Charing-croß, as it stood before the civil wars, was one of those beautiful Gothic obelisks erected to conjugal affection by Edward I, who built fuch a one wherever the herse of his beloved Eleanor refted in its way from Lincolnshire to Westminster. But neither its ornamental fituation, the beau ty of its structure, nor the noble defign of its erection ( which did honour to humanity), could preserve it from the merciless zeal of the times: For in 164. it was demolished by order of the House of Commons, as popish and Superftitious. This occafioned the following not-unhumorous farcafm, which has been often printed among the popular Sonnets of those times.

The plot referred to in ver. 17, was that entered into by Mr. Waller the poet, and others, with a view to reduce the city and tower to the Service of the king; for which two of them, Nath. Tomkins, and Rich. Chaloners, fuffered death July 5. 1643. Vid. Ath. Ox. II. 24.

UNdone, undone the lawyers are, i

They wander about the towne, vot
Nor can find the way to Westminster,bo l
Now Charing-cross is downe:

T

At

At the end of the Strand, they make a stand,
Swearing they are at a lofs,

And chaffing say, that's not the way,
They must go by Charing - cross.

S

The parliament to vote it down

Conceived it very fitting,

For fear it fhould fall, and kill them all,
In the house, as they were fitting.
They were told god-wot, it had a plot,
Which made them fo hard-hearted,
To give command, it should not ftand,
But be taken down and carted.

Men talk of plots, this might have been worfe

For any thing I know,

Than that Tomkins, and Chaloner

Were hang'd for long agoe.

Our parliament did that prevent,
And wifely them defended,

For plots they will difcover ftill,
Before they were intended.

10

20

This excellent old song is preserved in David Lloyd's "Memoires of those that fuffered in the cause of Charles I. Lond. 1668. fol. p. 96. He Speaks of it as the compofition of a worthy perfonage, who suffered deeply in those times, and was still living with no other reward than the conscience of having fuffered. The author's name he has not mentioned.

Some mistakes in Lloyd's copy are corrected by two others, one in MS. the other in Westminster Drollery, or a choice collection of Songs and poems, 1671. 12mo.

BEAT

BEAT on, proud billows ;-Boreas blow;

Swell, curled waves, high as Jove's roof;

Your incivility doth fhow,

That innocence is tempeft proof;

Though furly Nereus frown, my thoughts are calm;
Then strike, Affliction, for thy wounds are balm.

That which the world mifcalls a jail,

A private closet is to me:

Whilft a good confcience is my bail,

And innocence my liberty:

Locks, bars, and folitude together met,
Make me no prifoner, but an anchorèt.

2

I, whilft I wifht to be retir'd, ..
Into this private room, was turn'd;
As if their wifdoms had confpir'd

The falamander fhould be burn'd;

Or like those fophifts, that would drown a fish,
I a constrain'd to fuffer what I wifh.

The cynick loves his povertys TI

The pelican her wilderness;

And 'tis the Indian's pride to be

Naked on frozen Caucafus : Contentment cannot fmart, ftoicks we fee Make torments eafie to their apathy.

Thefe manacles upon my arm

I, as my miftrefs' favours, wear; And for to keep my ancles warm,

1

I have fome iron fhackles there:
Thefe walls are but my garrifon; this cell,
Which men call jail, doth prove my citadel.

Am cloyfter'd up from publick fight: Retirement is a piece of majesty,

And thus, proud fultan, I'm as great as thee.

Here fin for want of food must starve,
Where tempting objects are not feen;

And these strong walls do only serve

To keep vice out, and keep me in:
Malice of late's grow charitable fure,
I'm not committed, but I'm kept fecure.

So he that ftruck at Jafon's life,

Thinking t' have made his purpose fure,

By a malicious friendly knife

Did only wound him to a cure:

Malice, I fee, wants wit; for what is meant
Mischief, oftimes proves favour by th' event.

When once my prince affliction hath,
Prosperity doth treason seem;

And to make fmooth fo rough a path,

I can learn patience from him:

Now not to fuffer fhews no loyal heart,

When kings want eafe fubjects must bear a part.

What though I cannot fee my king

Neither in perfon or in coin,

Yet contemplation is a thing,

That renders what I have not, mine: My king from me what adamant can part, Whom I do wear engraven on my heart?