Selected quad for the lemma: book_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A54827
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Caroli tou makaritou paliggenesia
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Pierce, Thomas, 1622-1691.
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1649
(1649)
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Wing P2165A; ESTC R31122
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5,334
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14
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CAROLI Του ΜαχαÏίτου ΠΑΛΙΓΓΕÎΕΣΊΑ Printed Ann. Dom. 1649. CAROLI {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} {non-Roman} I Come but come with trembling lest I prove Th' unequall Greece of Semele and Iove As She was too obscure and He too bright My Theam 's too heavy and my Pen too light And whilst like Midas I presume to sit In wise Apollo's Chair without HIS wit Is it not just t' expect that He who dares Higher then Midas should wear longer Eares May I not fear Patroclus Fate and feel The dangerous honour of Achilles Steel Just like that busie Elf whose vent'rous Pride Found none but Titan Titan's Coach could guide Why Hee 'l not stand in Verse Can I enclose * Him whom the greatest Libertie of Prose Wants room to hold And whose unweildy Name Is big enough to fill the Trump of Fame An Individuall species like the Sun At once a Multitude and yet but One One of such vast Importance that He fell The Festivall of Heav'n and England's Hell One who for Eminence was these two things The last of Christians and the first of Kings One so diffusive that he liv'd to all And One that dy'd the whole world's Funeral For Charles being thus dismounted and the Swain High shoo'd Bootes leapt into the Wain Is not old Beldame Nature truly said T' advance her Heeles and stand upon her Head Does not the Iudge and Law too for a need The Stirrop hold whilst Treason mounts the Steed Is not Gods Word and 's Providence besides Us'd as a Laquy whilst th' white Devil rides Sure all things thus into Confusion hurld Make though an universe yet not a World And so our Soveraign's like our Saviours Passion Becomes a kind of Doomsday to the Nation If Deadmen did not walk 't would be admir'd The Breath of all our Nostrils thus expir'd What 't is that gives us motion And can I Who want my self write Him an Elegie Though Virgil turnd Evangelist and wrote Not from his Tripod but Gods Altar taught Though all the Poets of the Age should sit In Inquest of Invention and club wit To make words Epigrams should they combine To crowd whole stock of Fancie in each line Sell the Fee-simple to advance one summe As Eglis spake but once and then liv'd dumb ' I were all as inarticulate and weak As when those men make signes that cannot speak But where the Theme confounds us * 't is a sort Of glorious Merit proudly to fall short Despair sometimes gives courage any one May lisp him out who can be spoke by none None but a King No King unlesse He be As Wise as Iust as Good as Great as He. When Late Posterity shall run t' advise With Times impartial Register how Wise This Great-one was they 'l find it there inroll'd That He was ne'r in 's Nonage but born old View him whilst Prince of Wales and it appears His wisdome did so antedate his years Thâ—t He was Ful i' th' Bud and 's Soul divine Nestor might be Great-Grandfather to thine View him agen where he so ripe was grown As not to rise but drop into a Throne How did those rayes of Majestie which were Scatter'd in other Kings concenter here As if h' ad got King Sapors sphere and prov'd How each Intelligence his Orbe had mov'd Wise Charles like them sate steering at two Helmes King of himself but Father of his Realms And just as if old Trismegistus Cup Had by his thirsty Soul been all drunk up His understanding did begirt this All As t' were Ecliptick or Meridionall â—uppose a Dyet of all Christian Kings And Bishops too conven'd to weigh the things Of Church and State Nay adde Inferiour men Those of the Sword the pensil and the pen From th' Scepter to the Sheep-hook Charles in all Must have been Vmpire Oecumenicall He liv'd a Perpendicular The Thread His Wisdome was Humility the Lead By which he measur'd Men and Things took aim At actions crooked and at actions plain He and all from him into Cubes did fall And yet as perfect as the Circle all 'T was He took Natures Bredth Depth and Hight Knew the just difference 'twixt Wrong and Right He saw the points of things could justly hit What must be done what may what 's just what sit As if like Moses he had had resort Unto Gods Councell ere he was of 's Court Hence his Religion was his choice not Fate Rul'd by Gods Word not Interest of State Others may thank their stars He his inquest Who sounding all sides anchor'd in the best His Crown contain'd a Miter He did twist Moses and Aaron King and Casuist When the Mahumetan or Pope shall look On his Soul's best Interpreter his Book His Book his Life his Death will henceforth be The Church of England's best Apologie Thus Dove and Serpent kiss'd as if they meant To render him as wise so innocent His own good Genius knew not whether were His Heart more single or his Head more clear Virtue was his Prerogative and thus Charles rul'd the King before the King rul'd Vs He knew that to command his onely way Was first to teach his Passions to obey And his incessant waiting on God's Throne Gave him such meek reflections on his own That being forcâ—â— to censure he exprest A Iudges Office with a Mothers breast And when some sturdie violence began T' unsheath his sword unwilling to be drawn He but destroy'd and so soft mercy can The malefactor to preserve the Man Even Hell's blind Iourney-men those Sons of Night Who look on scarlet murder and think 't white Unwillingly confess'd The onely thing Which made him guiltie was That He was King He was Incarnate Iustice and 't is said Astraea liv'd in him yet dy'd a Maid We want an Emblem for him Phoebus must Stand still in Libra to speak Charles the Iust. And yet though he were such that nothing lesse Then Virtue's mean stretcht to a just Excesse Flew from his Soul He like the Sun was known To see all excellence except his own His Modesty was such that All which He ' Ere spake or thought of 's self was Calumny But yet so mixt with state that one might see It made him not lesse Kingly but more free He was not like those Princes who t' expresse A learned surfeit a sublime excesse Send to dispeople all the Sea of Fish Depopulate the Aire to make one dish Such skilfull luxuries as onely serve To make their minds more plentifully sterve Whatever Dainties fill'd his Board by chance His onely constant Dish was (a) Temperance His Virtue did so limit him his Court Implied his Cloyster and his very sport Was Self-deniall Nay though he were seen So roab'd in purple and so matcht t' a Queen As made him glitter like a Noon day Sun Yet still his Soul wore sackcloth and liv'd Nun. (b) Simeon the Stylite in his Pillar pent Might live more strict but not more innocent So wise so