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Distance Does Not Exist

to people with some questions
in their minds
and to people who care to listen
just plain
talking
without any vested interest
for what i owe
and what you owe
to me

for us who keep
on opening our hearts
and keeping
our fingers
busy with words
the ones
that we choose
not to hurt
but to elucidate
and
enlighten and make other people feel
that this world
is kind
compassionate
always ready
to listen
and be heard

for us
a toast, we just made it

we abolished distances
and now
the rule
is this
pure and simple intimacy

good thoughts
and wishes of health

may the force be with us
may distances shrink like raisins

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A Child's View Of God (A Pure And Simple Faith)

There is nothing so innocent as a child
With eyes closed and head bowed in prayer
With a pure and simple faith
He gives thanks to the God who created him
Not asking complicated questions
But seeing God in the wonders that abound each day
Knowing Jesus loves him
And that's enough for now
We all need to be like children
In our hearts
Finding Joy and wonder
In the flowers and the sun of God's creation
Trusting and believing in Jesus
With a pure and simple faith
Jesus came as a child
With all His innocence and wonder of life
As He grew He still had
The innocence and wonder of God's creation
He loved us and died for us
So that we could believe in Him
With a pure and simple faith

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Sonnet: one can remain good

Though lillies send their fragrance up the air,
They never take the mal-odor from it;
And righteous men too spend their lifetimes fair;
God blesses them to remain always fit.

The world abounds in evils and vices;
A tree can grow well even near a rock!
An open mind takes in good advices;
Sometimes these days, forgets to crow, the cock!

And every day to some appears busy;
There is no time to think about one’s soul;
Some spend their lives, remaining too lazy;
Some never know their aims or set a goal.

Yet, time will fleet, no matter what you do!
On Reckoning-day, the Lord will query you.

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There Are Some Questions

there are some questions
that at first glance
bring you nothing
like an empty basket
with nothing
but wicker spaces
all around it

like: how do you do?
what time is it?

but change these questions
to something
that slaps us
that makes us think about our existence?

like: how do you do with cancer?
what time is it that you will die?

tragic, but the truth runs like nerves
howling for help in your flesh
berserk
but then like anybody moving
it stops to rest
and stares to a world without questions
just plain
stare and acceptances

some manage however to let hope
come inside their mouths
to say:

how do you do mother? what time is it when the next baby comes?
when we will be a family,
a home, when we will face the new born babe
like a fireplace
near the breakfast table
where conversations about baptisms and weddings
flourish like some flowers
starting to bloom
in spring

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Some Feel It Their Duty

To validate someone else's insecurities,
Seems such an injustice...
To bestow on another,
With an approval done of their limitations.

We all have our doubts and fears,
As part of experiencing life.
To grow with the understanding,
That faith kept devoted in pray...
Will remove those uptight feelings.
To leave us feeling alright.
About ourselves and our lives!

However,
Some feel it their duty...
To campaign for empathy and understanding.
And frankly,
No one living their own life...
Has that time to give!

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This Is What You Chose and Wanted

Where are those,
Pure of heart.
Loving of justice.
Courageous and brave.
Upright and wholesome.
Devoted, loyal and honest.
Caring and sharing of good deeds.
Where are these people?
What has happened to them,
And their influences missed?
Where do they hide?
Do they still exist?

'Of course they 'still' exist.
They are the ones you got rid of!
Don't you remember this?

They are the ones who attempted to prevent...
Your current agonies.
With the rise of misfits.

And the more outspoken,
Those with opened eyes became...
You became more belligerent.
You became more incensed.
With character assassinations!
And reputations you defamed.

Don't you remember this?

Now you wish a way of life,
Away from the one you have...
That had made no sense.
With greed and corruption...
Welcomed on your path!

And this is what you chose and wanted.
If you didn't...
Why did you insist on it?
Is it because you now feel trapped?

And those you dismissed,
Appear to be happier...
Than 'that' happiness,
You believed you HAD! '

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Some Questions To Myself On My Quest To Happiness

ask me, and i will answer:

i got what i wanted from this life, but despite
that fact, there is still the question
to and fro
like a doubtful philosopher
like a pendulum of grandfather's clock:

what did i really want?

i did call myself my own beloved
(am i not narcissistic in this sense?)

i felt myself with my own fingers, my chest, my body,
my thighs, my feet


so attached to the ground
like i am monument
of a war hero, but there is still this question
that walks to and fro
on the yard, like a doubtful philosopher:

who am i really? why am i here?

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Sometimes What You Cover With Your Hands

sometimes what you cover with your hands
if they misinterpret that
is not really intended for hiding
not the selfishness of your very own fingers
but
if they only know it by heart
are offerings asking
if you too are ready and willing to give them

the way you cover things are manners of asking
are you also willing to give
and give wholeheartedly without asking for
anything in return?

sometimes let me tell you
when i cover some lovely parts of myself
which you misinterpret again as
utter selfishness
nay, it is not the way you see things
skin deep
stones protruding on the low
ebbing of the season


sometimes let me tell you
when i cover the most vulnerable portion of my being
it is, in truth, just a manner of my asking
if indeed, in itself, and by itself,

if your love is true.

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This World

They say trust on us
They say our time will come
And your dreams will come alive
One day, we will find
No way to cross this line
Its where our worlds collide
This world is not made for you and i
Its build on blood and a million lies
Some say we dont fit in
Were lost in another world
Their truth will never hold
Cos , ones heart is ones soul
Were living ,day by day
Let them wither, till theyre old and grey
This world is not made for you and i
Its build on blood and a million lies
I was blind, but now I see
We are destined for misery
If youre lost, you wont be found
There is no guiding hand of destiny
This world is not made for you and i
Its build on blood and a million lies
They paint the fabric of our lives, down and out
With nowhere to hide
What you miss, what you need, what you lack is a peace of mind, our worlds collide.

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Unanswered Questions

Why?
She whispered to him as he walked away.
Why?
She heard it like a breeze of wind
That carries away
Unfurls itself in the softest of ways.
Why?
As her eyes fill and empty themselves of
This delicate deluge that goes nowhere
Brings nothing.
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
She hears silence.
The footsteps ceased their echoing in the corridor long before this day,
Yet,
She stands there,
Transfixed,
Waiting for an answer
As if her invisible mute god will speak to her and
provide her with some illumination about her situation.
Instead
She soothes herself with intoxication.
Somewhere in the bottom of a bottle
Lies the answer.
So,
She drinks.
Takes a swig.
Downs the damaged nectar of overripe fruit
And,
Lets it burn her throat.
She sings
Mumbled mixed up words gurgle from her throat.
Anything is possible.
Anything can be achieved.
People fulfill their complicated dreams.
But,
What about her simple,
Long forgotten wishes?
She gulps the liquid
And
Forces them to be buried
Further down
Where she can no longer recognize them.
Even their skeletons have altered shape.
Why?
She hears it echoing from the walls around her.
It bounces off concrete.
Why?
She stands there waiting as the sun
Dips
Then
Lowers herself under the horizon.
Darkness now envelopes her.
Her only blanket is the night.
She stands there waiting for her answer...

