 | Vulgus Britannicus |  |
49
2. Part the Second.
53
CANTO V. The burning of the Clock, and the Speech of a Holy Brother to the Poor Machine, before it was committed to the Devouring Flames.
The growing Flame now thriv'd apace,
And spread its Lustre round the place.
In Ruffling Sheets arose on high,
And stain'd with Red the Distant Sky;
That Learn'd Astrologers might know,
By th' Heav'ns what was done below;
And in the Bright Reflexion see,
The Graceless Rabble's Cruelty;
Who danc'd and hollow'd round the Flame,
And loudly glory'd in their Shame;
Whilst fiery Flakes and Sparks were cast,
From Crackling Planks that spit their last
Upon their Sweaty Heads and Faces,
Who'd torn them from their Sacred Places;
So Foxes when they're weary grown,
And by the Dogs quite hunted down;
At last when all Resistance fails,
They Dung and Piss upon their Tails,
And dying, whisk it in the Eyes
Of their voracious Enemies.
And spread its Lustre round the place.
In Ruffling Sheets arose on high,
And stain'd with Red the Distant Sky;
54
By th' Heav'ns what was done below;
And in the Bright Reflexion see,
The Graceless Rabble's Cruelty;
Who danc'd and hollow'd round the Flame,
And loudly glory'd in their Shame;
Whilst fiery Flakes and Sparks were cast,
From Crackling Planks that spit their last
Upon their Sweaty Heads and Faces,
Who'd torn them from their Sacred Places;
So Foxes when they're weary grown,
And by the Dogs quite hunted down;
At last when all Resistance fails,
They Dung and Piss upon their Tails,
And dying, whisk it in the Eyes
Of their voracious Enemies.
As the proud Flames the fiercer grew,
Around the Pile more Rabble drew;
Rattling their Broomslaves, and their Clubs,
That Foes might dread their Knocks and Drubs;
Expressing in a Gen'ral Voice,
Their mutual Madness and their Joys,
Jossling and thumping one another,
In Jest, to try each Hardy Brother;
That they might guess by this their Clubbing,
Who would, or would not stand a drubbing;
In case that they should meet and squabble,
With some resisting Low Church Rabble;
So Bully Hectors and Bravadoes,
Those Hotbrain'd, Drunken Desperadoes,
Whose Looks are seldom free from Scars,
Acquir'd in Tavern-Broils and Wars;
Fall out among themselves to try,
The Courage of their Friends thereby;
That they may know how far they'll Run
A Risque, when they're depended on.
Around the Pile more Rabble drew;
Rattling their Broomslaves, and their Clubs,
That Foes might dread their Knocks and Drubs;
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Their mutual Madness and their Joys,
Jossling and thumping one another,
In Jest, to try each Hardy Brother;
That they might guess by this their Clubbing,
Who would, or would not stand a drubbing;
In case that they should meet and squabble,
With some resisting Low Church Rabble;
So Bully Hectors and Bravadoes,
Those Hotbrain'd, Drunken Desperadoes,
Whose Looks are seldom free from Scars,
Acquir'd in Tavern-Broils and Wars;
Fall out among themselves to try,
The Courage of their Friends thereby;
That they may know how far they'll Run
A Risque, when they're depended on.
The Rabble taking much delight,
To see their Trophies shine so bright;
Did the same Frantick Joy express,
As on the Day of Good Queen Bess;
Or when th' assemble to remember,
The Fourth or Fifth Day of November;
The Kingdom sav'd upon the one,
On t'other like to've been undone;
So neither Prince or Powder-Plot,
Should be by Protestants forgot;
Since most Men do affirm I know,
That we as many Blessings owe,
To One's Successes and Anointment,
As to the other's Disappointment;
We therefore ought, who can't deny
The wondrous Good we've reap'd thereby;
T'express our Joy so much the rather,
'Cause two such Days thus Jump together.
To see their Trophies shine so bright;
Did the same Frantick Joy express,
As on the Day of Good Queen Bess;
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The Fourth or Fifth Day of November;
The Kingdom sav'd upon the one,
On t'other like to've been undone;
So neither Prince or Powder-Plot,
Should be by Protestants forgot;
Since most Men do affirm I know,
That we as many Blessings owe,
To One's Successes and Anointment,
As to the other's Disappointment;
We therefore ought, who can't deny
The wondrous Good we've reap'd thereby;
T'express our Joy so much the rather,
'Cause two such Days thus Jump together.
