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Henry King - AN ELEGY Upon the most Incomparable K. Charles the First
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Call for amazed thoughts, a wounded sense 
And bleeding Hearts at our Intelligence. 
Call for that Trump of Death the Mandrakes Groan 
Which kills the Hearers: This befits alone 
Our Story which through times vast Kalendar 
Must stand without Example or Repair. 
What spowts of melting Clowds what endless springs 
Powr`d in the Oceans lapp for offerings 
Shall feed the hungry torrent of our grief 
Too mighty for expression or belief? 
Though all those moistures which the brain attracts 
Ran from our eyes like gushing Cataracts, 
Or our sad accents could out-tongue the Cryes 
Which did from mournful Hadadrimmon rise 
Since that remembrance of Josiah slain 
In our King`s murther is reviv`d again. 
O pardon me that but from Holy Writ 
Our losse allowes no Parallel to it: 
Nor call it bold presumption that I dare 
Charles with the best of Judah`s Kings compare: 
The vertues of whose life did I prefer 
The Text acquits me for no Flatterer. 
For He like David perfect in his trust, 
Was never stayn`d like Him, with Blood or Lust. 
One who with Solomon in Judgement try`d, 
Was quick to comprehend, Wise to decide, 
(That even his Judges stood amaz`d to hear 
A more transcendent Moover in their Sphear) 
Though more Religious: for when doting Love 
A while made Solomon Apostate proove 
Charles nev`r endur`d the Truth which he profest 
To be unfixt by Bosome interest. 
Bold as Jehosaphat, yet forc`d to Fight, 
And for his own, no unconcerned Right. 
Should I recount His constant time of Pray`r 
Each rising Morn and Ev`ning Regular 
You`ld say his practice preach`d They ought not Eat 
Who by devotion first not earn`d their Meat. 
Thus Hezekiah He exceeds in Zeal, 
Though not (like him) So facile to reveal 
The Treasures of Gods House, or His own Heart 
To be supplanted by some forcin art. 
And that he might in fame with Joash share 
When he the ruin`d Temple did repair, 
His cost on Paules late ragged Fabrick spent 
Must (if no other) be His Monument. 
From this Survey the Kingdom may conclude 
His Merits, and her Losses Magnitude. 
Nor think he flatters or blasphemes, who tells 
That Charls exceeds Judea`s Parallels, 
In whom all Vertues we concentred see
Which `mongst the best of them divided be. 
O weak built Glories! which those Tempests feel 
To force you from your firmest bases reel, 
What from the stroaks of Chance shall you secure, 
When Rocks of Innocence are so unsure? 
When the World`s only mirror slaughter`d lies, 
Envies and Treasons bleeding sacrifize? 
As if His stock of Goodnesse could become  
No Kalendar, but that of Martyrdom. 
See now ye cursed Mountebanks of State, 
Who have Eight years for Reformation sate; 
You who dire Alva`s Counsels did transfer
To Act his Scenes on England`s Theater; 
You who did pawn your Selves in Publick Faith 
To slave the Kingdome by your Pride and Wrath; 
Call the whole World to witnesse now, how just, 
How well you are responsive to your trust, 
How to your King the promise you perform, 
With Fasts, and Sermons, and long Prayers sworn, 
That you intended Peace and Truth to bring 
To make your Charls Europes most Glorious King. 
Did you for this Lift up your Hands on high, 
To Kill the King, and pluck down Monarchy? 
These are the Fruits by your vvild Faction sown, 
Which not Imputed are, but Born your own. 
For though you wisely seem to wash your Hands, 
The Guilt on every Vote and Order stands. 
So that convinc`d from all you did before, 
Justice must lay the Murther at your Door. 
Mark if the Body does not Bleed anew, 
In any Circumstance approach`d by You, 
From whose each motion we might plain descry 
The black Ostents of this late Tragedy. 
