Oh what a glorious State have we!

Yet do not joy too much, my friends,
First see how well this pardon ends;
For though it hath a glorious face,
I fear there's in't but little grace.

'Tis said the mountains once brought forth, -
And what brought they? a mouse, in troth;
Our States have done the like, I doubt,
In this their pardon now set out.

We'll look it o'er, then, if you please,
And see wherein it brings us ease:
And first, it pardons words, I find,
Against our State - words are but wind.

Hath any pray'd for th' King of late,
And wish'd confusion to our State?
And call'd them rebels? He may come in
And plead this pardon for that sin.

Has any call'd King Charles that's dead
A martyr - he that lost his head?
And villains those that did the fact?
That man is pardon'd by this Act.

Hath any said our Parliament
I such a one as God ne'er sent?
Or hath he writ, and put in print,