Whilst each lin'd Pew, and matted Form,
That kept the S---s Posteriors warm;
Long Occupy'd by Pious Dames,
Were now consuming in the Flames;
The Faithful Clock which oft before,
Had pointed to the Pudding Hour;
And told the Preacher many a time,
When Pig and Goose were in their Prime;
And when the Liss'ning Saints and Sinners,
Were ready for their Courser Dinners;
Was now advanc'd upon a Rail,
Near Neighbour to the Flaming Pile;
That as the Hand with leisure turn'd,
The Mob might see how fast it burn'd;
But as the costly Engine stood,
Lock'd up in Transitory Wood;
A sad relenting Son of Grace,
With weeping Eyes and Meager Face,
Fetch'd a deep Sigh before he spoke,
And thus bemoan'd the Moving Clock.
That kept the S---s Posteriors warm;
Long Occupy'd by Pious Dames,
Were now consuming in the Flames;
The Faithful Clock which oft before,
Had pointed to the Pudding Hour;
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When Pig and Goose were in their Prime;
And when the Liss'ning Saints and Sinners,
Were ready for their Courser Dinners;
Was now advanc'd upon a Rail,
Near Neighbour to the Flaming Pile;
That as the Hand with leisure turn'd,
The Mob might see how fast it burn'd;
But as the costly Engine stood,
Lock'd up in Transitory Wood;
A sad relenting Son of Grace,
With weeping Eyes and Meager Face,
Fetch'd a deep Sigh before he spoke,
And thus bemoan'd the Moving Clock.
Ah Poor Machine, how oft alas!
Have I beheld thee thro' thy Glass;
And watch'd thee with a Wishing Eye,
Till th' hungry Hour of Twelve drew nigh;
That thou might'st tell our faithful Pastor,
Who long had been thy Careful Master;
When the Fowls waited for my Lady,
And Alewife's Buttock Beef was ready;
When Night Cap Bakers were about,
To draw their Pies and Puddings out;
And when his own Cook-Maid began,
To Curse him o'er the Dripping-pan;
And fret and fume for fear the Boil'd
Young Cockribs should, alas, be spoil'd;
Or that the Turky, Goose, or Pheasant,
Sent by some Hearer as a Present,
Should by his over painful Teaching,
To her Disgrace that rul'd the Kitchin;
Be pall'd, o'er roasted and unfit,
For such a Fine-mouth'd Saint to eat;
Who does not only truly know
What's Good for th' Soul, but Body too;
And tho' he rails at those Ill Men,
As Hirelings, who have One in Ten;
He can be Merry, Brisk and Blith,
O'er a Fat Pig that is no Tyth;
Tho' sent him by some Holy Brother,
Who can't afford himself another.
Have I beheld thee thro' thy Glass;
And watch'd thee with a Wishing Eye,
Till th' hungry Hour of Twelve drew nigh;
That thou might'st tell our faithful Pastor,
Who long had been thy Careful Master;
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And Alewife's Buttock Beef was ready;
When Night Cap Bakers were about,
To draw their Pies and Puddings out;
And when his own Cook-Maid began,
To Curse him o'er the Dripping-pan;
And fret and fume for fear the Boil'd
Young Cockribs should, alas, be spoil'd;
Or that the Turky, Goose, or Pheasant,
Sent by some Hearer as a Present,
Should by his over painful Teaching,
To her Disgrace that rul'd the Kitchin;
Be pall'd, o'er roasted and unfit,
For such a Fine-mouth'd Saint to eat;
Who does not only truly know
What's Good for th' Soul, but Body too;
And tho' he rails at those Ill Men,
As Hirelings, who have One in Ten;
He can be Merry, Brisk and Blith,
O'er a Fat Pig that is no Tyth;
Tho' sent him by some Holy Brother,
Who can't afford himself another.
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But 'tis allow'd our Guides may dine,
On Dainty Bits, and costly Wine;
Whilst we beneath their Nursing Care,
Content our selves with Courser Fare.
On Dainty Bits, and costly Wine;
Whilst we beneath their Nursing Care,
Content our selves with Courser Fare.
