deed:  
Nay though it seem fortified with plea, and they  
Who sin with Him, might seem but to obey,  
At least the guilt might large alleys endure,  
Since few deny where Sceptres do allure:  
Or stand the vigour of a storm or rape,  
Where He was King, as by descent, so shape:  
For He their title had to back his own,  
Who to the goodly features give the throne.  
Yet all was frail to Him, and soon suppressed,  
Who set His Sceptre first o'er his own breast:  
And that His Crowns be in full square combined,  
He made His fourth Dominion be His mind.  
Not like that Romans chaste, but timorous care,  
Where to be chaste, was not to see the fair:  
Who found his breast not proof against the flames,  
But to escape, did bid remove the Dames.  
But as firme-sighted Eagles range the skies,  
And eye the Sun when strongest lustre flies;  
So His keen managed view severely sees,  
Not frailty to corrupt, but judge the piece.  
And could i'th' dazzling round securely stay,  
To bless the Potter, not abuse the clay.  
Wise Justice, such as mercy might dispense,  
To spare the Men, but punish the offence.  
Not to endanger Law, but temper doom,  
To kill despair, and yet make none presume.  
And here to match the births of strictest wills,  
Where naked virtues are but glistering ills,  
He lays His balance at the Temple gates,  
The Sanctuary Shekles are His weights.  
He quarter's all His day with constant prayers,  
No business shall dispense, no pleasure dares.  
Limnes Copies to His Court: doth reine and hold  
By Constancy the careless, Zeal the cold.  
His intent thoughts do their perplexed decry,  
His bend knees, stiff, His fixed, the wand'ring eye.  
Humble, the arrogant; His vigorous, dead;  
His awe, irreverence; affiance, dread:  
Makes all His practice dictate this alone,  
They had two King's t'obey, Himself had one.  
But Calm and Sunshine, undistracted ease,  
Yield but the Trophies of well-ordered peace;  
But He was furnished through, and had a stock,  
As for Fates fawn and courtship, so their shock.  
And though some cases make the task as great  
To manage temper, as to master heat,  
Though a sound prudence may deserve as well,  
To wave assaults, as courage to repel;  
Yet, here the generous lustre justly springs,  
Less from the Sceptre, than the Sufferings.  
For as the rage of these tempestuous times  
Was His Misfortune only, not His Crimes,  
(' Less Socrates' the Lightnings blame must bear,  
Because it Lightened when he took the Air:  
Or ' less the drought lies still at th'christian's gate,  
'Cause Drought and Christians were contemporate)  
So His harsh draught had some ingredients mixed,  
Which ne'er on Prince or Man till now were fixed.  
No Agony so tempered, no such Cup,  
Unless when God helped Man to drink it up.  
Where though the sufferings, rival none endure,  
'Cause one so sound received so sharp a cure;  
Yet we may safely give Persuasion this,  
Those Jews then these less knew they did amiss.  
His first affliction from rude Tumults came,  
From them the fuel, but elsewhere the flame.  
Their trunk and boughs build the instructed pile,  
But worse men light and fan the flames the while.  
That waves and winds should mix united stocks  
To bruise, and threaten Ships with shelves & rocks,  
Provokes our wonder less than moves our grief,  
Because they want the sense of our relief.  
Nay, were their rage, design, and shipwrecks, spleen,  
Yet there might clear pretence, and plea be seen,  
Since our encroachments they but pay with spite,  
And do but check usurpers of their right:  
For words we to commerce and traffic melt,  
By them is inroad and invasion felt.  
But should this sea, these winds conduct their threats,  
To th' awful palace, where great Neptune sets,  
Should their swelled surge make his bend Trident groan,  
And dash their foaming billows 'gainst his Throne:  
Then might they pattern us, than we might see,  
That winds and waves at least are wild as we.  
Nor was our frenzy, fit, our uproars, blasts,  
Or cloud that outs not light, but overcasts;  
But, like that fatal inauspicious day,  
When all the less and larger birds of prey,  
Conspired to force the Eagle from her throne,  
Because her eyes were clearer than their own:  
When the vast air seemed to th' thronged muster scant,  
And with oppressing load the Element pant.  
The injured Eagle girt in this distress,  
When reason nothing could, and force could less,  
She arms her active plumes with swiftest spring,  
Darts through their ranks, and saves her by her wing.  
But Eagles they are well when freed from rape,  
And need no reparation but th' escape:  
Review the sun with undishonoured eye,  
And build again their towering nests as high.  
But Princes scape not, though they are not slain,  
They may the wound, but cannot fly the stain.  
Yet hath our mischief farther arts, and can  
Distress Him both at once, as King and Man.  
Our sharp alarms forbidden his shortest stay,  
He may advise for gone, but not which way.  
We set His mazed resolves at gaze, and start,  
Else 'twere not to drive hence, but bid Departed.  
Else had our fury lessened of its spite,  
W' had forced Him to a progress, not a flight.  