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Love and Sacrifice

CAN we not consecrate
To man and God above
This volume of our great
Supernal tide of love?

’Twere wrong its wealth to waste
On merely me and you,
In selfish touch and taste,
As other lovers do.

This love is not as theirs:
It came from the Divine,
Whose glory still it wears,
And print of Whose design.

The world is full of woe,
The time is blurred with dust,
Illusions breed and grow,
And eyes’ and flesh’s lust.

The mighty league with Wrong
And stint the weakling’s bread;
The very lords of song
With Luxury have wed.

Fair Art deserts the mass,
And loiters with the gay;
And only gods of brass
Are popular to-day.

Two souls with love inspired,
Such lightning love as ours,
Could spread, if we desired,
Dismay among such powers:

Could social stables purge
Of filth where festers strife:
Through modern baseness surge
A holier tide of life.

Yea, two so steeped in love
From such a source, could draw
The angels from above
To lead all to their Law.

We have no right to seek
Repose in rosy bower,
When Hunger thins the cheek
Of childhood every hour:

Nor while the tiger, Sin,
’Mid youths and maidens roams,
Should Duty skulk within
These selfish cosy homes.

Our place is in the van
With those crusaders, who
Maintain the rights of man
’Gainst despot and his crew.

If sacrifice may move
Their load of pain from men,
The greatest right of Love
Is to renounce It then.

Ah, Love, the earth is woe’s
And sadly helpers needs:
And, till its burden goes,
Our work is—where it bleeds.

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Pigs, Sheep And Wolves

Bit and fat
Pigs supposed to look like that
Barnyard thug
Sleep on straw and calls it a rug
Yeah thats a rug, ok
Hes walking down the street
And nobodys going to argue with him
Hes a half-a-ton of pig meat
Up in the hills above the farm
Lives a pack of wolves
Never did a harm
Sleep all day
Hunt till four
Maybe catch a couple of rodents
You know carnivore
Sheep in the meadow
Nibbling on some clover
One of the sheep wanders over
Sits by a rock
Separated from the flock
Hes just sitting by a rock
Whered he go?
I dont know
Well he was here a minute ago
I dont know
Sheeps dead
Got a gash as big as a wolfs head
Oh god
Big and fat
Pigs supposed to look like that
Wallowing in lanolin
Hes rubbing it into his pigskin
Police going crazy
Lets get him
Lets get that wolf
Lets get him
Lets get that wolf
Lets get him
Lets kill him, Lets get him
Lets kill him
Court-appointed lawyer wasnt very bright
Or maybe he was bright
Maybe he just had a late night
Yeah it was just a late night
And he files some feeble appeal
And the governor says forget it
Its a done deal
Election, I dont care, election
Lets give that wolf a lethal injection
Lets get him, yeah get him
Lets kill him, Lets get him
Lets kill him, Lets get him,kill him
Lets get him and kill him
Whew, slow
Here comes the media
Setting up their camera
Asking everyones opinion
About pigs, sheep and wolves
Big and fat
Pigs supposed to laugh like that
This is hilarious
What a great time
Im the pig who committed
The perfect crime
All around the world
France, Scandinavia
Theres a candle light vigils
Protesting this behavior
Its animal behavior
Animal behavior
Its Pig, sheep and wolves
Pig, sheep and wolves
Pig, sheep and wolves
Its animal behavior
Pig, sheep and wolves

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Take it one and only one

Take it one and only one
Accept the fact that you are not the alone
The journey is yours and shared by none
Day may come when you will be flown

What is joy and what is pain?
What was ours that is lost or gained?
It will be futile to find some one around
All opportunists but no sympathizer will be found

Who has fed you with wrong illusion?
Why at all is there any confusion?
It is pleasant surprise from the almighty
Why any one should grieve or feel pity?

You have come empty handed
No logic for having been landed
Did any one guide you to have birth?
Was it not told that it will have natural death?

Fortune and happiness made me laugh
The joinery was not complete and only half
The cow too had beautiful smile at calf
I was fully supported by my better half

Everybody knows that it is mere show
It is surrounded by mystery and white snow
It has to melt when sun may warm the earth
The stage may be taken over by simple death

Think you are only stage actor
Some one else is your protector and mentor
No one may come to guide you as tutor
Set the course as feeler, healer or curator

Why are you looking helplessly at sky?
Why not you look at the sun and try?
The complete world is open for you to see
Leave bondage behind and set your self free

Sit in mediation and feel the peace
Relevant answer you may find at ease
The mad race may be looked as futile attempt
Everybody may be extinct and simple swept


He earth may carry the burden
It may give in all of sudden
You may have no slightest idea even
Who will at that time care for heaven?

Deliver the good if you have zeal?
Feel the peace if it looks real
Reveal the facts if not able to conceal
Have direct link with God and make the deal

Prophets, Jesus and Lord Krishna were all human
They too under went all pain and agony as man
They bore it to self and complained to none
Life they lived only for others and someone

It is hard to swallow the poison
No one may prefer do it without any reason
Still there is sweetness in action
Noble souls digest it without any reaction

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In This Life You Reap What You Sow

If you're thinking of having an illicit affair,
You need to stop and ask yourself why,
The fact is you need to be fully aware,
It will haunt you till the day you die.

So before you think it's only a fling,
Please take time out to reflect,
Think of the misery adultery can bring,
It will have a devastating effect.

Does your husband or wife really deserve,
To be treated in this treacherous way,
Or like most will you keep them in reserve,
For when the lover goes on their merry way.

Then there's the children who look up to you,
They will grieve but they won't understand,
Why the parent they loved just said adieu,
They will know you've been so underhand.

Their lives will never be the same,
Your actions will make them want to hide,
They will feel betrayed and ashamed of their name,
All for what, a bit on the side.

Then you have your relatives and friends,
When you meet you will know by their tone,
That this is the time their kinship ends,
It is you they will all now disown.

Do you hate them that much that you would cheat,
With someone you don't really know,
With you partner and children no one can compete,
Stay faithful and your stature will grow.

Loyalty and love just cannot be bought,
Why risk it for the sake of a fling,
You can guarantee that when you get caught,
Total misery is all it will bring.

Your partners not daft or incredibly blind,
They will notice your change in demeanour,
That is when you'll undoubtedly find,
The grass over there isn't greener.

The majority of affairs do break down,
That's when you will find yourself crack,
Everything you do will bring on a frown,
Then you'll find there is no going back.

Everything in life you once held dear,
Will be gone it will all have been taken,
There'll be nothing left but the feeling of fear,
You'll have lost everything you have forsaken.

This is not all you will stand to lose,
You'll have no more self dignity or trust,
That's the price you pay when you abuse,
All to feed what is nothing but lust.

As their lives move on you'll be left in a rut,
With nothing left in reserve,
That feeling will make you sick to your gut,
But you'll acknowledge it's what you deserve.

