Poems not included in the Edition of 1657 but added in reissue of 1664
Poems not included in the Edition of 1657
but added in reissue of 1664
An Elegy upon my best friend, L. K. C.
[Countess of Leinster: died June 15, 1657.]
Should we our sorrows in this method range,
Oft as misfortune doth their subjects change,
And to the sev'ral losses which befall,
Pay diff'rent rites at ev'ry funeral;
Like narrow springs, drain'd by dispersed streams,
We must want tears to wail such various themes,
And prove defective in Death's mournful laws,
Not having words proportion'd to each cause.
In your dear loss, my much afflicted sense
10Discerns this truth by sad experience,
Who never look'd my Verses should survive,
As wet records, That you are not alive;
And less desir'd to make that promise due,
Which pass'd from me in jest, when urg'd by you.
How close and slily doth our frailty work!
How undiscover'd in the body lurk!
That those who this day did salute you well,
Before the next were frighted by your knell.
O wherefore since we must in order rise,
20Should we not fall in equal obsequies?
But bear th' assaults of an uneven fate,
Like fevers which their hour anticipate;
Had this rule constant been, my long wish'd end
Might render you a mourner for your Friend:
As he for you, whose most deplor'd surprise
Imprints your death on all my faculties;
That hardly my dark phant'sy or discourse
This final duty from the pen enforce.
Such influence hath your eclipsed light,
30It doth my reason, like myself, benight.
Let me, with luckless gamesters, then think best
(After I have set up and lost my rest),
Grown desp'rate through mischance, to venture last
My whole remaining stock upon a cast,
And flinging from me my now loathed pen,
Resolve for your sake ne'er to write again:
For whilst successive days their light renew,
I must no subject hope to equal you,
In whose heroic breast, as in their Sphere,
40All graces of your sex concentred were.
Thus take I my long farewell of that art,
Fit only glorious actions to impart;
That art wherewith our crosses we beguile,
And make them in harmonious numbers smile:
Since you are gone, this holds no further use
Whose virtue and desert inspir'd my Muse,
O may she in your ashes buried be,
Whilst I myself become the Elegy.
And as it is observ'd, when Princes die,
50In honour of that sad solemnity,
The now unoffic'd servants crack their staves,
And throw them down into their masters' graves:
So this last office of my broken verse
I solemnly resign upon your hearse;
And my brain's moisture, all that is unspent,
Shall melt to nothing at the monument.
Thus in moist weather, when the marble weeps,
You'll think it only his tears reck'ning keeps,
Who doth for ever to his thoughts bequeath
60The legacy of your lamented death.
An Elegy upon my best friend.] King's 'best friend' (or, as a MS. gives it, 'worthiest') was Katharine Stanhope, daughter of John Lord Stanhope of Harrington. Her husband, Robert Cholmondeley, successively created an Irish Viscount, an English Baron (his surname serving as title in each case), and Earl of Leinster, died very shortly after her and before the Restoration. There is a MS. sermon on her death attributed to King, but doubted by Hannah. The poem itself, unlike the next but like the three which follow that, appears printed in the 1664 issue. And it is, on the principles of this collection, not unimportant to notice that in these later printed pieces the irrational prodigality of capitals which, as has been noted, is absent from 1657, reappears. There could be no stronger evidence that these things have nothing to do with the author, and are not worth reproducing.
12 The original bestows a capital even upon 'Alive'—a thing capital in another way as illustrating the utter unreason of the practice.
15-18 Absent in MS.
36 Orig. 'nev'r'—a form unpronounceable but not uninteresting.
40 your] MS. 'the'.
43 crosses] MS. 'sorrows'.
On the Earl of Essex.
[Died September 14, 1646.]
Essex, twice made unhappy by a wife,
Yet married worse unto the People's strife:
He who, by two divorces, did untie
His bond of wedlock and of loyalty:
Who was by easiness of nature bred,
To lead that tumult which first him misled;
Yet had some glimm'ring sparks of virtue, lent
To see (though late) his error, and repent:
Essex lies here, like an inverted flame,
10Hid in the ruins of his house and name;
And as he, frailty's sad example, lies,
Warns the survivors in his exequies.
He shows what wretched bubbles great men are,
Through their ambition grown too popular:
For they, built up from weak opinion, stand
On bases false as water, loose as sand.
Essex in differing successes tried
The fury and the falsehood of each side;
Now with applauses deified, and then,
20Thrown down with spiteful infamy again:—
Tells them, what arts soever them support,
Their life is merely Time and Fortune's sport,
And that no bladders, blown by common breath,
Shall bear them up amidst the waves of Death:
Tells them, no monstrous birth, with pow'r endu'd,
By that more monstrous beast, the Multitude,—
No State-Coloss (though tall as that bestrid
The Rhodian harbour where their navy rid),
Can hold that ill-proportion'd greatness still,
30Beyond his greater, most resistless will,
Whose dreadful sentence, written on the Wall,
Did sign the temple-robbing tyrant's fall;
But spite of their vast privilege, which strives
T' exceed the size of ten prerogatives;
Spite of their endless parliament, or grants
(In order to those votes and Covenants,
When, without sense of their black perjury,
They swear with Essex they would live and die),
With their dead General ere long they must
40Contracted be into a span of dust.
On the Earl of Essex.] This and the next two may be called King's chief, if not his only, political poems: that they were kept back till after the Restoration is not surprising. Of Essex—one of the most unfortunate of men, the son of an unlucky father, the husband of one of the worst of women, and of another not much better, a half-hearted rebel, a soldier not less brave than blundering—not much is to be said here. King had some interest in the first and universally known divorce (the second, much less notorious, was from Elizabeth Paulet), for his father had been uncourtly and honest enough to oppose it strongly.
10 This rather vigorous line was to be prophetic as well as true at the time, for when, after the Restoration, the title of Essex was revived it was for the Capels, who still hold it, not for any Devereux. The vigour just referred to is by no means absent from the whole poem, and in an ante-Drydenian piece is really remarkable.
32 temple-robbing tyrant's fall] side-note in orig.: Belshasar, Dan. 5.
An Elegy on Sir Charles Lucas and Sir George Lisle.
[Murdered August 28, 1648.]
In measures solemn as the groans that fall
From the hoarse trumpet at some funeral;
With trailing Elegy and mournful verse,
I wait upon two peerless soldiers' hearse:
Though I acknowledge must my sorrow's dress
Ill matched to the cause it should express;
Nor can I, at my best invention's cost,
Sum up the treasure which in them we lost.
Had they, with other worthies of the age,
10Who late upon the kingdom's bloody stage,
For God, the King, and Laws, their valour tried,
Through War's stern chance in heat of battle died,
We then might save much of our grief's expense,
Reputing it, not duty, but offence.
They need no tears, nor howling exequy,
Who in a glorious undertaking die;
Since all that in the bed of honour fell,
Live their own Monument and Chronicle.
But these, whom horrid danger did not reach,
20The wide-mouth'd cannon, nor the wider breach,
These, whom, till cruel want and coward fate
Penn'd up like famish'd lions in a grate,
Were for their daring sallies so much fear'd,
Th' assailants fled them like a frighted herd;
Resolving now no more to fight, but lurk
Trench'd in their line, or earth'd within a work.
Where, not like soldiers they, but watchmen, creep,
Arm'd for no other office, but to sleep;
They, whose bold charge whole armies did amaze,
30Rend'ring them faint and heartless at the gaze,
To see Resolve and Naked Valour charms
Of higher proof than all their massy arms;
They, whose bright swords ruffled the proudest troop
(As fowl unto the tow'ring falcon stoop),
Yet no advantage made of their success,
Which to the conquer'd spake them merciless
(For they, whene'er 'twas begg'd, did safety give,
And oft unasked bid the vanquish'd live);
Ev'n these, not more undaunted in the field,
40Than mild and gentle unto such as yield,
Were, after all the shocks of battles stood,
(Let me not name it) murder'd in cold blood.
Such poor revenge did the enraged Greek
Against (till then) victorious Hector seek,
Triumphing o'er that body, bound and dead,
From whom, in life, the pow'rs of Argos fled.