But like a pilot huddled up i'th' dark,  
Himself surprised, and His unfurnish't bark,  
Whom unexpected tempests do constrain,  
And from His harbour drive into the main:  
No tackle tied, no anchor weather proof,  
But waves invade below, and winds aloof;  
Distracted and tossed, not bound for any road,  
Nor can return, nor can hold out abroad.  
Such was His mixed distress; how, what, or where,  
Uncertain all, but dangers certain were.  
By this selfe-pregnant sin improves to th'full,  
Affront at London, Treason grows at Hull:  
A bold repulse succeeds perplexed abode,  
Despised at home, thrives to refused abroad:  
Place tutors Place, on City's Cities call,  
He may not here be safe, nor there at all.  
When lo the spreading mischief not content  
To force up breaches in one element,  
Invades His Navy, doth insulting stand  
O'er the joint Trophies both of Sea and Land.  
To gild this rapine for the vulgar eyes,  
They chase Him through all His capacities;  
Shift lights and distances, until they see  
Another self in Him, which is not Herald  
Vex stills, and Crucibles, the furnace ply,  
To sift and drain a Chemic Majesty.  
At last their careful sweats auspicious how'r,  
Drops Him apart, distinguished from His power.  
But the afflicted quill, whose penance lies  
Through all His thorns, must stories martyr rise:  
What hardy plume dares register His cares?  
When foreign close, to sour His home affairs;  
When Ireland charitable fame untells,  
Adopts the worst of ven'mous beasts; Rebels.  
When Edenburge out-villained Carthage hath,  
And Scotch more slippery proves then Punic Faith,  
When they can trade their King, and beat a price  
For's Blood, to ingraine their crimson Avarice.  
Whilst we un-king His Fame, dethrone's repute  
Word our artillery, and libels shoot.  
Shift His restraints, and bound him with new hedge,  
Not for enlargement, but fresh pawn and pledge  
To now prevailing Gaolers; snare Him with Shapes  
Of nearer ills, to prompt him to escapes.  
So the close practised foulers treacherous gin,  
Already seized of prey, the lost bird in:  
Yet hath attendant dogs, whose disciplined throat,  
And busy roaving aid their threatening note;  
Till th' feathered prisoner scared with mixed mishap,  
Unskilled i'th' guile of the industrious trap,  
Struggles and flings with unsuccessful coil,  
Till motion weaves inevitable toil.  
When varied bondages some beams afford,  
To chequer plots, dissembling some accord;  
Which though smooth-phrased rough sense doth still control  
TO uncrown his head, or else un-king His soul.  
When all of Menial trust, whose cares expense  
Hearty with long experienced confidence,  
Paid diligent homage to his justest will,  
Must see their desolate ranks, and courses fill  
By rough unpractised homespun Colonies  
Of Russet Courtiers, and instructed spies,  
Whose treacherous attendance, and sly drift,  
Makes all their service but an Officious shrift.  
When the pure Altars sacred sons must flee  
His reverend approach, when single He  
Must both His Priest, and Congregation stand,  
Or some rash Korahs' foul unhallowed hand  
Corrupt His virgin gums, and raise a smoke,  
Not to appease His deity, but choke.  
When the revolted Cassocks plume their darts,  
With crooked Sophistry's perverted arts:  
To reason down His faith with studied power,  
And drown His soul in that confederate shower.  
To heighten these, when some, whose nobler name  
In His declining Banner arms their fame;  
Whom yet ignoble envy bend awry,  
Or Faint Devotion, cooled to Indifferency,  
Conspired the Church's battery; His weights,  
Took balance from her cause, not from their hates;  
He poised thin calumny, by ponderous good;  
Her sole, and yet unconquered champ on stood.  
When warmer onsets, like the searching ploughs,  
More fertile wounds on natures yielding brows:  
Were not the scar, but tillage of his heart,  
Cares thriving husbandry, and fruitful smart,  
Where what was sown a Cross, sprung up a sheaf,  
And Virtue, Harvest, though the Furrow grief.  
His glorious own Record gave this presage,  
Which next to hallowed writ, and sacred page,  
Shall busy pious wonder, and abide  
To Christian pilgrimage the second guide:  
Which reconciles (till now) the eternal hates  
Twixt simple piety, and fraudulent States.  
Shows how all Machiavelli in Solomon lies,  
And cunning makes men wilily, but not wise.  
Bottomes a stable Throne, whose secure chance  
Shall steady sit, or in her fall advance.  
When ghastly Death's astonishing Arrest  
In all her terrors, and grim wardrobe dressed,  
From a green Treaty nipped ere fully blown,  
And soft amusements of a restored throne,  
He meets with cheerful combat, and armed breath,  
A vigorous Resignation, not a Death.  
When His unlimited forgiveness flies  
High as His Blood's shrill voice, and towering cries,  
Not spun in scanty half denying prayers,  
But Legacy obliging to His Heirs.  
THE END.