O Useful Engine! after all
Thy Service, must I mourn thy Fall;
Thou that hast not one erring Wheel
Within thee, made of Popish Steel;
Nor in thy Wheels one High Church Tooth,
To make thee vary from the Truth;
But by thy Motions shews thou'rt full,
Of Revolution Principle;
And that in spite of Pope thou art,
True Protestant in e'ery Part;
Ne'er Ran too fast, or mov'd too slow,
But did with Moderation go;
Nor didst thou like designing Brother,
Proceed one way, and point another;
But by thy constant Course Proclaim,
Thy Hand and Heart were still the same.
Thy Service, must I mourn thy Fall;
Thou that hast not one erring Wheel
Within thee, made of Popish Steel;
Nor in thy Wheels one High Church Tooth,
To make thee vary from the Truth;
But by thy Motions shews thou'rt full,
Of Revolution Principle;
And that in spite of Pope thou art,
True Protestant in e'ery Part;
Ne'er Ran too fast, or mov'd too slow,
But did with Moderation go;
Nor didst thou like designing Brother,
Proceed one way, and point another;
But by thy constant Course Proclaim,
Thy Hand and Heart were still the same.
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O wretched Prodigy of Art,
I wish I could thy Doom divert;
How gladly would I take thee Home,
And place thee in my finest Room;
Pray by thee twice or thrice a Day,
And Watch thee too as well as Pray;
Make thee the darling of my Wife;
Preserve thee as I would my Life.
I wish I could thy Doom divert;
How gladly would I take thee Home,
And place thee in my finest Room;
Pray by thee twice or thrice a Day,
And Watch thee too as well as Pray;
Make thee the darling of my Wife;
Preserve thee as I would my Life.
But Ah, thy Melancholy Tick,
That sounds, alas, so Death-watch like;
Does to my frighted Ears foretel,
Thy Fate is irrevocable;
And that the Varnish'd Case you wear,
Japan'd with so much Art and Care;
Must soon be made, to please the Croud,
Your Mourning Coffin or your Shroud;
And that you've only now the Pow'r,
To point out the unhappy Hour;
Wherein your Motion must expire,
In this Revengeful Wicked Fire;
And you be made the Sport and Mock
Of Fools, and cease to be a Clock;
So fare thee well, I must forsake thee,
The Rogues are coming now to take thee.
That sounds, alas, so Death-watch like;
Does to my frighted Ears foretel,
Thy Fate is irrevocable;
And that the Varnish'd Case you wear,
Japan'd with so much Art and Care;
Must soon be made, to please the Croud,
Your Mourning Coffin or your Shroud;
And that you've only now the Pow'r,
To point out the unhappy Hour;
Wherein your Motion must expire,
In this Revengeful Wicked Fire;
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Of Fools, and cease to be a Clock;
So fare thee well, I must forsake thee,
The Rogues are coming now to take thee.
No sooner had he whisper'd forth
These words, and told the Clock its Worth;
Which on the Rail preserv'd its motion,
Till snatch'd from thence to execution,
But Captain Tom with Boatswain's Voice,
Commands a File of Jolly Boys,
To bring the poor condemn'd Machine,
To th' flaming Pile, and cast therein
The costly Timist, loudly Crying;
'Twas given to Fanatick Lying,
And therefore ought, says all the Scrubs,
To perish with the Tub of Tubs;
So in they heav'd, Time's Mensurator,
Who never mov'd one Moment a'ter;
But like a gentle Low-Church Lamb,
Submitted to the High-Church Flame;
At parting gave the time of Day,
And then in silence slid away.
Thus what much Time and Pains had Cost,
Was in one fatal Minute lost;
So when the Roundhead Rabble Reign'd,
And Holy Things were much profan'd;
They burnt all Popish Trinkets, also
Whate'er themselves were pleas'd to call so;
That should this prove a Popish Plot,
As some say 'tis, and others not:
They've but return'd in all this stir,
A Rowland for an Oliver.
These words, and told the Clock its Worth;
Which on the Rail preserv'd its motion,
Till snatch'd from thence to execution,
But Captain Tom with Boatswain's Voice,
Commands a File of Jolly Boys,
To bring the poor condemn'd Machine,
To th' flaming Pile, and cast therein
The costly Timist, loudly Crying;
'Twas given to Fanatick Lying,
And therefore ought, says all the Scrubs,
To perish with the Tub of Tubs;
So in they heav'd, Time's Mensurator,
Who never mov'd one Moment a'ter;
But like a gentle Low-Church Lamb,
Submitted to the High-Church Flame;
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And then in silence slid away.
