None can Complain, I Justice have delay'd:
My Clemency, and Mercy has been shown,
Blood, and Revenge did ne'r pollute my Throne;
I and my People happy, kindly strove,
Which should exceed, my Mercy or their Love:
Who, till of late, more ready were to give
Supplies to me, than I was to receive.
Oh! happy days, and oh! unhappy change;
That makes my _Sanhedrims_, and my people strange,
And now, when I am in the Throne grown old,
With grief I see my Subjects Love prove cold.
They fear not my known Mercy to offend,
And with my awful Justice dare contend;
But yet their Crimes my mercy shan't asswage,
I'm ready to forgive th' offending Age,
And though they should my Kingly power slight,
I'le still keep for them my forgiving right.
I feel a tenderness within me spring,
I am my Peoples Father, and their King,
And tho I think, they may have done me wrong.
I can't remember their offences long.
Nature is mov'd, and sues for a Reprieve,
They are my Children, and I must forgive.
My many jealous fears I shan't repeat,
My Heart with a strong pulse of Love doth beat;
Nature I feel has made a sudden start,
And a fresh source springs from the Father's heart.
A stubborn Bow, drawn by the force of men,
The force remov'd, flies swifty back agen.
'Tis hard a Fathers nature to o'ercome,