University of Virginia Library

This age hath got the knack to over Doe
The Law With Coffin and with Cradle too.
They Consecrate in France their burying place
And Wash their Dead and some with songs of Grace
Are had unto their Graves. Thus Chrotild Queen.
Some do their dead with Ornaments make seen
Wax Candles ore their Graves instead of Light
Are supplements to Eyes bereav'd of sight.
Glosvint another Queen lost by the Sun
Had such a globe of Light over her hung.
And yet this apish age delights to tare
The Dead out of their tombs to give them aire.
Saint Martins bones, Saint Julians too up turn'd
And in Saint Martins Church at Tours are urnd.
Saint Antony the Monk out of his grave
They summon Alexandria to save
Euphemia's relicks in a Marble bowle
Chacidon keeps as body beds the Soule
And Stephens Reliques being founde by Chance
Are had about and unto Rome do dance.
Elisha's bones in Alexandria
And Barnabas his Body found they say
With th'Gospell by his own hand pend are brought
In such a brightness there to rest its thought.
Pope Gregory sends a Little key found in
Peter th'Apostles Corps unto the King
Richard Wisigoth, having within't
Some of his Chain, what doth his headship think?
Also a Cross with some of Christs Cross wood
And of John Baptists hair in't, Not his hood.
Byzants brave Temple in a golden pot
The Virgins Vest, Vaile, Girdle too hath got
Nay Gregory the Great that bears that style
Not undeservedly Can't Choose but smile
Finding a spring of Holy Relicks lies
In's Holy Throne stopt by his bum out flies
When up again when's brich hath it enfumde
And raised by the breath that thence presum'de
Hence Saint Johns Coat, Pauls Chain his neck did ware
And Handkerchiefs, Nay Coate, Hood Chaine rich fair,
Of Peter fall into his hands. More still
A Bunch of Keyes found out by pritty skill
In Peters sacred Body put in's hand
And he profuse thereof (as matters stand)
Sends eight thereof as tokens rich to those
He honourd much. Sure Peter wealthy shows
He had so many Keyes: or hungry were
And had good teeth, or broake them out, I fear,
Or had a mighty swallow t'live on steel
Or kept a locksmith in his secret keele
He had so many keyes within. I thinke
His Holiness lest he should wronge his Clink
Kept most himselfe, or one the best of all,
Lest that his Fatherhood should from him fall.

But leaving dead mens bones a stincking stuff
We finde them trick their shaddows out enough
In Colours fair and picturde upon Walls
Of Temples and Pope Gregory out balls
At one good man that brake them down for fear
Lest they proove shooing horns of sinfull geer.

But to attend the soule that left behinde
The shell for Worms, This age hath it injoyn'd
To Call at Purgatory in its way
And all its Counts to just, and recknings pay.
A count is dropt of two arch Linguist-Nuns
From Gregorys Quill that Benit quickly thums
Out of the Church: They die Extraniate
And buri'd in the Church when feld by fate.
The Deacon at Comunion time thus spake
Let such depart that are not to partake
These buride Linguists hearing up arise
And trudg away, the which their nurse espies
And hints it Benit. He her bread gave she
Doth Offerings make for them: and stilld they bee.
The Centumcellan Ghost by prayers and Mass
Him gave from Purgatory fire a pass.

And such as are by Prayer and mass away
From Purgatory halld as wracks by sea
Are with a rope, when got to heaven bright
Are made to bee small Gods with no small might.
Now prayers are pourd out in their Cup and they
Must friends in th'Court their purses penny stay
Thodeliad makes John Baptist's Temple fair
That she and th'Longbards might injoy his prayer
And Intercession unto Christ. Now Cries
Of Lombards pray'res his Worthy ears annoyes
Hence prayers to Saints and Angells do throng in
Making them Inter-Cessors to our king:
And prayers are made hereby at this rich day
At Dead mens Graves. Oh! Stincking sent this way.
John Baptists day, Peters and Andrews too
Pauls, Cyprians, Felix, from their eggs now flew
The Ladie-Dayes now bud Justinian
And Maurice hatcht them. Now also up sprang
The Lenton feast and the Rogation day
By Mamert of Vien, Alcame doth say.