I too, transported by the mode, commend;
And while I meant to praise thee, must offend.
Thy verse created, like thy theme, sublime,
In number, weight, and measure, needs not rhyme.'
"Ah! Ralegh, when thou did'st thy breath resign
To trembling James, would I had quitted mine.
"Cubs," didst thou call them? Had'st thou seen this brood
Of Earls and Dukes, and Princes of the Blood;
No more of Scottish race thou would'st complain,
Those would be blessings in this spurious reign.
Awake, arise, from thy long bless'd repose,
Once more with me partake of mortal woes.
What mighty power has forced me from my rest?
Oh! mighty queen, why so untimely dress'd?
Favour'd by night, conceal'd in this disguise,
Whilst the lewd court in drunken slumber lies,
I stole away, and never will return,
Till England knows who did her city burn;
Till Cavaliers shall favourites be deem'd,
And loyal sufferers by the court esteem'd;
Till Leigh and Galloway shall bribes reject;
Thus Osborne's* golden cheat I shall detect:
Till atheist Lauderdale shall leave this land,
And Commons' votes shall cut-nose guards disband;
Till Kate a happy mother shall become;
Till Charles loves parliaments, and James hates Rome.
What fatal crimes make you for ever fly
Your once loved court, and Martyr's progeny?
* Leigh and Galloway were suspected to be bribed by the Earl of Danby, to vote with the court.
A colony of French possess'd the court; Pimps, priests, buffoons, in privy-chamber sport. Such slimy monsters ne'er approach'd a throne Since Pharaoh's days, nor so defiled a crown. In sacred ear tyrannic arts they croak, Pervert his mind, and good intentions choak; Tell him of golden India's fairy lands, Leviathan, and absolute commands. Thus, fairy-like, they steal the King away, And in his room a changeling Louis lay. How oft have I him to himself restored, In's left the scale, in's right hand placed the sword! Taught him their use, what dangers would ensue To them who strive to separate these two; The bloody Scottish chronicle read o'er, Show'd him how many Kings in purple gore Were hurl'd to hell by cruel tyrant Lore?
The other day famed Spenser I did bring, In lofty notes Tudor's bless'd race to sing; How Spain's proud powers her virgin arms controll'd, And golden days in peaceful order roll'd;
How like ripe fruit she dropp'd from off her throne,
Full of grey hairs, good deeds, and great renown.
As the Jessean hero did appease
Saul's stormy rage, and stopp'd his black disease;
So the learn'd bard, with artful song, suppress'd
The swelling passion of his canker'd breast,
And in his heart kind influences shed
Of country's love, by truth and justice bred.
Then to perform the care so well begun,
To him I show'd this glorious setting sun;
How, by her people's looks pursued from far,
She mounted on a bright celestial car,
Outshining Virgo or the Julian star.
Whilst in truth's mirror this good scene he spied,
Enter'd a dame bedeck'd with spotted pride:
Fair flower-de-luce within an azure field
Her left hand bears, the ancient Gallic shield
By her usurp'd; her right a bloody sword,
Inscribed Leviathan our Sovereign Lord;
Her towery front a fiery meteor bears,
An exhalation bred of blood and tears.
Around her Jove's lewd ravenous curs complain,
Pale death, lust, tortures fill her pompous train;
She from the easy King truth's mirror took,
And on the ground in spiteful fall it broke;
Then frowning thus, with proud disdain she spoke :
"Are threadbare virtues ornaments for Kings?
Such poor pedantic toys teach underlings.
Do monarchs rise by virtue, or by sword?
Who e'er grew great by keeping of his word?
Virtue's a faint green-sickness to brave souls,
Dastards their hearts, their active heat controls.
The rival gods, monarchs of t'other world,
This mortal poison among princes hurl'd;
Fearing the mighty projects of the great
Should drive them from their proud celestial seat,
If not o'erawed by this new holy cheat.
Those pious frauds, too slight t'ensnare the brave,
Are proper arts the long-ear'd rout t'enslave.
Bribe hungry priests to deify your might,
To teach your will's your only rule to right,
And sound damnation to all dare deny't.
Thus Heaven's designs against Heaven you shall turn,
And make them feel those powers they once did scorn.
