Selected quad for the lemma: state_n
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A55481
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Poems upon several occasions by S.P.
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Pordage, Samuel, 1633-1691?
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1660
(1660)
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Wing P2976; ESTC R40656
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19,781
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58
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men her Innocentia deem'd Look what she wore Guile ever wore the same And counterfeited still that purer dame In pure White Garments was she dec't the snow Could not than she a colour purer show But she whose eyes peirc'd her base covering Saw her all bloached with foul spots within And th'row her plaster'd White and painted face Saw that with all men she usurp'd her place The next she met with was Dame Policie VVho with a thousand shapes deludes the eye Her cloaths were changeable and her disguise To ev'ry colour would Camelionize Her shapes so divers and her forms so many That none could truly say that she had any Her hand-maid Guile who still attends upon her Bowing her Head full low unto her Honor Held up her train when that she neer was come She thus salutes her Dame we have no roome To lodge you here our bedds are all impletc Nor may this court for you become a seat For your carbasious regment which doth vie For whitenesse with the snow cannot come high Our sullied garments but it shews our stains And Truths perspective shews to all our blains Our albeous Garments seem as white as thine Our Laws seem holy our decrees divine If thou art absent but if thou art by Our white shews black our seeming truth 's a lye Our Laws deceitfull and it doth appear Our Kingdom falls if thou remainest here My neece Ambition cannot be displac'd Her Sister flatt'ry 'ld think her self disgrac'd Should I dislodge them for your sake they 'd snuff And pride would think you were not fine enough But adulation who her words can change T' as various shapes as there are humours strange Shall entertain you and with Speeches fair Shall fill you full if you 'l be fill'd with air VVe two are inconsonant we cann't agree I you oppose you 'r opposite to me And 't is as hard for us to joyn it clear is As pale fac'd Famine to conjoyn with Ceres I am not wont apertly thus to speak However now my mind I truly break To you and tell you se'ing we cann't agree That you must hence and leave this place for me Contraries cann't conjoyn we here no room Have therefore pray depart from whence you come Dame Innocentia soon perceiv'd the place Nothing afforded to her but disgrace And scorn therefore lest thence she should be thrust And her white garments spoyled with the dust And stains of sin the court unto her foes She leaves with speed while Guile dirt at her throws And to truths cottage where she was before Returns and vows to see the Court no more Aula procul Innocentiâ An Elegy on the matchless Murther of Charls the First of Happy and Blessed Memory SInce Brittains great Apollo left the land Laurells are blasted and dejected stand Poets are dumb-struck and amaz'd to see So strange unutterable Prodigie Charles forc'd to swim in his own sacred Gore From this accurs'd to an immortal Shore So that none dares all struck with silent dread To say Much lesse to sing that Charles is dead For many months my Soul and Blood was froze Till Anger thaw'd this Ice and Zeal arose Through all my Veins which gave me Liberty To weep out first then write an Elegy Lame and unequal as the woful times Painted with Sighs and Tears must 〈◊〉 my rithmes For who can struck with so much grief erect A Verse but in a faultring Dialect He must forget the rugged times the 〈◊〉 That can indite ought in a pollisht stile Who will not blush and fire his Face with Shame That thinks by Verset ' immortalize that Name Which charactrized in our Rithmes will give Life to our Lines and make our Fumes to 〈◊〉 Whilst Charles shall flourish in mans memory Which shall till times supp'd up b' Eternity Bâ—e Royal Phoebus gains no ray of Light By mortals praises he 't is gives them Sight So Brittains Son shall never live by verse But Men and Rithmes whilst they his Name reherse Shall flourish for the Theme these shall be read And live soul'd by him tho' himself be dead Dead ah more murthered and martyr'd too By cursed hands who once their deed shall rue That by Pretext of guilt and crimes do draw To th' block of Death the Head of Church and Law Both fell with thee great Monarch when that Fate Made thee a Martyr of the Church and State The Earth and all her mighty Monarchs stand Amaz'd and drooping dare not now command Benumm'd their Fingers cann't the Scepter sway Kings cannot rule nor people well obay Since by thy Death the Soul of Monarchie Has suffer'd and the Head of Majestie Chopp'd off no King now thinks himself secure Since Laws the Walls where Princes did immure Themselves from vulgar rage are wrested so That murthers issue whence Justice us'd to flow Asham'd and blushing Princes stand to see Themselves and regal acts outdone by thee To see the Glory of thy setting Sun Damp all the lustre of their splendid Noon Heav'n and the Lamp of day Nights Tapors tell England that they an Act to parrallel Its bloody deed ne'r yet beheld thy Stage O raging Isles the wonder of this Age And thou shalt blush dy'd with a Tyrian Stain Unless thou wash it quickly off again By some notorious Act as great as good And take away the stains of blood with blood And be the scorn of Nations whilst the Sun Shall in the twelve roads of the Zodiack Run No Pen can reach to words sufficient To speak thy Death no Elegy lament Thy fatal loss can in a strain that 's fit The more we strive the more fall short of it For thou 'rt a Theme too great for thoughts much lesse Can weaker words speak thee o'r unhappinesse In floods of brinie tears wee 'l ever tell And loyal hearts shall make the Ocean swell VVith sighs which will at last bring judgement down And ' wake th' Almightie's Justice for his own Rebells think not 'twas his o're weight of sin That press'd him down alive he still had been But for the Nations crimes we first his life Took from him by our sins then with the knife God for a Notion's sins oft dealeth so Takes off the Righteous le ts the wicked go In mercy to the first to set them free From following plagues and suddain jeopardie So our yet bleeding Monarch was a gem Too good for us and we too bad for him Although the murtherers grant no monument Crown'd Heroe Fame his hasty missives sent To all Earth's Monarchs who allready have Counting the VVorld two little for thy grave Rear'd up a pyramis of high renown VVhich shall out-last the longest Monarchs crown VVhere long-live'd Fame upon its summit sings The fatal trag'die of the best of Kings In vaulting thee so close think let them not That e're their Regicede shall be forgot For though thou hidden under ground dost lye Their Names above ground rot and ne'r shall dye God turns Hells spiteful Arrows on his head The world Salvation gain'd Christ Crucified And murther'd Charles the Name of Martyr gains Tho' Life and three Crowns lost more now remains For him a Life immortal and a Crown Of Shining Glory and of high Renown Which spight of Rebels Acts though he be Dead Shall now for ever Crown His Royal Head THE END