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A79960 Monumentum Regale or a tombe, erected for that incomparable and glorious monarch, Charles the First, King of Great Britane, France and Ireland, &c. In select elegies, epitaphs, and poems. Cleveland, John, 1613-1658. 1649 (1649) Wing C4681; Thomason E1217_5; ESTC R208852 19,792 48

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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 Nature's 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 fit 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 forc't to censure he exprest A Judges 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 Journey-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 Justice 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 Just 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 os'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 whot ' 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 Evagr. l. 1. c. 21. de Monachis quibusdam 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 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 macht t' a Queen As made him glitter like a Noon-day Sun Yet still his Soul wore sackcloth and liv'd Nun. b Evagr. l. 1. c. 13 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Simeon the Stylite in his Pillar pent Might live more strict but not more innocent So wise so just so good so great and all What is' t could set him higher but his fal When he caught up by a Celestiall Train Began his second and more solid Raign How to that Heaven did this Pilot steer Twixt th' Independent and the Presbyter Plac'd in the confines of two shipwracks thus The Greeks are seated 'twixt the Turks and Vs Whom did By zantium free Rome would condemn And freed from Rome they are enslaved by them So plac'd betwixt a Precipice and Wolf There the Aegaean here the Venice gulf What with the rising and the setting Sun By these th' are hated and by those undon Thus virtues hemm'd with vices and though either Solicites her consent she yields to neither Nay thus our Saviour to enhance his grief Was hung betwixt a Murderer and a Thief Now Charles as King and as a good King too Being Christs adopted self was both to do And suffer like him both to live and die So much more humble as he was more high Then his own Subjects He was thus to tread In the same footsteps and submit his Head To the same thorns when spit upon and beat To make his Conscience serve for his retreat And overcome by suffering To take up His Saviours Crosse and pledge him in his Cup. Since then our Soveraign by just account Liv'd o're our Saviours Sermon in the Mount And did all Christian Precepts so reduce That 's Life the Doctrine was his Death the Use Posterity will say he should have dy'd No other Death then by being Crucifi'd And their renownedst Epocha will be Great Charles his Death next Christ's Nativity Thus Treason 's grown most Orthodox who since They said they 'd make him the most glorious Prince In all the Christian World 't is plain this way They onely promis'd what they meant to pay For now besides that beatisick Vision Where all desire is lost into fruition The stones they hurled at him with intent To crush his fame have prov'd his monument Their Libels his best Obeliske To have A fit Mausóle were to want a Grave His Scaffold like mount Tabor will in story Become the proudest Theater of Glory Next to the blessed Crosse and thus 't is sense T' affirm him murder'd in his own Defence For though all Hells Artillery and skill Combin'd together to besiege his Will And when their malice could not bring 't about To hurt God's Image they raz'd Adam's out Like men repuls'd whose Choler think 's it witty To burn the Suburbs when they can't the City Howe're they storm'd his walls and draind his blood Which moted round his Soul yet still he stood Defender of the Faith and that which He Found sweeter then revenge his Charity This then the utmost was their rage could do It shew'd him King of his afflictions too Vntempted Virtue is but coldly good As she 's scarce chaste that 's so but in cold blood To scorn base Quarter is the best escape As Lucrece dy'd the chaster for her rape These two did Charles his Virtue most befriend His glorious hardships first and then his end Death we forgive thee and thy Bourreaux too Since what did seem thy rape proves but his due For how could he be said to fall too soon Whose green was mellow whose dawn was noon Since Charles was onely by thy curteous knife Redeemd from this great injury of life To one so lasting that 't is truly said Not He but his mortality is dead To weep his Death 's the treason of our eyes Our Sun did onely set that he might rise But we do mock not cheat our grief and sit Onely at best t' upbraid our selves in wit And want him learnedly such colours do Disguise disasters not delude
Judgement hall's remov'd to Westminster Hayle to the Reeden Scepture the Head and knee Act o're again that Cursed Pageantrie The Caitiffe crew in solemn pomp guard on Mock'd Majestie as not to th' Block but Throne The Belch agrees of those envenom'd Lyes There a Blasphemer here a Murd'rer dyes If that go first in horrour this comes next A pregnant Comment on that gastly Text. The Heav'ns ne're saw but in that Tragick howre Slaughter'd so great an Innocence and Power Bloud-thirsty Tygers could no stream fuffise T' allay that Hell within your Breasts but this Must you needs swill in Cleopatra's Cup And drink the price of Kingdomes in a sup Cisterns of Loyalty have deeply bled And now y'have damm'd the Royall Fountain Head Cruell Phlebotomie at once to drain The Median and the rich Basilick vein The tinctures great that popular murther brings 'T is scarlet deep that 's dy'd in bloud of Kings But what could Israel find no other way To their wish'd Canaan then through the Red Sea