Britannia and Raleigh.

Britannia. AH! Raleigh, when thou didst thy breath resign
To trembling James, would I had quitted mine.
Cubs didst thou call them? Hadst thou seen this brood
Of earls, and dukes, and princes of the blood,
No more of Scottish race thou would'st complain,
These would be blessings in this spurious reign.
Awake, arise from thy long blest repose,
Once more with me partake of mortal woes!
Raleigh, What mighty power has forced me from my rest?
Oh! mighty queen, why so untimely dressed?
Britannia. Favoured by night, concealed in this disguise,
Whilst the lewd Court in drunken slumber lies,
I stole away, and never will return,
Till England knows who did her city burn;
Till cavaliers shall favourites be deemed,
And loyal sufferers by the Court esteemed;
Till Lee and Galloway shall bribes reject;
Thus Osborne's golden cheat I shall detect:
Till atheist Lauderdale shall leave this land,
And Commons' votes shall cut-nose guards disband:
Till Kate a happy mother shall become,
Till Charles loves Parliaments, and James hates Rome.
Raleigh. What fatal crimes make you for ever fly
Your once loved Court, and martyr's progeny?
Britannia. A colony of French possess the Court;
Pimps, priests, buffoons, in privy-chamber sport.
Such slimy monsters ne'er approached a throne
Since Pharaoh's days, nor so defiled a crown.
In sacred ear tyrannic arts they croak,
Pervert his mind, and good intentions choke;
Tell him of golden Indies, fairy lands,
Leviathan, and absolute commands.
Thus, fairy-like, the King they steal away,
And. in his room a changeling Lewis lay.
How oft have I him to himself restored,
In's left the scale, in's right hand placed the sword?
Taught him their use, what dangers would ensue
To them who strive to separate these two?
The bloody Scottish chronicle read o'er,
Showed him how many kings, in purple gore,
Were hurled to hell, by cruel tyrant lore?
The other day famed Spenser I did bring,
In lofty notes Tudor's blest race to sing;
How Spain's proud powers her virgin arms controlled,
And golden days in peaceful order rolled;
How like ripe fruit she dropped from off her throne,
Full of gray hairs, good deeds, and great renown.
As the Jessean hero did appease
Saul's stormy rage, and stopped his black disease,
So the.learned bard, with artful song, suppressed
The swelling passion of his cankered breast,
And in his heart kind influences shed
Of country's love, by truth and justice bred.
Then to perform the cure so well begun,
To him I showed this glorious setting sun;
How, by her people's looks pursued from far,
She mounted on a bright celestial car,
Outshining Virgo, or the Julian star.
Whilst in Truth's mirror this good scene he spied,
Entered a dame, bedecked with spotted pride,
Fair flower-de-luce within an azure field;
Her left hand bears the ancient Gallic shield,
By her usurped; her right a bloody sword,
Inscribed Leviathan, our sovereign Lord;
Her towery front a fiery meteor bears,
An exhalation bred of blood and tears;
Around her Jove's lewd ravenous curs complain,
Pale Death, Lust, tortures, fill her pompous train;
She from the easy King Truth's mirror took,
And on the ground in spiteful fall it broke;
Then frowning thus, with proud disdain she spoke:
" Are thread-bare virtues ornaments for kings?
Such poor pedantic toys teach underlings.
Do monarchs rise by virtue, or by sword?
Whoe'er grew great by keeping of his word?
Virtue's a faint green-sickness to brave souls,
Dastards their hearts, their active heat controls.
The rival gods, monarchs of t' other world,
This mortal poison among princes hurled,
Fearing the mighty projects of the great
Should drive them from their proud celestial seat,
If not o'erawed by this new holy cheat.
Those pious frauds, too slight to ensnare the brave,
Are proper arts the long-eared rout to enslave.
Bribe hungry priests to deify your might,
To teach your will's your only rule to right,
And sound damnation to all dare deny 't.
Thus Heaven's designs 'gainst Heaven you shall turn,
And make them fear those powers they once did scorn.
When all the gobbling interest of mankind,
By hirelings sold to you, shall be resigned,
And by impostures, God and man betrayed,
The church and state you safely may invade;
So boundless Lewis in full glory shines,
Whilst your starved power in legal fetters pines.
