AN ELEGIE
On the Death of that most Noble and Heroick KNIGHT,
SIR CHARLES LUCAS,
Governour of Colchester, and Generall of the Essexian Forces, who was Murthered
by the Excellent Rebell Fairfax, the day on which Colchester
was Surrendered, August 27. 1648.
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I Cannot weepe, their Ponniards that doe fall
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My eyes, refuse to drop: but were my gall
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Transparant, all might see, a bitter flood
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Wafting my soul away, with Lucas blood;
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Though but a Rivelet, more strong then Nile
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The Loyall Blood, that flowd from him and Lile,
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Like a huge torrent, beares Rebellion downe
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To Carisbrooke, conveighing Charles his Crowne.
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Have all the Gods, signd Edicts unto Mars,
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And covenanted, for perpetuall Warres,
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That we must wade in Blood, and dive in Gore,
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And all for lesse, then for a Spartan Whore?
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Menalaus fought gainst Illium, for a face
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We boar each other, but to win disgrace,
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A square Cap, pair of Linnen Sleeves and Hood
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Drawes Swords, swels Battailes, and destroyes all Good.
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Say ye slie Sophisters, whose Votes are Acts,
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Who plow up Plutos mansion with your Facts:
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Who Flaunt in Gawdy Tryumph, feeding hie,
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Lucullus-like to heighten Luxurie,
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Whom tumble on your Yvorie Beds, whose will
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For to Act mischief, doth surpasse your skill;
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Whose madnesse make you Antick, such as they
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Who tast the bite of the Tarantula.
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Must Brittaines Caesar, be a Monk for ever,
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An Anchorite, Manumited never?
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Whiles Hammonds worship feeds Him with a bit,
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Sometimes a knock, if he remember it,
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While you his gracious Masters think it meet
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To tosse to Aire, three Kingdomes with your feet.
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Damd Nero-like, minding your Sports and Games,
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While Ireland swallowed by devouring Flames.
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And England, though by Mulciber not burnd,
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Yet by your Jarring, to a Chaos turnd:
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The fierie Anabaptist is in Fight
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Perpetually with the cold Adamite.
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The hardy Independent doth make War
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Against the easie naturd Presbyter:
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And both of them fight jointly with the Arian,
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Against [the truly good] Episcoparian,
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Whiles that Religion, with Astraeas gon
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For to seek out some safer mansion.
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Tis so; you have agreed still Kings to be,
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Although you crack the Kingdoms Axeltree:
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Twill break if you sit long, mean time all those
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That love their Soveraign, are the Kingdomes foes:
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Strange Paradoxes these, that those must die
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As Traytors, who graspe steel for Soveraigntie:
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And those who drench their Swords in Loyall Blood,
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Are the sole seekers of the Kingdomes good:
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Some Sphinx salve this AEnigma unto me,
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And by the Gods, I will a Rebell be.
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But all my Faith, although conjoyned in one,
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Cannot perswade me tis Religion
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To murther pious Kings; to Plunder lie,
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And to grow Great, by Blood and Treacherie;
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To fat my self, augmenting others woes,
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Selling the needy, for a pair of shoes.
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Pims spectacles with a Geneva Print,
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Although fresh coind in learned Calvins Mint,
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Must not so tame my sense, but that Ile sweare
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Theres no true Subject, save the Cavaliere.
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But you most mighty Monsters, who out-vie
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The strange man-eating Anthropophagi,
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With Cataline, have sworn to Levell all
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To your distinction Diabolicall.
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Wast not enough, ye Vipers, that ye flew
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Tomkins and Challoner in open veiw?
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Suckt Bourchers blood, and took great Burleighs breath,
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By Wild, Steel, Steel and Wild betraid to Death
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Against the course and current of the Lawes,
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Which doomes to Death, your curst Rebellious Cause,
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That you this seven yeares, whilst none controules,
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Have quafft our purple Blood in mazor Bowles.
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But to conclude, your cruelties immense,
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In butchering true spotlesse Innocence,
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Wounding faire Truth, and dooming Zeale to die,
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By murthering Lucas for his Loyaltie;
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Whose worthy farewell challengeth applause,
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Though dead be, yet survives (Fame pleades the Cause)
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Falne in his middle Age; but what of that?
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He fell full ripe, snatcht by the hand of Fate.
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Goodnesse doth measure Age. Ile cease to moane:
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He lived long, although he dyd so soone.
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When Fates impartiall hand shall summon me,
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It will increase my joy to visit Thee.
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Blame not the THREE for this sad fate; They doe
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Consume themselves in teares as well as you.
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They had resolvd, upon the common Stage,
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He should have Acted out old Nestors age:
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But Jove would have him neere him, and decreed
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He by the hands of Perjurd slaves should bleed:
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No other way there was, for him to come,
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With happy speed, to blest Elizium:
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Where next Jehovahs Throne, he now doth sit,
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Beholds the Rebels Acts, and smiles at it;
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Knowing, at last they shall receive their Hire
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With Cataline, in never dying Fire.
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