TO THE KINGS MOST Excellent Majesty.
The Humble Petitionary Poem of EDMOND DILLON, Esq;
Temporibus laetis tristamur Maxime Caesar.
Corn. Gallus ad Aug. Caesar.
LONDON, Printed in the Year, 1664.
TO THE KINGS MOST EXCELLENT MAJESTY.
The humble Petitionary Poem of
EDMOND DILLON, Esq;
PArdon (Dread Sir) your Suppliants bold Essay,
That he Petitions not the formal way
Of Prose; or that his pressing greivance he
Dress'd in the Rags of simple Poetry:
Numbers, though never of so faint a streame,
Are thought the best ingredients to a Threne:
The grovelling Muse that durst not towre so high,
(Lest singed by the Sun of Majesty)
As strive to prove the Trumpet of your praise,
(Such levets sound best from
Maeonian layes:)
[Page 2]Presumes, in a low Eleglack stile,
That sits the Genius of her native Isle,
To give those plaints, some kind of Mourning cloase,
Her prostrate Master, thus most humbly shewes:
Great Sir, whilst you fair Halcyon dayes restore,
Transmuting the late Age of Churlish Ore,
By a blest Chymistry to golden times,
Such, as that suckling world, the Poet chimes;
When undeflowr'd
Astraea at the Helm
Of every peaceful Common-wealth and Realm
Presided; and the streams of Justice ran
Clear and unthwarted, when frail mortal man,
With heavenly Nectar had sublim'd his blood;
For then the Womb of every common flood
Went pregnant with that sacred drink; no pride
Or lux gave sources to that Scarlet tide
Of blood, and strife, which since the Earth hath stain'd;
A native innocence as Empress raign'd,
And wise simplicity made States secure;
No Politicks or mischeif were in Ure.
Much of these blessings now (like Manna) show'rs
On
Albion, from
Jehovah's azure Tow'rs
Dispens'd by You; since that auspicious time,
God made his Type, and lawful
Steward climbe
The Widowed Throne; and in this Orphan-land,
Restor'd the Fathers Soveraign Command:
[Page 3]A land that panted underneath the weight
Of Tyranny, swoln to a lasting height:
No Joys, nor lucid intervals, were seen,
No truce to ills, nor holy dayes between.
O were the teeming Fates ev'r brought to bed
Of happier wonders, in no story read!
Then met in you; Who couldst at once set free
Your peoples Necks, without Phlebotomie,
From slavish yoaks; and so resume in peace
Your Scepter, on which Traytors Swords did seize:
Christ came in peace; You in that Juncture come
When
Janus's Fane was shut; and Christendom
Charm'd down her feudes, to Usher in our King
With a calm Sunshine: This mysterious thing,
Or rather Miracle of Providence,
None fathom'd with the line of humane sence.
But stay;
Veni, vidi, vici.
You came, and saw, and overcameAll hearts on sight, outstripping
Caesars fame,
And wing'd exploits; his Triumphs sanguin'd were,
Your Trophies richer; love and filial feare:
On this Foundation a kind Conquest lay'd,
You in short time stupendious Works display'd;
Struck out of Chaos that o'er spread this place,
A light, that gave all things a smiling face;
As
Titan doth, emergent from the Sea,
Shoulder the night, and guild the sacred day;
Here, Gods anointed, and the Heav'ns to beard;
And out of dark confusion did'st create,
New luminaries in the sphears of State:
Witness your Council; Men so sage, so grave
And
Argus-ey'd,
[...]s dangers well may stave
Off, from your Crown: And old
Romes Senate might,
Have hugg'd their Maxims, for a Ruling light;
Intrigues of State, to your chief
The Lord Chancellor of
England.
Praetor are,As obvious and familiar as the Aire.
That he can solve the most abstruse with ease,
Not
Cato himself could Rival him in these.
Your Parliaments so well affected stand,
(Ah that your Sire had that high Court so man'd)
As, to your Service, brisk, to consecrate
More, then your Moderation may sate.
