And the realm doth groan with disasters,
And the scum of the land

Are the men that command,

And our slaves are become our masters.

Now our lives,

Children, wives,
And estate,

Are a prey to the lust and plunder,

To the rage

Of our age.

And the fate

Of our land

Is at hand,

'Tis too late

To tread these usurpers under.
First down goes the crown,

Then follows the gown;

Thus levelled are we by the Roundhead,
While Church and State must

Feed their pride and their lust,
And the Kingdom and King be confounded.

Shall we still

Suffer ill,

And be dumb?

And let every varlet undo us?

Shall we doubt

Of each lout,

That doth come,

With a voice

Like the noise

Of a drum,

And a sword or a buff-coat to us?

Shall we lose our estates

By plunder and rates

To bedeck those proud upstarts that swagger
Rather fight for your meat,

Which these locusts do eat,

Now every man's a beggar.

Alexander Brome.

THE

ROYALIST.

?

(Written in 1646.)

OME pass about the bowl to me,
A health to our distressed King;
Though we're in hold, let cups go free,
Birds in a cage may freely sing.
The ground does tipple healths apace
When storms do fall, and shall not we?
A sorrow dares not shew its face,

When we are ships and sack's the sea.
We do not suffer here alone;

Though we are beggar'd, so 's the King; 'Tis sin t' have wealth when he has none; Tush! poverty's a Royal thing!

When we are larded well with drink

Our heads shall turn as Round as theirs,

Our feet shall rise, our bodies sink

Clean down the wind, like Cavaliers.

[1 st.

[1 st.

Alexander Brome.

TO KEEP A TRUE LENT.

S this a Fast, to keep

The larder lean ?

And clean

From fat of veals, and sheep?

Is it to quit the dish
Of flesh, yet still
To fill

The platter high with fish?

Is it to fast an hour,
Or ragg'd to go,
Or show

A downcast look, and sour?

No: 'tis a Fast, to dole
Thy sheaf of wheat,
And meat,

Unto the hungry soul.

It is to fast from strife,
From old debate,
And hate;

To circumcise thy life.

To show a heart grief-rent;

To starve thy sin,

Not bin;

And that's to keep thy Lent.

Robert Herrick.

WHEN THE KING ENJOYS HIS OWN AGAIN.

HAT Booker doth prognosticate,
Concerning kings' or kingdoms' fate?
I think myself to be as wise

As he that gazeth on the skies:

My skill goes beyond

The depth of a Pond,

Or Rivers in the greatest rain;
Thereby I can tell

All things will be well

When the King enjoys his own again.

There's neither Swallow, Dove, nor Dade,
Can soar more high, nor deeper wade;
Nor show a reason from the stars
What causeth peace or civil wars:
The Man in the Moon

May wear out his shoon,

By running after Charles his wain;
But all's to no end,

For the times will not mend
Till the King enjoys his own again.
Though for a time we see Whitehall
With cobwebs hanging on the wall
Instead of silk and silver brave,
Which formerly it used to have,
With rich perfume

In every room,
Delightful to that princely train,
Which again you shall see

When the time it shall be
That the King enjoys his own again.

Full forty years the royal crown
Hath been his father's and his own;
And is there any one but he

That in the same should sharer be?

For who better may

The sceptre sway

Than he that hath such right to reign?
Then let's hope for a peace,

For the wars will not cease

Till the King enjoys his own again.

[1 st.

Till then

upon Ararat's hill

My hope shall cast her anchor still,
Until I see some peaceful dove

Bring home the branch I dearly love;
Then will I wait

Till the waters abate,

Which now disturb my troubled brain,
Else never rejoice

Till I hear the voice

That the King enjoys his own again.

Martin Parker.

FROM AN ODE UPON AN HYPOCRITICAL

NONCONFORMIST.

E does not pray, but prosecute,
As if he went to law, his suit;
Summons his Maker to appear

And answer what he shall prefer ;
Returns him back his Gift of Prayer,
Not to petition, but declare;
Exhibits cross complaints

Against him for the Breach of Covenants,
And all the Charters of the Saints;
Pleads guilty to the Action, and yet stands
Upon high terms and bold demands;
Excepts against him and his laws,
And will be judge himself in his own cause;
And grows more saucy and severe
Than th' heathen emperor was to Jupiter,
That used to wrangle with him, and dispute;
And sometimes would speak softly in his ear
And sometimes loud, and rant, and tear,
And threaten, if he did not grant his suit.