Yet might Achilles borrow some excuse
To colour, though not warrant, the abuse:
His dearest friend, in the fierce combat foil'd,
50Was by the Trojan's hand of life despoil'd;
From whence unruly grief, grown wild with rage,
Beyond the bounds of Honour did engage.
But these, confirm'd in their unmanly hate,
By counsels cruel, yet deliberate,
Did from the stock of bleeding honour hew
Two of the noblest branches ever grew;
And (which our grief and pity must improve)
When brought within their reach with shows of love:
For by a treaty they entangled are,
60And rend'ring up to Mercy is the snare;
Whence we have learn'd, whene'er their Saintships treat,
The ends are mortal, and the means a cheat;
In which the world may read their black intent,
Drawn out at large in this sad precedent.
Who (though fair promis'd) might no mercy have,
But such as once the faithless Bashaw gave,
When to his trust deluded Bragadine
Himself and Famagosta did resign.
Whose envied valour thus to bonds betray'd,
70Was soon the mark of barb'rous slaughter made:
So gallant ships, which rocks and storms had past,
Though with torn sails, and spending of their mast,
When newly brought within the sight of land,
Have been suck'd up by some devouring sand.
You wretched agents for a kingdom's fall,
Who yet yourselves the Modell'd Army call;
Who carry on and fashion your design
By Sylla's, Sylla's red proscription's line,
(Rome's Comet once, as you are ours) for shame
80Henceforth no more usurp the soldier's name:
Let not that title in fair battles gain'd
Be by such abject things as you profan'd;
For what have you achiev'd, the world may guess
You are those Men of Might which you profess?
Where ever durst you strike, if you met foes
Whose valour did your odds in men oppose?
Turn o'er the annals of your vaunted fights,
Which made you late the People's favourites;
Begin your course at Naseby, and from thence
90Draw out your marches' full circumference,
Bridgwater, Bristol, Dartmouth, with the rest
Of your well-plotted renders in the West;
Then to the angry North your compass bend,
Until your spent career in Scotland end,
(This is the perfect scale of our mishap
Which measures out your conquest by the map),
And tell me he that can, What have you won,
Which long before your progress was not done?
What castle was besieg'd, what Port, what Town,
100You were not sure to carry ere sat down?
There needed no granadoes, no petard,
To force the passage, or disperse the guard.
No, your good masters sent a Golden Ram
To batter down the gates against you came.
Those blest Reformers, who procur'd the Swede
His armed forces into Denmark lead,
'Mongst them to kindle a sharp war for hire,
Who in mere pity meant to quench our fire,
Could where they pleased, with the King's own coin,
110Divert his aids, and strengths at home purloin.
Upon sea voyages I sometimes find
Men trade with Lapland witches for a wind,
And by those purchas'd gales, quick as their thought,
To the desired port are safely brought.
We need not here on skilful Hopkins call,
The State's allow'd Witch-finder General.
For (though Rebellion wants no cad nor elf,
But is a perfect witchcraft of itself)
We could with little help of art reveal
120Those learn'd magicians with whom you deal:
We all your juggles, both for time and place,
From Derby-house to Westminster can trace,
The circle where the factious jangle meet
To trample Law and Gospel under feet;
In which, like bells rung backward, they proclaim
The Kingdom by their wild-fire set on flame,
And, quite perverting their first rules, invent
What mischief may be done by Parliament:
We know your holy flamens, and can tell
130What spirits vote within the Oracle;
Have found the spells and incantations too,
By whose assistance you such wonders do.
For divers years the credit of your wars
Hath been kept up by these Familiars,
Who, that they may their providence express,
Both find you pay, and purchase your success:
No wonder then you must the garland wear,
Who never fought but with a silver spear.
We grant the war's unhappy consequence,
140With all the num'rous plagues which grow from thence,
Murders and rapes, threats of disease and dearth,
From you as for the proper Spring take birth;
You may for laws enact the public wrongs,
With all foul violence to them belongs;
May bawl aloud the people's right and pow'r,
Till by your sword you both of them devour
(For this brave liberty by you upcried
Is to all others but yourselves denied),
May with seditious fires the land embroil,
150And, in pretence to quench them, take the spoil;
You may Religion to your lust subdue,
For these are actions only worthy you:
Yet when your projects, crown'd with wish'd event,
Have made you masters of the ill you meant,
You never must the soldiers' glory share,
Since all your trophies executions are:
Not thinking your successes understood,
Unless recorded and scor'd up in blood.
In which, to gull the people, you pretend,
160That Military Justice was your end;
As if we still were blind, not knowing this
To all your other virtues suited is;
Who only act by your great grandsires' law,
The butcher Cade, Wat Tyler, and Jack Straw,
Whose principle was murder, and their sport
To cut off those they fear'd might do them hurt:
Nay, in your actions we completed find
What by those Levellers was but design'd,
For now Committees, and your arm'd supplies,
170Canton the land in petty tyrannies,
And for one King of commons in each shire,
Four hundred Commons rule as tyrants here.
Had you not meant the copies of each deed
Should their originals in ill exceed,
You would not practice sure the Turkish art,
To ship your taken pris'ners for a mart,
Lest if with freedom they at home remain,
They should (which is your terror) fight again.
A thing long since by zealous Rigby moved,
180And by the faction like himself approv'd;
Though you uncounsell'd can such outrage try,
Scarce sampled from the basest enemy.
Naseby of old, and late St. Fagan's fare,
Of these inhuman truckings witness are;
At which the captiv'd Welsh, in couples led,
Were marketed, like cattle, by the head.
Let it no more in History be told
That Turks their Christian slaves for aspers sold;
When we the Saints selling their brethren see,
190Who had a Call (they say) to set them free;
And are at last by right of conquest grown
To claim our land of Canaan for their own.
Though luckless Colchester in this outvies
Argiers' or Tunis' shameful merchandise;
Where the starv'd soldier (as th' agreement was)
Might not be suffer'd to their dwelling pass,
Till, led about by some insulting band,
They first were show'd in triumph through the land:
In which, for lack of diet, or of strength,
200If any fainted through the march's length,
Void of the breasts of men, this murd'rous crew
All those they could drive on no further, slew;
What bloody riddle's this? They mercy give,
Yet those who should enjoy it, must not live.
Indeed we cannot less from such expect,
Who for this work of ruin are elect:
This scum drawn from the worst, who never knew
The fruits which from ingenuous breeding grew;
But take such low commanders on their lists,
210As did revolted Jeroboam priests:
That 'tis our fate, I fear, to be undone,
Like Egypt once with vermin overrun.
If in the rabble some be more refin'd,
By fair extractions of their birth or mind,
Ev'n these corrupted are by such allays,
That no impression of their virtue stays.
As gold, embased by some mingled dross,
Both in its worth and nature suffers loss.
Else, had that sense of honour still surviv'd
220Which Fairfax from his ancestors deriv'd,
He ne'er had show'd himself, for hate or fear,
So much degen'rous from renowned Vere
(The title and alliance of whose son
His acts of valour had in Holland won),
As to give up, by his rash dooming breath,
This precious pair of lives to timeless death;
Whom no brave enemy but would esteem,
And, though with hazard of his own, redeem.
For 'tis not vainly by the world surmis'd,
230This blood to private spleens was sacrific'd.
Half of the guilt stands charg'd on Whalley's score
By Lisle affronted on his guards before;
For which his spite by other hands was shown,
Who never durst dispute it with his own.
Twice guilty coward! first by vote, then eye,
Spectator of the shameful tragedy.
But Lucas elder cause of quarrel knew,
From whence his critical misfortune grew;
Since he from Berkeley Castle with such scorn
240Bold Ransborough's first summons did return,
Telling him loudly at the parley's beat,
With rogues and rebels he disdain'd to treat.
Some from this hot contest the world persuade
His sleeping vengeance on that ground was laid:
If so, for ever blurr'd with Envy's brand,
His honour gain'd by sea, was lost at land:
Nor could he an impending judgement shun,
Who did to this with so much fervour run,
When late himself, to quit that bloody stain,
250Was, 'midst his armed guards, from Pomfret slain.
