KING Charles the FIRST
Majesty in Misery
An Imploration to the King of Kings
Wrote by his Majesty During his Captivity
in Carisbrook Castle Anno Domini 1648.
'Tis well the Blood of GOD speaks better Things,
Than that of Abel, or of Murther'd Kings
His Sufferings and his Death with the Truth proclaim,
For He got Glory, but the NATION Shame
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Great Monarch of the World, whence power springs,
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The Potency and Power of Kings,
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Record the Royal Woe my suffring sings.
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And teach my Tongue, that ever did confine
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Its Faculties in Truth's Seraphic Line,
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To track the Treasons of thy Foes and mine.
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Nature and Law, by thy Divine Decree,
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The only Root of Righteous Royalty
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With this dim Diadem invested me:
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With it the Sacred Scepter, Purple Robe,
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The Holy Unction, and the Royal Globe,
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Yet am I level'd with the Life of Job.
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The fiercest Furies, that do daily tread
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Upon my Greif, my gray discrowned Head,
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Are those that owe my Bounty for their Bread.
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They raise a War, and christen it the Cause,
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Whilst Sacrilegious Hands have best Applause,
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Plunder and Murder are the Nation's Laws.
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Tyranny bears the Title of Taxation,
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Revenge & Robbery are Reformation,
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Oppression gains the Name of Sequestration.
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My Loyal Subjects, who in this bad Season,
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Attend me by the Law of God and Reason,
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They dare impeach, & Punish for High Treason.
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Next at the Clergy do these Furies frown,
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Pious EPISCOPACY must go down;
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They will destroy the Crosier and the Crown.
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Church-men are chain'd, & Schismaticks are freed
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Mechanicks Preach, and Holy Fathers bleed
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The Crown is Crucified with the Creed.
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The Church of England doth all Faction foster,
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The Pulpit is usurp'd by each Imposter;
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Extempore excludes the Pater Noster.
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The Presbyter and Independant Seed,
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Springs with broad Blades to make Religion bleed
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Herod and Pontius Pilate are agreed.
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The Corner-stone misplac'd by every Pavier,
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With such a bloody Method and Behaviour,
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Their Ancestors did Crucifie our Saviour.
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My Royal Consort, from whose fruitful Womb
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So many Princes legally have come,
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Is forc'd in Pilgrimage to Seek a Tomb
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Great Britain's Heir is forced into France,
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Whilston his Father's Head his Foes advance
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Poor Child he Weeps out his Inheritance.
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With my own Power my Majesty they wound
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In the King's Name, the King himselfs uncrown'd
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So doth the Dust destroy the Diamond.
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With Propositions daily they enchant,
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My Peoples Ears, such as do Reason daunt,
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And the Almighty will not let me grant.
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They Promise to erect my Royal Stem,
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To make me great, to advance my Diadem,
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If I will but fall down and Worship them.
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But for Refusal they devour my Thrones,
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Distress my Chilldren, & destroy my Bones,
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I fear they'll force me to make Bread of Stones.
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My Life they prize at such a slender rate,
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That in my Absence they draw Bills of Hate,
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To prove the King a Traitor to the State.
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Felons obtain more Privilege than I,
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They are allow'd to answer e're they die,
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'Tis death for me to ask the Reason why.
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But Sacred Saviour, with thy Words I Woo
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Thee to forgive, and not be bitter to,
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Such as thou knowest know not what they do
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For Since they from their Lord are so disjoynted,
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As to contemn those Edicts he appointed,
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How can they prize the Power of his Anointed.
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Augment my Patience, nullifie my Hate,
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Preserve my Issue, and inspire my Mate,
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Yet, tho' I perish, bless this Church & State
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VOTA DABUNT QUAE
BELLA NEGARUNT
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