For when the King through Storms in Scotland bred 
To his Great Councel for his shelter fled, 
When in that meeting every Error gain`d 
Redresses sooner granted, than Complain`d: 
Not all those frank Concessions or Amends 
Did suit the then too Powerfull Faction`s ends, 
No Acts of Grace at present would Content, 
Nor Promise of Triennial Parl`ament, 
Till by a formal Law the King had past 
This Session should at Your pleasure last. 
So having got the Bitt, and that `twas known 
No power could dissolve You but Your own, 
Your gracelesse Junto make such use of this, 
As once was practis`d by Semiramis; 
Who striving by a subtile Sute to prove 
The largenesse of her Husbands Trust and Love, 
Did from the much abused King obtain 
That for three dayes She might sole Empresse reign: 
Before which time expir`d, the bloody Wife 
Depriv`d her Lord both of his Crown and Life. 
There needs no Comment when your deeds apply 
The Demonstration of her Treachery. 
Which to effect by Absolon`s foul wile 
You of the Peoples Heart your Prince beguile; 
Urging what Eases they might reap by it 
Did you their Legislative Judges sit. 
How did you fawn upon, and Court the Rout, 
Whose Clamour carry`d your whole Plot about? 
How did you thank Seditious men that came 
To bring Petitions which your selves did frame? 
And lest they wanted Hands to set them on, 
You lead the way by throwing the first stone. 
For in that Libel after Midnight born, 
Wherewith your Faction labour`d till the Morn, 
That famous Lye, you a Remonstrance name;
Were not Reproaches your malitious aim? 
Was not the King`s dishonour your intent 
By Slanders to traduce his Government? 
All which your spightful Cunning did contrive 
Men must receive through your false Perspective, 
In which the smallest Spots improved were, 
And every Mote a Mountain did appear. 
Thus Cæsar by th`ungrateful Senate found 
His Life assaulted through his Honor`s Wound. 
And now to make Him hopelesse to resist, 
You guide His Sword by Vote, which as you list 
Must Strike or Spare (for so you did enforce 
His Hand against His Reason to divorce 
Brave Strafford`s Life) then wring it quite away 
By your usurping Each Militia:
Then seize His Magazines, of which possest 
You turn the Weapons `gainst their Master`s Breast. 
This done, th`unkennell`d crew of Lawless men 
Led down by Watkins, Pennington, and Ven, 
Did with confused noise the Court invade; 
Then all Dissenters in Both Houses Bay`d. 
At which the King amaz`d is forc`d to flye, 
The whilst your Mouth`s laid on maintain the Cry. 
The Royal Game dislodg`d and under Chase, 
Your hot Pursute dogs Him from place to place: 
Not Saul with greater fury or disdain 
Did flying David from Jeshimon`s plain 
Unto the barren Wildernesse pursue, 
Than Cours`d and Hunted is the King by you. 
The Mountain Partridge or the Chased Roe 
Might now for Emblemes of His Fortune go. 
And since all other May-games of the Town 
(Save those your selves should make) were Voted down, 
The Clam`rous Pu`pit Hollaes in resort, 
Inviting men to your King-catching Sport. 
Where as the Foyl grows cold you mend the Sent 
By crying Privilege of Parliament, 
Whose fair Pretensions the first sparkles are, 
Which by your breath blown up enflame the War, 
And Ireland (bleeding by design) the Stale 
Wherewith for Men and Mony you prevail. 
Yet doubting that Imposture could not last, 
When all the Kingdoms Mines of Treasure waste, 
You now tear down Religion`s sacred Hedge 
To carry on the Work by Sacriledge; 
Reputing it Rebellions fittest Pay 
To take both God`s and Cesar`s dues away. 
The tenor of which execrable Vote 
Your over-active Zelots so promote, 
That neither Tomb nor Temple could escape, 
Nor Dead nor Living your Licentious Rape. 
Statues and Grave-stones o`re men buried 
Rob`d of their Brass, the Coffins of their Led; 
Not the Seventh Henry`s gilt and curious Skreen, 
Nor those which `mongst our Rarities were seen, 
The Chests wherein the Saxon Monarchs lay, 
But must be basely sold or thrown away. 
