He, toss'd 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.
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 dress'd.
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, mov'd 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 resolv'd and skilful too.
He would not, like soft Otho, hope prevent,
But stay'd and suffer'd Fortune to repent.
These virtues Galba 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 Werc'ster but the honour lost,
Forc'd 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 restor'd made his proud neighbours rue
Those choice remarks he from his travels drew.
Nor is he only by afflictions shown

To conquer others' realms, but rule his own:

Recovering hardly what he lost before,

His right endears it much, his purchase more.
Inur'd 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 sceptres train'd,

The name of Great his famous grandsire 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 pow'rs,
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 epochas mistakes;

O'er whom Time gently shakes his wings of down,
Till with his silent sickle they are mown.
Such is not Charles's 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, who, secure before,
Laugh'd at those arms that 'gainst ourselves we bore;
Rous'd by the lash of his own stubborn tail,
Our lion now will foreign foes assail.

With Alga who the sacred altar strows?
To all the sea-gods Charles an offering owes:
A bull to thee, Portunus, 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 pow'r withdraw,
But raging floods pursue their hasty thaw.
Our thaw was mild, the cold not chas'd away,
But lost in kindly heat of lengthen'd day.
Heav'n 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 unhop'd without the price of war:
Yet, as he knew his blessings worth, took care
That we should know it by repeated pray'r;
Which storm'd the skies, and ravish'd Charles from
As Heav'n itself is took by violence.

[thence, Booth's forward valour only serv'd to show He durst that duty pay we all did owe:

The' attempt was fair; but Heaven's prefixed hour
Not come: so, like the watchful traveller,
That by the moon's mistaken light did rise,
Lay down again, and clos'd 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 leaches 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,
To 'scape their eyes whom guilt had taught to fear,
And guard with caution that polluted nest,
Whence Legion twice before was dispossess'd:
Once sacred house; which when they enter'd in,
They thought the place could sanctify a sin;
Like those that vainly hop'd kind Heav'n would wink,
While to excess on martyrs' tombs they drink.

And as devouter Turks first warn their souls
To part, before they taste forbidden bowls;

So these, when their black crimes they went about,
First timely charm'd their useless conscience out.
Religion's name against itself was made;

The shadow serv'd the substance to invade ;
Like zealous missions, they did care pretend
Of souls in show, but made their gold their end.
The' incensed Pow'rs beheld with scorn from high
An heaven so far distant from the sky.

Which durst, with horses' hoofs that beat the ground,
And martial brass, bely the thunder's sound;
'Twas hence at length just Vengeance thought it fit
To speed their ruin by their impious wit.
Thus Sforza, curs'd with a too fertile brain,
Lost by his wiles the pow'r his wit did gain.
Henceforth their fougue must spend at lesser rate
Than in its flames to wrap a nation's fate.
Suffer'd to live, they are like Helots set,
A virtuous shame within us to beget.
For by example most we sinn'd before,
And glass-like clearness mix'd with frailty bore.
But since reform'd by what we did amiss,
We by our sufferings learn to prize our bliss.
Like early lovers, whose unpractis'd hearts
Were long the May-game of malicious arts,
When once they find their jealousies were vain,
With double heat renew their fires again.
'Twas this produc'd the joy that burried o'er
Such swarms of English to the neighbouring shore,
To fetch that prize by which Batavia made
So rich amends for our impoverish'd trade.
Oh had you seen from Scheveline's barren shore,
(Crowded with troops, and barren now no more)