The wholsome Law now vigorously returns
Unto the pristine Channel; and their turns
Justice and Mercy, in your God-like Soul
Have, but your Meroies the ascendant hold;
Those bright endowments radicate and plant
The Throne, upon a Base of Adamant.
Your Naval, and Land-forces, may give work,
Nay, Plough up the invading numerous
Turk,
With all those Barbarous Troops; should they but lie
Contiguous, for our Heroes Chivalrie.
[Page 5]
Yorks Royal Duke, Your Neptune of the Seas,
May give our little world a Writ of ease
From Forrein Wars; Who, as with Brazen walls,
With
Canon, Men and Oak our Isles impales.
Nor may Your Kingdoms dread, henceforth, those scars
Of civil, yet the most
Bella—plus quam civilia—
Lucan.
uncivil, Jars;Whilst the RESTORING
Albermarle, doth stand,
Your tutelar
Plutarch.
in the life of Camillus.
Camillus of the Land.That Hydra'of Plots, too often hatch'd in Hell
'Gainst You, (I hope) is now crusht in the shell.
No corner of the Earth, but spues forth those
To Tyburn, or the like, Your Trayterous foes.
Great Princes in their spousals, less consult
Their private fancies, then what may result
To publick good; both interests of weight,
You in your Royal Bride did complicate;
Whose All-divine accomplishments do lye,
Almost transparent to each vulgar eye;
As they create all Reverence and Love,
Which that diffusive grief, last year, might prove,
In her great sickness, whose sad bruit exprest
Ev'n real sobs, from the Fanatique brest.
Clotilde, Eudoxia, and
Pulcheria,
Queens, only Angels quils, may well pourtray,
Are copied out in her; their vertues there
Meet, and constellate all, on that bright spheare;
[Page 6]And what doth solace much a pious Son,
Your Mother Queens rich benediction
And heavenly converse, add to your delight;
Her venerable Glories feast Your sight.
Not
Cybele the Goddess-dame of all
The spangled dwellers, of high heav'ns
White-hall,
More lustre gave t'Her deathless progeny,
Or they to Her (fam'd in old Poesie)
Then you do both, by mutual reflex,
The best of Men, best of the female Sex.
What would the
Caledonian Nation crave,
Or
England wish? They by your influence have
Peace, Liberty, and
Amaltheas horn;
Their collaps'd Honours raised from the Urn.
Nihil deinde optare a Diis homines, nihil Dii hominibus prastare possent, Nihil voto concipi, nihil felicitate con
[...]mma
[...]i, quod non Augustus post reditum in urbem, Beib. populoque Romano, terrarum
(que) orbi representavit.
Vel. Pa
[...]ere. in Hist. Rem. lib. 2
The peoples full content, in Roman story,Makes the Corolary of
Augustus's Glory;
Which he indulg'd, at his return to
Rome,
As You have done, since You arriv'd at home.
Whil'st these things speak you happy, good, and great;
All in Superlatives, and to compleat
Her Joys, great
Brittain nought can want,
If with due sence, She on her bliss descant:
Shall your poor
Irish vassals solely be,
Excluded still from the grand Jubile?
And we are Excommunicated all,
From mixing in the publick Festival?
[Page 7]By what Caprich of fortune doth our clime
Wear blacks, whilst rayes of Grace so near us shine?
How comes our Nation to sing
Lachrimae,
On Jovial
Christmas and the
Paschal day?
Our Seniours, who long'd (
Simeon-like) to hear
Or see their King, Christs figure, in his sphear
Of Regal pow'r to move; though they retriv'd
Their drooping spirits, soon as you arriv'd;
And seem'd (like Eagles) to resume their youth,
Thinking, that day should terminate their Ruth;
Yet, now court deaths Post-haste, because they see,
Nought else alleviates their Miserie.
Our youth seem
Et doloraetatem jussit in esse suam.
Boet. de Consol. Phi.
superannuated, with grief;There's such cunctation us'd in their releif;
And maids wear squallid looks; their sprightly airs
Chang'd, to the pallid symptoms of despairs.