May in succeeding times forgotten be 
Those bold Examples of Impiety, 
Which were the Ages wonder and discourse, 
You have Their greatest ills improv`d by worse. 
No more be mention`d Dionysius Theft,
Who of their Gold the Heathen Shrines bereft; 
For who with Yours His Robberies confer, 
Must him repute a petty Pilferer. 
Nor Julian`s Scoff, who when he view`d the State 
Of Antioch`s Church, the Ornaments and Plate, 
Cry`d, Meaner Vessels would serve turn, or None 
Might well become the birth of Mary`s Sonn 
Nor how that spightfull Atheist did in scorn
Pisse on God`s Table, which so oft had born 
The hallow`d Elements his death present: 
Nor he that fould it with his Excrement,
Then turn`d the Cloth unto that act of shame, 
Which without trembling Christians should not name. 
Nor John of Leyden, who the pillag`d Quires 
Employ`d in Munster for his own attires; 
His pranks by Hazlerig exceeded be, 
A wretch more wicked and as mad as he, 
Who once in triumph led his Sumpter Moil
Proudly bedecked with the Altar`s spoil. 
Nor at Bizantium`s sack how Mahomet 
In St. Sophia`s Church his Horses set. 
Nor how Belshazzar at his drunken Feasts 
Carows`d in holy Vessels to his Guests: 
Nor he that did the Books and Anthems tear, 
Which in the daily Stations used were. 
These were poor Essayes of imperfect Crimes, 
Fit for beginners in unlearned times, 
Siz`d onely for that dull Meridian 
Which knew no Jesuit nor Puritan, 
(Before whose fatal Birth were no such things 
As Doctrines to Depose and Murther Kings.) 
But since Your prudent care Enacted well, 
That there should be no King in Israel, 
England must write such Annals of Your Reign 
Which all Records of elder mischiefs stain. 
Churches unbuilt by order, others burn`d; 
Whilst Pauls and Lincoln are to Stables turn`d; 
And at God`s Table you might Horses see 
By (those more Beasts) their Riders manger`d be. 
Some Kitchins and some Slaughter-houses made, 
Communion-boards and Cloths for Dressers laid: 
Some turn`d to loathsome Gaols, so by you brought 
Unto the Curse of Baal`s House, a Draught. 
The Common-Prayers with the Bibles torn, 
The Coaps in Antick Moorish-Dances worn, 
And sometimes for the wearers greater mock, 
The Surplice is converted to a Frock. 
Some bringing Dogs the Sacrament revile, 
Some with Copronimus the Font defile. 
O God! canst Thou these prophanations like? 
If not, why is thy Thunder slow to strike 
The cursed Authors? who dare think that Thou 
Dost, when not punish them, their acts allow. 
All which outragious Crimes, though your pretence 
Would fasten on the Soldiers insolence, 
We must believe that what by them was done 
Came licens`d forth by your probation. 
For, as your selves with Athaliah`s Brood 
In strong contention for precedence stood, 
You robb`d Two Royall Chapels of their Plate,
Which Kings and Queens to God did dedicate; 
Then by a Vote more sordid than the Stealth, 
Melt down and Coin it for the Common-wealth; 
That is, give`t up to the devouring jaws 
Of your great Idol Bell, new styl`d The Cause. 
And though this Monster you did well devise 
To feed by Plunder, Taxes, Loans, Excise; 
(All which Provisions You the People tell 
Scarce serve to diet Your Pantagruel.) 
We no strew`d Ashes need to trace the Cheat, 
Who plainly see what Mouthes the Messes eat. 
Brave Reformation! and a through one too, 
Which to enrich Your selves must All undo. 
Pray tell us (those that can) What fruits have grown 
From all Your Seeds in Blood and Treasure sown? 
What would you mend? when Your Projected State 
Doth from the Best in Form degenerate? 
Or why should You (of All) attempt the Cure, 
Whose Facts nor Gospels Test nor Laws endure? 
