For his long absence Church and State did groan;
Madness the pulpit, faction seized the throne:
Experienced age in deep despair was lost,
To see the rebel thrive, the loyal cross'd :
Youth that with joys had unacquainted been,
Envied gray hairs that once good days had seen :
We thought our sires, not with their own content,
Had, ere we came to age, our portion spent.
Nor could our nobles hope their bold attempt
Who ruin'd crowns would coronets exempt:
For when by their designing leaders taught

To strike at power, which for themselves they sought,
The vulgar, gull'd into rebellion, arm'd;

Their blood to action by the prize was warm'd.

The sacred purple, then, and scarlet gown,
Like sanguine dye to elephants, was shown.

Thus when the bold Typhoeus scaled the sky,

And forced great Jove from his own Heaven to fly,
(What king, what crown from treason's reach is free,
If Jove and Heaven can violated be?)

The lesser gods, that shared his prosperous state,
All suffer'd in the exiled Thunderer's fate.
The rabble now such freedom did enjoy,
As winds at sea, that use it to destroy:
Blind as the Cyclop, and as wild as he,
They own'd a lawless, savage liberty;
Like that our painted ancestors so prized,
Ere empire's arts their breasts had civilized.
How great were then our Charles' woes, who thus
Was forced to suffer for himself and us!

He, tost by fate, and hurried up and down,
Heir to his father's sorrows, with his crown,
Could taste no sweets of youth's desired age,
But found his life too true a pilgrimage.

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Unconquer'd yet in that forlorn estate,
His manly courage overcame his fate.

His wounds he took, like Romans, on his breast,
Which by his virtue were with laurels drest.
As souls reach Heaven while yet in bodies pent,
So did he live above his banishment.

That sun, which we beheld with cozen'd eyes
Within the water, moved along the skies.
How easy 'tis, when destiny proves kind,
With full-spread sails to run before the wind!
But those that 'gainst stiff gales laveering go,
Must be at once resolved and skilful too.
He would not, life soft Otho,1 hope prevent,
But stay'd, and suffer'd fortune to repent.
These virtues Galba 2 in a stranger sought,
And Piso to adopted empire brought.

How shall I then my doubtful thoughts express,
That must his sufferings both regret and bless?
For when his early valour Heaven had cross'd;
And all at Worcester but the honour lost;
Forced into exile from his rightful throne,
He made all countries where he came his own;
And viewing monarchs' secret arts of sway,
A royal factor for his kingdoms lay.

Thus banish'd David spent abroad his time,
When to be God's anointed was his crime;

And when restored, made his proud neighbours rue

Those choice remarks he from his travels drew.

Nor is he only by afflictions shown

To conquer other realms, but rule his own:

Recovering hardly what he lost before,

His right endears it much; his purchase more.

Otho' see Juvenal. - 2 Galba:' Roman emperor, who adopted Piso.

Inured to suffer ere he came to reign,
No rash procedure will his actions stain :
To business, ripen'd by digestive thought,
His future rule is into method brought :
As they who first proportion understand,
With easy practice reach a master's hand.
Well might the ancient poets then confer
On Night the honour'd name of Counsellor,
Since, struck with rays of prosperous fortune blind,
We light alone in dark afflictions find.

In such adversities to sceptre train'd,

The name of Great his famous grandsire 1 gain'd:
Who yet a king alone in name and right,
With hunger, cold, and angry Jove did fight;
Shock'd by a covenanting league's vast powers,
As holy and as catholic as ours :

Till fortune's fruitless spite had made it known,
Her blows, not shook, but riveted, his throne.
Some lazy ages, lost in sleep and ease,
No action leave to busy chronicles:
Such, whose supine felicity but makes
In story chasms, in epocha mistakes;

O'er whom Time gently shakes his wings of down,
Till, with his silent sickle, they are mown.
Such is not Charles' too, too active age,
Which, govern'd by the wild distemper'd rage
Of some black star infecting all the skies,
Made him at his own cost, like Adam, wise.
Tremble, ye nations, which, secure before,

Laugh'd at those arms that 'gainst ourselves we bore;
Roused by the lash of his own stubborn tail,

Our lion now will foreign foes assail.

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1 'Famous grandsire:' Charles II. was grandson by the mother's side to Henry IV. of France.

With algal who the sacred altar strews?
To all the sea-gods Charles an offering owes :
A bull to thee, Portumnus, 2 shall be slain,
A lamb to you, ye Tempests of the main :
For those loud storms that did against him roar,
Have cast his shipwreck'd vessel on the shore.
Yet as wise artists mix their colours so,
That by degrees they from each other go;
Black steals unheeded from the neighbouring white,
Without offending the well-cozen'd sight:

So on us stole our blessed change; while we
The effect did feel, but scarce the manner see.
Frosts that constrain the ground, and birth deny
To flowers that in its womb expecting lie,
Do seldom their usurping power withdraw,
But raging floods pursue their hasty thaw.
Our thaw was mild, the cold not chased away,
But lost in kindly heat of lengthen'd day.
Heaven would no bargain for its blessings drive,
But what we could not pay for, freely give.
The Prince of peace would like himself confer
A gift unhoped, without the price of war:

Yet, as he knew his blessing's worth, took care,
That we should know it by repeated prayer;

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Which storm'd the skies, and ravish'd Charles from thence, As heaven itself is took by violence.

Booth's forward valour only served to show

He durst that duty pay we all did owe.

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With alga,' &c.: these lines refer to the ceremonies used by such heathens as escaped from shipwreck. Alga marina, or sea-weed, was strewed about the altar, and a lamb sacrificed to the winds. 'Portumnus:" Palæmon, or Melicerta, god of shipwrecked mariners. 3 Booth's: Sir George Booth, an unsuccessful and premature warrior on the Royal side in 1659.

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The attempt was fair; but Heaven's prefixed hour 147
Not come so like the watchful traveller,
That by the moon's mistaken light did rise,
Lay down again, and closed his weary eyes.
"Twas Monk whom Providence design'd to loose
Those real bonds false freedom did impose.
The blessed saints that watch'd this turning scene,
Did from their stars with joyful wonder lean,
To see small clues draw vastest weights along,
Not in their bulk, but in their order, strong.
Thus pencils can by one slight touch restore
Smiles to that changed face that wept before.
With ease such fond chimeras we pursue,

As fancy frames for fancy to subdue :
But when ourselves to action we betake,

It shuns the mint like gold that chemists make.
How hard was then his task! at once to be,
What in the body natural we see !
Man's Architect distinctly did ordain

The charge of muscles, nerves, and of the brain,
Through viewless conduits spirits to dispense;
The springs of motion from the seat of sense.
'Twas not the hasty product of a day,
But the well-ripen'd fruit of wise delay.
He, like a patient angler, ere he strook,
Would let him play a while upon the hook.
Our healthful food the stomach labours thus,
At first embracing what it straight doth crush.
Wise leeches will not vain receipts obtrude,
While growing pains pronounce the humours crude:
Deaf to complaints, they wait upon the ill,
Till some safe crisis authorise their skill.
Nor could his acts too close a vizard wear,

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To 'scape their eyes whom guilt had taught to fear, 180