That fling you had is now in the past,
Your spouse has now found someone new,
Your infidelity has left you feeling harassed,
With cheating it's a fact chaos will ensue.

That's when you will look in the mirror and see,
A person whom you don't want to know,
When reality kicks in you'll be forced to agree,

'' In This Life You Reap What You Sow ''

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Anna Hazare and Corruption

anna hazare and fight against corruption
crowds pour in thousands
to see actors for their glamouur
to politicians to blindly support their falsities
to so called saints to revere their false robes
to orators mesmerized by the web of words
to singers to melt in their melodies-
but all has its own limits of assemblage
as most of them lack universal appeal
as most lack truth and sincerity of the deliverers'
as most of them are dishonest and self-serving-
the surging crowds gradually peter out-
the crowds would easily sense their purpose.
but, here is a man, though diminutive
stands colossal among giants of politician cheats
to crush them all under his mighty feet-
he, unlike others, lives a truthful and simple life-
a real soldier of the army in action fronts
a whole village testifying his service in broader light-
a man committed to a cause dear to all and sundry-
an epidemic that sucks the life of common man
at every level at every step of his daily life-
which gets the stick at lower levels if at all found-
but has become a way of life for those at top-
with law a powerless prisoner in their hands-
their bank accounts growing obese in foreign lawless banks-
courts devoting energies to favour with loopholes-
but this man's intention is pure, selfless,
taking clubs to smash the head of corruption
putting it behind bars on life-imprisonment
leaving none in the process however mighty his job may be-
as now the constitution is just a laughing -stock
since its dictum that all are equal before law is unenforceable-
he fights that this untouchability to be given boot-
he yields to nothing that are diluted-
no selfishness but tries to lift the whole country on his shoulders-
he believes he can; yet he is not a man of empty words-
a man of firmness, caring not for his life, nor his name
sullied by filthy politicians, facing bullets of falsehood on his chest-
people sense the true spirit of this little man
who can speak only a language of conviction
and so rushes to storm the evil of corruption
now centered at the gates of parliament
under the care of self -centered politicians under every hued flag
making empty noises and resorting to fist fights of arguments
turning deaf to the symphony of cries against corruption-
the times look like the days of french revolution -
probably the politicians fear that prisons might be insufficient
if they enact this janlokpal bill in stringent content
and may be that fears that they may end up in prison soon-
this man with indomitable spirit is 'anna hazare'
a real replica of the frail man of the nation we forgot!

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The Old Man with the Broken Arm

At Hsin-fëng—an old man—four-score and eight;
The hair on his head and the hair of his eyebrows—white as the new snow.
Leaning on the shoulders of his great-grandchildren, he walks in front of the Inn;
With his left arm he leans on their shoulders; his right arm is broken.
I asked the old man how many years had passed since he broke his arm;
I also asked the cause of the injury, how and why it happened.
The old man said he was born and reared in the District of Hsin-fëng;
At the time of his birth—a wise reign; no wars or discords.
“Often I listened in the Pear-Tree Garden to the sound of flute and song;
Naught I knew of banner and lance; nothing of arrow or bow.
Then came the wars of T’ien-pao and the great levy of men;
Of three men in each house—one man was taken.
And those to whom the lot fell, where were they taken to?
Five months’ journey, a thousand miles—away to Yiin-nan.
We heard it said that in Yiin-nan there flows the Lu River;
As the flowers fall from the pepper-trees, poisonous vapors rise.
When the great army waded across, the water seethed like a cauldron;
When barely ten had entered the water, two or three were dead.
To the north of my village, to the south of my village the sound of weeping and wailing,
Children parting from fathers and mothers; husbands parting from wives.
Everyone says that in expeditions against the Min tribes
Of a million men who are sent out, not one returns.

I, that am old, was then twenty-four;
My name and fore-name were written down in the rolls of the Board of War.
In the depth of the night not daring to let any one know
I secretly took a huge stone and dashed it against my arm.
For drawing the bow and waving the banner now wholly unfit;
I knew henceforward I should not be sent to fight in Yün-nan.
Bones broken and sinews wounded could not fail to hurt;
I was ready enough to bear pain, if only I got back home.
My arm—broken ever since; it was sixty years ago.
One limb, although destroyed—whole body safe!
But even now on winter nights when the wind and rain blow
From evening on till day’s dawn I cannot sleep for pain.
Not sleeping for pain
Is a small thing to bear,
Compared with the joy of being alive when all the rest are dead.
For otherwise, years ago, at the ford of Lu River
My body would have died and my soul hovered by the bones that no one gathered.
A ghost, I’d have wandered in Yiin-nan, always looking for home.
Over the graves of ten thousand soldiers, mournfully hovering.’’
So the old man spoke,
And I bid you listen to his words.
Have you not heard
That the Prime Minister of K’ai-yüan, Sung K’ai-fu,
Did not reward frontier exploits, lest a spirit of aggression should prevail?
And have you not heard
That the Prime Minster of T’ien-Pao, Yang Kuo-chung
Desiring to win imperial favour, started a frontier war?
But long before he could win the war, people had lost their temper;
Ask the man with thy broken arm in the village of Hsin-fëng!

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You and Me. I laugh. (what you do to yourself)

You are you,
And I am me,
But you came to me,
And my friends,
You came into our arms,
when you were new,
Then you found THEM,
You left us for them,
You went to their side.
I look at you now and I laugh.
Not because your weird,
Or your dumb,
But because of your future.
I am me,
I know where i am in life.
I know my plan for the future,
I know I want to go to college,
And then graduate,
And be successful,
I know I have friends who really care and love me,
I work to get what I want,
I don't wait for it to be given to me,
Or wait to loose the chance of earning it,
Like you.
I don't go out and party all night,
I don't get laid whenever i want,
I don't blow off homework,
Or set it off till later,
I do it then and there,
I get it out of the way,
Then I go out and have fun with my friends,
Yet i do not drink,
I do not get high,
I keep my mind safe,
I save the memories I make,
I don't throw them away.
Like you.
So I do not laugh at your cloths,
I do not laugh at you,
I laugh at your future,
I laugh at your choices and thoughts,
I laugh at your ideas of having fun.
Wasting your mind,
Wasting your life,
Forgetting and loosing your memories,
Wasting your money,
Wasting your friendships,
wasting your time,
This is your fun,
This is your life.
Keeping my mind,
Keeping my life,
Remembering and keeping my memories,
Saving my money,
Cherishing my friendships,
Using my time for friendship family and love,
This is my fun,
This is my life.
I laugh at you.
Someday I will read about in the paper or see you on the news,
I will see a mug shot,
Or hear about your 'untimely' death,
See you on the street,
Steeling from a store,
Or dressed in gold and diamonds that you bought with money you didn't earn,
and I will laugh.
I will be the one with the baby on my hip,
The loving husband by my side,
The home of a modest family,
I good job,
And friends,
I will be the one who is truly happy,
I will be the successful one,
I will be the one who is truly rich,
I will be the one who is free,
Not running from the world,
Or trying to run ahead of it,
I will be the one with the sense of mind,
And modesty,
I will be the one who helps by doing what i can,
Not being who I can't.
I will be the one with a life,
I will be the one who is famous,
Not you.
You dont have to be in the news,
Or have lots of money,
Or know the 'right people',
to be famous,
You may have money,
And the press following you,
But I will be more rich then you,
I will have the life you don't have,
I will have a family who loves me for me,
I will have a job I love and that keeps me going,
I will have true friends who go through anything with me.
I will be rich.
So you come to me and my friends,
Looking for refuge,
Until you find THEM,
Then you leave and through your life away.
And as I pass the path you now walk,
I look and I think of what you're doing,
I think of who you are now,
I think of what you have become,
and I laugh.

