You must protect those you have rear'd,
Or sink beneath their weight.

KING CHARLES IN HIS COFFIN.

Singing with angels near the throne
Of the Almighty Three
I sit, and know perdition
(Base Cromwell) waits on thee,
And on thy vile associates:
Twelve months (35) shall full conclude
Your power - thus speak the powerful fates,
Then VADES your interlude.

THE PEOPLE IN THE PIT.

Yea, powerful fates, haste, haste the time,
The most auspicious day,
On which these monsters of our time
To hell must post away.
Meanwhile, so pare their sharpen'd claws,
And so impair their stings,
We may no more fight for the Cause
Or other NOVEL things!



Ballad: A Short Litany For The Year 1649