Must God have here his deading Fire and Cloud And he be th' Guide to this outragious Crowd Shall the black Conclave counterfeit his hand And superscribe their Guilt Divine Command Doth th' ugly Fiend usurp a Saint-like grace And Holy-water wash the Devils face Shall Dagons Temple the mock'd Ark inclose Can Esau's hands agree with Jacob's voyce Must Molech's Fire now on the Altar burn And Abel's bloud to Expiation turn Is Righteousnesse so lewd a Bawd and can The Bibles Cover serve the Alcoran Thus when Hel's meant Religion's bid to shine As Faux his Lantern lights him to his Mine Here here is sins non ultra when one Lie Kils this and stabs at Majesty And though his sleepie Arm suspend the scourge Nor doth loud Bloud in winged Vengeance urge Though the soft houres a while in pleasures flie And conquering Treason sing her Lullabie The guilt at length in fury he 'l inroul With barbed Arrows on the trayt'rous Soul Time may be when that John-a-Leyden King His Quarters to this Tombe an Offring bring And that Be-Munster'd Rabble may have eyes To read the Price of their dear Butcheries Yet if just Providence reprieve the Fate The Judgement will be deeper though 't be late And After times shal feel the curse enhanc'd vanc'd But how much They 've the Sinne bequeath'd ad Mean time most blessed shade the Loyall Eye Shall pay her Tribute to thy Memory Thy Aromatick Name shall feast our sense 'Bove balmie Spiknard's fragrant Redolence Whilst on thy loathsome Murderers shall dwell A plague-sore blayn and rotten ulcers smell Wonder of Men and Goodnesse stamp'd to be The Pride and Flourish of all Historie Thou hast undone the Annals and engrossd All th' Heroes Glory which the Earth e're lost Thy Priviledge 't is onely to commence Laureate in Sufferings and in Patience Thy wrongs were 'bove all sweetnesse to digest And yet thy sweetnesse conquer'd the sharp test Both so immense and infinitely vast The first could not be reach'd but by the last Mean Massacres are but in death begun But Thou hast Liv'd an Execution Close coffin'd up in a deceased Life Had Orphan-Children and a Widow-Wife Friends not t' approach or comfort but to mourn And weep their unheard plaints as at thy urn Such black Attendants Colonied thy Cell But for thy Presence Car'sbrook had been Hell Thus basely to Be Dungeon'd would enrage Great Bajazet beyond and Iron Cage That deep indignity might have layn Something the lighter from a Tamerlain But here Sidonian Slaves usurp the Reins And lock the Scepter-bearing Arms in chains The spew'd-up surfeit of the glut'nous Land Honour'd by scorn and clean beneath all brand For such a Varlet-Brood to tear all down And make a common Foot-ball of the Crown T' insult on wounded Majesty and broach The bloud of Honour by their vile reproach What royall eye but thine could sober see Bowing so low yet bearing up so high What an unbroken sweetnesse grac'd thy Soul Beyond the world proud conquest or controul Maugre grim cruelty thou keepst thy hold Thy Thornie Crown was still a Crown of Gold Chast Honour Might enrag'd could ne're deflour Though others th' Use Thou claim'dst the Right of Power The brave Athenian thus with lopp'd-off Hands A stop to swelling sayles by 's mouth commands New Vigour rouz'd Thee still in thy Embroyles Antaeus-like recruiting from the Foyles Victorious fury could not terrour bring Enough to quell a captivated King So did that Roman Miracle withstand Hetrurian shoals but with a single hand The Church in thee had still her Armies thus The World once fought with Athanasius The Gantlet thus upheld It is decreed No safety else for Treason Charles must bleed Traytour and Soveraign now inverted meet The wealthy Olive's dragg'd to th' Brambles feet The Throne is Metamorphiz'd to the Barre And despicable Batts the Eagle dare Astonishment yet still we must admire Thy courage growing with thy conflicts high'r No palsied hands or trembling knees betray That Cause on which thy souls sure bottom'd lay So free and undisturbed flew thy Breath Not as condemn'd but purchasing a death Those early Martyrs in their funerall pile Embrac'd their Flames with such a quiet smile Brave Coeur-de-Lyon Soul that would'st not vayle In one base syllable to beg thy Bayl How didst thou blush to live at such a price As ask'd thy People for a sacrifice Th' Althenian Prince in such a pitch of zeal Redeem'd his destin'd Hoast and Common-weal Who brib'd his cheated Enemies to kill And both their Conquest and their Conqueror fell Thus thou our Martyr died'st but oh we stand A Ransome for another Charles his Hand One that will write thy Chronicle in Red And dip his Pen in what thy Foes have bled Shall Treas'nous Heads in purple Caldrons drench And with such veines the Flames of Kingdomes quench Then thou art least at Westminster shall 't be Fil'd in the Pompous List of Majestie Thy Mausalaeum shall in glory rise And Tears and wonder force from Nephews Eyes Till when though black-mouth'd Miscreants engrave No Epitaph but Tyrant on thy Grave A Vault of Loyalty shall keep thy Name An orient and bright Olibian flame On which when times succeeding foot shall tread Such Characters as these shall there be read Here CHARLES the best of Monarchs butcher'd lies The Glory of all Martyrologies Bulwark of Law the Churches Cittadell In whom they triumph'd once with whom they fell An English Solomon a Constantine Pandect of Knowledge Humane and Divine Meek ev'n to wonder yet of stoutest Grace To sweeten Majesty but not debase So whole made up of clemency the Throne And Mercy-seat to Him were alwayes one Inviting Treason with a pardoning look Instead of Gratitude a stab He took With passion lov'd that when He murd'red lay Heav'n conquered seem'd and Hell to bear the sway A Prince so richly good so blest a Reign The world ne're saw but one nor can again Humano genere Nature benigni Nil