Our Matrons spent their tears, that liquid stock
In them, is drayn'd by sorrows constant shock;
Their ills, that crusted
Niobies, outvi'd,
And so
Curae leves loquntur, ingentes stupent
Sen. Trag.
t'amazement they are petrifi'd.Who, but a
Jeremy, with Enthean quil,
Our Woes in Tragick lines could well distil?
No Age or Sex but is disconsolate,
Such is our Countries lamentable State:
As if
Nolls ghost should from the Stygian Strand,
Raise Magick Vapours still t'enchant our Land
[Page 8]Under old bondage, which his Laws impos'd;
For our Estates lie (a great part) transpos'd,
As he assign'd them, 'twixt his Creatures shar'd
And
Independent hoast, whose fat doth lard
Numbers of them: And thus did he divide
Our spoyls and Fortunes; and so gratifi'd
His Armies active Zeal t'exterminate
This Monarchy, and buoy him up in State.
Rich
Et pro crimine omni aut opes, aut opimi agri.
Lip. de const.
Fields and Loyalty were our chief Crimes,The last was Vertue, in serener times;
For which shall we make constant Pennance thus,
The only Plea that should ingratiate us?
Who of three shatter'd Nations, were the last,
Fought out your Cause, and in your Quarrel cast,
The final Ruins of your Party; You
May with your
Fiat, build us up a new;
Who suffer'd crushing, e're we'd violate,
By yielding soon, that Peace of Forty Eight:
Solemn Peice; I hope 'tis not forgot,
Your Ermines will not sully with that blot.
He's scarce your Friend, would seek to conjure down
Those publick condescentions, You did own;
Would Sacrifice, to private ends, or spleen,
A Glorious Monarchs hallowed esteem:
What need I hint the confluence of our men
From all those Forraign parts, they served in,
[Page 9]About your Sacred Person, then abroade;
Those timely duties You do not explode,
But mind; so to their Soveraign, the Sea,
Rivers flow far, and Crystal tributes pay:
Nor was't by land alone, in that Exile,
The Touchstone of true Faith; as we may stile
All such disasters, They espous'd Your Cause;
But on the Ocean too, steer'd by your Laws;
Their loyal
Palinures sought to support
Your Admiralty-Court, from Port to Port:
Then (as we should) our hopes we anchor'd, sure,
On Your glad Restauration, for our cure;
Yet still our Country-business, panting lyes,
And with slow Hectiques languishing, it dyes.
The
Irish Ordeil, was the Court of Claims,
Few through that fire, with slender venial stains
Could pass unsing'd; Yet were the Judges free
From the least byaz of Partiality:
But by their Rules, such as were strictly chaulk't
Out, for our Tryals, they exactly walk't;
Whilst heinous Crimes are blauncht, forgot, or drown'd
In that vast Sea of Mercy, most have found,
Flowing in Your Amnestia; only we
Are left obnoxious to all scrutinie:
Our lives are sifted, and set on the Rack,
False evidence suborn'd to make us black.
[Page 10]Of Heav'ns strait ingress, what the Gospel says,
On Earth is typified in our days:
Our Innocence (which to the test was put)
Must shine like that of Infants, ere they shoot
Up, to their dangerous years; or else no man
Of our poor
Israel enters
Canaan;
None are restored; Yet through those narrow straights
Some have got in, unto their old Estates;
And hundreds more, on this preciser score
To Innocence have title; but the door
(They say) is shut, the time efflux'd for those,
As though men would your long-liv'd justice close;
Or bounty stint t'a few months space; who can
So circumscribe it, shackels th'Ocean,
The Law defines;
An droit ne poit mourir,
An ancient Right, is like the Vestal fire,
Never extinct, though darkn'd 'tis, sometime,
When gold or favour will not make it shine;
Nay some restorable by Acts of Grace
And Parliament, a shadow yet imbrace;
Whilst the effects of your intendments are
Wanting; they're only Landlords titular.