Thus what much Time and Pains had Cost,
Was in one fatal Minute lost;
So when the Roundhead Rabble Reign'd,
And Holy Things were much profan'd;
They burnt all Popish Trinkets, also
Whate'er themselves were pleas'd to call so;
That should this prove a Popish Plot,
As some say 'tis, and others not:
They've but return'd in all this stir,
A Rowland for an Oliver.
The Tub, the Clock, the Forms and Pews,
Which Calvin's Saints were wont to use;
The Rafters, Beams and Window Frames,
Were all catch'd hold of by the Flames;
So that the Fruits of this their Rapine,
Were now past danger of escaping;
In Case the Brawny Guards from Court,
Had come to interrupt their Sport;
For, lo, the Ornamental Wood,
That once in beautious Order stood,
And e'ery stubborn Timber-piece,
Began to crackle Smoak and Hiss,
That none could snatch away the Firing,
Without the hazard of Expiring;
Tho' some Good Men, who little thought,
To see so sad a sight G---d wot;
In doleful Dumps, stood sighing by,
And view'd the Fire with watry Eye;
As if they meant to weep a Flood,
That should have rescu'd if they Cou'd,
From Wicked Flames the Sacred Wood.
Which Calvin's Saints were wont to use;
The Rafters, Beams and Window Frames,
Were all catch'd hold of by the Flames;
So that the Fruits of this their Rapine,
Were now past danger of escaping;
In Case the Brawny Guards from Court,
Had come to interrupt their Sport;
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That once in beautious Order stood,
And e'ery stubborn Timber-piece,
Began to crackle Smoak and Hiss,
That none could snatch away the Firing,
Without the hazard of Expiring;
Tho' some Good Men, who little thought,
To see so sad a sight G---d wot;
In doleful Dumps, stood sighing by,
And view'd the Fire with watry Eye;
As if they meant to weep a Flood,
That should have rescu'd if they Cou'd,
From Wicked Flames the Sacred Wood.
So Bunting Bess, and Oyster Nan,
Behold with Grief the handsom Man;
Who from the Villain's Dismal Gate,
Is riding backwards to his Fate;
Attend the Wretch with mournful Cries,
Set off with dripping Blubber'd Eyes;
And wring their Hands with great Devotion,
But cannot stop the Execution.
Behold with Grief the handsom Man;
Who from the Villain's Dismal Gate,
Is riding backwards to his Fate;
Attend the Wretch with mournful Cries,
Set off with dripping Blubber'd Eyes;
And wring their Hands with great Devotion,
But cannot stop the Execution.
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When now the Holy Goods were past
Relief, and bound to see their last;
And to the Noisy Mob's desire,
The Carcase of the Raging Fire;
That flaming Product of their Fury,
Was in the Zenith of its Glory;
The Croud to farther Mischiefs bent,
Began to think their time mispent;
Therefore with Captain Tom their Leader,
They call'd a Council to consider,
What further Work they'd left undone;
That might that Night be carry'd on;
So the State Fox, who with Success,
Has Crown'd one daring Wickedness;
Consults with some assisting Brother,
Which way to perpetrate another.
Relief, and bound to see their last;
And to the Noisy Mob's desire,
The Carcase of the Raging Fire;
That flaming Product of their Fury,
Was in the Zenith of its Glory;
The Croud to farther Mischiefs bent,
Began to think their time mispent;
Therefore with Captain Tom their Leader,
They call'd a Council to consider,
What further Work they'd left undone;
That might that Night be carry'd on;
So the State Fox, who with Success,
Has Crown'd one daring Wickedness;
Consults with some assisting Brother,
Which way to perpetrate another.
No sooner had their Heads been laid
Together, and Proposals made;
But they concluded to divide,
And then more Tubs the Rabble cry'd
Together, and Proposals made;
But they concluded to divide,
And then more Tubs the Rabble cry'd
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When the Herd, likeing this Advice,
Had loudly hollow'd twice or thrice;
To shew their Joyful Approbation,
Of some new Whim in Agitation;
The Captains of the bold Rapscallions
Next, form'd 'em into four Battallions;
That being sev'rally imploy'd,
Divers at once might be destroy'd;
And the more Holy Places feel
The sad effects of Frantick Zeal;
Some shouting in a Boistrous Throng,
Tow'rds Nevel's Ally march'd along;
Others as loud and mad as they,
To Alesb'ry Chappel made their Way;
A third detachment of the Herd,
For Black Fryars Meeting-house declar'd;
The Fourth Division in a heat,
Cry'd one and all for Kerbystreet;
Thus wilder far than Unback'd Horses,
They hollowing steer'd their sev'ral Courses;
With equal Resolution bent,
To further shew their Ill intent;
And not to leave one Shop of Grace,
They met with standing in its Place;
No wonder so Robust a Crew,
Should such Infernal Work persue;
Since those in higher Stations blest,
Make all Religion but a Jest;
And by the Disregard they shew it,
Teach Others to be Foes unto it.