When all the gobbling interest of mankind,
By hirelings sold, to you shall be resign'd:
And by impostures God and man betray'd,
The Church and State you safely may invade ;
So boundless Louis in full glory shines,
Whilst your starved power in legal fetters pines.
Shake off those baby-bands from your strong arms,
Henceforth be deaf to that old witch's charms.
Taste the delicious sweets of sovereign power,
'Tis royal game whole kingdoms to deflower.
Three spotless virgins to your bed I'll bring,
A sacrifice to you, their God, and King.
As these grow stale, we'll harass human kind,
Rack nature, till new pleasures you shall find,
Strong as your reign, and beauteous as your mind."
When she had spoke, a confused murmur rose,
Of French, Scotch, Irish, all my mortal foes;
Some English too, O shame! disguised I spied,
Led all by the wise son-in-law of Hyde.
With fury drunk, like bacchanals they roar,
"Down with that common Magna Charta whore!"
With joint consent on helpless me they flew,
And from my Charles to a base goal me drew;
My reverend age, exposed to scorn and shame,
To prigs, bawds, whores was made the public game.
Frequent addresses to my Charles I send,
And my sad state did to his care commend;
But his fair soul, transform'd by that French dame,
Had lost all sense of honour, justice, fame.
He in's seraglio like a spinster sits,
Besieged by ws, buffoons, and bastard chits;
Lull'd in security, rolling in lust,
Resigns his crown to angel Carwell's trust;
Her creature, Osborne, the revenue steals;
False French knave Anglesey misguides the Seals,
Mac-James the Irish bigots do adore,
His French and Teague command on sea and shore.
The Scotch-scalado of our court two isles,
False Lauderdale, with ordure all defiles.
Thus the state's night-mared by this hellish rout,
And no one left these furies to cast out.
Ah! Vindex, come, and purge the poison'd state;
Descend, descend, e'er the cure's desperate.
Once more, great Queen, thy darling strive to save, Snatch him again from scandal and the grave;
Present to's thoughts his long-scorn'd parliament,
The basis of his throne and government.
In his deaf ears sound his dead father's name;
Perhaps that spell may's erring soul reclaim:
Who knows what good effects from thence may spring? 'Tis godlike good to save a falling King.
Ralegh, no more, for long in vain I've tried
The Stuart from the tyrant to divide;
As easily learned virtuosos may
With the dog's blood his gentle kind convey
Into the wolf, and make him guardian turn
To th' bleating flock, by him so lately torn.
If this imperial juice once taint his blood,
'Tis by no potent antidote withstood.
Tyrants, like leprous Kings, for publick weal
Should be immured, lest the contagion steal
Over the whole. Th' elect of th' Jessan line
To this firm law their sceptre did resign:
And shall this base tyrannic brood invade
Eternal laws, by God for mankind made?
To the serene Venetian state I'll go,
From her sage mouth famed principles to know,
With her the prudence of the ancients read,
To teach my people in their steps to tread;
By their great pattern such a state I'll frame,
Shall eternise a glorious lasting name.
Till then, my Ralegh, teach our noble youth
To love sobriety, and holy truth.
Watch and preside over their tender age,
Lest court-corruption should their souls engage.
Teach them how arts, and arms, in thy young days
Employ'd our youth; not taverns, stews, and plays.
Tell them the generous scorn their rise does owe
To flattery, pimping, and a gaudy show.
Teach them to scorn the Carwells, Portsmouths, Nells,
The Clevelands, Osbornes, Berties, Lauderdales :
Poppaa, Tegoline, and Arteria's name,
All yield to these in lewdness, lust, and fame.
Make them admire the Talbots, Sidneys, Veres,
Drake, Cav'ndish, Blake, men void of slavish fears;
True sons of glory, pillars of the state,
On whose famed deeds all tongues and writers wait.
When with fierce ardor their bright souls do burn,
Back to my dearest country I'll return.
Tarquin's just judge, and Cæsar's equal peers,
With them I'll bring to dry my people's tears :
Publicola with healing hands shall pour
Balm in their wounds, and shall their life restore;
Greek arts and Roman arms, in her conjoin❜d,
Shall England raise, relieve oppress'd mankind.
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