Ere that meets pardon, lambs with wolves shall
Charles be a saint, and James his nature change.
Press'd by my friends, and Rachel's fond desires,
(Who can deny what weeping love requires !)
Frailty prevail'd, and for a moment quell'd
Th' indignant pride that in my bosom swell'd;.
I sued-the weak attempt I blush to own-
I sued for mercy, prostrate at the throne.
O! blot the foible out, my noble friend,
With human firmness human feelings blend!
When Love's endearments softest moments seize,
And Love's dear pledges hang upon the knees,
When Nature's strongest ties the soul enthral,
(Thou canst conceive, for thou hast felt them all!)
Let him resist their prevalence who can ;
He must, indeed, be more or less than man.
Yet let me yield my Rachel honour due,
The tenderest wife, the noblest heroine too!
Anxious to save her husband's honest name,
Dear was his life, but dearer still his fame!
When suppliant prayers no pardon could obtain,
And, wonderous strange! ev'n Bedford's gold proved
The informer's part her generous soul abhorr'd, Though life preserved had been the sure reward ; Let impious Estrick act such treacherous scenes, And shrink from death by such opprobrious means.
O! my lov'd Rachel! all accomplish'd fair!
Source of my joy, and soother of my care!
Whose heavenly virtues, and unfading charms,
Have bless'd through happy years my peaceful
Parting with thee into my cup was thrown,
Its harshest dregs else had not forc'd a groan!
But all is o'er-these eyes have gaz'd their last-
And now the bitterness of death is past.
Burnet and Tillotson, with pious care,
My fleeting soul for heavenly bliss prepare,
Wide to my view the glorious realms display,
Pregnant with joy, and bright with endless day.
Charm'd, as of old when Israel's prophet sung,
Whose words distill'd like manna from his tongue,
While the great bard sublimest truths explored,
Each ravish'd hearer wonder'd and adored;
So rapt, so charm'd, my soul begins to rise,
Spurns the base earth, and seems to reach the skies.
But when, descending from the sacred theme,
Of boundless power, and excellence supreme,
They would for man, and his precarious throne,
Exact obedience, due to Heaven alone,
Forbid resistance to his worst commands,
And place God's thunderbolts in mortal hands;
The vision sinks to life's contracted span,
And rising passion speaks me still a man.
What! shall a tyrant trample on the laws,
And stop the source whence all his power he draws?
His country's rights to foreign foes betray,
Lavish her wealth, yet stipulate for pay?
To shameful falshood's venal slaves suborn,
And dare to laugh the virtuous man to scorn?
Deride Religion, Justice, Honour, Fame,
And hardly know of Honesty the name?
In Luxury's lap lie screen'd from cares and pains,
And only toil to forge his subjects chains?
And shall he hope the public voice to drown,
The voice which gave, and can resume his crown!
When Conscience bares her horrours, and the dread Of sudden vengeance, bursting o'er his head, Wrings his black soul; when injured nations groan, And cries of millions shake his tottering throne ; Shall flattering churchmen soothe his guilty ears, With tortured texts, to calm his growing fears;
Exalt his power above the etherial climes,
And call down Heaven to sanctify his crimes!
O! impious doctrine !-Servile priests away!
Your Prince you poison, and your God betray.
Hapless the monarch, who, in evil hour,
Drinks from your cup the draught of lawless
power!
The magick potion boils within his veins,
And locks each sense in adamantine chains;
Reason revolts, insatiate thirst ensues,
The wild delirium each fresh draught renews ;
In vain his people urge him to refrain,
His faithful servants supplicate in vain ;
He quaffs at length, impatient of controul,
The bitter dregs that lurk within the bowl.
Zeal your pretence, but wealth and power your
You even could make a Solomon of James.
Behold the pedant, throned in awkward state,
Absorb'd in pride, ridiculously great;
His courtiers seem to tremble at his nod,
His prelates call his voice the voice of God;
Weakness and vanity with them combine,
And James believes his majesty divine.
Presumptuous wretch! almighty power to scan, While every action proves him less than man.
By your delusions to the scaffold led,
Martyr'd by you a royal Charles has bled.
Teach then ye sycophants! O! teach his son,
The gloomy paths of tyranny to shun;
Teach him to prize Religion's sacred claim,
Teach him how Virtue leads to honest fame,
How Freedom's wreath a monarch's brows adorns,
Nor, basely fawning, plant his couch with thorns.
Point to his view his people's love alone,
The solid basis of his stedfast throne;
Chosen by them their dearest rights to guard,
The bad to punish, and the good reward,
Clement and just let him the sceptre sway,
And willing subjects shall with pride obey,
Shall vie to execute his high commands,
His throne their hearts, his sword and shield their hands.
Happy the Prince! thrice firmly fix'd his crown!
Who builds on public good his chaste renown;
Studious to bless, who knows no second aim,
His people's interest, and his own the same;
The ease of millions rests upon his cares,
And thus Heaven's high prerogative he shares.
|