Shake off those baby-bands from your strong arms,
Henceforth be deaf to that old witch's charms;
Taste the delicious sweets of sovereign power,
'Tis royal game whole kingdoms to deflower.
Three spotless virgins to your bed I'll bring,
A sacrifice to you, their God and king.
As these grow stale, we'll harass human kind,
Rack nature, till new pleasures you shall find,
Strong as your reign, and beauteous as your mind."
When she had spoke, a confused murmur rose,
Of French, Scotch. Irish, all my mortal foes;
Some English too, O shame! disguised I spied,
Led all by the wise son-in-law of Hyde.
With fury drunk, like bacchanals, they roar,
Down with that common Magna Charta whore!
With joint consent on helpless me they flew,
And from my Charles to a base gaol me drew;
My reverend age exposed to scorn and shame,
To prigs, bawds, whores, was made the public game.
Frequent addresses to my Charles I send,
And my sad state did to his care commend;
But his fair soul, transformed by that French dame,
Had lost all sense of honour, justice, fame.
Like a tame spinster in's seraigle he sits,
Besieged by whores, buffoons, and bastard chits;
Lulled in security, rolling in lust,
Resigns his crown to angel Carwell's trust;
Her creature O[sbor]ne the revenue steals;
False Finch, knave Anglesey misguide the seals.
Mac -James the Irish bigots does adore,
His French and Teague command on sea and shore.
The Scotch-scalado of our Court two isles,
False Lauderdale, with ordure, all defiles.
Thus the state's nightmared by this hellish rout,
And no one left these furies to cast out.
Ah! Vindex come, and purge the poisoned state;
Descend, descend, ere the cure's desperate.
Raleigh. Once more, great queen, thy darling strive to save,
Snatch him again from scandal and the grave;
Present to's thoughts his long-scorned Parliament,
The basis of his throne and government.
In his deaf ears sound his dead father's name;
Perhaps that spell may's erring soul reclaim:
Who knows what good effects from thence may spring?
'Tis godlike good to save a falling king.
Britannia. Raleigh, no more, for long in vain I've tried
The Stuart from the tyrant to divide;
As easily learned virtuosos may
With the dog's blood his gentle kind convey
Into the wolf, and make him guardian turn
To the bleating flock, by him so lately torn:
If this imperial juice once taint his blood,
'Tis by no potent antidote withstood.
Tyrants, like leprous kings, for public weal
Should be immured, lest the contagion steal
Over the whole. The elect of the Jessean line
To this firm law their sceptre did resign;
And shall this base tyrannic brood invade
Eternal laws, by God for mankind made?
To the serene Venetian state I'll go,
From her sage mouth famed principles to know;
With her the prudence of the ancients read,
To teach my people in their steps to tread;
By their great pattern such a state I'll frame,
Shall eternize a glorious lasting name.
Till then, my Raleigh, teach our noble youth
To love sobriety, and holy truth;
Watch and preside over their tender age,
Lest Court corruption should their souls engage;
Teach them how arts, and arms, in thy young days,
Employed our youth, — not taverns, stews, and plays;
Tell them the generous scorn their race does owe
To flattery, pimping, and a gaudy show;
Teach them to scorn the Carwells, Portsmouths, Nells,
The Clevelands, O[sbor]nes, Berties, Lauderdales:
Poppaea, Tigelline, and Asteria's name,
All yield to these in lewdness, lust, and fame.
Make them admire the Talbots, Sydneys, Veres,
Drake, Cavendish, Blake, men void of slavish fears,
True sons of glory, pillars of the state,
On whose famed deeds all tongues and writers wait.
When with fierce ardour their bright souls do burn,
Back to my dearest country I'll return.
Tarquin's just judge, and Caesar's equal peers,
With them I'll bring to dry my people's tears;
Publicola with healing hands shall pour
Balm in their wounds, and shall their life restore;
Greek arts, and Roman arms, in her conjoined,
Shall England raise, relieve oppressed mankind.
As Jove's great son the infested globe did free
From noxious monsters, hell-born tyranny,
So shall my England, in a holy war,
In triumph lead chained tyrants from afar;
Her true Crusado shall at last pull down
The Turkish crescent and the Persian sun.
Freed by thy labours, fortunate, blest isle,
The earth shall rest, the Heaven shall on thee smile;
And this kind secret for reward shall give,
No poisonous serpent on the earth shall live.