royal MEDITATIONS FOR EASTER.  
Or ENTHUZIASMES on The Death and Passion of our late Lord and sovereign KING CHARLES the First, of Sacred Memory.  
Who was Martyred for His People and the laws January 30. An. Dom. 1649.  
WITH The loyal Subjects cordial PRAYER( For King charles II) His good success over all His Enemies.  
AND A CURSE to cromwell and his Confedrates.  
Printed in the year. 1650.   

MEDITATIONS FOR EASTER.  

An Elegy on the Death of that royal Martyr, King charles the First, murdered at his own gate. Jan. 30. 1628.  

SEe how the mourners walk about the street,  
Each pallid face seeming a winding-sheet  
Wherein great charles, though dead, inbalm'd doth lye  
With tears, true-hearts sighing out elegy.  
What! do I dream? or is he dead indeed?  
Alas he is, and in our hearts doth bleed;  
Those hearts which were inflamed for him with zeal,  
do now with groans ring his most mournful peal,  
Whilst poisoned tongues of Rebells ring his knell,  
And only do his death unto us tell,  
Which is by Murder, in it's sun-day dress,  
And in it Gods good service they profess:  
Their killing face, with vizor fair they vail,  
believing 'tis no sin to act, but fail.  
Our streets, like Rome, in Silaze dayes, did stream  
With native blood; but now with blood supreme.   

Wast not enough his Crown to take, but must  
They take His head too? and lay both in dust!  
O cruel rage! Is this done like a Saint?  
Then Saints wee must like two-fac'd devills paint.  
In their high Court of Justice! wee, sad wee!  
Astraea banished, as the Queen may see.  
Are these the Saints baptized in Iordans flood,  
Who baptize KINGS in a Red-sea of blood?  
Thinking to arrive at Canaan through that Sea,  
Though cruelty allows their cursed plea.  
Tremble cursed crew, though Him you've put to death,  
His blood's a mouth with a nere dying breath,  
Calling you Rebells, damned Abyrams seed,  
Who killing Kings, makes all true Subjects bleed.  
Your plot by poison could not work, because  
His public death might poison your new laws.  
And whilst the scene is London, men may say  
That was Prologue and Epilogue toth' Play,  
tragic in killing charles, of Kings the best,  
By Traytors slain, in earnest, not in jest.   

London lament; His precious blood your gold  
Oth' Scots did buy, who their King basely sold,  
Acquitting Barrabas, and Christ-killing  
In his Vicegerent, our most Blessed KING,  
Who crowned with Glory sits on heavens throne,  
That suffered here, for no sins of his own.   

Fairfax and cronwell, you two Poles that turn  
The Axle-tree of State; Look ye to burn  
I'th' fire of Hell, unless ye think to win  
Heaven as well as England by your sin:  
O rare effects of your religious war,  
When Rebells judge, and KINGS stand at the bar!  
believe and tremble Devills; His blessed Name  
eternised to his glory, and your shane:  
The Prince( as Hanniball) stands at your gates,  
threatening to overthrow your new-found States.    

Two several EPITAPHS, Sacred To the eternal Memory of King charles the First.  

I.  
HEre lies KING charles the First, the Great,  
valiant; although unfortunate;  
The true Religious, virtuous Prince,  
Condemned, for his Innocence;  
The laws Protector, three Kingdoms chaffer,  
Faiths Defender, yet a Martyr,  
Let Men and Angels therefore sing,  
Here rests King charles, the Christian King.   

II.  
If to subdue ones self? if to obtain  
A conquest o'er the Passions, were to reign?  
Here lies as great a King, to say no more,  
As can come after, or as went before.    

A Crostick upon the Letters of His most Sacred Majesties Name.  

Come Muses nine, lament with me;  
Have ye not cause, when charles ye see?  
A nd when ye have wept almost your last,  
rejoice at full, ye wept so fast;  
lo here's a mystery divine,  
environed in so mean a Shrine;  
See here's a King! whose innocence   

Seems to proclaim Heavens Providence.  
To all the World; see, and admire!  
E eternal wisdom raised him higher,  
W hen most of men, did judge his state,  
A s if't had been unfortunate;  
raised then sublime, by Gods decree,  
To cause him reign Eternally.    

The loyal Subjects cordial Quere, how, and by what means His late Majesty of Great britain fell? together with a Resolve.  
HOw fell the royal oak? by a base crew  
Of Mungrill Shrubbs, which underneath him grew.  
How fell the lion? by a pack of Curres;  
So the Rose withered, 'twixt a knot of burrs.  
How fell the Eagle? by a swarm of Gnats,  
So the Whale perished, by a shoal of Spratts;  
How fell our Saviour? by a Judas kiss,  
So fell King charles by many Iudasses,  
Thus heaven, earth, water, air aspired as one  
To settle charles, in a trumphant throne.   

