The Liberty of the Imprisoned ROYALIST.  

BEat on proud Billows, Boreas' blow,  
Swell curled waves high as Jove's roof,  
Your incivility shall know  
That innocence is Tempest proof.  
Though surely Nereus roar my thoughts are calm,  
Then strike affliction, for thy wounds are balm.   

That which the world miscalls a jail,  
A private closet is to me,  
Whilst a good conscience is my bail,  
And Innocence my liberty.  
Locks, bars, Walls, leanness, though together met,  
Make me no prisoner, but an Anchorite.   

I whilst I wished to be retired,  
Into this private room was turned,  
As if their wisdom had conspired,  
A Salamander should be burned;  
And like a sophy who would drowned a fish,  
I am condemned to suffer what I wish.   

The cynic hugs his poverty,  
The pelican his wilderness,  
And 'tis the Indians' pride to be,  
Naked on frozen Caucasus.  
Contentment cannot smart, Stoics we see,  
Make torments easy by their apathy.   

These Manacles upon my arm,  
I as my sweethearts favour wear;  
And then to keep my ankles warm,  
I have some iron shacks there:  
These walls are but my Garrison, this Cell  
Which men call jail doth prove my citadel.   

So he that stroke at Jason's life,  
Thinking h'ad made his purpose sure,  
By a malicious friendly kn●fe,  
Did only wound him to a cure.  
Malice I see wants will for what is meant  
Mischief, oft-times proves favour in th' event.   

Here sin for want of food doth starve,  
Where temp●ing objects are not seen:  
And those strong Walls do only serve  
To keep vice out not let sin in.  
Malice of late's grown charitable sure,  
I'm not committed, but am kept secure.   

I'm in this Cabinet locked up,  
As some high prized Margarit,  
And like some great houseful or Pope,  
Am cloistered up from public sight.  
Retiredness is a point of majesty-  
And thus proud Sultan I'm as great as thee.   

When once my Prince affliction hath,  
Prosperity doth Treason seem,  
And then to smooth so rough a path  
I can learn patience too from him.  
Now not to suffer shows no loyal heart,  
When Kings want ease Subjects must learn to smart,   

What though I cannot see my King,  
Either in's person or his coin;  
Yet contemplation is a thing,  
Which renders what I have not mine:  
My prince from me what Adamant can part,  
Whom I do wear engraven on my heart.   

My soul is free as Ambient air,  
Although my baser parts be mewed,  
Whilst loyal thoughts do still rejoice,  
To company my solittude.  
And though Rebellion may my body bind,  
My King can only captivate my mind.   

Have you not seen the Nightingale  
When turned a Pilgrim in her Cage,  
And hear her tell her wonted tale,  
In that her Hermitage  
Even her chirping melody doth prove,  
That all her bars are trees, her cage a grove.   

I am the bird whom they combine,  
Thus to deprive of liberty,  
Who though they do my corpse confine,  
Yet maugre hate my soul is free.  
And though I'm mewed, yet I can chirp and sing,  
Disgrace to rebels, Glory to my King.   
Vive le Roy.  
FINIS.   

Upon his majesty's Coming to HOLMBY.  

HOld our brave Charles, and thou shalt win the field,  
Thou canst not lose thyself, unless thou yield,  
On such conditions, as will force thy hand,  
To give away thy sceptre, Crown, and Land,  
And what is worse to hazard by thy fall,  
To lose a greater crown, more worth than all.   

Thy poor distressed Cavaliers rejoiced  
To hear thy royal resol●tion voiced,  
And are content yet far more poor to be,  
Then now they are, so it reflect from thee,  
Thou art our sovereign still in spite of hate,  
Our zeal is to thy person not thy state.   

We are not so ambitious to desire,  
Our drooping fortune to be mounted higher,  
And thou so great a Monarch (to our grief)  
Must sue unto thy subjects for relief,  
And when they sit and long debate about it,  
Must either stay, or go away without it.   

