XXXVII.

MAJESTY IN MISERY;

OR, AN IMPLORATION TO THE
KING OF KINGS.1

Written by his late Majesty King Charles I., during his captivity at Carisbrook Castle, 1648.")

I.

REAT Monarch of the world, from whose power springs

The potency and power of [earthly] kings,

Record the royal woe my suffering sings;

II.

And teach my tongue, that ever did confine
Its faculties in truth's seraphic line,

To track the treasons of Thy foes and mine.

III.

Nature and law, by Thy divine decree,—
The only root of righteous royalty,--
With this dim diadem invested me;

66

'Burnet's "Memoirs of the Dukes of Hamilton," 1677, pp. 381-3, as a copy of verses written by his Majesty in his captivity, which a very worthy gentleman, who had the honour of waiting on him then, and was much trusted by him, copied out from the original; who avoucheth it to be a true copy."

IV.

With it the sacred sceptre, purple robe,
The holy unction and the royal globe;
Yet am I levelled with the life of Job.

V.

The fiercest furies, that do daily tread
Upon my grief, my grey discrowned head,
Are those that owe my bounty for their bread.

VI.

They raise a war, and christen it The Cause;
Whilst sacrilegious hands have best applause,
Plunder and murder are the kingdom's laws.

VII.

Tyranny bears the title of taxation;
Revenge and robbery are reformation;
Oppression gains the name of sequestration.

VIII.

My loyal subjects, who, in this bad season,
Attend me by the law of God and reason,
They dare impeach, and punish for high treason.

IX.

Next at the clergy do their furies frown;

Pious episcopacy must go down;

They will destroy the crosier and the crown.

X.

Churchmen are chained, and schismatics are freed;

Mechanics preach, and holy fathers bleed;

The crown is crucified with the creed.

XI.

The Church of England doth all faction foster;
The pulpit is usurped by each impostor;
Extempore excludes the Paternoster.

XII.

The Presbyter and Independent seed

Springs with broad blades; to make religion bleed, Herod and Pontius Pilate are agreed.

XIII.

The corner stone's misplaced by every pavior:
With such a bloody method and behaviour
Their ancestors did crucify our Saviour.

XIV.

My royal consort, from whose fruitful womb
So many princes legally have come,
Is forced in pilgrimage to seek a tomb.

XV.

Great Britain's heir is forced into France,
Whilst on his father's head his foes advance :
Poor child! he weeps out his inheritance.

XVI.

With my own power my majesty they wound;
In the king's name the king himself's uncrowned;
So doth the dust destroy the diamond.

XVII.

With propositions daily they enchant

My people's ears, such as do reason daunt,
And the Almighty will not let me grant.

XVIII.

They promise to erect my royal stem,
To make me great, to advance my diadem,
If I will first fall down and worship them;

XIX.

But for refusal they devour my thrones,
Distress my children and destroy my bones:
I fear they'll force me to make bread of stones.

XX.

My life they prize at such a slender rate,
That in my absence they draw bills of hate,
To prove the king a traitor to the state.

XXI.

Felons obtain more privilege than I:
They are allowed to answer ere they die;
'Tis death for me to ask the reason, Why.

XXII.

But, sacred Saviour! with Thy words I woo

Thee to forgive, and not be bitter to

Such as, Thou knowest, do not know what they do.

XXIII.

For since they from their Lord are so disjointed
As to condemn those edicts He appointed,
How can they prize the power of His anointed?

XXIV.

Augment my patience; nullify my hate;
Preserve my issue, and inspire my mate;
Yet, though we perish, bless this Church and State!
Vota dabunt que bella negarunt.

XXXVIII.

THE LIBERTY OF THE IMPRISONED

B

ROYALIST.1

(By Sir Roger l'Estrange.)

I.

EAT on, proud billows! Boreas, blow! Swell, curled waves, high as Jove's roof!

Your incivility shall know

That innocence is tempest-proof.

Though surly Nereus frown, my thoughts are calm; Then strike, Affliction, for thy wounds are balm.

II.

That which the world miscalls a gaol,

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 anchoret.

1 From an original 4to edition in my possession, compared with a copy in Lloyd's " Memoirs," 1668, p. 96; both anonymous. Lloyd calls the verses "the generous expressions of a worthy personage that suffered deeply in those times, and enjoys only the conscience of having so suffered in these." The piece was assigned to Lord Capel in the "Gentleman's Magazine" for Feb. 1757; but is given to L'Estrange in a Harl. MS. that belonged to Lord Capel himself; see Park's Walpole, "Royal and Noble Authors," vol. iii. p. 35. Other copies are mentioned by Percy.