But like unwholsome Exhalations met 
From Your Conjunction onely Plagues beget, 
And in Your Circle, as Imposthumes fill 
Which by their venome the whole Body kill; 
For never had You Pow`r but to Destroy, 
Nor Will, but where You Conquer`d to Enjoy. 
This was Your Master-prize, who did intend 
To make both Churhch and Kingdom`s prey Your End. 
`Gainst which the King (plac`d in the Gap) did strive 
By His (till then unquestion`d) Negative, 
Which finding You lack`d Reason to perswade, 
Your Arguments are into Weapons made; 
So to compell him by main force to yield, 
You had a Formed Army in the Field 
Before his Reared Standard could invite
Ten men upon his Righteous Cause to fight. 
Yet ere those raised Forces did advance, 
Your malice struck him dead by Ordinance, 
When your Commissions the whole Kingdom swept 
With Blood and Slaughter, Not the King Except. 
Now hardned in Revolt, You next proceed 
By Pacts to strengthen each Rebellious Deed, 
New Oaths, and Vows, and Covenants advance, 
All contradicting your Allegiance, 
Whose Sacred knot you plainly did unty, 
When you with Essex swore to Live and Die. 
These were your Calves in Bethel and in Dan, 
Which Jeroboam`s Treason stablish can,
Who by strange Pacts and Altars did seduce 
The People to their Laws and and King`s abuse; 
All which but serve like Soibboleth to try 
Those who pronounc`d not your Conspiracy; 
That when your other Trains defective are, 
Forc`d Oaths might bring Refusers to the Snare. 
And lest those men your Counsels did pervert, 
Might when your Fraud was seen the Cause desert, 
A fierce Decree is through the Kingdom sent, 
Which made it Death for any to Repent. 
What strange Dilemmaes doth Rebellion make? 
`Tis mortal to Deny, or to Partake: 
Some Hang who would not aid your Traiterous Act, 
Others engag`d are Hang`d if they Retract. 
So Witches who their Contracts have unsworn, 
By their own Devils are in pieces torn. 
Thus still the rageing Tempest higher grows, 
Which in Extreams the Kings Resolving throws. 
The face of Ruine every where appears, 
And Acts of Outrage multiply our fears; 
Whilst blind Ambition by Successes fed 
Hath You beyond the bound of Subjects led, 
Who tasting once the sweet of Regal Sway, 
Resolved now no longer to obey. 
For Presbyterian pride contests as high 
As doth the Popedom for Supremacy. 
Needs must you with unskilful Phaeton 
Aspire to guide the Chariot of the Sun, 
Though your ill-govern`d height with lightning be 
Thrown headlong from his burning Axle-tree. 
You will no more Petition or Debate, 
But your desire in Propositions state,
Which by such Rules and Ties the King confine, 
They in effect are Summons to Resign. 
Therefore your War is manag`d with such sleight, 
`Twas seen you more prevail`d by Purse than Might; 
And those you could not purchase to your will, 
You brib`d with sums of mony to sit still. 
The King by this time hopelesse here of Peace, 
Or to procure His wasted Peoples ease, 
Which He in frequent Messages had try`d, 
By you as oft as shamelesly deny`d; 
Wearied by faithlesse Friends and restlesse Foes, 
To certain hazard doth His Life Expose: 
When through your Quarters in a mean disguise
He to His Country-men for succour flies, 
Who met a brave occasion then to save 
Their Native King from His untimely Grave: 
Had he from them such fair reception gain`d, 
Wherewith ev`n Achish David entertain`d. 
But Faith to Him or hospitable Laws 
In your Confederate Union were no Clause, 
Which back to you their Rendred Master sends 
To tell how He was us`d among his friends. 
Far be it from my thoughts by this black Line 
To measure all within that Warlick Clime; 
The still admir`d Montross some Numbers lead 
In his brave steps of Loyalty to tread. 
I onely tax a furious Party There, 
Who with our Native Pests Enleagued were. 
Then `twas you follow`d Him with Hue and Cry, 
Made Midnight Searches in Each Liberty, 
Voting it death to all without Reprieve, 
Who should their Master Harbor or Relieve. 