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The Romane Monarchy, being the fourth and last, beginningAnno Mundi , 3213.

prologue
After some dayes of rest, my restless heart
To finish what's begun, new thoughts impart,
And maugre all resolves, my fancy wrought
This fourth to th'other three, now might be brought:
Shortness of time and inability,
Will force me to a confus'd brevity.
Yet in this Chaos, one shall easily spy
The vast Limbs of a mighty Monarchy,
What e're is found amiss take in good part,
As faults proceeding from my head, not heart.
Stout Romulus, Romes founder, and first King,
Whom vestal Rhea to the world did bring;
His Father was not Mars as some devis'd,
But Æmulus in Armour all disguiz'd:
Thus he deceiv'd his Neece, she might not know
The double injury he then did do.
Where sheperds once had Coats & sheep their folds
Where Swains & rustick Peasants kept their holds,
A City fair did Romulus erect,
The Mistress of the World, in each respect,
His brother Rhemus there by him was slain,
For leaping o're the wall with some disdain.
The stones at first was cemented with blood,
And bloody hath it prov'd, since first it stood.
This City built and Sacrifices done,
A Form of Government, he next begun;
A hundred Senators he likewise chose,
And with the style of Patres, honoured those,
His City to replenish, men he wants,
Great priviledges then to all he grants;
That will within those strong built walls reside,
And this new gentle Government abide.
Of wives there was so great a scarcity,
They to their neighbours sue for a supply;
But all disdain Alliance, then to make,
So Romulus was forc'd this course to take:
Great shews he makes at Tilt and Turnament,
To see these sports, the Sabins all are bent.
Their daughters by the Romans then were caught,
Then to recover them a Field was fought;
But in the end, to final peace they come,
And Sabins as one people dwelt in Rome.
The Romans now more potent 'gin to grow,
And Fedinates they wholly overthrow.
But Romulus then comes unto his end.
Some feigning to the Gods he did ascend:
Others the seven and thirtyeth of his reign,
Affirm, that by the Senate he was slain.
Numa Pompilius.
Numa Pompilius next chose they King,
Held for his piety some sacred thing,
To Janus he that famous Temple built:
Kept shut in peace, set ope when blood was spilt;
Religious Rites and Customes instituted,
And Priests and Flamines likewise he deputed,
Their Augurs strange, their gestures and attire,
And vestal maids to keep the holy fire.
The Nymph Ægeria this to him told,
So to delude the people he was bold:
Forty three years he rul'd with general praise,
Accounted for a God in after dayes.
Tullius Hostilius.
Tullius Hostilius was third Roman King,
Who Martial discipline in use did bring;
War with the antient Albans he did wage,
This strife to end six brothers did ingage.
Three call'd Horatii on the Romans side,
And Curiatii three Albans provide:
The Romans conquer, th'other yield the day,
Yet in their Compact, after false they play.
The Romans sore incens'd, their General slay,
And from old Alba fetch the wealth away;
Of Latin Kings this was long since the Seat,
But now demolished, to make Rome great.
Thirty two years did Tullus reign, then dye,
Left Rome in wealth, and power still growing high.
Ancus Martius.
Next Ancus Martius sits upon the Throne,
Nephew unto Pompilius dead and gone;
Rome he inlarg'd, new built again the wall,
Much stronger, and more beautiful withal;
A stately Bridge he over Tyber made,
Of Boats and Oars no more they need the aid.
Fair Ostia he built this Town, it stood
Close by the mouth of famous Tyber floud,
Twenty four years time of his Royal race,
Then unto death unwillingly gives place.
Tarquinius Priscus
Tarquin a Greek at Corinth born and bred,
Who from his Country for Sedition fled.
Is entertain'd at Rome, and in short time,
By wealth and favour doth to honour climbe;
He after Martius death the Kingdome had,
A hundred Senators he more did add.
Wars with the Latins he again renews,
And Nations twelve of Tuscany subdues,
To such rude triumphs as young Rome then had,
Some State and splendor did this Priscus add:
Thirty eight years (this stronger born) did reign,
And after all, by Ancus Sons was slain.
Servius Tullius.
Next Servius Tullius gets into the Throne,
Ascends not up By merits of his own,
But by the favour and the special grace
Of Tanquil late Queen, obtains the place.
He ranks the people into each degree,
As wealth had made them of ability;
A general Muster takes, which by account,
To eighty thousand Souls then did amount.
Forty four years did Servius Tullius reign,
And then by Tarquin Priscus Son was slain.
Tarquinius Superbus the last King of the Romans
Tarquin the proud, from manners called so,
Sat on the Throne, when he had slain his Foe.
Sextus his Son did most unworthily,
Lucretia force, mirrour of Chastity:
She loathed so the fact, she loath'd her life,
And shed her guiltless blood with guilty knife
Her Husband sore incens'd to quit this wrong,
With Junius Brutus rose, and being strong,
The Tarquins they from Rome by force expel,
In banishment perpetual to dwell;
The Government they change, a new one bring,
And people swear ne'r to accept of King.

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The Princes Quest - Part the Sixth

Even as one voice the great sea sang. From out
The green heart of the waters round about,
Welled as a bubbling fountain silverly
The overflowing song of the great sea;
Until the Prince, by dint of listening long,
Divined the purport of that mystic song;
(For so do all things breathe articulate breath
Into his ears who rightly harkeneth)
And, if indeed he heard that harmony
Aright, in this wise came the song of the sea:

'Behold all ye that stricken of love do lie,
Wherefore in manacles of a maiden's eye
Lead ye the life of bondmen and of slaves?
Lo in the caverns and the depths of Me
A thousand mermaids dwell beneath the waves:
A thousand maidens meet for love have I,
Ev'n I the virgin-hearted cold chaste sea.
Behold all ye that weary of life do lie,
There is no rest at all beneath the sky
Save in the nethermost deepness of the deep.
Only the silence and the midst of Me
Can still the sleepless soul that fain would sleep;
For such, a cool death and a sweet have I,
Ev'n I the crystal-hearted cool sweet sea.
Behold all ye that in my lap do lie,
To love is sweet and sweeter still to die,
And woe to him that laugheth me to scorn!
Lo in a little while the anger of Me
Shall make him mourn the day that he was born:
For in mine hour of wrath no ruth have I,
Ev'n I the tempest-hearted pitiless sea.'