Bill after Bill, we see transmitted o're
One clashing with the other, though before
An Act; like that
Penelope.
chaste Princess's endless webWrought with great pains, yet soon unravelled;
[Page 11]Our Souls were night-mar'd by these Ambages,
These Circuits did our vital bloods oppress;
And after all, a rueful murmur was
Of late, there should a fatal sentence pass
On
Irish Interests; oh! a publick grief,
Nothing can cozen me to the belief;
We should be in a righteous Princes sence,
Made victimes to alleadg'd convenience:
Angels defend, That, that anoynted hand,
Should sign the desolation of a Land,
Or people, whose hands, hearts, and all they have,
(As bound) are Yours devoted, to the grave:
Ex ungue leonem.
And if we know the Lyon by his paws,Those three late Noble
Irish Scaevolaes,
Who in
Losanna did such miracles
For You, do by that recent feat express
The loyal Genius of our Nation still,
To live or dye at their great Soveraigns will.
But with this Subject I no more shall grate
Upon Your Royal patience; They could state
With greater Emphasis our sad distress,
Who long in steddy Prose made our address;
We have this comfort, that Your Wisdoms choice
Was such a Vice-Roy, as by general voice,
Of us and all true Subjects; none could be
More fit to play that Arduous game, than he;
[Page 12]Brave
Ormond your
Cui fidus Achates it comes, & paribus curis vestigia figit.
Vir. lib. 6. Aeneid
Achates, went a shareIn all your Forraign strayings, all your cares,
None
Plutarch,
in the life of Alex.
lov'd the KING, with more entireness, since
Craterus did the
Macedonian Prince;
The Spirit of his Government we found
E're now, so sagely temper'd, and so sound,
As we may hope a future Plenilune
Of blessings by't; and that his Grace will tune
For you the
Irish Harp, long speechless growne,
In the sad solstice of Her Soveraigns Throne;
And with the Musick of his Ruling hand,
Compose the jarring Interests of that Land;
As once
Amphion by the rise and fall
Of his sweet noats, had built the
Theban wall;
Charm'd the materials thither; stones, that be
Of different forms, danc'd to a Symmetry.
But publick matters, and affairs of State,
Th'officious Muse doth Supererogate
To touch upon; for those are things beyond
Her flagging fancies humble Horizon:
It were presumption in a puny wit,
A kind of Sacriledge it may commit,
Handling of those absconded Misteries,
Not penetrable by thick-sighted eyes:
An honest Subject must revere, not fret
At the Results of's Princes Cabinet.
[Page 13]Now give me leave, most Gracious Liege, to say
Somewhat expressed in a doleful key
Concerning my own case; tis singular;
As, I, with all submission, will declare:
When
Cromwel, that prodigious Tyrant was
Rais'd to the height, on Collosses of brass
His greatness built, above the shock of fate,
As many thought, who did not meditate
That so excentrique and unjust a Rise,
Preluded to a signal precipice:
When he had trampled on the necks of all,
His terrour became Oecumenical;
That Bird of prey, whose sanguinary beak
Quarri'd on us, and did his fury wreak;
Who made each Fault, a Capital offence,
And moulded Laws of bloody Elements,
Tacitus de domit.
Domitian-like; when thinking of our King,Were no less than a Treasonable thing;
If thoughts had a material substance been,
Or could be felt, heard, understood, or seen:
Much more to Speak, or Write against the State,
Nought but th'Offendors death could expiate:
Ev'n in those slavish, touchy times, have I
(It is a Truth, and no thrasonick lye)
Declar'd in
Ireland, for the Royal Cause,
And the Usurpers Paricide did blaze,
Th'Injustice of that Regicidal Court,
Vail'd under Justice's pageantry and port
Decry'd; 'gainst those, that would all Law subvert,
Did to my power Just Monarchy assert:
This, after the reduction of that Isle,
When an iniquous Peace did seem to smile
[Page 14]In servitude; and none could roll one stone
In your behalf, all Armless, overthrown;
I made my best, though impotent Essay,
Some Lectures of Allegiance to display;
And so revive the thoughts of Majesty
In some, which by long dissuetude might die:
Timists were pos'd, each (O imprudence) cry'd,
To duel thus a violent stream or tyde.