Ev`n in pure pitty of both Nations Fame, 
I wish that Act in Story had no name. 
When all your Mutual Stipulations are 
Converted at Newcastle to a Fair, 
Where (like His Lord) the King the Mart is made, 
Bought with Your Mony, and by Them Betraid; 
For both are guilty, They that did Contract, 
And You that did the fatal Bargain Act. 
Which who by equal Reason shall peruse, 
Must yet conclude, They had the best Excuse: 
For doubtlesse They (Good men) had never sold, 
But that you tempted Them with English Gold; 
And `tis no wonder if with such a Sum 
Our Brethrens frailty might be overcome. 
What though hereafter it may prove Their Lot 
To be compared with Iscariot? 
Yet will the World perceive which was most wise, 
And who the Nobler Traitor by the Price; 
For though `tis true Both did Themselves undo, 
They made the better Bargain of the Two, 
Which all may reckon who can difference 
Two hundred thousand Pounds from Thirty Pence. 
However something is in Justice due, 
Which may be spoken in defence of You; 
For in your Masters Purchase you gave more, 
Than all your Jewish kindred paid before. 
And had you wisely us`d what then you bought, 
Your Act might be a Loyal Ransom thought, 
To free from Bonds your Captive Soverain, 
Restoring Him to his lost Crown again. 
But You had other plots, you busie hate 
Ply`d all advantage on His fallen State, 
And shew`d You did not come to bring Him Bayl, 
But to remove Him to a stricter Gaol, 
To Holmby first, whence taken from His Bed, 
He by an Army was in triumph led; 
Till on pretence of safety Cromwel`s wile 
Had juggel`d Him into the Fatal Isle, 
Where Hammond for his Jaylor is decreed, 
And Murderous Rolf as Lieger-Hangman fee`d, 
Who in one fatal Knot Two Counsels tye, 
He must by Poison or by Pistol Die. 
Here now deny`d all Comforts due to Life, 
His Friends, His Children, and His Peerlesse Wife; 
From Carisbrook He oft but vainly sends, 
And though first Wrong`d, seeks to make you Amends; 
For this He sues, and by His restlesse Pen 
Importunes Your deaf Ears to Treat agen. 
Whilst the proud Faction scorning to go lesse, 
Return those Trait`rous Votes of Non Address, 
Which follow`d were by th`Armies thundring
To Act without and quite against the King. 
Yet when that Clowd remov`d, and the clear Light, 
Drawn from His weighty Reasons, gave You sight 
Of Your own dangers, had not Their Intents 
Retarded been by some crosse Accidents; 
Which for a while with fortunate Suspense 
Check`d or diverted Their swoln Insolence: 
When the whole Kingdom for a Treaty cry`d, 
Which gave such credit to Your falling side, 
That you Recall`d those Votes, and God once more 
Your Power to save the Kingdom did restore, 
Remember how Your peevish Treators sate, 
Not to make Peace, but to prolong Debate; 
How You that precious time at first delay`d, 
And what ill use of Your advantage made, 
As if from Your foul hands God had decreed 
Nothing but War and Mischief should succeed. 
For when by easie Grants the Kings Assent 
Did your desires in greater things prevent, 
When He did yield faster than You intreat, 
And more than Modesty dares well repeat; 
Yet not content with this, without all sense, 
Or of His Honor or His Conscience, 
Still you prest on, till you too late descry`d, 
`Twas now lesse safe to stay than be deny`d. 
For like a Flood broke loose the Armed Rout, 
Then Shut Him closer up, And Shut You out, 
Who by just vengeance are since Worryed 
By those Hand-wolves You for His Ruine bred. 
Thus like Two Smoaking Firebrands, You and They 
Have in this Smother choak`d the Kingdom`s Day. 
And as you rais`d Them first, must share the Guilt, 
With all the Blood in those Distractions spilt. 
For though with Sampson`s Foxes backward turn`d, 
(When he Philistia`s fruitful Harvest burn`d) 
The face of your opinions stands averse, 
All your Conclusions but one fire disperse; 
And every Line which carries your Designes, 
In the same Centre of Confusion joyns. 
