Classic Poem

Under 500 kings three kingdoms groan:
Go Finch, dissolve them, Charles is in the throne
And by the grace of God will reign alone.
What would the Commons have? The royal line
Heav'n does dispose of: 'Tis not theirs nor mine,
But His by whom kings rule and are divine.
I represent the King of Kings, who gave
The crown, the sword, the scepter, what I have;
I am God's servant, not the people's slave.
Their frantic votes and mad resolves I hate;
I know a better way to heal a state
Than to sin rashly and repent too late.
Bid them be gone, Finch! They are damned uncivil
To oblige me to follow them to the devil;
To save three kingdoms I will not do evil.
The Presbyterians, sick of too much freedom,
Are ripe for Bethle'm. It's high time to bleed'em:
The second Charles does neither fear nor need'em.
I'll have the world know that I can dissipate
Those impolitic mushrooms of our state;
'Tis easier to dissolve than to create.
They shan't cramp justice with their feigned flaws;
For, since I govern only by the laws,
Why they should be exempt I see no cause.
To the laws they must submit. 'Tis in vain
E'er to attempt to shake off those again;
For where Charles commands there must justice reign.
When the people's father does espouse the law,
All those subjects from their duty draw
Do viper-like through parent's bosom gnaw.
When they attend me next, Finch, bid them bring
Calmer thoughts. Bid them propose legal things,
Such as may both become themselves and kings.
This will the joys of our little world complete,
And all attempts of foreign foes defeat,
Making the people happy, monarch great.