But all in vain we here expostulate
What took them hence, private or public hate:
Knowledge of acted woes small comforts add,
When no repair proportion'd can be had:
And such are ours, which to the kingdom's eyes
Sadly present ensuing miseries,
Foretelling in These Two some greater ill
From those who now a patent have to kill.
Two, whose dear loss leaves us no recompense,
260Nor them atonement, which in weight or sense
With These shall never into balance come,
Though all the army fell their hecatomb.
Here leave them then; and be 't our last relief
To give their merit value in our grief.
Whose blood however yet neglected must
Without revenge or rites mingle with dust;
Not any falling drop shall ever dry,
Till to a weeping spring it multiply,
Bath'd in whose tears their blasted laurel shall
270Grow green, and with fresh garlands crown their fall.
From this black region then of Death and Night,
Great Spirits, take your everlasting flight:
And as your valour's mounting fires combine,
May they a brighter constellation shine
Than Gemini, or than the brother-stars,
Castor and Pollux, fortunate to wars;
That all fair soldiers, by your sparkling light,
May find the way to conquer, when they fight,
And by those patterns which from you they take,
280Direct their course through Honour's Zodiac:
But upon traitors frown with dire aspect,
Which may their perjuries and guilt reflect;
Unto the curse of whose nativity,
Prodigious as the Caput Algol be,
Whose pale and ghastly tresses still portend
Their own despair or hangman for their end.
And that succeeding ages may keep safe
Your lov'd remembrance in some Epitaph,
Upon the ruins of your glorious youth,
290Inscribed be this monumental truth:
Here lie the valiant Lucas and brave Lisle,
With Amasa betray'd in Joab's smile:
In whom, revenge of Honour taking place,
His great corival 's stabb'd in the embrace.
And as it was the Hebrew Captain's stain,
That he two greater than himself had slain,
Shedding the blood of War in time of Peace,
When love pretended was, and arms did cease,
May the foul murderers expect a fate
300Like Joab's, blood with blood to expiate;
Which, quick as lightning, and as thunder sure,
Preventions wisest arts nor shun, nor cure.
O may it fall on their perfidious head!
That when, with Joab to the Altar fled,
Themselves the sword and reach of vengeance flee,
No Temple may their sanctuary be.
Last, that nor frailty nor devouring time
May ever lose impressions of the crime,
Let loyal Colchester (who too late tried
310To check, when highest wrought, the Rebels' pride,
Holding them long and doubtful at the bay,
Whilst we, by looking on, gave all away),
Be only nam'd: which, like a Column built,
Shall both enhearse this blood unnobly spilt,
And live, till all her towers in rubbish lie,
The monuments of their base cruelty.
Elegy on Sir Charles Lucas, &c.] This, King's longest poem (except the King Charles), shows, like the preceding, a vigour which might have made him a very formidable political satirist. If he has not Cleveland's wit he is free from Cleveland's abuse of it. The subject is again a well-known one. No impartial authority denies that the execution of Lucas and Lisle was one of the worst blots on that side of the record of the Rebellion, and perhaps the only unforgivable act of Fairfax. Whether he was actuated, as the Royalists generally believed, by a mean personal spite, or allowed himself to be the tool of Ireton, matters uncommonly little; and his own 'Vindication' contains statements demonstrably false. However, as usual in revolutions, the curse came home, and the Colchester 'Septemberings' (as they would actually have been had the New Style prevailed in England) were undoubtedly as much instrumental as anything, next to the execution of the King himself, in turning the national sentiment against the perpetrators. The bracketed notes that follow are, as usual, original.
31 [Sir George Lisle at Newbury charged in his shirt, and routed them.] This was the second battle of Newbury, October 27, 1644: he was knighted at Oxford, December 21, 1645.
49 friend] [Patroclus.]
60 Mercy] Fairfax in his own 'Vindication' admits the 'snare'. 'Delivering upon Mercy is to be understood that some are to suffer, the rest to go free.' In other words, the garrison might take 'mercy' to mean 'quarter', but Fairfax took it to mean 'discretion'.
64 Orig. 'President', as often printed, though of course no scholar like King would deliberately write it.
66 [Famagosta, defended most valiantly by Signior Bragadino in the time of Selimus II, was upon honourable terms surrendered to Mustapha the Bashaw, who, observing no conditions, at his tent murdered the principal commanders, invited thither under show of love, and flayed Bragadine alive.] This siege of Famagosta in 1571, which came just before, and may be said to have been revenged by, Lepanto, greatly affected the mind of Christendom, and is duly chronicled in Knolles, the chief English historical writer of King's day. It is therefore hardly necessary to suppose, with Hannah, that the note was abridged from George Sandys' Travels, though King and Sandys were certainly friends.
82, 85 I would have left the capitals for the 'Yous' in these lines, as I have already done in other places, because they not improperly further emphasize that emphatic use of the pronoun in different parts of the line which Dryden afterwards perfected. But unfortunately they are not uniformly used, or even in the majority of cases—which shows how utterly haphazard and irrational this capitalization was.
105 [The Swedes hired anno 1644, to invade the King of Denmark, provided to assist his nephew, the King of England.]
115 Hopkins] Hannah only knew for a certainty that the scoundrel Matthew was 'swum' for a wizard, and had to put a 'probably' as to his being executed. There seems to be no doubt (see D.N.B.) that the great and glorious 'Herb Pantagruelion' had its own, and that Hopkins was hanged in 1647, before the date of this poem. But in that distracted time King, like his editor, may easily have been unaware of it.
117 An early literary use of 'cad' for assistant or understrapper.
142 Instead of 'for' Hannah, who very seldom meddled with his text, suggested 'from'. The temptation is obvious, but I think 'for' is possible, and therefore preferable as lectio difficilior.
160 Military Justice] [See the letter sent to Edward Earl of Manchester, Speaker of the House of Peers, pro tempore, from T. Fairfax, dated August 29, 1648, at Hieth.] According to Royalist accounts there were, even in Parliament, speakers bold enough and impartial enough to object to this letter, and to give voice to the common belief that the execution was either an act of private vengeance, or a deliberate affront to the King, or a device to make the pending negotiations with him impossible. It must be remembered that it was three months before the 'Purge' had deprived the Commons of the last remnant of independence or representative quality.
170 petty tyrannies] [Wat Tyler and his complices' design was to take away the King and chief men, and to erect petty tyrannies to themselves in every shire. And already one Littistar, a dyer, had taken upon him in Norfolk the name of King of Commons, and Robert Westborn in Suffolk, Richard II, anno 1381. Speed.] This note from Speed is not exactly quoted and Hannah corrected it, but the variations are of no importance.
176 There is no doubt about the selling of prisoners as convict-slaves to the West Indies (if not, as Rigby proposed, to Algiers) by the Roundheads after the second Civil War. Unluckily James II—born in this and other cases to be the curse of English Royalism—took the reproach away from the other side by authorizing the practice after Sedgmoor.
179 The particular bearer of this name of evil repute in Parliamentary history was Alexander Rigby (1594-1650). He had a brother, Joseph, whose politics were as bad as his own, but who survived the Restoration, and seems to have had a touch of the 'crank' in him. I have not yet come across his Drunkard's Prospective (1656), but it should be agreeable.
183 The savagery of the two-to-one victors at Naseby—especially towards the hapless so-called 'Irishwomen' camp followers—is beyond question, but it does not seem proved that there was much selling of prisoners then. As for St. Fagan's in the second Civil War the case is different, and justifies the following note in the original: 'At St. Fagan's in Glamorganshire, near Cardiff, the Welsh unarmed were taken in very great numbers, and sold for twelve pence apiece to certain merchants, who bought them for slaves to their plantations.'
188 aspers] A Turkish coin of the smallest value: the 120th part of a piastre or dollar.
201 murd'rous crew] [Grimes, now a Captain, formerly a tinker at St. Albans, with his own hand killed four of the prisoners, being not able for faintness to go on with the rest, of which number Lieutenant Woodward was one. Likewise at Thame, and at Whateley ( = Wheatley), some others were killed.] This story is backed up by not a few similar ones in different accounts of the time. And indeed, as King very cogently goes on to argue, your tinker-captain is capable of anything.
