The prophet wonders more than they
At prodigies but rarely seen before,

And cries, A king must fall, or kingdoms change their sway?

Such were our counter-tides at land, and so
Presaging of the fatal blow

In their prodigious ebb and flow.

The royal soul, that, like the labouring moon,
By charms of art was hurried down,

Forced with regret to leave her native sphere,
Came but a while on liking here;

Soon weary of the painful strife,
And made but faint essays of life.
An evening light,

Soon shut in night;

A strong distemper, and a weak relief,

Short intervals of joy, and long returns of grief.

The sons of Art all medicines tried,
And every noble remedy applied:
With emulation each essay'd

His utmost skill; nay more, they pray'd:
Never was losing game with better conduct play'd:
Death never won a stake with greater toil,
Nor e'er was Fate so near a foil:

But, like a fortress on a rock,

[mock.

The' impregnable disease their vain attempts did
They mined it near; they batter'd from afar
With all the cannon of the medicinal war:
No gentle means could be essay'd;

"Twas beyond parley when the siege was laid:
The' extremest ways they first ordain,
Prescribing such intolerable pain,
As none but Cæsar could sustain:

Undaunted Cæsar underwent

The malice of their art, nor bent

Beneath whate'er their pious rigour could invent.

In five such days he suffer'd more

Than any suffer'd in his reign before;

More, infinitely more, than he

Against the worst of rebels could decree,
A traitor, or twice-pardon'd enemy.

Now Art was tired without success;

No racks could make the stubborn malady confess.

The vain insurancers of life,

And they who most perform'd, and promised less,
Even Short and Hobbes, forsook the' unequal strife.
Death and despair were in their looks;

No longer they consult their memories or books:
Like helpless friends, who view from shore
The labouring ship, and hear the tempest roar,
So stood they with their arms across,
Not to assist, but to deplore

The' inevitable loss.

Death was denounced, that frightful sound,
Which e'en the best can hardly bear:
He took the summons void of fear,
And, unconcern'dly, cast his eyes around,
As if to find and dare the grisly challenger.
What Death could do he lately tried,
When in four days he more than died.
The same assurance all his words did grace;
The same majestic mildness held its place,
Nor lost the Monarch in his dying face:
Intrepid, pious, merciful, and brave,
He look'd as when he conquer'd and forgave.

As if some angel had been sent
To lengthen out his government,
And to foretell as many years again
As he had number'd in his happy reign;
So cheerfully he took the doom
Of his departing breath,

Nor shrunk, nor stepp'd aside for Death;
But, with unalter'd pace, kept on,
Providing for events to come
When he resign'd the throne.
Still he maintain'd his kingly state,
And grew familiar with his fate :
Kind, good, and gracious, to the last,

On all he loved before, his dying beams he cast.
Oh truly good and truly great,

For glorious as he rose, benignly so he set!
All that on earth he held most dear,

He recommended to his care,

To whom both Heaven

The right had given,

And his own love bequeath'd supreme command: He took and press'd that ever-loyal hand,

Which could in peace secure his reign,

Which could in war his power maintain;

That hand, on which no plighted vows were ever Well, for so great a trust, he chose

A prince who never disobey'd,

[vain.

Not when the most severe commands were laid; Nor want nor exile with his duty weigh'd;

A prince on whom, if Heaven its eyes could close, The welfare of the world it safely might repose.

That king who lived to God's own heart,
Yet less serenely died than he:

Charles left behind no harsh decree,
For schoolmen with laborious art

To salve from cruelty :

Those for whom love could no excuses frame
He graciously forgot to name.

Thus far my Muse, though rudely, has design'd
Some faint resemblance of his godlike mind;
But neither pen nor pencil can express
The parting brother's tenderness:

Though that's a term too mean and low;
(The bless'd above a kinder word may know ;)
But what they did and what they said,
The Monarch who triumphant went,

The militant who staid,

Like painters, when their heightening arts are spent, I cast into a shade.

That all-forgiving King,

The type of Him above,
That inexhausted spring
Of clemency and love;

Himself to his next self accused,

And ask'd that pardon which he ne'er refused,
For faults not his, for guilt and crimes

Of godless men, and of rebellious times;
For an hard exile, kindly meant,

When his ungrateful country sent

Their best Camillus into banishment;

And forced their sovereign's act, they could not his consent.

Oh how much rather had that injured chief
Repeated all his sufferings past,

Than hear a pardon begged at last,

Which given, could give the dying no relief!
He bent, he sunk beneath his grief!

His dauntless heart would fain have held
From weeping, but his eyes rebell'd:
Perhaps the godlike hero in his breast
Disdain'd, or was ashamed to show
So weak, so womanish a woe,

Which yet the brother and the friend so plenteously confess'd.

Amidst that silent shower the royal mind

An easy passage found,

And left its sacred earth behind;

[sound,

Nor murmuring groan express'd, nor labouring

Nor any least tumultuous breath;

Calm was his life, and quiet was his death;
Soft as those gentle whispers were

In which the' Almighty did appear;

By the still voice the prophet knew him there. That peace which made thy prosperous reign to shine,

That peace thou leavest to thy imperial line,
That peace, oh happy Shade, be ever thine!

For all those joys thy restoration brought,
For all the miracles it wrought,

For all the healing balm thy mercy pour'd
Into the nation's bleeding wound,
And care that after kept it sound;
For numerous blessings yearly shower'd,
And property with plenty crown'd;
For freedom still maintain'd alive,

Freedom, which in no other land will thrive,
Freedom, an English subject's sole prerogative,
Without whose charms e'en peace would be
But a dull quiet slavery;