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In a MONUMENT to our late Sovereign King CHARLES II. of ever blessed Memory.

"Dum juga montis aper, fluvios dum pifcis amabit, "Dúmque thymo pafcentur apes, dum rore cicadæ ; "Semper Honos, Nomenque tuum, Laudéfque mane


"Si canimus fylvas, fylvæ fint Confule digne." VIRG.

To the immortal Fame of our late dread Sovereign King CHARLES II. of ever bleffed Memory; and to the facred Majefty of the most auguft and mighty Prince JAMES II. now by the Grace of God King of England, Scotland, France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, &c. this following POEM is in all humility dedicated by his ever devoted and obedient Subjec and Servant, THO. OTWAY,

THOUGH poets immortality may give,

And Troy does ftil: in Homer's numbers live: How dare I touch thy praife, thou glorious frame, Which must be deathlefs as thy raifer's name:

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But that I wanting fame am fure of thine
To eternize this humble song of mine?



At leaft the memory of that more than man,
From whose vast mind thy glories first began,
Shall ev'n my mean and worthless verse commend,
For wonders always did his name attend.
Though now (alas!) in the fad grave he lies,
Yet fhall his praise for ever live, and laurels from it rise.'
Great were the toils attending the command

Of an ungrateful and a stiff-neck'd land,

Which, grown too wanton, 'caufe 'twas over-bleft, 15
Would never give its nurfing fathe rest ;

But, having spoil'd the edge of ill-forg'd law,
By rods and axes had been kept in awe;
But that his gracious hand the fceptre held,
In all the arts of mildly guiding skill'd;
Who faw those engines which unhing'd us move,
Griev'd at our follies with a father's love,
Knew the vile ways we did t' afflict him take,
And watch'd what hafte we did to ruin make;
Yet when upon its brink we seem'd to stand,
Lent to our fuccour a forgiving hand.

Though now (alas!) in the fad grave he lies,



Yet fhall his praise for ever live, and laurels thence arise.
Mercy 's indeed the attribute of heaven,

For gods have power to keep the balance even,
Which if kings loose, how can they govern well?
Mercy should pardon, but the sword compel :
Compaffion's elfe a kingdom's greatest harm,
Its warmth engenders rebels till they swarm;




And round the throne themselves in tumults spread, 35
To heave the crown from a long-fufferer's head.
By example this that godlike king once knew,
And after, by experience, found too true.
Under Philiftian lords we long had mourn'd,
When he, our great Deliverer, return'd;
But thence the deluge of our tears did cease,
The royal dove fhew'd us fuch marks of peace:
And when this land in blood he might have laid,
Brought balfam for the wounds ourselves had made.
Though now (alas!) in the sad grave he lies, 45
Yet fhall his praise for ever live, and laurels from it rife.
Then matron's blefs'd him as he pafs'd along,
And triumph echo'd through th' enfranchis'd throng :
On his each hand his royal brothers fhone,
Like two fupporters of Great Britain's throne:
The firft, for deeds of arms, renown'd as far

As Fame e'er flew to tell great tales of war;
Of nature generous, and of stedfast mind,
To flattery deaf, but ne'er to merit blind,
Referv'd in pleasures, but in dangers bold,
Youthful in actions, and in conduct old,

True to his friends, as watchful o'er his foes,

And a juft value upon each bestows;

Slow to condeinn, nor partial to commend,



The brave man's patron, and the wrong'd man's


Now juftly feated on th' imperial throne,

In which high sphere no brighter star e'er shone :

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Virtue's great pattern, and rebellion's dread,
Long may he live to bruife that ferpent's head,
Till all his foes their juft confufion meet,
And growl and pine beneath his mighty feet!

The fecond, for debates in council fit,
Of steady judgment and deep piercing wit;
To all the nobleft heights of learning bred,
Both men and books with curious fearch had read;
Fathom'd the ancient policies of Greece,




And having form'd from all one curious piece,
Learnt thence what springs best move and guide a state,
And could with ease direct the heavy weight.
But our then angry fate great Glo'fter feiz'd,
And never fince feem'd perfectly appeas'd:
For, oh! what pity, people bless’d as we
With plenty, peace, and noble liberty,
Should fo much of our old disease retain,
To make us furfeit into flaves again!


Slaves to thofe tyrant lords whose yoke we bore,
And ferv'd fo base a bondage to before;

Yet 'twas our curfe, that bleffings flow'd too fast,
Or we had appetites too coarse to taste.
Fond Ifraelites, our manna to refuse,

And Egypt's loathfome flesh-pots murmuring chufe.
Great Charles faw this, yet hush'd his rising breast,
Though much the lion in his bofom prest :
But he for fway feem'd fo by nature made,
That his own paffions knew him, and obey'd:
Master of them, he foften'd his command,
The fword of rule fcarce threaten'd in his hand :




Stern majefty upon his brow might fit,
But fimiles, ftill playing round it, made it fweet:
So finely mix'd, had Nature dar'd t' afford


One least perfection more, h' had been ador'd.
Merciful, juft, good-natur'd, liberal, brave,
Witty, and pleasure's friend, yet not her slave :
The paths of life by nobleft methods trod;
Of mortal mold. but in his mind a god.
Though now (alas!) in the fad grave he lies,
Yet fhall his praise for ever live, and laurels from it rife.

In this great mind long he his cares revolv'd,

And long it was ere the great mind resolv’d :
Till weariness at laft his thoughts compos'd;



Peace was the choice, and their debates were clos'd.
But, oh!

Through all this ifle, where it seems most defign'd,
Nothing so hard as wish'd-for peace to find.

The elements due order here maintain,
And pay their tribute in of warmth and rain:
Cool fhades and ftreams, rich fertile lands abound,
And Nature's bounty flows the seasons round.
But we, a wretched race of men, thus bleft,
Of fo much happiness (if known, possest)
Miftaking every nobleft ufe of life,
Left beauteous Quiet, that kind, tender wife,
For the unwholfome, brawling harlot, Strife.
The man in power, by wild ambition led,
Envy'd all honours on another's head;
And, to fupplant fome rival, by his pride
Embroil'd that ftate his wifdom ought to guide.

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