An Elegy, Sacred to the eternal memory of his unparalelled late Majesty, King charles the First.  

EMpty my soul with sighs, and mayst thou be  
More quick then flamme, who by strange destiny  
Mounts nimbly towards its center; let us rear  
A pile of sighs, and by each sigh a tear,  
To him, who only can relieve, and cease  
Our desperate jars, our hate that stabs our Peace.   

Come daughters of jerusalem, you that must  
See all your glory buried in the dust,  
Bring sackcloth on your loins, untie your Tress,  
Let ashes, weeping, mourning be your dress,  
Your meat, your drink, and in every thing  
Condole amayn, the loss of charles your King,  
Whose numerous virtues, seemed to outvie,  
I had almost said, even a deity.  
True King indeed, for he subdued those  
That were his inward, bosom, native foes;  
I mean his Passions, nor bore he least of gull  
To those accursed Imps, that caused his fall:  
His fall said I! oh, there I did mistake,  
'Twas such a fall, as did him glorious make;  
malicious envy thought to cast him down,  
And make him Infamous; But his death did crown  
Him truly Noble: those that did see him die  
Are well assured, He lives immortally:  
He smiled at Death, as if he did foresee,  
That was his way unto eternity;  
He stood to fall, and falling he will stand  
renowned for ever: O unhappy Land,  
That speak thee happy once, now doth begin,  
The devil, and his Saints, to usher in  
Their worst of malice, under a fair pretence,  
They'l make thee happy, by strange Providence;  
'Tis strange indeed; Heavens doctrine doth proclaim  
Kings his anointed; touch not them again,  
Is his appointment, vengeance is onely mine,  
And doubtless he will pay them home in time.  
Thou didst forgive them all, so they repent,  
I wish they might; Heaven then will sure prevent  
Notorious evils, and with his all assent,  
crown thee a King, in heavens Parliament,  
Whilst charles thy Son, heir as King shall reign  
In spite of those who do oppose the same.  
'Tis heavens decree I'm sure, that KINGS should be  
His Deputies on earth, to keep us free.    

The loyal Subjects cordial Prayer for His right Majesty, charles the Seconds good success.  
GOd bless our sovereign Lord, good charles our King,  
May all such blessings, as from heaven do spring  
Surround him; May his Victory and health  
Make this Land flourish, in love, peace, and wealth:  
May every season, as attendant be,  
To add to Him, a new felicity;  
May the great King of Heaven, be his all Friend,  
And may his sacred Angells on him tend,  
To keep Him from all ill, then crown his dayes  
With Crowns of glory, and eternal bays;  
For who in after Times shall red his Story,  
Shall find comprised in him, all virtues glory.   

A Curse to cronwell, and his Iuncto.  
LEet all your seed( like Cains) be runagates,  
And home-bred striffes rend your New perjured States.  
May Leprosy from soul unto the Cowne,  
Humble your Pride, bring your ambition down:  
May the Kings evil taint you and your race,  
And Egypts Plagues dog you from place to place;  
Till your more cursed souls, that never yet were true,  
In stead of Caesar, give th' devil his due.   

The loyal Subjects DEPRECATION and IMPRECATION against all those who had the least hand in the bloody Butoberly murdering of our late dread sovereign Lord King charles the First.  

Deprecation.  
HEaven shield us from these Antichristian crew  
That in their sovereigns blood, their hands imbrue.  
For as 'twas the Act of Mars, so 'twas his day  
On which our glorious Sun was snatched away;  
Then from our better planets, let's kick out  
That demi Sodling, with his rabble rout;  
Accursed Traytors, Miscreants of Hell!  
What Age, this horrid Act can parallel?  
Call ye this liberty of Conscience?  
Is this the off-spring of your fair Pretence?  
The Scriptures tell us of a Conscience seared,  
That's your Disease, 'tis greatly to be feared.  
It was the sin of Lucifer, to be  
Like the Most High, pure Jndependencie!  
In this you differ; he aspired to be  
But like; but you above the deity.   

Imprecation.  
And now, were't not a sin, I'd wish a place,  
far worse then Hell, for you and all your race.  
Where you might never Brimstone lack, nor fire,  
Nor Fiends to give Rebellion it's due hire,  
Where you might stew in blood, and after fry  
In endless flames, and wish, but never die.     
FINIS.