Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MAJESTY IN MISERY; OR, AN IMPLORATION TO THE KING OF KINGS, by CHARLES I


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

MAJESTY IN MISERY; OR, AN IMPLORATION TO THE KING OF KINGS, by                    
First Line: Great monarch of the world, from whose power springs
Last Line: Yet, though we perish, bless this church and state.
Subject(s): Adversity; Courts & Courtiers; Royal Court Life; Royalty; Kings; Queens


GREAT Monarch of the World, from whose Power Springs
The Potency and Power of Kings,
Record the Royal Woe my Suffering sings;

And teach my tongue, that ever did confine
Its faculties in Truth's Seraphic Line,
To track the Treasons of thy foes and mine.

Nature and law, by thy Divine Decree
(The only Root of Righteous Royaltie)
With this dim Diadem invested me:

With it the sacred Scepter, Purple Robe,
The Holy Unction, and the Royal Globe:
Yet am I levelled with the life of Job.

The fiercest Furies, that do daily tread
Upon my Grief, my Gray Dis-crownèd Head,
Are those that owe my Bounty for their Bread.

They raise a War, and Christen it The Cause,
Whilst sacrilegious hands have best applause,
Plunder and Murder are the Kingdom's Laws;

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 Schismaticks are free'd,
Mechanicks preach, and Holy Fathers bleed,
The Crown is crucifièd with the Creed.

The Church of England doth all factions foster,
The pulpit is usurped by each imposter,
Extempore excludes the Pater Noster.

The Presbyter and Independent seed
Springs with 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 forcèd into France,
Whilst on his father's head his foes advance:
Poor child! He weeps at 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 enchant
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 Traytor to the State.

Felons obtain more priviledge than I:
They are allowed to answer ere they die;
'T is 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 their Lord are so disjointed
As to contemn those Edicts he appointed,
How can they prize the Power of his Anointed?

Augment my Patience, nullifie my Hate,
Preserve my Issue, and inspire my Mate:
Yet, though We perish, bless this Church and State.





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