222 It was Sir Horace Vere (1565-1635), afterwards Lord Vere of Tilbury, under whom Fairfax served, and whose daughter Anne he married.
231 Whalley (spelt, as often with the name, Whaley in printed original) is cleared by others, though he is said by them as by King to have been present and to have had some private grudge against Lisle. Lucas had not only thrown Fairfax's troops into disorder at Marston Moor but is said by some to have actually wounded him in the face. He had also held Berkeley Castle against Rans- or Rainsborough till the outworks were taken, and the guns turned from them on the Castle itself. Rainsborough, with Whalley and Ireton, was actually present at the execution—which as a duty could hardly be incumbent on all three, and with which they were often reproached; and as a matter of course Rainsborough's death shortly afterwards was counted as a 'judgement'. His father had been an officer in the Navy, and the son commanded both by sea and land.
284 Algol] A star of great but varying brightness, the name of which—'The ghoul'—and its position in the head of Medusa in the constellation Perseus, explains the text.
311 long and doubtful] Fairfax, to enhance his exploit, called it 'four months close siege'. It was actually not quite eleven weeks, but the place yielded to nothing but starvation.
An Elegy upon the most Incomparable King Charles the First.
Call for amazed thoughts, a wounded sense
And bleeding hearts at our intelligence.
Call for that Trump of Death, the Mandrake's groan
Which kills the hearers: this befits alone
Our story which through times vast Calendar,
Must stand without example or repair.
What spouts of melting clouds, what endless springs
Pour'd in the Ocean's lap for offerings,
Shall feed the hungry torrent of our grief,
10Too mighty for expression or belief?
Though all those moistures which the brain attracts
Ran from our eyes like gushing cataracts,
Or our sad accents could out-tongue the cries
Which did from mournful Hadadrimmon rise,
Since that remembrance of Josiah slain
In our King's murder is reviv'd again.
O pardon me that but from Holy Writ
Our loss allows no parallel to it:
Nor call it bold presumption that I dare
20Charles with the best of Judah's Kings compare:
The virtues of whose life did I prefer
The text acquits me for no flatterer.
For he like David perfect in his trust,
Was never stain'd like him, with blood or lust.
One who with Solomon in judgement tried,
Was quick to comprehend, wise to decide
(That even his Judges stood amaz'd to hear
A more transcendent mover in their sphere),
Though more religious: for when doting love
30Awhile made Solomon apostate prove,
Charles ne'er endur'd the Truth which he profest,
To be unfix'd by bosom-interest.
Bold as Jehosaphat, yet forc'd to fight,
And for his own, no unconcerned right.
Should I recount his constant time of pray'r,
Each rising morn and ev'ning regular,
You'd say his practice preach'd, 'They ought not eat
Who by devotion first not earn'd their meat:'
Thus Hezekiah he exceeds in zeal,
40Though not (like him) so facile to reveal
The treasures of God's House, or His own heart,
To be supplanted by some foreign art.
And that he might in fame with Joash share
When he the ruin'd Temple did repair,
His cost on Paul's late ragged fabric spent
Must (if no other) be His monument.
From this survey the kingdom may conclude
His merits, and her losses' magnitude:
Nor think he flatters or blasphemes, who tells
50That Charles exceeds Judea's parallels,
—Sparguntur in omnes,
In te mista fluunt—Claudian.
In whom all virtues we concentred see
Which 'mongst the best of them divided be.
O weak-built glories! which those tempests feel!
To force you from your firmest bases reel,
What from the strokes of Chance shall you secure,
When rocks of Innocence are so unsure?
When the World's only mirror slaughter'd lies,
Envy's and Treason's bleeding sacrifice;
As if His stock of goodness could become
60No kalendar, but that of martyrdom.
See now, ye cursed mountebanks of State,
Who have eight years for reformations sate;
Call'd the Council of Troubles.
You who dire Alva's counsels did transfer,
To act his scenes on England's theatre;
You who did pawn yourselves in public faith
To slave the Kingdom by your pride and wrath;
Call the whole World to witness now, how just,
How well you are responsive to your trust,
How to your King the promise you perform,
70With fasts, and sermons, and long prayers sworn,
That you intended Peace and Truth to bring
To make your Charles Europe's most glorious King.
The form of taking the Covenant, June 1643.
Did you for this Lift up your hands on high,
To kill the King, and pluck down Monarchy?
These are the fruits by your wild faction sown,
Which not imputed are, but born your own:
For though you wisely seem to wash your hands,
The guilt on every vote and order stands;
So that convinc'd, from all you did before,
80Justice must lay the murder at your door.
Mark if the body does not bleed anew,
In any circumstance approach'd by You,
From whose each motion we might plain descry
The black ostents of this late tragedy.
For when the King, through storms in Scotland bred,
To his Great Council for his shelter fled,
When in that meeting every error gain'd
Redresses sooner granted than complain'd:
Not all those frank concessions or amends
90Did suit the then too powerful faction's ends:
No acts of Grace at present would content,
Nor promise of Triennial Parl'ament,
Till by a formal law the King had past
This Session should at Your pleasure last.
So having got the bit, and that 'twas known
No power could dissolve You but Your own,
Your graceless Junto make such use of this,
Diodorus Siculus, lib. 2.
As once was practis'd by Semiramis;
Who striving by a subtile suit to prove
100The largeness of her husband' trust and love,
Did from the much abused King obtain
That for three days she might sole empress reign;
Before which time expir'd, the bloody wife
Depriv'd her lord both of his crown and life.
There needs no comment when your deeds apply
The demonstration of her treachery.
Which to effect, by Absolon's foul wile
You of the people's heart your prince beguile;
Urging what eases they might reap by it
110Did you their legislative Judges sit.
How did you fawn upon, and court the rout,
Whose clamour carried your whole plot about?
How did you thank seditious men that came
To bring petitions which yourselves did frame?
And lest they wanted hands to set them on,
You led the way by throwing the first stone.
For in that libel after midnight born,
Wherewith your faction labour'd till the morn,
Remonstrance of the State of the Kingdom, Dec. 15, 1641.
That famous lie, you a Remonstrance name;
120Were not reproaches your malicious aim?
Was not the King's dishonour your intent,
By slanders to traduce his Government?
All which your spiteful cunning did contrive;
Men must receive through your false perspective,
In which the smallest spots improved were,
And every mote a mountain did appear.
Thus Caesar by th' ungrateful Senate found
His life assaulted through his honour's wound.
And now to make Him hopeless to resist,
Ord. Feb. 29, Voted March 15.
130You guide his sword by vote, which as you list
Must strike or spare (for so you did enforce
His hand against His reason to divorce
The Navy seiz'd Mar. 28, 1642.
Brave Strafford's life), then wring it quite away
By your usurping each Militia:
The London Tumults, Jan. 10, 1641.
Then seize His magazines, of which possest
You turn the weapons 'gainst their master's breast.
This done, th' unkennell'd crew of lawless men
Led down by Watkins, Pennington, and Venn,
Did with confused noise the Court invade;
140Then all Dissenters in both houses bay'd.
At which the King amaz'd is forc'd to fly,
The whilst your mouth's laid on maintain the cry.
The Royal game dislodg'd and under chase,
Your hot pursuit dogs Him from place to place:
Not Saul with greater fury or disdain
Did flying David from Jeshimon's plain
Unto the barren wilderness pursue,
Than cours'd and hunted is the King by you.
The mountain partridge or the chased roe
150Might now for emblems of His fortune go,
And since all other May-games of the town
(Save those yourselves should make) were voted down,
The clam'rous pulpit hollaes in resort,
Inviting men to your King-catching sport.
Where as the foil grows cold you mend the scent
By crying Privilege of Parliament,
Whose fair pretensions the first sparkles are,
Which by your breath blown up enflame the war,
And Ireland (bleeding by design) the stale
160Wherewith for men and money you prevail.
Yet doubting that imposture could not last,
When all the Kingdom's mines of treasure waste,
You now tear down Religion's sacred hedge
To carry on the work by sacrilege;
Reputing it Rebellion's fittest pay
To take both God's and Caesar's dues away.