Had loudly hollow'd twice or thrice;
To shew their Joyful Approbation,
Of some new Whim in Agitation;
The Captains of the bold Rapscallions
Next, form'd 'em into four Battallions;
That being sev'rally imploy'd,
Divers at once might be destroy'd;
And the more Holy Places feel
The sad effects of Frantick Zeal;
Some shouting in a Boistrous Throng,
Tow'rds Nevel's Ally march'd along;
Others as loud and mad as they,
To Alesb'ry Chappel made their Way;
A third detachment of the Herd,
For Black Fryars Meeting-house declar'd;
The Fourth Division in a heat,
Cry'd one and all for Kerbystreet;
Thus wilder far than Unback'd Horses,
They hollowing steer'd their sev'ral Courses;
With equal Resolution bent,
To further shew their Ill intent;
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They met with standing in its Place;
No wonder so Robust a Crew,
Should such Infernal Work persue;
Since those in higher Stations blest,
Make all Religion but a Jest;
And by the Disregard they shew it,
Teach Others to be Foes unto it.
CANTO VI. Their further Mischiefs, and the suppressing of the Rabble, by the Guards.
No sooner were each noisy Rude
Division of the Daring Croud
Brought, by their furious Chiefs before,
A Meeting-Window, or a Door;
But Clubs and Staves, and other Tackle,
Soon forc'd the Boarded Tabernacle;
And serv'd the roaring Desperadoes,
Instead of Bombs and Handgranadoes;
For e'ery strong revengeful Stroak,
And eager bold destructive Knock;
Were given with so good a Heart,
They made a Board or Pannel start;
No artful Strength of Bar or Bolt,
Could stand so vigorous an Assault;
Where willing Hands in Concord Joyn'd,
Soon finish'd what the Brutes design'd;
Who ne'er stood musing shilly shall I;
But when they'd enter'd Meeting Ally,
Like Furies nimbly fell to work,
And did strange Wonders with a Jirk;
Such that amaz'd the Suff'ring side,
That nothing but the Pope some cry'd,
Or Devil, could bewitch the Mob,
To perpetrate so base a Job;
Thus Sathan often bears the blame,
When Man alone deserves the shame;
For some to Good are so averse,
They need no Dev'l to make 'em worse.
Division of the Daring Croud
Brought, by their furious Chiefs before,
A Meeting-Window, or a Door;
But Clubs and Staves, and other Tackle,
Soon forc'd the Boarded Tabernacle;
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Instead of Bombs and Handgranadoes;
For e'ery strong revengeful Stroak,
And eager bold destructive Knock;
Were given with so good a Heart,
They made a Board or Pannel start;
No artful Strength of Bar or Bolt,
Could stand so vigorous an Assault;
Where willing Hands in Concord Joyn'd,
Soon finish'd what the Brutes design'd;
Who ne'er stood musing shilly shall I;
But when they'd enter'd Meeting Ally,
Like Furies nimbly fell to work,
And did strange Wonders with a Jirk;
Such that amaz'd the Suff'ring side,
That nothing but the Pope some cry'd,
Or Devil, could bewitch the Mob,
To perpetrate so base a Job;
Thus Sathan often bears the blame,
When Man alone deserves the shame;
For some to Good are so averse,
They need no Dev'l to make 'em worse.
