And he that routs most figs and cows, is
The formidablest man of prowess.
So the emperor Caligula,
That triumphed o'er the British Sea,
Took crabs and oysters prisoners,
And lobsters, 'stead of cuirassiers ;
Engaged his legions in fierce bustles
With periwinkles, prawns, and muscles;
And led his troops with furious gallops
To charge whole regiments of scallops,
Not like their ancient way of war,
To wait on his triumphal car,
But when he went to dine or sup,
More bravely ate his captives up;
And left all war, by his example,
Reduced to victualling a camp well.
Charles-ah! forbear, forbear, lest mortals prize
His name too dearly, and idolatrize.
His name! our loss! Thrice cursed and forlorn
Be that black night which ushered in this morn.
Charles our dread sovereign! hold! lest outlawed sense
Bribe and seduce tame reason to dispense
With those celestial powers, and distrust
Heaven can behold such treason and prove just.
Charles our dread sovereign's murdered! tremble, and
View what convulsions shoulder-shake this land:
Court, city, country, nay three kingdoms run
To their last stage, and set with him, their sun.
Charles our dread sovereign's murdered at his gate!
Fell fiends! dire hydras of a stiff-necked state!
Strange body politic, whose members spread,
And monster-like swell bigger than their head.
Charles of Great Britain! He! who was the known
King of three realms, lies murdered in his own.
He! he! who Faith's Defender lived and stood,
Died here to rebaptize it in his blood.
No more! no more! Fame's trump shall echo all
The rest in dreadful thunder. Such a fall
Great Christendom ne'er patterned; and 'twas strange
Earth's centre reeled not at this dismal change.
The blow struck Britain blind: each well-set limb
By dislocation was lopt off in him :
And, though she yet lives, she lives but to condole
Three bleeding bodies left without a soul.
Religion puts on black; sad Loyalty
Blushes and mourns to see bright Majesty
Butchered by such assassinates; nay both
'Gainst God, 'gainst Law, Allegiance, and their Oath.
Farewell, sad Isle! farewell! Thy fatal glory
Is summed, cast up, and cancelled in this story.
LXXIII. HENRY VAUGHAN
How bright wert thou when Shem's admiring eye
Thy burnished flaming arch did first descry;
When Zerah, Nahor, Haran, Abram, Lot,
The youthful world's grey fathers in one knot,
Did with intentive looks watch every hour
For thy new light, and trembled at each shower!
When thou dost shine, darkness looks white and fair
Forms turn to music, clouds to smile and air :
Rain gently spends his honey-drops, and pours
Balm on the cleft earth, milk on grass and flowers.
Bright pledge of peace and sunshine, the sure tye
Of thy Lord's hand, the object of his eye!
When I behold thee, though my light be dim,
Distant and low, I can in thine see him,
Who looks upon thee from his glorious throne,
And minds the covenant betwixt all and One.
LXXIV. RICHARD CRASHAW.
HYMN TO THE NATIVITY.
Gloomy night embraced the place
Where the noble infant lay;
The babe look'd up and show'd his face--
In spite of darkness it was day.
We saw thee in thy balmy nest,
Bright dawn of our eternal day!
We saw thine eyes break from the east,
And chase the trembling shades away:
We saw thee, and we bless'd the sight,
We saw thee by thine own sweet light.
She sings thy tears asleep, and dips
Her kisses in thy weeping eye;
She spreads the red leaves of thy lips,
That in their buds yet blushing lie.
Yet when young April's husband-showers
Shall bless the faithful Maia's bed,
We'll bring the first-born of her flow'rs
To kiss thy feet and crown thy head:
To thee, dread Lamb! whose love must keep
The shepherds, while they feed their sheep.
My eye descending from the hill, surveys
Where Thames among the wanton valleys strays.
Thames! the most loved of all the ocean's sons
By his old sire, to his embraces runs,
Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea,
Like mortal life to meet eternity.
Though with those streams he no resemblance hold
Whose foam is amber, and their gravel gold:
His genuine and less guilty wealth t' explore,
Search not his bottom, but survey his shore,
O'er which he kindly spreads his spacious wing,
And hatches plenty for th' ensuing spring;
Nor then destroys it with too fond a stay,
Like mothers which their infants overlay ;
Nor with a sudden and impetuous wave,
Like profuse kings, resumes the wealth he gave.
No unexpected inundations spoil
The mower's hopes, or mock the ploughman's toil;
But Godlike his unwearied bounty flows;
First loves to do, then loves the good he does.
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