In whom all virtues we concentred see Which 'mongst the best of them divided be. O weak-built glories! which those tempests feel! To force you from your firmest bases reel, What from the strokes of Chance shall you secure, When rocks of Innocence are so unsure? When the World's only mirror slaughter'd lies, Envy's and Treason's bleeding sacrifice; As if His stock of goodness could become No kalendar, but that of martyrdom. 60 See now, ye cursed mountebanks of State, Who have eight years for reformations sate; [Sidenote: _Call'd the Council of Troubles._] You who dire Alva's counsels did transfer, To act his scenes on England's theatre; You who did pawn yourselves in public faith To slave the Kingdom by your pride and wrath; Call the whole World to witness now, how just, How well you are responsive to your trust, How to your King the promise you perform, With fasts, and sermons, and long prayers sworn, 70 That you intended Peace and Truth to bring To make your Charles _Europe's most glorious King_. [Sidenote: _The form of taking the Covenant_, June 1643.] Did you for this _Lift up your hands on high_, To kill the King, and pluck down Monarchy? These are the fruits by your wild faction sown, Which not imputed are, but born your own: For though you wisely seem to wash your hands, The guilt on every vote and order stands; So that convinc'd, from all you did before, Justice must lay the murder at your door. 80 Mark if the body does not bleed anew, In any circumstance approach'd by You, From whose each motion we might plain descry The black ostents of this late tragedy. For when the King, through storms in Scotland bred, To his Great Council for his shelter fled, When in that meeting every error gain'd Redresses sooner granted than complain'd: Not all those frank concessions or amends Did suit the then too powerful faction's ends: 90 No acts of Grace at present would content, Nor promise of Triennial Parl'ament, Till by a formal law the King had past This Session should at Your pleasure last. So having got the bit, and that 'twas known No power could dissolve You but Your own, Your graceless Junto make such use of this, [Sidenote: _Diodorus Siculus_, lib. 2.]