Selected quad for the lemma: death_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A90681
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Caroli tou makaritou palingenesia.
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Pierce, Thomas, 1622-1691.
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1649
(1649)
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Wing P2165; Thomason E1243_4; ESTC R33273
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5,422
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13
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CAROLI Τȣ ΜακαÏιτȣ ΠΑΛΙΓΓΕÎΕΣΙΑ LONDON Printed for Rich Royston at the Angel in Ivie lane M. DC.XL.IX CAROLI Τȣ ΜακαÏιτȣ ΠαλιγÏενεσια I Come but come with trembling lest I prove Th'unequall Greete of Semele and Jove As She was too obscure and He too bright My Theame's too heavy and my Pen too light And whilst like Midas I presume to sit In wise Apollo's Chaire without HIS wit Is it not just t' expect that He who dares Higher then Midas should wear longer Eares May I not feare Patroclus Fate and feele The dangerous honour of Achilles steele Just like that busie Elfe 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 Liberty of Prose Wants roome 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 * De Catone vetus dictum Ultimus Romanorum Primus Hominum 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 Funerall For Charles being thus dismounted and the Swaine High shoo'd Bóótes leapt into the Waine Is not old Beldame Nature truly said T' advance her Heeles and stand upon her Head Does not the Judge 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 Laquay whilst th' white Devill rides Sure all things thus into Confusion hurld Make though an Universe yet not a World And so our Soveraigne's like our Saviour's Passion Becomes a kind of Doomesday to the Nation If Dead men did not walke 't would be admir'd The Breath of all our Nostrills thus expir'd What 't is that gives us Motion And can I Who want my selfe write Him an Elegie Though Virgil turn'd Evangelist and wrote Not from his Tripod but God's 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 'T were all as inarticulate and weake As when those men make signes that cannot speak But where the Theme confounds us * 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Longin 't is a sort Of glorious Merit Proudly to fall short Despaire sometimes gives courage any one May lispe him out who can be spoke by none None but a King No King unlesse He be As Wise as Just as Good as Great as He. When Late Posterity shall run t' advise With Time's impartiall Register how Wise This Great-one was they 'l find it there inroll'd That He was ne'r in 's Nonage but borne old View him whilst Prince of Wales and it appeares His Wisdome did so antedate his yeares That He was Ful i' th ' Bud and 's Soule 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 Majesty 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 Realmes And just as if old Trismegistus Cup Had by his Thirsty Soule been all drunk up His understanding did begirt this All As t' were Ecliptick or Meridionall Suppose 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 Pensill and the Pen From th' Scepter to the Sheep-hook Charles in all Must have been Umpire Oecumenicall He liv'd a Perpendicular The Thread His Wisdome was Humility the Lead By which he measur'd Men and Things took aime At actions crooked and at actions plaine 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 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 looke On his Soule 's best Interpreter his Booke His Booke 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 owne good Genius knew not whether were His Heart more single or his Head more cleare Vertue was his Prerogative and thus Charles rul'd the King before the King rul'd Us. He knew that to command his only way Was first to teach his Passions to obey And his incessant waiting on God's Throne Gave him such meek reflexions on his owne That being forc't to censure he exprest A Judges Office with a Mothers breast And when some sturdy 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 Journy-men those Sons of Night Who looke on scarlet-murder and think 't white Unwillingly confess'd The only thing Which made him guilty 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 Vertue 's Meane stretch'd to a just Excesse Flew from his Soule He like the Sun was known To see all excellence except his owne His Modesty was such that All which He ' Ere spake or thought of 's selfe 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) Evagr. l. 1. c. 21. de Monachis quibusdam 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Temperance His Virtue did so limit him his Court Impli'd his Cloyster and his very sport Was Self-deniall Nay though he were seene So roab'd in purple and so match'd t' a Queene As made
