Classic Poem

Sr: My humble Muse Sad, and in lonely State
On various things doth meekly Contemplate
And now presumes to give Her sober Sence
Of what She deemes concerns your Excellence.
Yet some perhaps more gratefull might Reveale
What they thr├┤ fear, or bye Respects Conseale.
When Erst that Noble Bassa dar'd to tell
The Grand Amurath (plaine) he did not well
T' Omit his great Affaires of State (unarm'd)
Was by the Beauty of his Captive Charm'd;
On which (adds he) your Vassalls all amated,
Say you your Ancestors han't Imitated;
In Glorious Atchievements.
And now Great Sir, my loyalty Comands
Me thus to put my life into your hands:
To act towards me as you please at Leasure
I humbly Bow unto your Royall Pleasure.
Thus Said, the Sultan gravely did Reply,
I pardon this thy Bold Temerity;
And thee Comand forth with the Estates Convene
And thou shalt Shortly see another Seene.
Then why may'nt I by way of Imitation
Speak Truth to you, th├┤ in a lower Station
And thr├┤ unfeined love presume to Say
What may be usefull unto you this Day:
Who am your faithfull Servant, (th├┤ forsaken)
Your Excellence hath not fitt Measures taken;
In the due Conduct of your Government,
Which has Occasiond so much discontent
Among your people: if you they have not hated,
Yet to your Self, their Love is much abated;
I need not name particulars, They Strang
In Church and Comon weale there's such a Chang
Made, and Endeavour'd, in so Short a Space
Which threatens all Our Priviledge to Rase;
And if Accomplished would surely then:
Cause us to Cease to be Right Englishman.

Now if you think these Hints proceed from mee
I doe assure you tis Vox Populi:
And if I miss not much in my Account
If you persist therein, 'Twill you Dismount;
Sure Wisest Princes all Endeavours prove
To gaine and keep their loyall Subjects Love
For as Lord Burleigh to that Queen said do
But gaine their Hearts, you've hands, and purses to.
And that wise Queen in working Reformation,
Wrought gradually, not Sudden Alteration.
And tis a Rule to which all men Consent,
That violent motions are not Permanent.
And he that manageth Affaires of State
Had need beware, he Don't Precipitate.

You know what Phoebus Said to Phaeton,
When he would Rule the Chariot of the Sun:
Me Imitate, the Tracts thy wheeles will guide
For bear the whip, and doe not over Ride.

And now, Sir, Th├┤ my life's not in your hand,
Yet is my welfare much at your Comand:
Zeale me incites these Memoires (as tis meet)
To lay them at your Excellencys feet;
It may perhaps Displease, if so it do
Sure love and honour me Constraines thereto:
And I Remember what the Wiseman Sed,
Tis better be Reprov'd, than flattered;
And he more favouer afterwards shall finde
Than he that Sailes with Every Blast of winde
But if to speak the Truth be Deem'd a Crime,
We may conclude it is an Evil time.

From him who honoureth your Excellence
Th├┤ not Regarded with that Recompence
John Saffin

or

From him th├┤ Aged, is not whimsey Pated,
Or prone to Dote, nor Supernnuated.