So sang the waters, if indeed 'twere they
That sang unto the Prince's ears that day,
Since in the ship was not a soul besides
Could hear that burden of the voiceful tides;
For when he told the sailors of this thing,
And ev'n what words the waters seemed to sing,
They stared astonishment, and some, that had
More churlish souls than others, held him mad,
And laughed before his face outright. But when
The captain heard the gossip of his men
Touching this marvel, the strange news begot
No merry mood in him, who wist not what
Should be the meaning of the miracle,
Nor whether 'twere an omen good or ill.
Wherefore the old seafarer-having heard
The tale retold with many an afterword
The mariners' own most fruitful wit supplied
To grace the telling-took the Prince aside,
And ask'd him sundry questions privily
Concerning this same singing of the sea.
So the Prince told him all there was to tell,
And when that he had heard, the old man fell
To meditating much, and shook his head
As one exceeding ill at ease, and said,
'I doubt the singing thou hast heard was no
Voice of the waters billowing below,
But rather of some evil spirit near,
Who sought with singing to beguile thine ear,
Spreading a snare to catch the soul of thee
In meshes of entangling melody,
Which taketh captive the weak minds of men.
Therefore if thou should'st hear the sound again,
Look thou content thee not with hearkening,
But cast thine eyes around, and mark what thing
Thou seëst, and let no man know but me.'

So spake the white-haired wanderer of the sea.
And on the morrow-when the sealine grew
O'erhazed with visible heat, and no wind blew,
And the half-stifled morning dropt aswoon
Into the panting bosom of the noon-
There came into the Prince's ears anew
The song that yestermorn had hearkened to.
And lifting up his eyes in hope to see
What lips they were that made such melody
And filled him with the fulness of their sound,
He saw the sun at highest of his round
Show as a shield with one dark bloodstain blurred,
By reason of the body of some great bird
Like to an eagle, with wide wings outspread,
Athwart the sunfire hovering duskly red.
So to the master of the ship he told
What he had witnessed, bidding him behold
The marvel with his own eyes if he would;
Who, though he strained his vision all he could,
Yet might not once endure to look the sun
I' the face; and calling to him one by one
The whole ship's crew, he bade each mariner look
Sunward who could, but no man's eyes might brook
The glare upon them of the noontide rays
And lidless fervour of that golden gaze:
So none of them beheld the bodeful bird.

Then said the greybeard captain, hardly heard
Amid the babble of voices great and small,
'The bird thou seëst is no bird at all,
But some unholy spirit in guise of one;
And I do fear that we are all undone
If any amongst us hearken to its voice;-
For of its mouth, I doubt not, was the noise
Thou heardest as of dulcet carolling,
When at thine ear the waters seemed to sing.'

And truly, many a wiser man than he
Herein had farther strayed from verity;
For that great bird that seemed to fan the sun's
Face with its wings was even the same as once
Flew screaming westward o'er the Prince's head,
Beguiling him to follow where it fled.
And bird it was not, but a spirit of ill,
Man-hating, and of mankind hated still,
And slave to one yet mightier demon-sprite
Whose dwelling is the shadow of the night.

So the days passed, and always on the next
The bird-sprite like a baleful vision vexed
The happy-hearted sunlight; and each time
Its false sweet song was wedded to the rhyme
And chime of wind and wave-although it dropped
As honey changed to music-the Prince stopped
His ears, and would not hear; and so the Sprite,
Seeing his charmèd songcraft of no might
Him to ensnare who hearkened not at all,
On the tenth day with dreadful noise let fall
A tempest shaken from the wings of him,
Whereat the eyes of heaven wox thunderous-dim,
Till the day-darkness blinded them, and fell
Holding the world in night unseasonable.
And from his beakèd mouth the demon blew
A breath as of a hundred winds, and flew
Downward aswoop upon the labouring bark,
And, covered of the blear untimely Dark,
Clutch'd with his gripple claws the Prince his prey,
And backward through the tempest soared away,
Bearing that royal burden; and his eyes
Were wandering wells of lightning to the skies.

Long time the Prince was held in swound, and knew
Nor outer world nor inner, as they flew
From darkness unto darkness; till at last-
The fierce flight over, and his body cast
Somewhere alone in a strange place-the life
Stirred in him faintly, as at feeble strife
With covetous Death for ownership of him.
And 'fore his eyes the world began to swim
All vague, and doubtful as a dream that lies
Folded within another, petal-wise.
And therewithal himself but half believed
His own eyes' testimony, and perceived
The things that were about him as who hears
A distant music throbbing toward his ears
At noontide, in a flowery hollow of June,
And listens till he knows not if the tune
And he be one or twain, or near or far,
But only feels that sound and perfume are,
And tremulous light and leafy umbrage: so
The Prince beheld unknowing, nor fain to know.

About him was a ruinous fair place,
Which Time, who still delighteth to abase
The highest, and throw down what men do build,
With splendid prideful barrenness had filled,
And dust of immemorial dreams, and breath
Of silence, which is next of kin to death.
A weedy wilderness it seemed, that was
In days forepast a garden, but the grass
Grew now where once the flowers, and hard by
A many-throated fountain had run dry
Which erst all day a web of rainbows wove
Out of the body of the sun its love.
And but a furlong's space beyond, there towered
In middest of that silent realm deflowered
A palace builded of black marble, whence
The shadow of a swart magnificence
Falling, upon the outer space begot
A dream of darkness when the night was not.
Which while the Prince beheld, a wonderment
Laid hold upon him, that he rose and went
Toward the palace-portico apace,
Thinking to read the riddle of the place.
And entering in (for open was the door)
From hall to hall he passed, from floor to floor,
Through all the spacious house, and (saving where
The subtile spider had his darksome lair)
No living creature could he find in it.
Howbeit, by certain writing that was writ
Upon the wall of one dark room and bare,
He guessed that some great sorcerer had there
Inhabited, a slave to his own lust
Of evil power and knowledge, till the dust
Received his dust, and darkness had his soul;
But ere death took him he had willed the whole
Of his possessions to a Spirit of Ill,
His sometime mate in commerce damnable,
Making him lord of that high house, wherein
The twain had sealed their covenant of sin.

With that a horror smote the Prince, and fain
Would he have fled that evil spirit's domain
And shook its dust from off his feet that hour.
But from a window of the topmost tower
Viewing the dim-leaved wilderness without,
Full plainly he perceived it hemmed about
With waves, an island of the middle sea,
In watery barriers bound insuperably;
And human habitation saw he none,
Nor heard one bird a-singing in the sun
To lighten the intolerable stress
Of utter undisputed silentness.