him glitter like a Noon-day Sun Yet still his Soule 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 fall When he caught up by a Celestiall Traine Began his second and more solid Raigne How to that Haven 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 Us. Whom did Byzantium free Rome would condemn And free'd from Rome they are enslav'd by them So plac'd betwixt a Precipice and Wolfe There the Aegaean here the Venice gulfe What with the rising and the setting Sun By these th' are hated and by those undon Thus virtue's hemm'd with vices though either Solicite's her consent she yeilds to neither Nay thus our Saviour to enhance his griefe Was hung betwixt a Murderer and a Thiefe Now Charles as King and as a good King too Being Christs adopted selfe was both to doe And suffer like him both to live and die So much more humble as he was more high Then his owne Subjects He was thus to tread In the same footsteps and submit his Head To the same thornes when spit upon and beat To make his Conscience serve for his retreat And overcome by suffring To take up His Saviour's Crosse and pledge him in his Cup. Since then our Soveraigne 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 renowned'st Epocha will be Great Charles his Death next Christ's Nativity Thus Treason 's growne most Orthodox who since They said they 'd make him the most glorious Prince In all the Christian World 't is plaine this way They onely promis'd what they meant to pay For now besides that beatifick 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 Libel's 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' affirme him murder'd in his owne 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 thinke's it witty To burne the Suburbs when they can't the City Howe're they storm'd his walls drain'd his blood Which moted round his Soule 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 doe It shew'd him King of his afflictions too Untempted virtue is but coldly good As she 's scarce chast that 's so but in cold blood To scorne 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 prove's but his due For how could he be said to fall too soone Whose green was mellow whose dawn was noone 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 doe mock not cheat our griefe and sit Only at best t' upbraid our selves in wit And want him learnedly such colours doe Disguise disasters not delude them too For though I must confesse a Poet can Fancy things better than another man He can but fancy 'um and all his paines Is but to fill his belly with his braines He may both Petrify'd and famish'd sit That weares his thoughts and onely dine 's on wit Were I a Polypus and could go on To be those very things I think upon I would not then complaine but since I know To call things thus is not to make them so Great Charles is slaine and say we what we will Yet we shall find judgements are judgements still For though 't is true that his now-immense Soule Doth hold commensuration with each Pole Though he doth shine a Star more fixt and bright Then where the yeare make 's but one day and night And least he fill the Zodiack doth appeare Not in the Eighth but Empyraean Sphere Yet we his Rise may our Descension call As Libra's mounting is poore Aries fall He was the onely Moses that could stand Betwixt the sinnes and judgments of the Land And what can we expect our Lot be'ng gon But that a Hell from Heav'n should tumble down On our more sinfull Sodom unlesse we Are damn'd yet worse to an impunity Kings are Gods once remov'd It hence appears No Court but Heav'ns can trie them by their Peers So that for Charles the Good to have been try'd And cast by mortall Votes was Deicide No Sin except the first hath ever past So black as this no Judgment but the last How does our Delos which so lately stood Unmov'd lie floating in her Pilot's blood And can we hope to Anchor who discerne Nought but the tempest ruling at the sterne Whil'st Pluto's Rival with his Saints by 's side Drawn by the Spirit of avarice and pride Being fairly placed in the Chaire of scorne Sits brewing Teares for Infants yet unborne Vast stocks of misery which his Guardian-rage Does husband for them till they come to age When future times shall look what Plagues befell Aegypt and Us by way of Parallel They 'l find at once presented to their view The Frogs and Lice and Independents too Only this signal difference will be knowne 'Twixt those Aegyptian judgments and our owne Those were God's Army 's but th' effect doth tell That these our Vermin are the Host of Hell Pausanias and Herostratus will looke Like Pygmy-Sinners writ in Times black-booke The Spanish Fleet and Powder-plot will lack Their usuall mentions in our Almanack Nay which is more (c) Socrat. l. 7. c. 10. hoc Alarichi responsum recitat 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Alaricus his name Will scarce be legible i' th' leaves of fame When Cromwell shall be read Nature was ne're So blessedly reform'd since Lucifer O for a Jeremy to lament our woe From whom such tragick Rhetorick might flow As would become our misery and dresse Our sorrows with a dreadfull gaudinesse For next those hovering judgements which the fall Of One so great so good makes Verticall And rushing down may only be withstood If Charles his prayers crie louder than his blood I say next that It is our second Crosse We can't grieve worthy of so great a Losse To weep upon this subject and weep sense Requires we should be borne ten Ages hence The greater are the hights an Artist's hand Designe 's to take the farther he must stand And as when Sol's in 's Zenith He imply's His dazling glory best that shuts his eyes So where the Theme's ineffable the way To speake it is (d) Herodot l. 3. Psammetichus ad Cambysem cùm Amicorū vicem lacrymis lugcret fuam verò silentio 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 c. Not to know what to say THE END