By your delusions to the scaffold led,
Martyr'd by you, a royal CHARLES has bled.
Teach then, ye sycophants! O! teach his son,
The gloomy paths of tyranny to shun;
Teach him to prize Religion's sacred claim,
Teach him how Virtue leads to honest fame,
How Freedom's wreath a monarch's brows adorns,
Nor, basely sawning, plant his couch with thorns.
Point to his view his people's love alone,
The solid basis of his stedfast throne;
Chosen by them their dearest rights to guard,
The bad to punish, and the good reward,
Clement and just let him the sceptre sway,
And willing subjects shall with pride obey,
Shall vie to execute his high commands,
His throne their hearts, his sword and shield their hands.