A DIRGE. ROUGH wind, that moanest loud Wild wind, when sullen cloud Sad storm, whose tears are vain, Wail, for the world's wrong. * Qy. strain? CHARLES THE FIRST. A FRAGMENT. ACT I. SCENE. I.-The Pageant to celebrate the arrival of the Queen. A PURSUIVANT. PLACE for the Marshal of the Masque ! FIRST SPEAKER. What thinkest thou of this quaint masque, which turns Like morning from the shadow of the night, Of peace and joy? SECOND SPEAKER. And Hell to Heaven. Eight years are gone, And they seem hours, since in this populous street That sin and wrongs wound as an orphan's cry. The patience of the great Avenger's ear. THIRD SPEAKER (a youth.) Yet, father, 'tis a happy sight to see, By God or man ;-'tis like the bright possession From which men wake as from a paradise, And draw new strength to tread the thorns of life. If God be good, wherefore should this be evil? And if this be not evil, dost thou not draw Unseasonable poison from the flowers Which bloom so rarely in this barren world? O, kill these bitter thoughts which make the present Dark as the future! When avarice and tyranny, vigilant fear, As on Hell's threshold; and all gentle thoughts SECOND SPEAKER. How young art thou in this old age of time! How green in this gray world! Canst thou not think Of change in that low scene, in which thou art Not a spectator, but an actor? The day that dawns in fire will die in storms, * FIRST SPEAKER. Is the Archbishop. That SECOND SPEAKER. Rather say the Pope. London will be soon his Rome: he walks ANOTHER CITIZEN (lifting up his eyes.) Good Lord! rain it down upon him. Amid her ladies walks the papist queen As if her nice feet scorned our English earth. There's old Sir Henry Vane, the Earl of Pem broke, Lord Essex, and Lord Keeper Coventry, And others who made base their English breed By vile participation of their honours With papists, atheists, tyrants, and apostates. FOURTH SPEAKER (a pursuivant.) Give place, give place! You torch-bearers, advance to the great gate, FIFTH SPEAKER (a law-student.) What thinkest thou Of this quaint show of ours, my aged friend? FIRST SPEAKER. I will not think but that our country's wounds May yet be healed. The king is just and gracious Though wicked councils now pervert his will: These once cast off SECOND SPEAKER. As adders cast their skins And keep their venom, so kings often change; Like the base patchwork of a leper's rag. THIRD SPEAKER. Oh, still those dissonant thoughts-List, loud music Grows on the enchanted air! And see, the torches |