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By their first Rapine made expert,
They plunder'd now like Men of Art;
With so much readyness run thro' it,
As if they'd been Apprentic'd to it;
And did their sev'ral Meetings gut,
I'th' time a Monkey cracks a Nut;
The sturdy Pannels tho' of Oak,
And stubborn Beams and Boards they broak,
With as much ease when Warm and Angry,
As they do Pie-Crust when they're Hungry;
The Doors from off their Hinges flew,
And Nails o'th' biggest Size they drew;
More nimbly with their Knocks and Thumps,
Than Tonsor Quack draws Rotten Stumps;
And when the active Brutes had done,
The Second Work they'd thus begun;
The Sacred Spoils they glean'd abroad,
They brought into the Western Road;
And there among the Chanc'ry Inns,
Where Sins are punish'd oft with Sins;
And spiteful Knaves that love Disputes,
Give earnest for their Endless Sutes;
They laid their broken Plunder down,
Gather'd from sev'ral Parts oth' Town;
That in the mid'st of that High-street,
Where Rogues their dying Comrades Greet;
As the Pale Wretches backwards slide,
In Carts and Sledges to be ty'd;
They might erect a second Holy
Bonfire, to gratify their Folly;
That they might Revel to their Shame,
Like sporting Insects round the Flame;
And bid Defiance to the Law,
That does the Sword of Justice draw;
By doing such Abominations,
Before the Lawyers Habitations;
So hardy Rogues to shew their Fellows,
How little they regard the Gallows;
Make fatal Tyburn but their Scoff,
And Rob sometimes in sight thereof.
They plunder'd now like Men of Art;
With so much readyness run thro' it,
As if they'd been Apprentic'd to it;
And did their sev'ral Meetings gut,
I'th' time a Monkey cracks a Nut;
The sturdy Pannels tho' of Oak,
And stubborn Beams and Boards they broak,
With as much ease when Warm and Angry,
As they do Pie-Crust when they're Hungry;
The Doors from off their Hinges flew,
And Nails o'th' biggest Size they drew;
More nimbly with their Knocks and Thumps,
Than Tonsor Quack draws Rotten Stumps;
And when the active Brutes had done,
The Second Work they'd thus begun;
The Sacred Spoils they glean'd abroad,
They brought into the Western Road;
And there among the Chanc'ry Inns,
Where Sins are punish'd oft with Sins;
And spiteful Knaves that love Disputes,
Give earnest for their Endless Sutes;
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Gather'd from sev'ral Parts oth' Town;
That in the mid'st of that High-street,
Where Rogues their dying Comrades Greet;
As the Pale Wretches backwards slide,
In Carts and Sledges to be ty'd;
They might erect a second Holy
Bonfire, to gratify their Folly;
That they might Revel to their Shame,
Like sporting Insects round the Flame;
And bid Defiance to the Law,
That does the Sword of Justice draw;
By doing such Abominations,
Before the Lawyers Habitations;
So hardy Rogues to shew their Fellows,
How little they regard the Gallows;
Make fatal Tyburn but their Scoff,
And Rob sometimes in sight thereof.
By that time they had brought enough,
Of the Old Holy Housholdstuff;
T'express their Gladness in a Blaze,
For these our happy Halcyon days;
And that a second Fire might shew,
Their Dogstar-Zeal still the hotter grew;
The Court appris'd of all the Pains,
They'd taken, for no Thanks or Gains;
Order'd the Guards with speed to Run,
And pay 'em for the Work they'd done;
Lest in the height of their Destraction,
They should attempt some Nobler Action,
And seize the Bank for Satisfaction.
Of the Old Holy Housholdstuff;
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For these our happy Halcyon days;
And that a second Fire might shew,
Their Dogstar-Zeal still the hotter grew;
The Court appris'd of all the Pains,
They'd taken, for no Thanks or Gains;
Order'd the Guards with speed to Run,
And pay 'em for the Work they'd done;
Lest in the height of their Destraction,
They should attempt some Nobler Action,
And seize the Bank for Satisfaction.
For tho' the Rabble mean no hurt,
And only play the Rogue for sport;
Untile a Meeting or a House,
As Monkeys will when broken loose;
And not thro' Malice, but for Pleasure,
Do such unlucky Tricks as these are;
Yet the Dev'ls Children oft, 'tis fear'd,
Steal in among the Harmless Herd;
And lead the thoughtless Tools sometimes;
To perpetrate most scurvy Crimes;
Such that are shameful and unfitting,
For a true Mob of ancient Britain;
Who in past Ages us'd to be,
The Guard of English Liberty;
And would not stir against the Laws,
Except 'twas in a Pious Cause;
Such that our Holy Brethren hold,
And stand by, to be Good and Old,
Which has so oft involv'd the Nation,
In sad Domestick Tribulation;
A Cause so Righteous and Transcending,
That 'tis well worth the Saints defending.
