Like that our painted ancestors so prized, Ere empire's arts their breasts had civilized. How great were then our Charles' woes, who thus Was forced to suffer for himself and us! 50 He, tost by fate, and hurried up and down, Heir to his father's sorrows, with his crown, Could taste no sweets of youth's desired age, But found his life too true a pilgrimage. Unconquer'd yet in that forlorn estate, His manly courage overcame his fate. His wounds he took, like Romans, on his breast, Which by his virtue were with laurels drest. As souls reach Heaven while yet in bodies pent, So did he live above his banishment. 60 That sun, which we beheld with cozen'd eyes Within the water, moved along the skies. How easy 'tis, when destiny proves kind, With full-spread sails to run before the wind! But those that 'gainst stiff gales laveering go, Must be at once resolved and skilful too. He would not, like soft Otho,[18] hope prevent, But stay'd, and suffer'd fortune to repent. These virtues Galba[19] in a stranger sought, And Piso to adopted empire brought. 70 How shall I then my doubtful thoughts express, That must his sufferings both regret and bless? For when his early valour Heaven had cross'd; And all at Worcester but the honour lost; Forced into exile from his rightful throne, He made all countries where he came his own; And viewing monarchs' secret arts of sway, A royal factor for his kingdoms lay. Thus banish'd David spent abroad his time, When to be God's anointed was his crime; 80 And when restored, made his proud neighbours rue Those choice remarks he from his travels drew. Nor is he only by afflictions shown To conquer other realms, but rule his own: Recovering hardly what he lost before, His right endears it much; his purchase more. Inured to suffer ere he came to reign, No rash procedure will his actions stain: To business, ripen'd by digestive thought, His future rule is into method brought: 90 As they who first proportion understand, With easy practice reach a master's hand. Well might the ancient poets then confer On Night the honour'd name of Counsellor, Since, struck with rays of prosperous fortune blind, We light alone in dark afflictions find. In such adversities to sceptre train'd, The name of Great his famous grandsire[20] gain'd: Who yet a king alone in name and right, With hunger, cold, and angry Jove did fight; 100 Shock'd by a covenanting league's vast powers, As holy and as catholic as ours: Till fortune's fruitless spite had made it known, Her blows, not shook, but riveted, his throne.