But old experience, as a truth, defines,
That
Difficile est sapere, & amare.
Love and Wisdom are not alwayes Twins;A loyal passion, and my bleeding sence
Of Injur'd Soveraignty and Innocence,
Transported then my Soul, so to discharge
Her just resentments; and foretell at large
A Change; the hanging of some Demagogues,
Bradshaw
and Cook.
Giving them genuine Characters of Rogues;
Which, since fulfill'd, Your Majesty, I see,
Dubb'd that gross speech, a kind of Prophecie.
My charge, and censure may in part appear
By the annex'd, which thousands can averr:
The Crime (forsooth) was publick, and look'd on
Unpresidented there, a monstrous one,
Which, Jealous Rebels, whom their Conscience rack't,
Thought, sure, was, with a Belgick Army back't,
Or rather
Irish wayting on their King;
From
Flanders streight all dangers hovering:
My person was secur'd, a perilous wight,
In labour with deep Kingish plots, to light
Now brought; so did they word it, then, of me;
Would I could merit that proud Elogy.
I wanted pow'r, but evidenc'd my will
Th'effects of their ombrages to fulfil.
[Page 15]And, as I fought by female dint of Tongue
Or Pen, to vindicate that horrid wrong:
The unexampled Murther of my Prince;
When other Arms, we had not for offence;
Had I
Brydreus's hundred hands to boot,
A Gyant-stature of a hundred foot
In each dimension, and
Alcides Club,
And strength; I would, in short, those Monsters grub,
Those poysons quell, whose
Luciferean pride
Murther'd one King, the other did proscribe.
But all I could, I did, not what I would;
God takes the hearts pure Incense, more than Gold,
Or Hecatombes; a richer Sacrifice
Than that, or what most precious, men do prize;
Life, fortune, goods, I could not offer you;
All which I stak'd, and fairly ventur'd too;
Nay Shipwrackt all almost upon one shelf,
By loyal gustes, I scarce survive my self:
From Prison, unto Prison, guardes did hale
Me, as a holocauste, prejudg'd by all
To their Protectors Shambles (such have been,
Where Cavallier-flesh did feast their spleen.)
Now the dire Pageants, all the
Plus terret pompa mortis, quam mors ipsa.
pomp of death,More dreadful than Death'self (our vital breath
Is oft exhal'd with ease) before me dwell,
And every Tongue became my Passing-bell:
At length they hurried me unto the Bar,
And strange Tribunal mixt of Peace and War;
I was Arraign'd, Convicted, and with sound
Of a Fanatick Verdict, guilty found;
Yet with vast charges, and what Friends could do,
In those extreams, my tender'd life, to wooe
[Page 16]With all the Charms, that to some mercy'encline
Obdured hearts; I, with a pondrous fine
And heavier mulcts, was form
[...]lly repriv'd
Beyond all hopes; yet malice so contriv'd
The sentence past; as men might call that doom
A dying life, or living Martyrdom:
For I have languisht, sans main-prize or bayl,
Whole years, a constant tennant to the Jayl;
(Such was my censure) to the huge decay
Of health and wealth, which melted all away;
Exhausted what I had, and what had not,
Sign'd bonds for sums, which yet I could not blot,
And pawn'd the Rubbish of my fortunes; down
Tumbled, before, in th' Ruins of the Crown.
My solace was the Justice of my Cause,
For King, and Kings Prerogatives and Laws;
When some that well remark't; and took the height
Of my great Persecutions, cause, and weight
Of circumstances, that attended these,
So signaliz'd in those
Neronian dayes,
Made sure account, some guerdon lay in store
For this; when God should our great
Charl's restore.
But I digress, such was my passive state,
Till
Oliver dropt hence b' a slugish fate;
And
Richard from Usurping, like his fire,
A Meteor faln, scarce dwindled to a squire;
Since have I chang'd the Scene, but not my woes;
London, a kind of splendid durance growes
To me; where more then thousand days did pass,
Whilst I these banks of Silver Thames do trace;
Wore out almost the pavements of
White-Hall,
Dancing attendance, gazing on the Wall;
[Page 17]My waiting, oft was paid with empty aire,
Though my pretensions, I thought, just and faire.
Papers on Papers, long since I have pil'd,
Petitions of my Tragick stories fil'd;
Yet, most times, that elaborat Address,
Was soon blown over, and but cold success;
Arachnes subtile textures in a Room,
Are thus confounded by the careless broom.
Due Reverence, long from your Princely ears
Stav'd off my plaints, the subject of my tears;
Whilst here a Rumper, there, Fanatick Elves
Did all the while,
par tort, possess themselves
Of my true Birth right; cultivate that clay,
My loyal Syres acquir'd a fairer way,
And whose fruition they design'd for me:
The Posthume shadow of their Familie.
Twelve tedious years with leaden wings are flown,
Since I, (
En queis conscevimus agros.
Virg. Ec.
That house, This soyl was once my own)Could make the burthen of my Song, tis time
I change that note, and say,
These now are mine;
If your poor Sufferers narrative, you rate,
As, to indulge that happiness,
Libertas, quae sera tamen, respexit inertem. ibid.
though late;Its true, long since, I got an Antipast
Of Grace; my name put on the Act that's past
For
Irelands Settlement; but tantaliz'd
My hopes were still, by those words;
till Repriz'd;
Remove from me (dread Soveraign) this spell,
Which your few Gratious lines can soon unspel;
For though my Fortunes deeply wounded lie,
Your hand hath balm, and healing faculty;
Which in some measure will effect their cure
If you vouchsafe subscribing, to secure
[Page 18]My Title; and what should result of that,
Possession, in the now bill; (which like fate
To me's uncertain) if you please to say
The word, Your Sage Committee will obey.
O sacred breath, that with one sound can heave
My Fortunes Resurrection from the Grave!
My suit's not great; the Giver dignifies,
What, otherwise, men slenderly might prize.
Stories relate, how, in that ancient time,
When Mantuan
Virgil in a Matachine
Of fate, was hurried from Estate, and Land;
(Like ours, that Transplantation, Authors brand)
Octavius gave his orders to restore
This
Titirus, with many favours more;
Sir, Y'are
Augustus like; but (ah) where's now
The Magick of great
Maro
[...]'s lines to move;
Caesar! look on the samness of our case,
Not on the different cloase, my home-spun phrase,
Which through the limbeck's not distill'd, or terse,
Like that refin'd, late modish flux of verse;
My Muse hath peccant humours; wants a leech,
Whose Mother-tongue's the quainter
English speech,
As tis not hers, who with cross fortune still
Wrastling; nev'r clammer'd up
Parnassus hill.
Titus, the darling of mankind, their grace;
Neminem oportet a Principis vultu tristem discedere.
Sueton.
Thought, none should from before the Princes faceIn sadness turn; O
Titus of our world,
Now that the
Irish Seas are to be curl'd
By my slow Oars; I hope, I shall not part
This awful presence with a down-cast heart;
My debts contracted here, are great; those things
That most oppress, next to the weight of sins;
[Page 19]Debts by three years attendance, were incurr'd,
Since I, for right, to this Fount-head recurr'd;
Which, if your bounty daigns, are soon defray'd;
To beg of Kings, is no ignoble trade,
Yet when tis practis'd least; a modest man,
Before he craves, his wants will strictly scan;
All I implore, tautologizing thus,
Is, but my old Estate, to pay those dues.
My sufferings signal were, so may they be
The objects of your Princely clemency;
And if with some compassion they affect
Your Royal breast; be pleas'd, of your elect
Restorable, among the Nominees
I may be one; (so
Jove, I hope, decrees;)
And your Petitioner will acquiesce
In Praying God, Your Majesty to bless.
FINIS.