And only play the Rogue for sport;
Untile a Meeting or a House,
As Monkeys will when broken loose;
And not thro' Malice, but for Pleasure,
Do such unlucky Tricks as these are;
Yet the Dev'ls Children oft, 'tis fear'd,
Steal in among the Harmless Herd;
And lead the thoughtless Tools sometimes;
To perpetrate most scurvy Crimes;
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For a true Mob of ancient Britain;
Who in past Ages us'd to be,
The Guard of English Liberty;
And would not stir against the Laws,
Except 'twas in a Pious Cause;
Such that our Holy Brethren hold,
And stand by, to be Good and Old,
Which has so oft involv'd the Nation,
In sad Domestick Tribulation;
A Cause so Righteous and Transcending,
That 'tis well worth the Saints defending.
But the stanch Mob who heretofore,
Were us'd to cry down Popish Pow'r;
Run headlong now beyond their Tedder,
As if the Devil was their Leader;
So those who in their Godly Labours,
Shew more Religion than their Neighbours;
Ne'er Bicker, Murmur or Repine,
But with a Pious good Design;
Yet when Old Sathan that sly Wolf,
Ascends from his infernal Gulf;
And does without suspicion creep,
Among the Over-righteous Sheep;
He sooths them oft by seeming Friendships,
To Sins that misbecome their Saintships.
Were us'd to cry down Popish Pow'r;
Run headlong now beyond their Tedder,
As if the Devil was their Leader;
So those who in their Godly Labours,
Shew more Religion than their Neighbours;
Ne'er Bicker, Murmur or Repine,
But with a Pious good Design;
72
Ascends from his infernal Gulf;
And does without suspicion creep,
Among the Over-righteous Sheep;
He sooths them oft by seeming Friendships,
To Sins that misbecome their Saintships.
The Guards, each mounted for the Fray,
Like George that did the Dragon slay;
On Bobtail Prancer, fat and plump,
Dock'd close unto his Sturdy Rump;
With shining Whinyard now advanc'd,
From Whitehall, to the City pranc'd;
In search of those who had transgress'd
The Law, and ought to be suppress'd;
For he that does delight to see,
The Mob exert their Tyranny;
Deserves by way of Fellowfeeling,
To have the Rabble sack his Dwelling.
Like George that did the Dragon slay;
On Bobtail Prancer, fat and plump,
Dock'd close unto his Sturdy Rump;
With shining Whinyard now advanc'd,
From Whitehall, to the City pranc'd;
In search of those who had transgress'd
The Law, and ought to be suppress'd;
For he that does delight to see,
The Mob exert their Tyranny;
Deserves by way of Fellowfeeling,
To have the Rabble sack his Dwelling.
The Guards by watchful Spies and Scouts,
Being told by this time whereabouts
The Buisy Rout were now imploying,
Their Hands in Thieving and Destroying;
Suppress'd the Brutes in sev'ral places,
With loaded Backs and sweating Faces;
And in the Borders where they found 'em,
So guarded the Avenues round 'em,
That when they saw themselves betray'd,
Some Skulk'd, and others scour'd like mad;
Some threw their Burthens down much frighted,
And cry'd Peccavi, and submitted;
Some fled like Debtors scar'd by Baliffs,
In quest of bie ungarded Allies;
Whilst others dodg'd among the Horse,
And stood a pritty shifting Course;
Till a flat stroak upon the Crown,
Or cut of Broad-sword fetch'd 'em down;
Some Cowards quite confounded stood,
And Mercy, Mercy bawl'd aloud;
Whilst others trembling in the Fray,
Beneath the Horses Bellies lay;
Like the Poor Dragon that we Paint,
Born down by th' Capadocian Saint;
Some Crafty Zealots cut and wheadl'd,
And lying vow'd they never meddl'd;
That they were only Lookers on,
And humbly beg'd they might be gone;
Whilst others by their Sweaty Looks,
Driping like buisy Dog Day Cooks;
And by their Hands with Dirt made filthy,
Appear'd beyond Objection Guilty.
