122
COWLEY'S POEMS.
That God had no intent t'extinguish quite
The pious king's eclipsed right.
He who had seen how by the Power Divine
All the young branches of this royal line
Did in their fire, without consuming, shine—
How through a rough Red-sea they had been led,
By wonders guarded, and by wonders fed—
How many years of trouble and distress
They'd wander'd in their fatal wilderness,
And yet did never murmur or repine;—
Might, methinks, plainly understand,
That, after all these conquer'd trials past,
Th' Almighty mercy would at last
Conduct them with a strong unerring hand
To their own Promis'd Land:
For all the glories of the earth
Ought to be entail'd by right of birth;
And all Heaven's blessings to come down
Upon his race, to whom alone was given
The double royalty of earth and heaven;
Who crown'd the kingly with the martyrs' crown.
The pious king's eclipsed right.
He who had seen how by the Power Divine
All the young branches of this royal line
Did in their fire, without consuming, shine—
How through a rough Red-sea they had been led,
By wonders guarded, and by wonders fed—
How many years of trouble and distress
They'd wander'd in their fatal wilderness,
And yet did never murmur or repine;—
Might, methinks, plainly understand,
That, after all these conquer'd trials past,
Th' Almighty mercy would at last
Conduct them with a strong unerring hand
To their own Promis'd Land:
For all the glories of the earth
Ought to be entail'd by right of birth;
And all Heaven's blessings to come down
Upon his race, to whom alone was given
The double royalty of earth and heaven;
Who crown'd the kingly with the martyrs' crown.
The martyrs' blood was said of old to be
The seed from whence the Church did grow.
The royal blood which dying Charles did sow
Becomes no less the seed of royalty:
'T was in dishonour sown;
We find it now in glory grown,
The grave could but the dross of it devour;
"'T was sown in weakness, and 't is rais'd in power."
The seed from whence the Church did grow.
The royal blood which dying Charles did sow
Becomes no less the seed of royalty:
'T was in dishonour sown;
We find it now in glory grown,
The grave could but the dross of it devour;
"'T was sown in weakness, and 't is rais'd in power."