Though then the Independents end the Work, 
`Tis known they took their Platform from the Kirk; 
Though Pilate Bradshaw with his pack of Jews 
God`s High Vice-gerent at the Bar accuse, 
They but reviv`d the Evidence and Charge 
Your poys`nous Declarations laid at large; 
Though they condemn`d or made his Life their Spoil, 
You were the Setters forc`d him to the Toil: 
For you whose fatal hand the Warrant writ, 
The Prisoner did for Execution fit. 
And if their Ax invade the Regal Throat, 
Remember you first murther`d Him by Vote. 
Thus They receive Your Tennis at the bound, 
Take off that Head which you had first Un-crown`d; 
Which shews the Texture of our Mischiefs Clew, 
If ravel`d to the Top, begins in You, 
Who have forever stain`d the brave Intents 
And Credit of our English Parliaments: 
And in this One caus`d greater Ills, and more, 
Than all of theirs did Good that went before. 
Yet have you kept your word against Your will, 
Your King is Great indeed and Glorious still, 
And you have made Him so. We must impute 
That Lustre which His Sufferings contribute 
To your preposterous Wisdoms, who have done 
All your good Deeds by Contradiction: 
For as to work His Peace you rais`d this Strife, 
And often Shot at Him to Save His Life; 
As you took from Him to Encrease His wealth, 
And kept Him Pris`ner to secure His Health: 
So in revenge of your dissembled Spight, 
In this last Wrong you did Him greatest Right, 
And (cross to all you meant) by Plucking down 
Lifted Him up to His Eternal Crown. 
With This encircled in that radiant Sphear, 
Where Thy black Murtherers must ne`r appear, 
Thou from th`enthroned Martyrs Blood-stain`d Line, 
Dost in thy Vertues bright Example shine. 
And when Thy darted Beam from the moist Sky 
Nightly salutes Thy grieving Peoples Eye, 
Thou like some Warning Light rais`d by our fears, 
Shalt both provoke and still supply our Tears: 
Til the Great Prophet wak`d from his long sleep 
Again bids Sion for Josiah weep: 
That all Successions by a firm Decree 
May teach Their Children to lament for Thee. 
Beyond these mournful Rites there is no Art 
Or Cost can Thee preserve. Thy better Part 
Lives in despight of Death, and will endure 
Kept safe in Thy unpattern`d Portraicture: 
Which though in Paper drawn by thine own Hand, 
Shall longer than Corinthian-Marble stand, 
Or Iron Sculptures: There Thy matchlesse Pen 
Speaks Thee the Best of Kings as Best of Men: 
Be this Thy Epitaph: for This alone 
Deserves to carry Thy Inscription. 
And `tis but modest Truth: so may I thrive) 
As not to please the Best of Thine Alive, 
Of flatter my dead Master, here would I 
Pay my last Duty in a Gloriovs Ly) 
In that Admired Piece the world may read 
Thy Vertues and Misfortunes Storied; 
Which bear such curious Mixture, men must doubt 
Whether Thou Wiser wert or more Devout. 
There live Blest Relick of a Saint-like mind, 
With Honors endlesse, as Thy Peace Enshrin`d. 
Whilst we, divided by that Bloody Clowd, 
Whose purple Mists Thy Murther`d Body shrowd, 
Here stay behind at gaze: Apt for Thy sake 
Unruly murmurs now `gainst Heav`n to make, 
Which binds us to Live well, yet gives no Fense 
To guard her dearest Sons from Violence. 
But He whose Trump proclaims, Revenge is Mine, 
Bids us our Sorrow by our Hope confine, 
And reconcile our Reason to our Faith, 
Which in Thy Ruine such Concussions hath, 
It dares Conclude, God does not keep His Word 
If Zimri die in Peace that slew his Lord. 

From my sad Retirement March 11. 1648. CaroLVs stVart reX angLIæ seCVre CoesVs VIta CessIt trICessIMo IanVarII.
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