No sacred Prince, thy friends esteem thee more  
In thy distresses then they did before,  
And though their wings be clipped their wishes fly  
To heaven by millions for a fresh supply,  
That as thy cause was thus betrayed by men,  
It may by Ange●s be restored again.    

A panegyric, Faithfully representing The proceedings of the PARLIAMENT at Westminster, since their first Sessions to this present: Wherein their wonderful Acts are truly declared; And what is further by them to be expected.  

MOst gracious, Omnipotent,  
And everlasting Parliament,  
Whose power and majesty  
Is greater than all Kings by odds;  
Yea to account you less than Gods,  
Must needs be blasphemy.   

Moses and Aaron ne'er did do  
More wonders than are wrought by you  
For England's Israel:  
But through the Red-Sea we have past,  
If you to Canaan brings at last,  
Is't not a miracle?   

In six years' space you have done more  
Than all our Parliaments before:  
You have quite done the work:  
The Cavaliers, the King, the Pope,  
You have o'erthrown, and next we hope  
You will confound the Turk.   

The heads of Strafford, and of Laud,  
You did cut off because by fraud  
They would have made you slaves:  
But sure you are ten times more just,  
Who Carew and the Hotham's trust,  
For they are arrant knaves.   

By you we have deliverance,  
From the desig●s of Spain and France,  
Ormond, Montrosse, and Danes:  
Y●u aided by our Brethren Scots,  
Defeated have malignant's plots,  
And brought their swords to Canes.   

What wholesome Laws have you ordained,  
Whereby out Properties, maintained  
'Gainst those would us undo  
Yea both our fortunes and our lives,  
And what is dearer e'en our wives,  
Are wholly kept by you.   

O what a flourishing Church and State  
Have we enjoyed e'er since you sat?  
What a glorious King God save him,  
Have you now made his majesty,  
Had he the grace but to comply  
And do as you would have him?   

When Hell was not enough to fright  
And m●ke the r●yall party right,  
You wisely did invent  
That dreadful Tophet, Goldsmiths-hall,  
And Committees worse than devil and all  
For their full punishment.   

Your Directory how to pray  
By th' Spirit shows the perfect way;  
In zeal you have abolished  
That Dagon of the commonprayer;  
And next we see you will take care  
That Churches be demolished.   

What multitudes in every Trade  
Of painful preachers you have made,  
Learned by revelation:  
Oxford and Cambridge make poor Preachers,  
Each Shop affordeth better Teachers;  
Oh blessed Reformation?   

Your godly wisdoms have found out  
The true Religion without doubt:  
For sure among so many,  
(We have five hundred at the least,  
Is not the gospel well increased▪)  
One must be pure, if any.   

Could you have done more piously,  
Then sell Church-lands the King to buy,  
And stop the City plaints?  
Paying the Sects Church-Militant,  
That the new gospel help to plant,  
God knows they are poor Saints.   

Because th'Apostles Creed is lame,  
Th' Assembly do a better frame,  
Which saves us all with ease:  
Provided still we have the grace  
To believe th' two houses i'th' first place:  
Let our works be what they please.   

'Tis strange your power and holiness  
Can't th' Irish devil dispossess  
His kind is very stout.  
That though you do so often pray,  
And every month keep fastingday,  
You cannot get him out   

Who will not pay with all his heart  
Excise? the fifth and twentieth part,  
Assessments, Taxes, Rates,  
'Tis easy what both Houses levy,  
Our duties to our King are heavy,  
But all we have's the States,   

For all your sufferings and your pains,  
What in the end shall be your gains,  
You never did regard;  
Some twenty thousand pounds a man,  
An Office too alas who can  
Think that a fit reward?   

Wherefore as soon as you're dissolved,  
To show our thanks we are resolved,  
The King himself engages,  
Another Parliament to call,  
Which your deserts consider shall,  
And surely pay your wages.   
FINIS.