So by these signs he knew himself the thrall
Of that foul spirit unseen, and therewithal
Wholly unfellowed in captivity,
Bound round with fetters of the tyrannous sea.
And sick for very loneliness, he passed
Downward through galleries and chambers vast
To one wide hall wherefrom a vestibule
Opened into a dim green space and cool,
Where great trees grew that various fruitage bore
The like whereof he had not seen before,
And hard by was a well of water sweet;
And being anhungered he did pluck and eat
The strange fair fruit, and being athirst did drink
The water, and lay down beside the brink;
Till sleep, as one that droppeth from the skies,
Dropt down, and made a mist about his eyes.

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John Bunyan

Of Hell And The Estate of Those Who Perish

hus, having show'd you what I see
Of heaven, I now will tell
You also, after search, what be
The damned wights of hell.

And O, that they who read my lines
Would ponder soberly,
And lay to heart such things betimes
As touch eternity.

The sleepy sinner little thinks
What sorrows will abound
Within him, when upon the brinks
Of Tophet he is found.

Hell is beyond all though a state
So doubtful[10] and forlorn,
So fearful, that none can relate
The pangs that there are born.

God will exclude them utterly
From his most blessed face,
And them involve in misery,
In shame, and in disgrace.

God is the fountain of all bliss,
Of life, of light, and peace;
They then must needs be comfortless
Who are depriv'd of these.

Instead of life, a living death
Will there in all be found.
Dyings will be in every breath,
Thus sorrow will abound.

No light, but darkness here doth dwell;
No peace, but horror strange:
The fearful damning wights[11] of hell
In all will make this change.

To many things the damned's woe
Is liked in the word,
And that because no one can show
The vengeance of the Lord.

Unto a dreadful burning lake,
All on a fiery flame,
Hell is compared, for to make
All understand the same.

A burning lake, a furnace hot,
A burning oven, too,
Must be the portion, share, and lot,
Of those which evil sow.

This plainly shows the burning heat
With which it will oppress
All hearts, and will like burnings eat
Their souls with sore distress.

This burning lake, it is God's wrath
Incensed by the sin
Of those who do reject his path,
And wicked ways walk in.

Which wrath will so perplex all parts
Of body and of soul,
As if up to the very hearts
In burnings they did roll.

Again, to show the stinking state
Of this so sad a case,
Like burning brimstone God doth make
The hidings of his face.

And truly as the steam, and smoke,
And flames of brimstone smell,
To blind the eyes, and stomach choke,
So are the pangs of hell.

To see a sea of brimstone burn,
Who would it not affright?
But they whom God to hell doth turn
Are in most woful plight.

This burning cannot quenched be,
No, not with tears of blood;
No mournful groans in misery
Will here do any good.

O damned men! this is your fate,
The day of grace is done,
Repentance now doth come too late,
Mercy is fled and gone.

Your groans and cries they sooner should
Have sounded in mine ears,
If grace you would have had, or would
Have me regard your tears.

Me you offended with your sin,
Instructions you did slight,
Your sins against my law hath been,
Justice shall have his right.

I gave my Son to do you good,
I gave you space and time
With him to close, which you withstood,
And did with hell combine.

Justice against you now is set,
Which you cannot appease;
Eternal justice doth you let
From either life or ease.

Thus he that to this place doth come
May groan, and sigh, and weep;
But sin hath made that place his home,
And there it will him keep.

Wherefore, hell in another place
Is call'd a prison too,
And all to show the evil case
Of all sin doth undo.

Which prison, with its locks and bars
Of God's lasting decree,
Will hold them fast; O how this mars
All thought of being free!

Out at these brazen bars they may
The saints in glory see;
But this will not their grief allay,
But to them torment be.

Thus they in this infernal cave
Will now be holden fast
From heavenly freedom, though they crave,
Of it they may not taste.

The chains that darkness on them hangs
Still ratt'ling in their ears,
Creates within them heavy pangs,
And still augments their fears.

Thus hopeless of all remedy,
They dyingly do sink
Into the jaws of misery,
And seas of sorrow drink.

For being cop'd[12] on every side
With helplessness and grief,
Headlong into despair they slide
Bereft of all relief.

Therefore this hell is called a pit,
Prepared for those that die
The second death, a term most fit
To show their misery.

A pit that's bottomless is this,
A gulf of grief and woe,
A dungeon which they cannot miss,
That will themselves undo.

Thus without stay they always sink,
Thus fainting still they fail,
Despair they up like water drink,
These prisoners have no bail.

Here meets them now that worm that gnaws,
And plucks their bowels out,
The pit, too, on them shuts her jaws;
This dreadful is, no doubt.

This ghastly worm is guilt for sin,
Which on the conscience feeds,
With vipers' teeth, both sharp and keen,
Whereat it sorely bleeds.

This worm is fed by memory,
Which strictly brings to mind,
All things done in prosperity,
As we in Scripture find.

No word, nor thought, nor act they did,
But now is set in sight,
Not one of them can now be hid,
Memory gives them light.

On which the understanding still
Will judge, and sentence pass,
This kills the mind, and wounds the will,
Alas, alas, alas!

O, conscience is the slaughter shop,
There hangs the axe and knife,
'Tis there the worm makes all things hot,
And wearies out the life.

Here, then, is execution done
On body and on soul;
For conscience will be brib'd of none,
But gives to all their dole.

This worm, 'tis said, shall never die,
But in the belly be
Of all that in the flames shall lie,
O dreadful sight to see!

This worm now needs must in them live,
For sin will still be there,
And guilt, for God will not forgive,
Nor Christ their burden bear.

But take from them all help and stay,
And leave them to despair,
Which feeds upon them night and day,
This is the damned's share.

Now will confusion so possess
These monuments of ire,
And so confound them with distress,
And trouble their desire.

That what to think, or what to do,
Or where to lay their head,
They know not; 'tis the damned's woe
To live, and yet be dead.

These cast-aways would fain have life,
But know, they never shall,
They would forget their dreadful plight,
But that sticks fast'st of all.

God, Christ, and heaven, they know are best,
Yet dare not on them think,
The saints they know in joys do rest,
While they their tears do drink.

They cry alas, but all in vain,
They stick fast in the mire,
They would be rid of present pain,
Yet set themselves on fire.

Darkness is their perplexity,
Yet do they hate the light,
They always see their misery,
Yet are themselves all night.

They are all dead, yet live they do,
Yet neither live nor die.
They die to weal, and live to woe,
This is their misery.

Amidst all this so great a scare
That here I do relate,
Another falleth to their share
In this their sad estate.

The legions of infernal fiends
Then with them needs must be,
A just reward for all their pains,
This they shall feel and see.

With yellings, howlings, shrieks, and cries,
And other doleful noise,
With trembling hearts and failing eyes,
These are their hellish joys.

These angels black they would obey,
And serve with greedy mind,
And take delight to go astray,
That pleasure they might find.

Which pleasure now like poison turns
Their joy to heaviness;
Yea, like the gall of asps it burns,
And doth them sore oppress

Now is the joy they lived in
All turned to brinish tears,
And resolute attempts to sin
Turn'd into hellish fears.

The floods run trickling down their face,
Their hearts do prick and ache,
While they lament their woful case,
Their loins totter and shake.

