Till Fortune's fruitless spite had made it known,
Her blows not shook, but rivetted his throne.
Some lazy ages, lost in sleep and ease;
No action leave to busy chronicles;
Such, whose supine felicity but makes
In story chasms, in epochas mistakes;
O'er whom Time gently shakes his wings of down,
Till with his silent sickle they are mown.
Such is not Charles' too, too active age,
Which, govern'd by the wild distemper'd rage
Of some black star infecting all the skies,
Made him, at his own cost, like Adam, wise.
Tremble, ye Nations, who, secure before,
Laugh'd at those arms that 'gainst ourselves we bore;
Rous'd by the lash of his own stubborn tail,
Our lion now will foreign foes assail.
With alga who the sacred altar strows?
To all the sea-gods Charles an off'ring owes:
A bull to thee, Portunus, shall be slain,
A lamb to you, ye Tempests of the main :
For those loud storms, that did against him roar,
Have cast his shipwreck'd vessel on the shore.
Yet as wise artists mix their colours so,
That by degrees they from each other go;
Black steals unheeded from the neighb'ring white,
Without offending the well-cozen'd sight;
So on us stole our blessed change, while we
Th' effect did feel, but scarce the manner see,
Frosts that constrain the ground, and birth deny 130
To flow'rs that in its womb expecting lie,
Do seldom their usurping power withdraw,
But raging floods pursue their hasty thaw.
Cur thaw was mild, the cold not chas'd away,
But lost in kindly heat of lengthen'd day.
Heav'n would no bargain for its blessings drive,
But, what we could not pay for, freely give.
The Prince of Peace would, like himself, confer
A gift unhop'd without the price of war:
Yet, as he knew his blessings worth, took care 140
That we should know it by repeated pray'r;
Which storm'd the skies, and ravish'd Charles from
As heav'n itself is took by violence.
Booth's forward valour only serv'd to show
He durst that duty pay we all did owe:
Th' attempt was fair; but Heav'ns prefixed hour
Not come : so, like the watchful traveller,
That by the moon's mistaken light did rise,
Lay down again, and clos'd his weary eyes.
'Twas Monk, whom Providence design'd to loose
Those real bonds false freedom did impose.
The blessed saints, that watch'd this turning scene,
Did from their stars with joyful wonder lean,
To see small clues draw vastest weights along,
Not in their bulk; but in their order strong.
Is pencils can by one slight touch restore
to that changed face that wept before.
With ease such fond chimæras we pursue,
As fancy frames for fancy to subdue:
But when ourselves to action we betake,
It shuns the mint like gold that chymists make.
How hard was then his task, at once to be,
What in the body natural we see?
Man's Architect distinctly did ordain
The charge of muscles, nerves, and of the brain, 165
Through viewless conduits spirits to dispense,
The springs of motion from the seat of sense.
'Twas not the hasty product of a day,
But the well-ripen'd fruit of wise delay.
He, like a patient angler, ere he strook,
Would let him play a while upon the hook.
Our healthful food the stomach labours thus,
At first embracing what it straight doth crush.
Wise leaches will not vain receipts obtrude,
While growing pains pronounce the humours crude;
Deaf to complaints they wait upon the ill,
Till some safe crisis authorize their skill.
Nor could his acts too close a vizard wear,
To 'scape their eyes whom guilt had taught to fear,
And guard with caution that polluted nest,
Whence Legion twice before was dispossess'd :
Once sacred house; which when they enter'd in,
They thought the place could sanctify a sin;
Like those that vainly hop'd kind Heav'n would wink,
While to excess on martyrs' tombs they drink. 185
And as devouter Turks first warn their souls
To part, before they taste forbidden bowls;
So these, when their black crimes they went about,
First timely charm'd their useless conscience out.
Religion's name against itself was made;
The shadow serv'd the substance to invade ;
Like zealous missions, they did care pretend
Of souls in shew, but made their gold their end.
Th' incensed Pow'rs beheld with scorn from high,
An heaven so far distant from the sky,
Which durst, with horses' hoofs that beat the ground,
And martial brass, belie the thunder's sound,
'Twas hence at length just Vengeance thought it fit
To speed their ruin by their impious wit.
Thus Sforza, curs'd with a too fertile brain,
Lost by his wiles the pow'r his wit did gain.
Henceforth their fougue must spend at lesser rate,
Than in its flames to wrap a nation's fate.
Suffer'd to live, they are like Helots set,
A virtuous shame within us to beget.
For by example most we sinn'd before,
And glass-like clearness mix'd with frailty bore.
But since reform'd by what we did amiss,
We by our suff'rings learnt to prize our bliss.
Like early lovers, whose unpractis'd hearts
Were long the May-game of malicious arts,
When once they find their jealousies were vain,
With double heat renew their fires again.
'Twas this produc'd the joy that hurry'd o'er
Such swarms of English to the neighb'ring shore, 215
To fetch that prize by which Batavia made
So rich amends for our impoverish'd trade.
Oh had you seen from Scheveline's barren shore,
(Crowded with troops, and barren now no more)
Afflicted Holland to his farewell bring
True sorrow, Holland to regret a king!
While waiting him his royal fleet did ride,
And willing winds to their low'r'd sails deny'd.
The wav'ring streamers, flags, and standards out,
The merry seamen's rude but cheerful shout;
And last the cannons' voice that shook the skies,
And as it fares in sudden ecstasies,
At once bereft us both of ears and eyes.
The Naseby, now no longer England's shame,
But better to be lost in Charles' name,
(Like some unequal bride in nobler sheets)
Receives her lord: the joyful London meets
The princely York, himself alone a freight;
The Swiftsure groans beneath great Glo'ster's weight,
Secure as when the halcyon breeds, with these, 235
He that was born to drown might cross the seas.
Heav'n could not own a Providence, and take
The wealth three nations ventur'd at a stake.
The same indulgence Charles' voyage bless'd
Which in his right had miracles confess'd.
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