Classic Poem

Why I sit sighing here ask me no more
My Sacred Soveraigns thraldom I deplore
Just Nemesis (whom they pretend to Adore)

Put on thy Sable blood-besprinkled Gown
And thy or'e flowing vengence thunder Doun
On these Usurpers of our Caesar's Crown

They have his Sacred Person now in hold
They have their king, and Countrey bought and sould
And hope of Glory, all for Cursed Gold

Then seeing they eternity thus sleight
Let Acharons fierce Ishew them afright
Till endles horrour doth their souls benight

Then let our Job like Saint rise from the Ground
For Piety and Patience soe renownd
That for the best of kings hee may be Crownd

Then ask noe more why I'm in tears dissolv'd
Whilst our Good King with sorrow is involv'd
To pray and weep for him I am resolv'd.