THE INSECURITIE OF PRINCES, Considered in an occasional Meditation upon the KING'S late Sufferings and Death.  HORAT. 
Saepius ventis agitatur ingens  
Pinus; & celsa graviora casu.  
Decidunt Turres; feriúntque summos  
— Fulgura montes.  
❧ Printed in the year, 1648.   

THE INSECURITIE OF PRINCE'S.  

O How doth sad experience verify  
His perilous estate that sits on high!  
The lowly shrub stands ever firm and fast,  
Whilst lofty Cedars shake with every blast  
No stormy winds disturb the humble vale,  
Whilst the proud mountain feels the smallest gale.  
Safety but seldom at the Court resides:  
It flies the Prince, and with the Peasant 'bides.  
From Palaces contentment keeps aloof:  
[A cottage-guest] it loves the low-set roof.   

VOTUM AUTORIS.  
WEre I then of the twain my choice to make  
I'd leave the Palace, and the Cottage take   

ANOTHER.  
O To what dangers, to what cares and fears,  
Is he exposed that the Sceptre bears!   

What though a golden Crown his brows adorns?  
'Tis little better than a crown of thorns.  
Such cares his head molest, his heart such fears,  
Whose head the Crown, whose hand the Sceptre bears.  
The say old, but true: were it but known  
To him that in the streets should find a Crown,  
What cares attend the same, he would not stoop  
[As hardly worth the pains] to take it up.  
No Crown without a cross: the Crown and Care,  
Like Sin and Sorrow, undivided are.  
'Twixt this and that as great affinity,  
As 'twixt Effect and Cruse; 'twixt Fruit and Tree.  
For worldly crowns how fond is then the strife!  
No crown for me, except the Crown of Life!  
Those, like to worldly glory, post away,  
This immarcessible, and lasts for ay.  
Though rob of the former, yet the head  
Of brave King CHARLES with this is garnished:  
And he triumphant sits aloft and fing  
Continual praises to the King of kings.  
Above the reach of those malignant ones,  
Rebellious Corahs', worst of Belials sons;  
Whom as he here with patience, so there  
Beholds with pity, and with smiling cheer.  
Laughs at their malice, disappointed so,  
That making him a mortal crown forgo,  
A crown immortal he hath gained. Fond men!  
'tis you, not he, that are the losers then  
For you have lost a Prince, of whom Fame swore,  
There never was his like nor should be more.  
For Intellectuals, t'admiration rare,  
And for his Morals beyond all compare.  
For his Religion, past example sound,  
And for Devotion ne'er enough renowned.  
Whether as Husband, Parent, Master, he  
A Mirror fit for all posterity.  
In short, say Malis what soe'er she can,  
The Sun ne'er shone upon a braver man:  
And of his Country such a tender Father,  
That, than wrong it, he Martyrdom chose rather.  
And thus unto some few men's lawless pleasure  
Was sacrificed three Kingdoms choicest treasure.  
Whilst villainy with villanies upheld;  
And Murder for Rebellion made the shield.  
Thus bad beginnings to worse ends are tied:  
A Rebel first, and then a Regicide.  
No other plea, that ever I could see,  
For that their so much urged NECESSITY.  
Necessity? o heavens! cursed be that need,  
That makes a sinner in his sin proceed!  
If these be saints, if this their doctrine be,  
From it and them good Lord deliver me!  
If saints are understood in this large sense,  
Twixt Saints and Devils what's the difference?  
If these be saints, this their divinity,  
A sinner rather than a saint for me!  
This seems more like the voice of Hell or Room,  
Into whose secrets let not my soul come!  
But see, what by fair words you promised,  
By your foul deeds is now accomplished,  
Though in a better sense; good out of ill  
Heaven's midwifery producing, spite of hell.  
For, maugre men and devils, he's become  
So glorious as no Prince in Christendom.  
And is by so much more exalted now,  
As lately trampled under foot by you.  
Experience thus confirms the 
* Vincit qui patitur.  Adagy:  
" That he that suffers gets the victory.   

VOTUM AUTORIS.  
IS suffering then to heaven the King's highway?  
Goes the voluptuous worldling clean astray?   

Then Mammonists sing Requiems to your souls!  
Let Bacchus boys carouse Their wine in bowls:  
Let Gluttons of their bellies make their god:  
Let the Proud glory to be richly clad:  
Let Sluggards stretch themselves on beds of down:  
Their heads with rosebuds let the Wantoness crown:  
Let the ambitious love to tower on high:  
Let the malicious hug his evil eye:  
Whilst the proud Rebel triumpheth that he  
Himself can rise by fall of Monarchy:  
Whilst the Sacrileg'st celebrates the day,  
That made Church-lands become his lawful prey:  
But thou, my Soul! abhor such prostitutions:  
Such sensual, Epicurean, base pollutions!  
Mere by-paths those, for Stragglers: ways that tend,  
Like that broad road, unto some dismal end.  
The Cross let be thy Portion, sanctified!  
Thy Sovereign, next thy Saviour be thy guide!  
Went thy sacred Saviour to the fatal tree,  
Thy Sovereign to the block, so willingly?  
And wilt thou startle at a petty Cross?  
A light affliction, some slight temporal loss?  
Such Captains, and a Coward? No, thus led,  
I'll scorn it should be said I flinched, or fled.  
Heavens say Amen! and grant I henceforth may,  
The broad declining, choose the narrow way!  
There though heart's grief may by the way offend,  
Yet true hearts-ease shall crown my jonrneys' end  
Such as no eye hath seen, ear heard, nor can  
Conceived be by heart of mortal man.  
A period therefore sure. Let admiration  
Make up the rest in silent contemplation.   
FINIS.