O wetted cheeks, with bleared eyes,
How fully do you show
The pangs that in their bosom lies,
And grief they undergo!

Their dolour in their bitterness
So greatly they bemoan,
That hell itself this to express
Doth echo with their groan.

Thus broiling on the burning grates,
They now to wailing go,
And say of those unhappy fates
That did them thus undo.

Alas, my grief! hard hap had I
Those dolours here to find,
A living death, in hell I lie,
Involv'd with grief of mind.

I once was fair for light and grace,
My days were long and good;
I lived in a blessed place
Where was most heav'nly food.

But wretch I am, I slighted life,
I chose in death to live;
O, for these days now, if I might,
Ten thousand worlds would give.

What time had I to pray and read,
What time to hear the word!
What means to help me at my need,
Did God to me afford!

Examples, too, of piety
I every day did see,
But they abuse and slight did I,
O, woe be unto me.

I now remember how my friend
Reproved me of vice,
And bid me mind my latter end,
Both once, and twice, and thrice.

But O, deluded man, I did
My back upon him turn;
Eternal life I did not heed,
For which I now do mourn.

Ah, golden time, I did thee spend
In sin and idleness,
Ah, health and wealth, I did you lend
To bring me to distress.

My feet to evil I let run,
And tongue of folly talk;
My eyes to vanity hath gone,
Thus did I vainly walk.

I did as greatly toil and strain
Myself with sin to please,
As if that everlasting grain
Could have been found in these.

But nothing, nothing have I found
But weeping, and alas,
And sorrow, which doth now surround
Me, and augment my cross.

Ah, bleeding conscience, how did I
Thee check when thou didst tell
Me of my faults, for which I lie
Dead while I live in hell.

I took thee for some peevish foe,
When thou didst me accuse,
Therefore I did thee buffet so,
And counsel did refuse.

Thou often didst me tidings bring,
How God did me dislike,
Because I took delight in sin,
But I thy news did slight.

Ah, Mind, why didst thou do those things
That now do work my woe?
Ah, Will, why was thou thus inclin'd
Me ever to undo?

My senses, how were you beguil'd
When you said sin was good?
It hath in all parts me defil'd,
And drown'd me like a flood.

Ah, that I now a being have,
In sorrow and in pain;
Mother, would you had been my grave,
But this I wish in vain.

Had I been made a cockatrice,
A toad, or such-like thing;[13]
Yea, had I been made snow or ice,
Then had I had no sin;

A block, a stock, a stone, or clot,
Is happier than I;
For they know neither cold nor hot,
To live nor yet to die.

I envy now the happiness
Of those that are in light,
I hate the very name of bliss,
'Cause I have there no right.

I grieve to see that others are
In glory, life, and well,
Without all fear, or dread, or care,
While I am racked in hell.

Thus will these souls with watery eyes,
And hacking of their teeth,
With wringing hands, and fearful cries,
Expostulate their grief.

O set their teeth they will, and gnash,
And gnaw for very pain,
While as with scorpions God doth lash
Them for their life so vain.

Again, still as they in this muse,
Are feeding on the fire,
To mind there comes yet other news,
To screw their torments higher.

Which is the length of this estate,
Where they at present lie;
Which in a word I thus relate,
'Tis to eternity.

This thought now is so firmly fix'd
In all that comes to mind,
And also is so strongly mix'd
With wrath of every kind.

So that whatever they do know,
Or see, or think, or feel,
For ever still doth strike them through
As with a bar of steel.

For EVER shineth in the fire,
EVER is on the chains;
'Tis also in the pit of ire,
And tastes in all their pains.

For ever separate from God,
From peace, and life, and rest;
For ever underneath the rod
That vengeance liketh best.

O ever, ever, this will drown'd
Them quite and make them cry,
We never shall get o'er thy bound,
O, great eternity!

They sooner now the stars may count
Than lose these dismal bands;
Or see to what the motes[14] among
Or number up the sands.

Then see an end of this their woe,
Which now for sin they have;
O wantons, take heed what you do,
Sin will you never save.

They sooner may drink up the sea,
Than shake off these their fears;
Or make another in one day
As big with brinish tears;

Than put an end to misery,
In which they now do roar,
Or help themselves; no, they must cry,
Alas, for evermore.

When years by thousands on a heap
Are passed o'er their head;
Yet still the fruits of sin they reap
Among the ghostly dead.

Yea, when they have time out of mind
Be in this case so ill,
For EVER, EVER is behind[15]
Yet for them to fulfill.

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John Dryden

ASTRÆA REDUX. A Poem, on the Happy Restoration and Return of His Sacred Majesty, Charles the Second

