Hume hath remarked of these stanzas, "that the truth of the sentiment, rather than the elegance of the expression, renders them very pathetic."-See his History, 1763, 4to, vol. v. pp. 437. 442, which is no bad comment upon them.-These are almost the only verses known of Charles's composition. Indeed, a little poem, On a Quiet Conscience, printed in the Poetical Calendar, 1763, vol. viii., is attributed to King Charles I.; being reprinted from a thin 8vo, published by Nahum Tate, called "Miscellanea Sacra, or Poems on Divine and Moral Subjects."

GREAT Monarch of the world, from whose power springs The potency and power of kings,

Record the royal woe my suffering sings.

And teach my tongue, that ever did confine
Its faculties in truth's seraphick line,
To track the treasons of thy foes and mine.
Nature and law, by thy divine decree,
(The only root of righteous royaltie)
With this dim diadem invested me;
With it, the sacred scepter, purple robe,
The holy unction and the royal globe:
Yet am I levell'd with the life of Job.
The fiercest furies that do daily tread
Upon my grief, my grey discrowned head,

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10

Are those that owe my bounty for their bread.

15

They raise a war, and christen it THE CAUSE,
While sacrilegious hands have best applause,
Plunder and murder are the kingdom's laws;

Tyranny bears the title of taxation,
Revenge and robbery are reformation,
Oppression gains the name of sequestration.

20

My loyal subjects, who in this bad season

Attend me (by the law of God and reason,)

The church of England doth all factions foster,
The pulpit is usurpt by each impostor,

Extempore excludes the Paternoster.

The Presbyter and Independent seed

Springs with broad blades. To make religion bleed
Herod and Pontius Pilate are agreed.

35

The corner stone's misplac'd by every pavier :
With such a bloody method and behaviour
Their ancestors did crucifie our Saviour.

My royal consort, from whose fruitful womb
So many princes legally have come,
Is fore'd in pilgrimage to seek a tomb.
Great Britain's heir is forced into France,
Whilst on his father's head his foes advance :
Poor child! he weeps out his inheritance.

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45

With my own power my majesty they wound,

In the king's name the king himself's uncrown'd :
So doth the dust destroy the diamond.

With propositions daily they enchant
My people's ears, such as do reason daunt,
And the Almighty will not let me grant.
They promise to erect my royal stem,
To make me great, t' advance my diadem
If I will first fall down, and worship them!

50

But for refusal they devour my thrones,
Distress my children, and destroy my bones;

55

I fear they'll force me to make bread of stones.

My life they prize at such a slender rate

That in my absence they draw bills of hate,
To prove the king a traytor to the state.
Felons obtain more privilege than I:
They are allow'd to answer ere they die;
"Tis death for me to ask the reason why.

60

But, sacred Saviour, with thy words I woo
Thee to forgive and not be bitter to

65

Such as thou know'st do not know what they do.

For since they from their Lord are so disjointed,
As to contemn those edicts he appointed,

How can they prize the power of his anointed?
Augment my patience, nullifie my hate,
Preserve my issue, and inspire my mate;

Yet, though we perish, BLESS THIS CHURCH and STate.

70

XIV.

The Sale of Rebellious House-hold Stuff.

This sarcastic exultation of triumphant loyalty is printed from an old black-letter copy in the Pepys Collection, corrected by two others, one of which is preserved in "A choice collection of 120 loyal songs," &c. 1684, 12mo. To the tune of Old Simon the king.

REBELLION hath broken up house,
And hath left me old lumber to sell;
Come hither and take your choice,
I'll promise to use you well.
Will you buy the old speaker's chair?
Which was warm and easie to sit in,
And oft hath been clean'd I declare,
When as it was fouler than fitting.
Says old Simon the king, &c.

Will you buy any bacon-flitches,
The fattest, that ever were spent?
They're the sides of the old committees,
Fed up in the Long Parliament.

Here's a pair of bellows and tongs,

And for a small matter I'll sell ye 'um ;
They are made of the presbyters' lungs
To blow up the coals of rebellion.
Says old Simon, &c.

I had thought to have given them once
To some black-smith for his forge;
But now I have considered on't,

They are consecrate to the church;

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15

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20

So I'll give them unto some quire,
They will make the big organs roar,
And the little pipes to squeeke higher
Than ever they could before.
Says old Simon, &c.

Here's a couple of stools for sale,
One's square, and t' other is round;
Betwixt them both the tail

Of the RUMP fell down to the ground.
Will you buy the states council-table,
Which was made of the good wain Scot?
The frame was a tottering Babel
To uphold the Independent plot.
Says old Simon, &c.

Which should have made clean the floor,

Here's the beesom of Reformation,

But it swept out the wealth of the nation,

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35

And left us dirt good store.

Will you buy the states spinning-wheel,
Which spun for the roper's trade?

40

But better it had stood still,

For now it has spun a fair thread.

45

Says old Simon, &c.

Here's a glyster-pipe well try'd,

Which was made of a butcher's stump,1

And has been safely apply'd

To cure the colds of the rump.

peace

Here's a lump of Pilgrims-Salve,
Which once was a justice of
Who Noll and the Devil did serve;
But now it is come to this.

Says old Simon, &c.

Here's a roll of the states tobacco,

If any good fellow will take it;

No Virginia had e'er such a smack-o,

And I'll tell you how they did make it :

50

55

Alluding probably to Major-General Harrison, a butcher's son, who assisted Cromwell in turning out the Long Parliament, April 20, 1653. VOL. II.

E

50

THE SALE OF REBELLIOUS HOUSE-HOLD STUFF.

"Tis th' Engagement and Covenant cookt

Up with the Abjuration oath ;

And many of them, that have took't,
Complain it was foul in the mouth.
Says old Simon, &c.

Yet the ashes may happily serve

To cure the scab of the nation,
When e'er 't has an itch to swerve
To Rebellion by innovation.
A Lanthorn here is to be bought,
The like was scarce ever gotten,
For many plots it has found out
Before they ever were thought on.
Says old Simon, &c.

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65

70

Will you buy the RUMP's great saddle,
With which it jocky'd the nation?

And here is the bitt and the bridle,

75

And curb of Dissimulation:

And here's the trunk-hose of the RUMP,
And their fair dissembling cloak,

With an Independent smock.

80

And a Presbyterian jump,

Says old Simon, &c.

Will you buy a Conscience oft turn'd,
Which serv'd the high-court of justice,
And stretch'd until England it mourn'd;

But Hell will buy that if the worst is.
Here's Joan Cromwell's kitchen-stuff tub,

Wherein is the fat of the Rumpers,
With which old Noll's horns she did rub,
When he was got drunk with false bumpers.

Says old Simon, &c.

Here's the purse of the public faith;

85

90

Here's the model of the Sequestration,

When the old wives upon their good troth,

Lent thimbles to ruine the nation.

Ver. 86. This was a cant name given to Cromwell's wife by the Royalists, though her name was Elizabeth. She was taxed with exchanging the kitchen-stuff for the candles used in the Protector's household, &c. See Gent. Mag. for March, 1788, p. 242.