Selected quad for the lemma: lord_n
Text snippets containing the quad
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A34832
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A translation of the sixth book of Mr. Cowley's Plantarum being a poem upon the late rebellion, the happy restoration of His Sacred Majesty, and the Dutch war ensuing.; Plantarum libri sex. Book 6. English
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Cowley, Abraham, 1618-1667.
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1680
(1680)
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Wing C6692; ESTC R17196
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11,830
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51
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declare Her Grief she rages foams and beats the shores 28. But she that now with so much grief and care The op'ning of the War do's apprehend Who can believe it of this fatal War With much more sorrow shall behold the End 29. Methinks I 'me mounted high on Kinton Hills The Vale beneath with a red Sea of Blood Is overflow'd and dire Bellona fills With heaps of slaughter'd Men the sanguine Flood 30. What a prodigious Harvest through the Field Is reap't by Fiery Rupert's conquering Sword What heaps are by the Pious Monarch kill'd A mourning Conqu'rour If the Fates afford 31. Still a propitious Course but this one Day To all that kind of Ills will put an End Th' o're hasty Conquest stumbling in the Way Fell e're it had the Neighbouring Goal attain'd 32. Then Mars through all the British Empire rag'd From the Lands-End to Orkney by the Sun Coldly oblig'd no place is disengag'd Posses 't with Fury all the Ruine run 33. What cruel Serpent of the Furies Brood Unhappy England did thy Health confound All thy sick Members flow with poison'd Blood That thy whole Body seems but as one Wound 34. Thrice were thy Fields unlucky Newberry With Slaughter and Destruction cover'd o're And thy sad Fame in horrour do's out-vie Philippi's Fields twice-dy'd in humane Gore 35. Long was the Ballance even held by Fate Who did of Both the nodding Ruin poise VVith mutual Slaughter and alternate Weight Of damage Equal were their Griefs and Joys 36. First Yorkshire's cruel Fight severely shakes And turns the Scales of VVar and Naseby's Field At last a VVound profound and mortal makes Never by Art or Fortune to be heal'd 37. The rest ye Gods permir me not to write But Lo a wondrous and deformed Heap Of Miseries at once invade my sight What Spoiles of War the Impious Victors reap 38. The King in a Poor rustic Habit dress't 'T was the first time he ever us'd Deceit Though greatness still his sacred Looks express't Flying the Foe flies to a Foe as Great 39. What place will to the Conquer'd help afford A King a Guest a Suppliant in vain Of his own-Country-Subjects aid implor'd Ungrateful men perfidious and prophane 40. So do's the self-wrack't Pilot freely leap Into the threatning Waves he fear'd before From out the fierce Flames of his burning Ship Whom cruel Waves again to Flames restore 41. With Prayer's and Threats the Conquerours demand The King as a just Spoil of War detain'd By fraud such Seeming proofs of Love they give You 'd think without their King they could not live 42. No less the Scots their zealous Love declare They to restore their Royal Guest deny And stifly urge and claim their right and share He 's not so vile but England yet must buy 43. Or not possesse him O unheard of Shame Which will in vain to Future Times be told The Potent Lord of Sea and Land became A Slave the Master 's to the Servant sold. 44. Far be it that this great and horrid Crime On your whole Nation Scotland should be thrown Your Virtue did the Sin of part redeem And with much Blood for Crimes of Few attone 45. Scarce did the Arms hung up in houses rest But a long Course of Civil war return'd VVho by base Tyrants saw the King oppress 't And made a Prisoner but with Anger burn'd 46. Scotland though late it did thy Anger move And the just Rage of Generous Kent inflame VVhich above life it self do's Freedom love And Wales which still maintains the Britains Fame 47. VVhy should I mention the unhappy Fights The trembling Ribla stain'd with humane Blood Or routed Scots who in their hasty Flights Did stop the very Current of the Flood 48. VVhy should I Medway swell'd with Slaughter name Or Colchester's long cruel Seige relate VVhose Courage greatest Mis'ries ne're could tame And who deserv'd a more propitious Fate 49. VVhy should I recollect the Glorious Fate Of Lords who bravely fighting dy'd in Field Or their sad ignominious Death relate VVho to the cruel Victors Mercy yield 50. After such Ruins and such Miseries So many VVounds by advers Fortune given So much the Pious King did Life despise That he thought Death the greatest gift of Heaven 51. But Oh! the impious and tremendous Deed Can n're be curs't enough by after-times It Hells most sharp Invention do's exceed To find a Torment equal to their Crimes 52. I' th' Peoples sight the King from Prison led On a High Scaffold just before the Gate Of his cheif Palace bows his Sacred Head To the Hangmans hands 53. Wounded on all sides now poor Britan dyes Drown'd in the Blood which from her self did flow A Headless nameless deform'd Carkass lyes A Monstrous Lifeless Trunck which none could know 54. Who would not hope tho there was nothing less In Death soft Quiet and eternal Rest Lo numerous vile Souls in Tumults press And ' stead of One to rule the Limbs infest 55. Vile Sons of Earth by base Corruption bred Worms pois'nous Insects and black Serpents croud And Cromwell greatest of the Serpents fed Upon the very Marrow and the Blood 56. A noisom Odor's through the World diffus'd Sin and Injustice Justice then became No Rains Impiety now Reigning us'd To Fury having pass't the Bounds of Shame 57. 'T was counted Sport to see the Scaffolds fix't In every Street bedew'd with noble Blood To see in Pairs hangmen and Worthies mix't O Gods as Shows presented to the Croud 58. The good man's standing Mansion was the Gaol Th' Access to which with Crouds was early press't But weary'd Cruelty at length did fail And was compell'd a while to breath and rest 59. Insatiate Avarice no Cessation makes No Limits to it's violent Rage appear The Warriour often willingly forsakes But the Proscriber hardly quits the Spear 60. All that preceding glorious Kings had heap't With a Magnificent and Sparing hand The noble Spoils in bloody Battel reap't And all the Riches by long Peace attain'd 61. What our Forefathers generous Piety And rich Religion in a splendid Dress Did to the Sacred Altar's Use apply All the Estates the Nobles did possess 62. And those whoe're of Loyalty and Lands Were Guilty found O wretched Avarice Not all these Riches could the Harpy-hands Of the Tyrannic Sons of Earth suffice 63. Nor is 't enough alone to take the Spoils Of Gods and the Kings Houses these unjust And impious Men destroy the stately Piles Of very Ruin there 's a wicked Lust. 64. In every place the groaning Carts are fill'd With Beams and Stones so busie and so loud Are the proud Victors as they meant to Build But they to Ruin and Destruction croud 65. Timber which had been bury'd many Years Under high Royal Towers they invade 'T is sure that Hand the Living never spares Which is so wicked to disturb the Dead 66. Then all the Woods the barbarous Victors seize The noble Nursery of the Fleet and Town The hopes of War and