Now with a general peace the world was blest,
While ours, a world divided from the rest,
A dreadful quiet felt, and worser far
Than arms, a sullen interval of war.
Thus when black clouds draw down the lab'ring skies,
Ere yet abroad the winged thunder flies,
An horrid stillness first invades the ear,
And in that silence we the tempest fear.
The ambitious Swede, like restless billows tost,
On this hand gaining what on that he lost,
Though in his life he blood and ruin breathed,
To his now guideless kingdom peace bequeathed;
And heaven that seemed regardless of our fate,
For France and Spain did miracles create;
Such mortal quarrels to compose in peace,
As nature bred, and interest did increase.
We sighed to hear the fair Iberian bride
Must grow a lily to the lily's side;
While our cross stars denied us Charles his bed,
Whom our first flames and virgin love did wed.
For his long absence church and state did groan;
Madness the pulpit, faction seized the throne:
Experienced age in deep despair was lost,
To see the rebel thrive, the loyal crost:
Youth, that with joys had unacquainted been,
Envied grey hairs, that once good days had seen:
We thought our sires, not with their own content,
Had, ere we came to age, our portion spent.
Nor could our nobles hope their bold attempt,
Who ruined crowns, would coronets exempt:
For when, by their designing leaders taught
To strike at power, which for themselves they sought,
The vulgar, gulled into rebellion, armed,
Their blood to action by the prize was warmed.
The sacred purple, then, and scarlet gown,
Like sanguine dye to elephants, was shewn.
Thus, when the bold Typhœus scaled the sky,
And forced great Jove from his own heaven to fly,
(What king, what crown, from treason's reach is free,
If Jove and Heaven can violated be?)
The lesser gods, that shared his prosperous state,
All suffered in the exiled Thunderer's fate.
The rabble now such freedom did enjoy,
As winds at sea, that use it to destroy:
Blind as the Cyclops, and as wild as he,
They owned a lawless savage liberty,
Like that our painted ancestors so prized,
Ere empire's arts their breast had civilised.
How great were then our Charles his woes, who thus
Was forced to suffer for himself and us!
He, tossed 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.
Unconquered 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 drest.
As souls reach heaven, while yet in bodies pent,
So did he live above his banishment.
That sun, which we beheld with cozened eyes
Within the water, moved 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 resolved, and skilful too.
He would not, like soft Otho, hope prevent,
But stayed, and suffered 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 suffering both regret and bless!
For, when his early valour heaven had crost,
And all at Worc'ster but the honour lost;
Forced 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 their kingdoms lay.
Thus, banished David spent abroad his time,
When to be God's anointed was his crime;
And, when restored, 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.
Inured to suffer ere he came to reign,
No rash procedure will his actions stain:
To business ripened 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 honoured name of Counsellor;
Since, struck with rays of prosperous fortune blind,
We light alone in dark afflictions find.
In such adversities to sceptres trained,
The name of Great his famous grandsire gained;
Who yet, a king alone in name and right,
With hunger, cold, and angry Jove did fight;
Shocked by a covenanting League's vast powers,
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 epoches mistakes;
O'er whom Time gently shakes his wings of down,
Till with his silent sickle they are mown.
Such is not Charles his too too active age,
Which, governed by the wild distempered rage
Of some black star, infecting all the skies,
Made him at his own cost, like Adam, wise.
Tremble, ye nations, who, secure before,
Laughed at those arms that 'gainst ourselves we bore;
Roused by the lash of his own stubborn tail,
Our Lion now will foreign foes assail.
With alga, who the sacred altar strews?
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 shipwrecked 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-cozened 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 power withdraw,
But raging floods pursue their hasty thaw;
Our thaw was mild, the cold not chased away,
But lost in kindly heat of lengthened day.
Heaven 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 unhoped, without the price of war:
Yet, as he knew his blessing's worth, took care,
That we should know it by repeated prayer;
Which stormed the skies, and ravished Charles from thence,
As heaven itself is took by violence.
Booth's forward valour only served 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 travellour,
That by the moon's mistaken light did rise,
Lay down again, and closed his weary eyes.
'Twas Monk, whom Providence designed to loose
Those real bonds false freedom did impose.
The blessed saints, that watched 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-ripened fruit of wise delay.
He, like a patient angler, ere he strook,
Would let them 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 dispossest:
Once sacred house, which when they entered in,
They thought the place could sanctify a sin;
Like those, that vainly hoped kind heaven 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 charmed their useless conscience out.
Religion's name against itself was made;
The shadow served the substance to invade:
Like zealous missions, they did care pretend
Of souls, in show, but made the gold their end.
The incensed powers 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, cursed with a too fertile brain,
Lost by his wiles the power his wit did gain.
Henceforth their fougue must spend at lesser rate,
Than in its flames to wrap a nation's fate.
Suffered to live, they are like Helots set,
A virtuous shame within us to beget;
For, by example most we sinned before,
And glass-like clearness mixed with frailty bore.
But since, reformed by what we did amiss,
We by our sufferings learn to prize our bliss:
Like early lovers, whose unpractised 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 produced the joy, that hurried o'er
Such swarms of English to the neighbouring shore,
To fetch that prize, by which Batavia made
So rich amends for our impoverished trade.
Oh, had you seen from Scheveline's barren shore,
(Crowded with troops, and barren now no more,)
Afflicted Holland to his farewell bring
True sorrow, Holland to regret a king!
While waiting him his royal fleet did ride,
And willing winds to their lower'd sails denied.
The wavering streamers, flags, and standart out,
The merry seamen's rude but cheerful shout;
And last the cannon's voice that shook the skies,
And, as it fares in sudden ecstasies,
At once bereft us both of ears and eyes.
The Naseby, now no longer England's shame,
But better to be lost in Charles his name,
(Like some unequal bride in nobler sheets)
Receives her lord; the joyful London meets
The princely York, himself alone a freight;
The Swiftsure groans beneath great Gloster's weight:
Secure as when the halcyon breeds, with these,
He, that was born to drown, might cross the seas.
Heaven could not own a Providence, and take
The wealth three nations ventured at a stake.
The same indulgence Charles his voyage blessed,
Which in his right had miracles confessed.
The winds, that never moderation knew,
Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew;
Or, out of breath with joy, could not enlarge
Their straightened lungs, or conscious of their charge.
The British Amphitrite, smooth and clear,
In richer azure never did appear;
Proud her returning prince to entertain
With the submitted fasces of the main.
And welcome now, great monarch, to your own!
Behold the approaching cliffs of Albion.
It is no longer motion cheats your view;
As you meet it, the land approacheth you.
The land returns, and, in the white it wears,
The marks of penitence and sorrow bears.
But you, whose goodness your descent doth show,
Your heavenly parentage and earthly too,
By that same mildness, which your father's crown
Before did ravish, shall secure your own.
Not tied to rules of policy, you find
Revenge less sweet than a forgiving mind.
Thus, when the Almighty would to Moses give
A sight of all he could behold and live;
A voice before his entry did proclaim,
Long-suffering, goodness, mercy, in his name.
Your power to justice doth submit your cause,
Your goodness only is above the laws;
Whose rigid letter, while pronounced by you,
Is softer made. So winds, that tempests brew,
When through Arabian groves they take their flight,
Made wanton with rich odours, lose their spite.
And as those lees, that trouble it, refine
The agitated soul of generous wine;
So tears of joy, for your returning spilt,
Work out, and expiate our former guilt.
Methinks I see those crowds on Dover's strand,
Who, in their haste to welcome you to land,
Choked up the beach with their still growing store,
And made a wilder torrent on the shore:
While, spurred with eager thoughts of past delight,
Those, who had seen you, court a second sight;
Preventing still your steps, and making haste
To meet you often whersoe'er you past.
How shall I speak of that triumphant day,
When you renewed the expiring pomp of May!
A month that owns an interest in your name:
You and the flowers are its peculiar claim.
That star, that at your birth shone out so bright,
It stained the duller sun's meridian light,
Did once again its potent fires renew,
Guiding our eyes to find and worship you.
And now Time's whiter series is begun,
Which in soft centuries shall smoothly run:
Those clouds, that overcast your morn, shall fly,
Dispelled, to farthest corners of the sky.
Our nation, with united interest blest,
Not now content to poise, shall sway the rest.
Abroad your empire shall no limits know,
But, like the sea, in boundless circles flow;
Your much-loved fleet shall, with a wide command,
Besiege the petty monarchs of the land;
And, as old Time his offspring swallowed down,
Our ocean in its depths all seas shall drown.
Their wealthy trade from pirates' rapine free,
Our merchants shall no more adventurers be;
Nor in the farthest east those dangers fear,
Which humble Holland must dissemble here.
Spain to your gift alone her Indies owes;
For, what the powerful takes not, he bestows:
And France, that did an exile's presence fear,
May justly apprehend you still too near.
At home the hateful names of parties cease,
And factious souls are wearied into peace.
The discontented now are only they,
Whose crimes before did your just cause betray;
Of those your edicts some reclaim from sins,
But most your life and blest example wins.
Oh happy prince, whom heaven hath taught the way
By paying vows to have more vows to pay!
Oh happy age! Oh times like those alone,
By fate reserved for great Augustus' throne!
When the joint growth of arms and arts foreshew
The world a monarch, and that monarch you.

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