Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE HISTORY OF INSPIDS; A LAMPOON, by JOHN WILMOT


Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE HISTORY OF INSPIDS; A LAMPOON, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Chast, pious, prudent, charles the second
Last Line: Prove wretched, king'd by storks and loggs.
Alternate Author Name(s): Rochester, 2d Earl Of
Subject(s): Charles Ii, King Of England (1630-1685); Great Britain - History; English History


1

CHAST, pious, prudent, C[harls] the Second,
The Miracle of thy Restauration,
May like to that of Quails be reckon'd
Rain'd on the Israelitick Nation;
The wisht for Blessing from Heav'n sent,
Became their Curse and Punishment.

2

The Vertues in thee, C[harls] inherent,
Although thy countenance be an odd piece,
Proves thee as true a Gods Vicegerent
As e're was Harry with the Codpiece:
For Chastity and pious Deeds,
His Grandsire Harry, C[harls] exceeds.

3

Our Romish Bondage breaker Harry,
Espoused half a dozen Wives,
C[harls] only one resolv'd to marry,
And other Mens he never [swives]
Yet hath he Sons and Daughters more,
Than e're had Harry by threescore.

4

Never was such a Faiths Defender,
He like a politick Prince, and pious,
Gives liberty to Conscience tender,
And doth to no Religion tye us,
Jews, Christians, Turks, Papists, he'll please us,
With Moses, Mahomet, or J[esus].

5

In all Affairs of Church or State,
He very zealous is, and able,
Devout at Prayers, and sits up late
At the Cabal and Council Table.
His very Dog at Council Board,
Sits grave and wise, as any Lord.

6

Let C[harls] his Policy no Man flout,
The wisest Kings have all some Folly,
Nor let his Piety any doubt;
C[harls] like a Sovereign wise and holy,
Makes young Men Judges of the Bench,
And B[ishops] some that love a Wench.

7

His Fathers Foes he doth reward,
Preserving those that cut off's Head:
Old Cavaliers the Crown's best Guard,
He lets them starve for want of Bread.
Never was any King endow'd
With so much Grace and Gratitude.

8

Blood, that wears Treason in his Face,
Villain compleat, in Parson's Gown,
How much is he at Court in Grace
For stealing Ormond, and the Crown?
Since Loyalty do's no Man good,
Let's steal the King and out-do Blood.

9

A Parliament of Knaves and Sots,
Members by name, you must not mention,
He keeps in Pay, and buys their Votes,
Here with a Place, there with a Pension
When to give Mony he can't cologue'um.
He doth with Scorn prorogue, prorogue'um.

10

But they long since by too much giving,
Undid, betray'd, and sold the Nation;
Making their Memberships a Living,
Better than e're was Sequestration.
God give thee C[harles] a Resolution.
To damn the Knaves by a Dissolution.

11

Fame is not grounded on Success,
Though Victories were Caesar's Glory;
Lost Battels make not Pompey less,
But left them stiled great in Story.
Malitious Fate doth oft devise
To beat the Brave and fool the Wise.

12

C[harls] in the first Dutch War stood fair,
To have been Sovereign of the Deep;
When Opdam blew up in the Air,
Had not his Highness gone to sleep.
Our Fleet slack'd Sails, fearing his waking,
The Dutch else had been in sad taking.

13

The Bergen Business was well laid,
Though we paid dear for that Design:
Had we not three days parling staid,
The Dutch Fleet there, C[harls], had been thine.
Though the false Dane agree'd to sell'um,
He cheated us, and saved Skellum.

14

Had not C[harls] sweetly choos'd the States,
By Bergen Baffle grown more wise,
And made them Sh*t as small as Ratts,
By their rich Smyrna Fleets Surprise?
Had haughty Holms but call'd in Spragg,
Hands had been put into a Bag.

15

Mists, Storms, short Victuals, adverse Winds,
And once the Navies wise Division,
Defeated C[harls] his best Designs,
Till he became his Foes Derision.
But he had swing'd the Dutch at Chattam,
Had he had Ships but to come at'um.

16

Our Blackheath Host without dispute,
Rais'd (put on Board, why, no Man knows)
Must C[harls] have rendred absolute,
Over his Subjects or his Foes.
Has not the French King made us Fools,
By taking Maestricht with our Tools?

17

But C[harls] what could thy Policy be,
To run so many sad Disasters;
To join thy Fleet with false D'Etrees,
To make the French of Holland Masters?
Was't Carewell, brother James,, or Teague,,
That made thee break the Triple League.

18

Could Robin Vyner have foreseen
The glorious Triumphs of his Master
The Wool-Church Statue Gold had been,
Which now is made of Alabaster:
But Wise Men think had it been Wood,
T'were for a Bankrupt K[ing] too good.

19

Those that the Fabrick well consider,
Do of it diversly discourse;
Some pass their Censure of the Rider,
Others their Judgment of the Horse:
Must say the Steed's a goodly thing,
But all agree'tis a Lewd K[ing].

20

By the Lord Mayor and his grave Coxcombs,
Free-man of London C[harls] is made;
Then to Whitehall a Rich Gold Box comes,
Which is bestow'd on the French Jade.
But wonder not it should be so, Sirs,
When Monarchs rank themselves with Grocers.

21

Cringe, scrape, no more ye City Fopps,
Leave off your Feasting and fine Speeches,
Beat up your Drums, shut up your Shops,
The Courtiers then will kiss your Breeches.
Arm'd, tell the Popish Duke that Rules,
You'r Free-born Subjects, not French Mules.

22

New upstarts, Pimps, Bastards, Whores,
That Locust like devour the Land,
By shutting up the Exchequer Doors,
When thither our Mony was trapan'd.
Have rend'red C[harls] his Restauration,
But a small Blessing to the Nation.

23

Then C[harls] beware of thy Brother Y [ork]
Who to thy Government gives Law;
If once we fall to the old Sport,
You must again both to Breda:
Where Spight of all that would restore you,
Grown wise by wrongs, we shall abhor you.

24

If of all Christian Blood the Guilt
Cry loud for Vengeance unto Heaven;
That Sea by Treacherous Lewis spilt,
Can never be by God forgiven.
Worse Scourge unto his Subjects, Lord,
Than Pestilence,Famine, Fire or Sword.

25

That false rapacious Wolf of France;
The Scourge of Europe, and its Curse,
Who at his Subject's cry, does Dance,
And study how to make them worse.
To say such kings, Lord, rule by thee,
Were most prodigious Blasphemy.

26

Such know no Law but their own Lust,
Their Subjects' Substance, and their Blood
They count it Tribute, due and just,
Still spent, and spilt, for Subjects good.
If such Kings are by God appointed
The D[evil] may be the L[ord's] Anointed.

27

Such Kings curst be the Power and Name,
Let all the World henceforth abhor'um;
Monsters which Knaves Sacred proclaim,
And then like Slaves fall down before'um.
What can there in Kings Divine?
The most are Wolves, Goats, Sheep, or Swine.

28

Then Farewel Sacred Majesty,
Let's pull all Brutish Tyrants down;
When Men are born, and still live free,
Here ev'ry Head doth wear a Crown.
Mankind like miserable Froggs,
Prove wretched, king'd by Storks and Loggs.





Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!


Other Poems of Interest...
Home: PoetryExplorer.net