The Cavalier

By Alex. Brome.—(1661–2.)

We have ventured our estates,
   And our liberties and lives,
For our master and his mates,
And been toss’d by cruel fates
   Where the rebellious Devil drives,
   So that not one of ten survives;
      We have laid all at stake
      For his Majesty’s sake;
      We have fought, we have paid,
      We’ve been sold and betray’d,
And tumbled from nation to nation;
      But now those are thrown down
      That usurped the Crown,
      Our hopes were that we
      All rewarded should be,
But we’re paid with a Proclamation.

Now the times are turn’d about,
   And the rebels’ race is run;
That many-headed beast the Rout,
That did turn the Father out,
      When they saw they were undone,
      Were for bringing in the son.
         That phanatical crew,
         Which made us all rue,
         Have got so much wealth
         By their plunder and stealth
That they creep into profit and power:
         And so come what will,
         They’ll be uppermost still;
         And we that are low
         Shall still be kept so,
While those domineer and devour.

Yet we will be loyal still,
   And serve without reward or hire:
To be redeem’d from so much ill,
May stay our stomachs, though not still,
   And if our patience do not tire,
   We may in time have our desire.