How happy were the subject if he knew, Most pious king, but his own good in you! How many times, live long, Charles, would he say, If he but weighed the blessings of this day? And as it turns our joyful year about, For safety of such majesty, cry out? Indeed, when had great Britain greater cause Than now, to love the sovereign, and the laws? When you that reign, are her example grown, And what are bounds to her, you make your own? When your assiduous practice doth secure That faith, which she professeth to be pure? When all your life's a precedent of days, And murmur cannot quarrel at your ways? How is she barren grown of love! Or broke! That nothing can her gratitude provoke! O times! O manners! Surfeit bred of ease, The truly epidemical disease! 'Tis not alone the merchant, but the clown, Is bankrupt turned! The cassock, cloak, and gown Are lost upon account! And none will know How much to heaven for thee, great Charles, they owe! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BIRTHDAY by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE CITY MOUSE AND THE COUNTRY [OR, GARDEN] MOUSE by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI VALENTINES TO MY MOTHER: 1885 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI ASTROPHEL AND STELLA: 83 by PHILIP SIDNEY THE FEILIRE OF ADAMNAN by ADAMNAN TO HAFIZ by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH SEVERUS TO TIBERIUS GREATLY ENNUYE by JOSEPH AUSLANDER AUTUMN MESSAGES by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 7. THE SLEEPING BEAUTY by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |