Great Strafford! worthy of that name, though all Of thee could be forgotten, but thy fall, Crush'd by imaginary treason's weight, Which too much merit did acc.u.mulate.

As chemists gold from bra.s.s by fire would draw, Pretexts are into treason forged by law.

His wisdom such, at once it did appear Three kingdoms' wonder, and three kingdoms' fear; Whilst single he stood forth, and seem'd, although Each had an army, as an equal foe. 10 Such was his force of eloquence, to make The hearers more concern'd than he that spake; Each seem'd to act that part he came to see, And none was more a looker-on than he; So did he move our pa.s.sions, some were known To wish, for the defence, the crime their own.

Now private pity strove with public hate, Reason with rage, and eloquence with fate: Now they could him, if he could them, forgive; He's not too guilty, but too wise, to live: 20 Less seem those facts which treason's nickname bore, Than such a fear'd ability for more.

They after death their fears of him express, His innocence and their own guilt confess.

Their legislative frenzy they repent, Enacting it should make no precedent.

This fate he could have 'scaped, but would not lose Honour for life, but rather n.o.bly chose Death from their fears, than safety from his own, That his last action all the rest might crown. 30

ON MY LORD CROFT'S AND MY JOURNEY INTO POLAND,

FROM WHENCE WE BROUGHT 10,000 FOR HIS MAJESTY, BY THE DECIMATION OF HIS SCOTTISH SUBJECTS THERE.

1 Toll, toll, Gentle bell, for the soul Of the pure ones in Pole, Which are d.a.m.n'd in our scroll.

2 Who having felt a touch Of c.o.c.kram's greedy clutch, Which though it was not much, Yet their stubbornness was such,

3 That when we did arrive, 'Gainst the stream we did strive; They would neither lead nor drive;

4 Nor lend An ear to a friend, Nor an answer would send To our letter so well penn'd;

5 Nor a.s.sist our affairs With their moneys nor their wares, As their answer now declares, But only with their prayers.

6 Thus they did persist Did and said what they list, 'Till the Diet was dismiss'd; But then our breech they kiss'd.

7 For when It was moved there and then, They should pay one in ten, The Diet said, Amen.

8 And because they are both To discover the troth, They must give word and oath, Though they will forfeit both.

9 Thus the const.i.tution Condemns them every one, From the father to the son.

10 But John (Our friend) Mollesson Thought us to have outgone With a quaint invention.

11 Like the prophets of yore, He complain'd long before, Of the mischiefs in store, Ay, and thrice as much more;

12 And with that wicked lie, A letter they came by From our King's majesty.

13 But fate Brought the letter too late, 'Twas of too old a date To relieve their d.a.m.n'd state.

14 The letter's to be seen, With seal of wax so green, At Dantzig, where 't has been Turn'd into good Latin.

15 But he that gave the hint, This letter for to print, Must also pay his stint.

16 That trick, Had it come in the nick, Had touch'd us to the quick; But the messenger fell sick.

17 Had it later been wrote, And sooner been brought, They had got what they sought; But now it serves for nought.

18 On Sandys they ran aground, And our return was crown'd With full ten thousand pound.

ON MR THOMAS KILLIGREW'S RETURN FROM VENICE, AND MR WILLIAM MURREY'S FROM SCOTLAND.

1 Our resident Tom, From Venice is come, And hath left the statesman behind him; Talks at the same pitch, Is as wise, is as rich; And just where you left him, you find him.

2 But who says he was not A man of much plot, May repent that false accusation; Having plotted and penn'd Six plays, to attend The farce of his negotiation.

3 Before you were told How Satan[1] the old Came here with a beard to his middle; Though he changed face and name, Old Will was the same, At the noise of a can and a fiddle.

4 These statesmen, you believe, Send straight for the shrieve, For he is one too, or would be; But he drinks no wine, Which is a shrewd sign That all's not so well as it should be.

5 These three, when they drink, How little do they think Of banishment, debts, or dying?

Not old with their years, Nor cold with their fears; But their angry stars still defying.

6 Mirth makes them not mad, Nor sobriety sad; But of that they are seldom in danger; At Paris, at Rome, At the Hague, they're at home; The good fellow is no where a stranger.

[1] 'Satan': Mr. W. Murrey.

TO SIR JOHN MENNIS,

BEING INVITED FROM CALAIS TO BOULOGNE, TO EAT A PIG.

1 All on a weeping Monday, With a fat vulgarian sloven, Little admiral John To Boulogne is gone, Whom I think they call old Loven.

2 Hadst thou not thy fill of carting,[1]

Will Aubrey, Count of Oxon, When nose lay in breech, And breech made a speech, So often cried, A pox on?

3 A knight by land and water Esteem'd at such a high rate, When 'tis told in Kent, In a cart that he went, They'll say now, Hang him, pirate.

4 Thou might'st have ta'en example From what thou read'st in story; Being as worthy to sit On an ambling t.i.t As thy predecessor Dory.

5 But, oh, the roof of linen, Intended for a shelter!

But the rain made an a.s.s Of tilt and canvas, And the snow, which you know is a melter.

6 But with thee to inveigle That tender stripling Astcot, Who was soak'd to the skin, Through drugget so thin, Having neither coat nor waistcoat.

7 He being proudly mounted, Clad in cloak of Plymouth, Defied cart so base, For thief without grace, That goes to make a wry mouth.

8 Nor did he like the omen, For fear it might be his doom One day for to sing, With gullet in string, A hymn of Robert Wisdom.