The tenor of which execrable vote
Your over-active zealots so promote,
That neither tomb, nor temple could escape,
170Nor dead nor living, your licentious rape.
Statues and grave-stones o'er men buried
* At Basing-Chapel, sold Dec. 29, 1643.
Robb'd of their brass, the * coffins of their lead;
Not the seventh Henry's gilt and curious screen,
Nor those which 'mongst our rarities were seen,
* At Winchester.
The * chests wherein the Saxon monarchs lay,
But must be basely sold or thrown away.
May in succeeding times forgotten be
Those bold examples of impiety,
Which were the Ages' wonder and discourse,
180You have their greatest ills improv'd by worse.
Lactant. l. 2, c. 4.
No more be mention'd Dionysius' theft,
Who of their gold the heathen shrines bereft;
For who with Yours his robberies confer,
Must him repute a petty pilferer.
Julian, Praefectus Aegypti. Theodoret. l. 3, c. 11.
Nor Julian's scoff, who when he view'd the state
Of Antioch's Church, the ornaments and plate,
Cried, Meaner vessels would serve turn, or none
Might well become the birth of Mary's Son:
ibid.
Nor how that spiteful Atheist did in scorn
190Piss on God's Table, which so oft had borne
The Hallow'd Elements, his death present:
Ganguin. l. 6.
Nor he that foul'd it with his excrement,
Then turn'd the cloth unto that act of shame,
Which without trembling Christians should not name.
Nor John of Leyden, who the pillag'd quires
Employ'd in Munster for his own attires;
His pranks by Hazlerig exceeded be,
A wretch more wicked and as mad as he,
The Carpet belonging to the Communion Table of Winchester Cathedral, Dec. 18, 1642. Adrian Emp.
Who once in triumph led his sumpter moil
200Proudly bedecked with the Altar's spoil.
Nor at Bizantium's sack how Mahomet
In St. Sophia's Church his horses set.
Nor how Belshazzar at his drunken feasts
Carous'd in holy vessels to his guests:
Nor he that did the books and anthems tear,
Which in the daily Stations used were.
These were poor essays of imperfect crimes,
Fit for beginners in unlearned times,
Siz'd only for that dull meridian
210Which knew no Jesuit nor Puritan
(Before whose fatal birth were no such things
As doctrines to depose and murder kings).
But since your prudent care enacted well,
That there should be no King in Israel,
England must write such annals of your reign
Which all records of elder mischiefs stain.
Churches unbuilt by order, others burn'd;
Whilst Paul's and Lincoln are to stables turn'd;
And at God's Table you might horses see
220By (those more beasts) their riders manger'd be,
At Winchcomb in Gloucestershire.
Some kitchens and some slaughter-houses made,
Communion-boards and cloths for dressers laid:
Some turn'd to loathsome goals, so by you brought
Unto the curse of Baal's house, a draught.
The Common Prayers with the Bibles torn,
The copes in antic Moorish dances worn,
And sometimes, for the wearer's greater mock,
The surplice is converted to a frock,
Some, bringing dogs, the Sacrament revile,
230Some, with Copronymus, the Font defile.
O God! canst Thou these profanations like?
If not, why is Thy thunder slow to strike
The cursed authors? who dare think that Thou
Dost, when not punish them, their acts allow.
All which outrageous crimes, though your pretence
Would fasten on the soldiers' insolence,
We must believe, that what by them was done
Came licens'd forth by your probation.
For, as yourselves with Athaliah's brood
240In strong contention for precedence stood,
Whitehall, Windsor, Feb. 3, 1643.
You robb'd two Royal Chapels of their plate,
Which Kings and Queens to God did dedicate;
Then by a vote more sordid than the stealth,
Melt down and coin it for the Commonwealth,
That is, giv't up to the devouring jaws
Of your great Idol Bel, new styl'd The Cause.
And though this monster you did well devise
To feed by plunder, taxes, loans, excise;
(All which provisions You the people tell
250Scarce serve to diet Your Pantagruel).
We no strew'd ashes need to trace the cheat,
Who plainly see what mouths the messes eat.
Brave Reformation! and a through one too,
Which to enrich yourselves must all undo.
Pray tell us (those that can), What fruits have grown
From all Your seeds in blood and treasure sown?
What would you mend? when Your projected State
Doth from the best in form degenerate?
Or why should You (of all) attempt the cure,
260Whose facts nor Gospel's test nor Law's endure?
But like unwholesome exhalations met
From Your conjunction only plagues beget,
And in Your circle, as imposthumes fill
Which by their venom the whole body kill;
For never had You pow'r but to destroy,
Nor will, but where You conquer'd to enjoy.
This was Your master-prize, who did intend
To make both Church and Kingdom's prey Your end.
'Gainst which the King (plac'd in the gap) did strive
270By His (till then unquestion'd) negative,
Which finding You lack'd reason to persuade,
Your arguments are into weapons made;
So to compel him by main force to yield,
E. of Essex Army, Aug. 1 1642.
You had a formed army in the field
Before his reared standard could invite
Ten men upon his Righteous Cause to fight:
Yet ere those raised forces did advance,
The Standard at Nottingham, Aug. 25, 1642.
Your malice struck him dead by Ordinance,
When your Commissions the whole Kingdom swept
280With blood and slaughter, Not the King except.
Now hard'ned in revolt, You next proceed
By pacts to strengthen each rebellious deed,
June 27, 1643.
New oaths and vows, and Covenants advance,
All contradicting your allegiance,
Whose sacred knot you plainly did untie,
Declaration and Resolution of Parl., Aug. 15, 1642.
When you with Essex swore to live and die.
These were your calves in Bethel and in Dan,
Which Jeroboam's treason stablish can,
Who by strange pacts and altars did seduce
290The people to their laws' and King's abuse;
All which but serve like Shibboleth to try
Those who pronounc'd not your conspiracy;
That when your other trains defective are,
Forc'd oaths might bring refusers to the snare.
And lest those men your counsels did pervert,
Might when your fraud was seen the Cause desert,
A fierce decree is through the Kingdom sent,
Which made it death for any to repent.
What strange dilemmas doth Rebellion make?
300'Tis mortal to deny, or to partake:
Some hang who would not aid your traitorous act,
History of English and Scottish Presbytery, p. 320.
Others engag'd are hang'd if they retract.
So witches who their contracts have unsworn,
By their own Devils are in pieces torn.
Thus still the raging tempest higher grows,
Which in extremes the King's resolvings throws.
The face of Ruin everywhere appears,
And acts of outrage multiply our fears;
Whilst blind Ambition by successes fed
310Hath You beyond the bound of subjects led,
Who tasting once the sweet of regal sway,
Resolving now no longer to obey.
For Presbyterian pride contests as high
As doth the Popedom for supremacy.
Needs must you with unskilful Phaeton
Aspire to guide the chariot of the Sun,
Though your ill-govern'd height with lightning be
Thrown headlong from his burning axle-tree.
The 19 Propos.
You will no more petition or debate,
320But your desire in Propositions state,
Which by such rules and ties the King confine,
They in effect are summons to resign.
Therefore your war is manag'd with such sleight,
'Twas seen you more prevail'd by purse than might;
And those you could not purchase to your will,
You brib'd with sums of money to sit still.
The King by this time hopeless here of peace,
Or to procure His wasted People's ease,
Which He in frequent messages had tried,
330By you as oft as shamelessly denied;
Wearied by faithless friends and restless foes,
To certain hazard doth His life expose:
April 27, 1646. May 5, 1646.
When through your quarters in a mean disguise
He to His countrymen for succour flies,
Who met a brave occasion then to save
Their native King from His untimely grave:
Had he from them such fair reception gain'd,
Wherewith ev'n Achish David entertain'd:
But faith to Him or hospitable laws
340In your Confederate Union were no clause,
Which back to you their rend'red Master sends
To tell how He was us'd among his friends.
Far be it from my thoughts by this black line
To measure all within that warlike clime;
The still admir'd Montrose some numbers led
In his brave steps of loyalty to tread.
I only tax a furious party there,
Who with our native pests enleagued were.
