WRITTEN DURING HIS CAPTIVITY

AT CARISBROOKE CASTLE, 1648.

GREAT Monarch of the World! from whose arm

The

springs

potency and power of Kings,

Record the royal woe, my sufferings!

And teach my tongue, that ever did onlin

Its faculties in Truth's seraphic ine,

To track the treasons of thy

Nature and Law, by thy vice cent
(The only root of righteous loyalty
With this dim diadem ved re

With it, the sacred scepce goose ***
Thy holy unction, and the ty qo
Yet I am levelled his

The fiercest Faries fat in sy post
Upon my grief, myr derbout out
Are those that owen vor. Dü

They raise a waz auf m

Whilst sacrilegious TESS, VAN APPA
Plunder and Marie we be broLKÉ

Tyranny bears the title of Taxation.
Revenge and Robbery are Reformation.
Oppression gains the name of Sequestration.

My loyal subjects, who, in this bad season,
Attend me (by the law of GOD and reason!):
They dare impeach, and punish for High Treason!

Next, at the Clergy do their furies frown!

Pious Episcopacy must go down!

They will destroy the Crosier and the Crown!

Churchmen are chained; and Schismatics are freed! Mechanics preach; and holy Fathers bleed!

The Crown is crucified with the Creed!

The Church of England does all faction foster!
The Pulpit is usurped by each impostor!
Extempore excludes the Paternoster.

The Presbyter and Independent Seed

Springs from broad blades, to make Religion bleed! HEROD and PONTIUS PILATE are agreed!

The Corner-stone 's misplaced by every pavier.
With such a bloody method and behaviour;
Their ancestors did crucify our Saviour!

My Royal Consort, from whose fruitful womb
So many Princes legally have come,

Is forced, 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!

With my own power, my Majesty they wound!
In the King's name, the King himself 's uncrowned!
So doth the dust destroy the diamond!

With Propositions, daily, they inchant

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!

But, for refusal, they devour my thrones,
Distress my children, and destroy my bones!
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 traitor to the State!

Felons obtain more privilege than I!
They are allowed to answer, ere they die;
'Tis death for me, to ask the reason Why!

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

Such as (thou know'st!) do not know what they do!

For since they, from the LORD are so disjointed,
As to contemn the edict he appointed;

How can they prize the power of his Anointed!

Augment my patience! Nullify my hate!
Preserve my issue; and inspire my Mate!

Yet though we perish; bless this Church and State!
Vota dabunt quæ bella negarunt.

William Cavendish, Duke of Newcastle.

I SWEAR, by Muscadel!

That I do love thee well,
And more than I can tell!

By the White, Claret, and Sack,
I do love thy black! black! black!
I do love thy black! black! black!

No Goddess, 'mongst them all,
So slender, and so tall,

And grateful too withal!

Which makes my sinews to crack
For thy black! black! black!
For thy dainty black! black!

So lovely, and so fair;
Though shadowed with thy hair!
So nimble, just like air!

All these set me on love's rack
For thy black! black! black!
For thy dainty black! black!

Thy kind and cunning eye,
When first it did espy,

Our love it did descry,

Dumb, speaking, 'What d' you lack?
Mine answered, 'Thy black! black!
Thy dainty black! black! black!'