To the King recovered from a Fit of Sickness.
Most Gracious Sir,
NOw that you are recover'd, and are seen,
Neither to fright the Ladies, nor the Queen;
That you to Chappel come, and take the Air,
Makes that a Verse, which was before my Prayer:
The works of Mr. John Cleveland containing his poems, orations, epistles, collected into one volume, with the life of the author.
About this Item
- Title
- The works of Mr. John Cleveland containing his poems, orations, epistles, collected into one volume, with the life of the author.
- Author
- Cleveland, John, 1613-1658.
- Publication
- London,: Printed by R. Holt for Obadiah Blagrave ...,
- 1687.
- Rights/Permissions
-
To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication (http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.
- Subject terms
- Cleveland, John, 1613-1658.
- Link to this Item
-
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A33421.0001.001
- Cite this Item
-
"The works of Mr. John Cleveland containing his poems, orations, epistles, collected into one volume, with the life of the author." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A33421.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 18, 2024.
Pages
Page 300
For Sir, as we had lost you, or your Fate,
Not Sickness, had been told us, all of late.
So truly mourn'd, that we did only lack
One to begin, and put us all in Black.
The Court, as quite dissolv'd, did sadly tell,
White-Hall was only where the King is well.
Nor griev'd the People less, the Commons Eyes,
Free as their Loyal Hearts, wept Subsidies,
And in this publick Wee some went so far,
To think the Danger did deserve a Star,
Which though 'twere short: As but to show,
You would like one of us a Sickness know,
And that you could be mortal and to prove,
By Tryal of their Grief your Subjects Love,
Would keep your Bed, or Chamber, yet our •…•…ear
Made that short time we saw you not, a Year;
So did we Reason mindless, and to gain
Your quick Recov'ry, striv'd to share your Pain;
Nay, such an Interest had we in your Health,
That in you sick'ned Church and Commonwealth.
Alas! to miss you was enough to bring
An Anarchy, but that your Life was King
More than your Scepter, and though you refrain'd
To come among us, yet your Actions reign'd;
They were our Pattern still, and we from thence,
Did in your Absence chuse our Rule and Prince.
And liv'd by your Example, which will stay,
And govern here, when you are turn'd to Clay.
For what is he, that ever heard or saw
Your Conversation, and not thought it Law?
Such a clear Temper, of so wise and sweet
A Majesty, where Power and Goodness meet
In just proportions; such Religious Care
To practice what you bid, as if to wear
Page 301
The Crown or Robe were not enough to free
The Prince from that which Subjects ought to be.
Lastly (for all your Graces to rehearse,
Is fitter for a Story, than my Verse:)
Such a high Reverence do your Vertues win,
They teach without, and govern us within,
And so enlarge your Kingdoms, when they see
Our Minds more than our Bodies bend the Knee.
And though before you we stand only bare;
These make your Presence to be every where.