Then 'twas you follow'd Him with hue and cry,
350Made midnight searches in each liberty,
This Order publish'd by beat of Drum, May 4, 1646.
Voting it Death to all without reprieve,
Who should their Master harbour or relieve.
Ev'n in pure pity of both Nations' fame,
I wish that act in story had no name.
When all your mutual stipulations are
Converted at Newcastle to a fair,
Where (like His Lord) the King the mart is made,
Bought with Your money, and by them betrayed;
For both are guilty, they that did contract,
360And You that did the fatal bargain act.
Which who by equal reason shall peruse,
Must yet conclude, they had the best excuse:
For doubtless they (good men) had never sold,
But that you tempted them with English gold;
And 'tis no wonder if with such a sum
Our brethren's frailty might be overcome.
What though hereafter it may prove their lot
To be compared with Iscariot?
Yet will the World perceive which was most wise,
370And who the nobler traitor by the price;
For though 'tis true both did themselves undo,
They made the better bargain of the two,
Which all may reckon who can difference
Two hundred thousand pounds from thirty-pence.
However something is in justice due,
Which may be spoken in defence of You;
For in your Master's purchase you gave more,
Than all your Jewish kindred paid before.
And had you wisely us'd what then you bought,
380Your act might be a loyal ransom thought,
To free from bonds your captive sovereign,
Restoring Him to his lost Crown again.
But You had other plots, your busy hate
Plied all advantage on His fallen state,
And show'd You did not come to bring Him bail,
But to remove Him to a stricter gaol,
To Holmby first, whence taken from His bed,
He by an army was in triumph led;
Till on pretence of safety Cromwell's wile
390Had juggl'd Him into the Fatal Isle,
Where Hammond for his jailor is decreed,
And murderous Rolf as lieger-hangman fee'd,
Who in one fatal knot two counsels tie,
He must by poison or by pistol die.
Here now denied all comforts due to life,
His friends, His children, and his peerless wife;
From Carisbrook He oft but vainly sends,
And though first wrong'd, seeks to make you amends;
For this He sues, and by His restless pen
400Importunes Your deaf ears to treat again.
Whilst the proud faction scorning to go less,
Jan. 3, 1647. Jan. 9, 1647.
Return those trait'rous votes of Non Address,
Which follow'd were by th' Armies thund[e]ring
To act without and quite against the King.
Yet when that cloud remov'd, and the clear light
Drawn from His weighty reasons, gave You sight
Of Your own dangers, had not their intents
Colchester Siege.
Retarded been by some cross accidents;
Which for a while with fortunate suspense
410Check'd or diverted their swoll'n insolence:
When the whole Kingdom for a Treaty cried,
Which gave such credit to Your falling side,
June 30, 1648. Treaty Voted, July 28, 1648.
That you recall'd those votes, and God once more
Your power to save the Kingdom did restore;
Remember how Your peevish Treators sate,
Not to make peace, but to prolong debate;
How You that precious time at first delay'd,
And what ill use of Your advantage made,
As if from Your foul hands God had decreed
420Nothing but war and mischief should succeed.
For when by easy grants the King's assent
Did your desires in greater things prevent,
When He did yield faster than You entreat,
And more than modesty dares well repeat;
Yet not content with this, without all sense
Or of His honour or His conscience,
Still you press'd on, till you too late descried,
Twas now less safe to stay than be denied:
For like a flood broke loose the armed rout,
430Then shut Him closer up, and shut You out,
Who by just vengeance are since worried
By those hand-wolves You for his ruin bred.
Thus like two smoking firebrands, You and They
Have in this smother chok'd the Kingdom's day:
And as you rais'd them first, must share the guilt,
With all the blood in those distractions spilt.
For though with Sampson's foxes backward turn'd
(When he Philistia's fruitful harvest burn'd),
The face of your opinions stands averse,
440All your conclusions but one fire disperse;
And every line which carries your designs,
In the same centre of confusion joins.
Though then the Independents end the work,
'Tis known they took their platform from the Kirk;
Though Pilate Bradshaw with his pack of Jews,
God's High Vice-gerent at the bar accuse;
They but reviv'd the evidence and charge,
Your pois'nous Declarations laid at large;
Though they condemn'd or made his life their spoil,
450You were the setters forc'd him to the toil:
For you whose fatal hand the warrant writ,
The prisoner did for execution fit;
And if their axe invade the Regal throat,
Remember you first murder'd Him by vote.
Thus they receive your tennis at the bound,
Take off that head which you had first un-crown'd;
Which shows the texture of our mischiefs clew,
If ravell'd to the top, begins in You,
Who have for ever stain'd the brave intents
460And credit of our English Parliaments:
And in this one caus'd greater ills, and more,
Than all of theirs did good that went before.
Yet have You kept your word against Your will,
Your King is great indeed and glorious still,
And you have made Him so. We must impute
That lustre which His sufferings contribute
To your preposterous wisdoms, who have done
All your good deeds by contradiction:
For as to work His peace you rais'd this strife,
470And often shot at Him to save His life;
As you took from Him to increase His wealth,
And kept Him pris'ner to secure His health;
So in revenge of your dissembled spite,
In this last wrong you did Him greatest right,
And (cross to all You meant) by plucking down
Lifted Him up to His Eternal Crown.
With this encircled in that radiant sphere,
Where thy black murderers must ne'er appear;
Thou from th' enthroned Martyrs' blood-stain'd line,
480Dost in thy virtues bright example shine.
And when thy darted beam from the moist sky
Nightly salutes thy grieving people's eye,
Thou like some warning light rais'd by our fears,
Shalt both provoke and still supply our tears,
Till the Great Prophet wak'd from his long sleep,
Again bids Sion for Josiah weep:
That all successions by a firm decree
May teach their children to lament for Thee.
Beyond these mournful rites there is no art
490Or cost can Thee preserve. Thy better part
Lives in despite of Death, and will endure
Kept safe in thy unpattern'd Portraiture:
Which though in paper drawn by thine own hand,
Shall longer than Corinthian-marble stand,
Or iron sculptures: There thy matchless pen
Speaks Thee the Best of Kings as Best of Men:
Be this Thy Epitaph; for This alone
Deserves to carry Thy Inscription.
And 'tis but modest Truth (so may I thrive
500As not to please the best of thine alive,
Or flatter my Dead Master, here would I
Pay my last duty in a glorious lie):
In that admired piece the World may read
Thy virtues and misfortunes storied;
Which bear such curious mixture, men must doubt
Whether Thou wiser wert or more devout.
There live, Blest Relic of a saint-like mind,
With honours endless, as Thy peace, enshrin'd;
Whilst we, divided by that bloody cloud,
510Whose purple mists Thy murder'd body shroud,
Here stay behind at gaze: apt for Thy sake
Unruly murmurs now 'gainst Heav'n to make,
Which binds us to live well, yet gives no fence
To guard her dearest sons from violence.
But he whose trump proclaims, Revenge is mine,
Bids us our sorrow by our hope confine,
And reconcile our Reason to our Faith,
Which in thy Ruin such conclusions hath;
It dares conclude, God does not keep His Word
520If Zimri dies in peace that slew his Lord.
From my sad Retirement
March 11, 1648.
CaroLUs stUart reX angLIæ seCUre CaesUs1
VIta CessIt trICessIMo IanUarII.
1 Orig. Coesus.
An Elegy upon King Charles the First.] I have thought it desirable to give this Elegy though Hannah did not, and though I scarcely myself think it to be King's, first because it is very little known (it was strange even to Professor Firth when I asked him about it); secondly, because the 1664 issue or reissue seems worth completing; but thirdly, and principally, because it is well worth giving. It seems to me, in fact, rather too good in a certain way to be King's. He could write, as we have seen, fairly vigorous couplets of a kind rather later than this date; but I do not know where he keeps up such continuous and effective 'slogging' as here. The Colchester piece, which is the natural parallel, is distinctly inferior in that respect. There are, moreover, in the piece some things which I suspect King would not, as well as could not, have written, and which perhaps influenced Hannah in not giving it. The close and effective Biblical parallels are not quite in the Bishop's way in verse, and the clear vigorous summary of the whole rebellion—dates and facts in margin—is like nothing else of his that I know. But—his or not his—it is found with his undoubted work; it is good; and so it shall be given.
