LOYALTY XII. CONFINED. This excellent old fong is preferved in David Lloyd's "Memoires of thofe that fuffered in the cause of Charles I.” Lond. 1668. fol. p. 96. He speaks of it as the compofition of a worthy perfonage, who suffered deeply in those times, and was ftill living with no other reward than the confcience of having fuffered. The author's name he has not mentioned, but, if tradition may be credited, this song was written by Sir ROGER L'ESTRANGE.-Some mistakes in Lloyd's copy are corrected by two others, one in MS. the other in the Weftminster Drollery, or a choice Collection of Songs and Poems, 1671. 12mo. B EAT on, proud billows; Boreas blow; Swell, curled waves, high as Jove's roof; That innocence is tempeft proof; Though furly Nereus frown, my thoughts are calm; 5 Then ftrike, Affliction, for thy wounds are balm. That which the world mifcalls a jail, A private closet is to me: Whilft a good confcience is my bail, And innocence my liberty: Locks, bars, and folitude together met, 10 I, whilft I, whilst I wifht to be retir'd, Into this private room was turn'd; As if their wifdoms had confpir'd The falamander fhould be burn'd; Or like those fophifts, that would drown a fish, I am constrain'd to suffer what I wish. The cynick loves his poverty; Naked on frozen Caucafus : Contentment cannot smart, Stoicks we fee 15 20 These manacles upon my arm 25 I, as my miftrefs' favours, wear; And for to keep my ancles warm, I have fome iron fhackles there : These walls are but my garrifon; this cell, Which men call jail, doth prove my citadel. 30 And thus, proud fultan, I'm as great as thee. Here Here fin for want of food muft ftarve, To keep vice out, and keep me in : So he that struck at Jafon's life *, Thinking t' have made his purpofe fure, By a malicious friendly knife Did only wound him to a cure : Malice, I fee, wants wit; for what is meant 40 45 When once my prince affliction hath, Profperity doth treason feem; 59 And to make smooth so rough a path, I can learn patience from him: Now not to fuffer fhews no loyal heart, When kings want ease subjects must bear a part. * See this remarkable flory in Cicero de Nat. Deorum. Lib. 3. c. 28. Cic. de Offic. Lib. 1. c. 30. fee aljo Vel. Max. 1. 8. My king from me what adamant can part, Have you not feen the nightingale, In that her narrow hermitage? 6% Even then her charming melody doth prove, 65 That all her bars are trees, her cage a grove. I am that bird, whom they combine Thus to deprive of liberty; But though they do my corps confine, Yet maugre hate, my foul is free : And though immur'd, yet can I chirp, and fing My foul is free, as ambient air, Although my bafer part's immew'd, Whilft loyal thoughts do ftill repair T'accompany my folitude: Although rebellion do my body binde, 70 75 XIII. VERSES τε XIII. VERSES BY K. CHARLES I. "This prince, like his father, did not confine himself to profe: Bishop Burnet has given us a pathetic elegy faid "to be written by Charles in Carifbrook caftle [in 1648.] "The poetry is most uncouth and unharmonious, but there are ftrong thoughts in it, fome good fenfe, and a strain of ma"jeftic piety." Mr. Walpole's Royal and Noble Authors, vol. I. It is in his "Memoirs of the Duke of Hamilton," p. 379. that Burnet hath preferved this elegy, which he tells us he bad from a gentleman, who waited on the king at the time when it was written, and copied it out from the original. It is there intitled "MAJESTY IN MISERY: OR AN "IMPLORATION TO THE KING OF KINGS." Hume bath remarked of these ftanzas, "that the truth of "the fentiment, rather than the elegance of the expreffion, "renders them very pathetic." See his hift. 1763. 4to. vol. 5. p. 437. 442. which is no bad comment upon them. -Thefe are almoft the only verses known of Charles's composure. Indeed a little Poem ON A QUIET CONSCIENCE, printed in the Poetical Calendar, 1763. vol. 8th. is attributed to K. CHARLES I; being reprinted from a thin Evo vol. by Nabum Tate, called "Mifcellanea Sacra, or Poems on Divine and Moral Subjects." 66 G Reat monarch of the world, from whofe power fprings The potency and power of kings, Record the royal woe my fuffering fings; And |