The works of Mr. John Cleveland containing his poems, orations, epistles, collected into one volume, with the life of the author.

An Epitaph.

STay Passenger: Behold and see The widdowed Grave of Majesty. Why tremblest thou? Here's that will make All but our stupid Souls to shake. Here lies entomb'd the Sacred Dust Of Peace and Piety, Right and Just. The Blood (O start'st not thou to hear?) Of a King, 'twixt hope and fear Shed, and hurried hence to be The Miracle of Misery.

Add the ills that Rome can boast, •…•…rift the World in every Coast, •…•…ix the Fire of Earth and Seas With humane Spleen and Practices, To puny the Records of time, By one grand Gygantick Crime; Then swell it bigger till it squeeze The Globe to crooked Hams and Knees, Here's that shall make it seem to be But modest Christianity.

The Law-giver, amongst his own, •…•…entenc'd by a Law unknown. •…•…oted Monarchy to Death By the course Plebeian Breath. The Soveraign of all Command •…•…uffering by a Common Hand. A Prince, to make the Odium more, Offer'd at his very door. The head cut off, O Death to see't! •…•…n Obedience to the Feet. And that by Iustice you must know, If you have Faith to think it so. Wee'l stir no further than this Sacred Clay, But let it slumber till the Iudgment Day. Of all the Kings on Earth, 'tis not denyed, Here lies the first that for Religion dyed.