But the reader must not suppose that it has never appeared except in the 1664 King or before that. While reading for the present edition I had noticed an entry of a very similar title in Hazlitt, and on looking the book up in the British Museum I found it, as I expected, to be identical in all important respects, putting aside some minor variants and a shorter title, with 1664. The original (in black border at least an inch deep) adds: 'Persecuted by two implacable factions, Imprisoned by the one and murthered by the other, January 30th, 1648.' The final prose clause is the same, and I noticed no various readings, except merest 'literals'—an occasional capital for lower case, '-or' for '-our', and the like—which it did not seem necessary to collate or report exactly.
14 Zechariah xii. 11 compared with 2 Kings xxiii. 29 and 2 Chronicles xxxv. 22-4.
27 This line is slightly ambiguous. At first one takes 'Judges' as referring to the regicide tribunal—and of course not merely the dignity but the unanswerable logic of Charles's attitude is admitted. But our elegist would hardly admit that the King moved in the sphere of his rebellious subjects, so that it may be a reference to the legally constituted bench of earlier years—'his Judges' in another sense.
40 See 2 Kings xx, 2 Chronicles xxxii, and Isaiah xxxix.
45 A little prosaic. Old St. Paul's was being constantly tinkered: indeed, as is well known from Evelyn's Diary, there were plans for very extensive restoration just before the Fire.
48 Orig. 'losses', which at the time would stand equally well for singular and plural genitive.
58 Orig. 'sacrifise', to get a complete ear-rhyme.
61 This apostrophe to the 'cursed mountebanks of State' is uncommonly vigorous, and much straighter 'hitting from the shoulder' than King usually manages.
100 Orig. 'husband', without 's, and possibly intended.
124 perspective] As commonly = 'telescope'.
138 Watkins I know not; Pennington we have seen in Cleveland; Venn (1586-1650) was John Venn, wool-merchant, M.P., active rebel, and regicide.
142 This (original) may read, 'Your mouths, laid on, maintain the cry', which seems most probable; or, 'Your mouth's [i.e. is] laid on "Maintain the cry".'
146 1 Samuel xxiii 24. Jeshimon seems to have escaped Alexander the Concordance-smith.
155 foil] The word in this sense had puzzled me; but the readers of the Clarendon Press put me literally on it by reference to N.E.D. It means the 'scent' or 'track' of a hunted animal and occurs in the first sense in Turbervile, and elsewhere, as well as (figuratively used) in as late and well-known a place as Tom Jones.
199 'Moil'—or rather, more commonly, 'moyle'—is very common for 'mule' in Elizabethan drama, and is said to be still dialectic, especially in Devon and Cornwall.
223 'Goal' would seem here to be used as = 'jakes', though it has been suggested that the common sense of 'jail' will do.
226 Orig. 'Coaps'.
238 'probation' must here = 'approbation'.
246 Orig. 'Idol Bell', which may puzzle for a moment. Of course the Dragon's companion and Nebo's is meant. The poet seems indeed rather to have mixed up the monster and the false god.
250 Here again there seems to be a slight confusion between Pantagruel and his glorious father.
265-6 Another uncommonly vigorous couplet.
312 The writer either intended to continue the set of participles or forgot that he had begun it. But if 'For Presbyterian ... supremacy' be thrown into parenthesis the anacoluthon will be mended—after a fashion.
373-4 Good again; and with a fore-echo of Dryden's 'Shimei' rhythm and swashing blow.
392 lieger-hangman] 'Hangman resident', house-hangman'.
403 Orig. 'Armies', with the usual choice between singular and plural genitive or (here) nominative plural.
415 I think it well to keep the form 'Treator'.
430 Pointed, if slightly burlesque.
432 hand-wolves] A dog trained and on the leash was said to be 'in hand'.
438 Philistia] The letter here is slightly 'smashed' and the word might be 'Philistins' or 'Philistia's'. It looks more like the former, but the latter is better, and is said to be clear in Mr. Thorn-Drury's copies.
444 platform] This is interesting.
492 Portraiture] A reference to the Εἰκὼν Βασιλική.
Poems in Manuscript.
A Second Elegy on the Countess of Leinster.
Sleep, precious ashes, in thy sacred urn
From Death and Grave till th' last trump sounds return;
Meanwhile embalm'd in Virtues. Joseph's Tomb
Were fitter for thee, than the Earth's dark womb.
Cease, Friends, to weep; she's but asleep, not dead,—
Chang'd from her husband's, to her mother's, bed;
Or from his bosom into Abram's rather,
Where now she rests, Blest Soul, in such a Father.
Thus Death hath done his best, and worst. His best,
10In sending Virtue to her place of rest;
His worst, in leaving him, as dead, in life
Whose chiefest Joys were in his dearest Wife.
A Second Elegy on the Countess of Leinster.] Hannah found this in the Pickering MS. 'immediately after' the printed one v. supra. On what other grounds he assigned its subject I do not know; but both, as noted above, have a most extraordinary efflorescence of capitals.
Epigrams.
I.
Quid faciant leges, ubi sola pecunia regnat? &c.—Petron. Arbit.
To what serve Laws, where only Money reigns?
Or where a poor man's cause no right obtains?
Even those that most austerity pretend,
Hire out their tongues, and words for profit lend.
What's Judgement then, but public merchandise?
And the Court sits, but to allow the price.
II.
Casta suo gladium cum traderet Arria Paeto, &c.—Martial.
When Arria to her Paetus had bequeath'd
The sword in her chaste bosom newly sheath'd;
Trust me (quoth she) My own wound feels no smart;
'Tis thine (My Paetus) grieves and kills my heart.
III.
Qui pelago credit, magno se faenore tollit, &c.—Petron. Arbit.
He whose advent'rous keel ploughs the rough seas,
Takes interest of fate for wealth's increase.
He that in battle traffics, and pitch'd fields,
Reaps with his sword rich harvests, which war yields.
Base parasites repose their drunken heads,
Laden with sleep and wine, on Tyrian beds;
And he that melts in Lust's adult'rous fire,
Gets both reward and pleasure for his hire.
But Learning only, midst this wanton heat,
Hath (save itself) nothing to wear or eat;
Faintly exclaiming on the looser Times,
That value Wit and Arts below their crimes.
IV.
Pro captu lectoris habent sua fata libelli.
The fate of books is diverse as man's sense:
Two critics ne'er shar'd one intelligence.
V.
I would not in my love too soon prevail:
An easy conquest makes the purchase stale.1
1 From a copy most kindly made for me by Mr. Nichol Smith. It is a harmless enough, and rather neat, translation of Petronius, Nolo quod cupio, &c.
Epigrams.] This little bunch of epigrams is of no particular value, but being so small may be given for completeness' sake. The first three Hannah found in both Pickering and Malone 22 MSS., together with V, which, I suppose, shocked him so that he did not print it. The Pro captu lectoris, which is the best, is in Malone only.
The following group of poems has been printed by Mr. Mason, the first as authentic, the others as doubtful. He points out that The Complaint and On his Shadow are autograph, and written on the same sheet of paper as the lines Upon the Untimely Death of J. K. The text here printed has been supplied by Mr. Percy Simpson from the original MSS., and the few textual notes are his. In view of the uncertainty of the bulk of the matter I [G. S.] have not thought it worth while to add any annotation of the more general kind. In addition, Mr. Mason prints a translation of a Latin elegy on Dr. Spenser, President of Corpus Christi College, Oxford; the Latin text of this in Rawlinson MS. D. 912, fol. 305 verso, is in King's autograph, but the translation is not, and moreover it is so tinkered and changed as to suggest the efforts of a far from facile, if very conscientious, copyist. This has not been printed, and only the first of the following poems can with certainty be ascribed to King.
Upon the Untimely Death of J. K., first born of HK.
Blessed Spirit, thy infant breath,
Fitter for the quire of saints
Than for mortals here beneath,
Warbles joys, but mine complaints—
Plaints that spring from that great loss
Of thy little self, sad cross.
Yet do I still repair thee by desire
Which warms my benumbed sense, but like false fire.
But with such delusive shapes
10Still my pensive thoughts are eased,
As birds bating at mock grapes
Are with empty error pleased.
Yet I err not, for decay
Hath but seized thy house of clay,
For lo the lively image of each part
Makes deep impression on my waxy heart.
Thus learn I to possess the thing I want;
Having great store of thee, and yet great scant.
Oh let me thus recall thee, ne'er repine,
20Since what is thy fate now, must once be mine.
Upon the Untimely Death of J. K., &c.] The text is taken from Rawlinson MS. D. 317 of the Bodleian, fol. 175; the monogram of the title was used by King. An unsigned copy is in Harleian MS. 6917 of the British Museum, foll. 96 Verso-97: this omits 'but', l. 8.
The Complaint.
Fond, hapless man, lost in thy vain desire;
Thy lost desire
May now retire.
She, like a salamander, in thy flame
Sports with Love's name,
And lives the same,
Unsinged, impenetrably cold.
Sure, careless Boy, thou slep'st; and Death, instead
Of thine, conveyed
10His dart of lead.
This thou unluckily at her hast sent,
Who now is bent
Not to relent,
Though thou spend all thy shafts of gold.
I prithee filch another fatal dart
And pierce my heart;
To ease this smart,
Strike all my senses dull. Thy force devours
Me and my powers
20In tedious hours,
And thy injustice I'll proclaim
Or use some art to cause her heat return,
Or whilst I burn
Make her my urn,
Where I may bury in a marble chest
All my unrest.
Thus her cold breast,
If it but lodge, will quench, my flame.
The Complaint.] The text is taken from Rawlinson Poet. MS. D. 317, fol. 161, where it is written, without title or signature, in King's autograph. There is a copy in Harleian MS. 6917, fol. 97, entitled The Complaint.
4 thy] the Harl. MS.
21 King originally wrote 'And she thy weakness will proclaim', and then added the text as an afterthought.
28 will] may Harl.
On his Shadow
Come, my shadow, constant, true,
Stay, and do not fly me:
When I court thee or would sue,
Thou wilt not deny me.
Female loves I find unkind
And devoid of pity;
Therefore I have changed my mind
And to thee frame this ditty.
Child of my body and that flame
10From whence our light we borrow,
Thou continuest still the same
In my joy or sorrow.
Though thou lov'st the sunshine best
Or enlightened places,
Yet thou dost not fly, but rest,
'Midst my black disgraces.
Thou wouldst have all happy days
When thou art approaching,
No cloud nor night to dim bright rays
20By their sad encroaching.
Let but glimmering lights appear
To banish night's obscuring,
Thou wilt show thou harbourd'st near,
By my side enduring;
And, when thou art forced away
By the sun's declining,
Thy length is doubled, to repay
Thy absence whilst he's shining.
As I flatter not thee fair,
30So thou art not fading;
Age nor sickness can impair
Thy hue by fierce invading.
Let the purest varnished clay
Art can show, or Nature,
View the shades they cast; and they
Grow duskish like thy feature.
'Tis thy truth I most commend—
That thou art not fleeting:
For, as I embrace my friend,
40So thou giv'st him greeting.
If I strike, or keep the peace,
So thou seem'st to threaten,
And single blows by thy increase
Leave my foe double beaten.
As thou findst me walk or sit,
Standing or down lying,
Thou dost all my postures hit,
Most apish in thy prying.
When our actions so consent—
50Expressions dumb, but local—
Words are needless complement,
Else I could wish thee vocal.
Hadst thou but a soul, with sense
And reason sympathising,
Earth could match, nor heaven dispense
A mate so far enticing.
Nay, when bedded in the dust,
'Mongst shades I have my biding,
Tapers can see thy posthume trust
60Within my vault residing.
Had heaven so pliant women made
Or thou their souls couldst marry,
I'd soon resolve to wed my shade;
This love would ne'er miscarry.
But they thy lightness only share;
If shunned, the more they follow,
And to pursuers peevish are
As Daphne to Apollo.
Yet this experience thou hast taught:
70A she-friend and an honour
Like thee; nor that nor she is caught,
Unless I fall upon her.
On his Shadow.] The text is taken from King's autograph in Rawlinson Poet D. 317, foll. 173-4: it has neither heading nor signature. At line 25, the last on this page of the MS., the catchword reads 'Yet when', which is slightly more appropriate, but the text continues 'And when'. There is a copy in Harleian MS. 6917, fol. 97 verso-98, entitled On his Shadow. There are the following variants:
8 frame] framed.
11 still om.
23 harbourd'st] harbour'st.
26 By] At.
49 so] thus.
55 could] could not (but compare l. 31).
64 would] could.
Wishes to my Son, John,
For this new, and all succeeding years:
January 1, 1630.
If wishes may enrich my boy,
My Jack, that art thy father's joy,
They shall be showered upon thy head
As thick as manna, angel's bread;
And bread I wish thee—this short word
Will furnish both thy back and board;
Not Fortunatus' purse or cap
Nor Danae's gold-replenished lap
Can more supply thee: but content
10Is a large patrimony, sent
From him who did thy soul infuse.
May'st thou this best endowment use
In any state; thy structure is
I see complete—a frontispiece
Promising fair; may it ne'er be
Like Jesuit's volumes, where we see
Virtues and saints adorn the front,
Doctrines of devils follow on't:
May a pure soul inhabit still
20This well-mixed clay; and a straight will
Biassed by reason, that by grace.
May gems of price maintain their place
In such a casket: in that list
Chaste turquoise, sober amethyst
That sacred breastplate still surround:
Urim and Thummim be there found,
Which for thy wearing I design,
That in thee King and Priest may join,
As 'twas thy grandsire's choice, and mine.
30May'st thou attain John the Divine
Chief of thy titles, though contempt
Now brand the clergy; be exempt,
I ever wish thee, from each vice
That may that calling scandalize:
Let not thy tongue with court oil flow,
Nor supple language lay thee low
For thy preferment; make God's cause
Thy pulpit's task, not thine applause;
May'st thou both preach by line and life;
40That thou live well and chaste, a wife
I wish thee, such as is thy sire's,
A lawful help 'gainst lustful fires;
And though promotions often frown
On married brows, yet lie not down
In single baudry; impure monks,
That banish wedlock, license punks.
Peace I do wish thee from those wars
Which gownmen talk out at the bars
Four times a year; I wish thee peace
50Of conscience, country, and increase
In all that best of men commends,
Favour with God, good men thy friends.
Last, for a lasting legacy
I this bequeath, when thou shalt die,
Heaven's monarch bless mine eyes, to see
My wishes crowned, in crowning thee.
Wishes to my Son, John.] This poem is preserved anonymously in Harleian MS. 6917, foll. 101 verso-102, and Mr. Mason assigns it to Henry King. Lines 28-9 strongly support this attribution, but the date at the head of the poem is a serious difficulty, which can only be met by supposing the lines to have been addressed in 1630 to the son of a second marriage: l. 40 refers to a living wife, who could not be the lady of The Exequy. King's authorship must therefore be regarded as doubtful.
A Contemplation upon Flowers.
Brave flowers, that I could gallant it like you
And be as little vain!
You come abroad and make a harmless show,
And to your beds of earth again;
You are not proud, you know your birth,
For your embroidered garments are from earth.
You do obey your months and times, but I
Would have it ever spring;
My fate would know no winter, never die,
10Nor think of such a thing.
Oh that I could my bed of earth but view,
And smile, and look as cheerfully as you!
Oh teach me to see death and not to fear,
But rather to take truce;
How often have I seen you at a bier,
And there look fresh and spruce.
You fragrant flowers then teach me that my breath
Like yours may sweeten and perfume my death.
A Contemplation upon Flowers.] Another very doubtful poem from Harleian MS. 6917, fol. 105 verso, where it is attributed to 'H. Kinge'. Mr. Mason points out in support of the attribution that this MS. contains other poems of King and documents relating to his family; but the poem can hardly be regarded as authenticated. It has, however, been quoted as King's in more than one anthology; and it would probably be missed if omitted from an edition of King's poems.
***