Being told by this time whereabouts
73
Their Hands in Thieving and Destroying;
Suppress'd the Brutes in sev'ral places,
With loaded Backs and sweating Faces;
And in the Borders where they found 'em,
So guarded the Avenues round 'em,
That when they saw themselves betray'd,
Some Skulk'd, and others scour'd like mad;
Some threw their Burthens down much frighted,
And cry'd Peccavi, and submitted;
Some fled like Debtors scar'd by Baliffs,
In quest of bie ungarded Allies;
Whilst others dodg'd among the Horse,
And stood a pritty shifting Course;
Till a flat stroak upon the Crown,
Or cut of Broad-sword fetch'd 'em down;
Some Cowards quite confounded stood,
And Mercy, Mercy bawl'd aloud;
Whilst others trembling in the Fray,
Beneath the Horses Bellies lay;
Like the Poor Dragon that we Paint,
Born down by th' Capadocian Saint;
74
And lying vow'd they never meddl'd;
That they were only Lookers on,
And humbly beg'd they might be gone;
Whilst others by their Sweaty Looks,
Driping like buisy Dog Day Cooks;
And by their Hands with Dirt made filthy,
Appear'd beyond Objection Guilty.
Thus some escaped and sav'd their Bacon,
Whilst others in the Fact were taken
In Rowling up Blackfryar's Hill,
A Pulpit tow'rds the Flaming Pile;
As if the Sacred Hut from whence,
The Teacher did such Truths dispense,
Was no more vallu'd by the Mob,
Than if 't'ad really been a Tub;
So Rebels when they've storm'd a Town,
They make Church Riches all their own;
For when they've Pow'r, they're too invidious,
To think what's gainful Sacraligious.
Whilst others in the Fact were taken
In Rowling up Blackfryar's Hill,
A Pulpit tow'rds the Flaming Pile;
As if the Sacred Hut from whence,
The Teacher did such Truths dispense,
Was no more vallu'd by the Mob,
Than if 't'ad really been a Tub;
So Rebels when they've storm'd a Town,
They make Church Riches all their own;
For when they've Pow'r, they're too invidious,
To think what's gainful Sacraligious.
75
Others were catch'd with Heavy Packs,
Of Pews they'd pillag'd, on their Backs;
As if they thought to steal and feed
The Fire, a Meritorious Deed;
So those that do at Skittles play,
Will take more Pains to lose and pay,
Than at their Labour for Reward,
Altho' it is not half so hard;
And all the Reason they have for't;
One they call Work, the other Sport;
Thus the most buisy Knaves they seiz'd,
And the less Guilty Fools dismiss'd;
That those who most deserv'd the Blame,
Might punish'd be with Publick Shame;
And those unthinking Slaves go free,
Drawn in by meer Curiosity;
For he that with a Base intent,
Begins those Ills he should prevent;
Is far more culpable than he,
Wh' offends thro' meer Conformity;
Or Madman like, at random sins,
Without first knowing what he means.
Of Pews they'd pillag'd, on their Backs;
As if they thought to steal and feed
The Fire, a Meritorious Deed;
So those that do at Skittles play,
Will take more Pains to lose and pay,
Than at their Labour for Reward,
Altho' it is not half so hard;
And all the Reason they have for't;
One they call Work, the other Sport;
Thus the most buisy Knaves they seiz'd,
And the less Guilty Fools dismiss'd;
That those who most deserv'd the Blame,
Might punish'd be with Publick Shame;
And those unthinking Slaves go free,
Drawn in by meer Curiosity;
For he that with a Base intent,
Begins those Ills he should prevent;
Is far more culpable than he,
Wh' offends thro' meer Conformity;
76
Without first knowing what he means.
Thus Captain Tom and his Adherents,
Were by the Guards at one Appearance,
Frighted from farther Perseverance;
For those who did in Triumph Roar,
And act such Ills but Just before;
Were to their safty now inclin'd,
And fled like Chaff before the Wind;
For tho' the Rabble are as fierce,
Whilst un-oppos'd as Wolves and Bears;
Yet when a Lawful Force draws near,
It turns their Brutish Rage to Fear.
Were by the Guards at one Appearance,
Frighted from farther Perseverance;
For those who did in Triumph Roar,
And act such Ills but Just before;
Were to their safty now inclin'd,
And fled like Chaff before the Wind;
For tho' the Rabble are as fierce,
Whilst un-oppos'd as Wolves and Bears;
Yet when a Lawful Force draws near,
It turns their Brutish Rage to Fear.
The Guards thus having soon supprest,
This monstrous many Headed Beast;
And scar'd them back to stinking Allies,
From whence at first they made their Sallies;
Return'd and left the Streets as quiet,
As if there had been no such Riot;
Whilst those Justitiary Tools,
Old Headboroughs and Constables;
To Neighb'ring Prisons lead away,
Th' Offenders taken in the Fray;
Treating the Tatter'd Rakes and Clowns,
With scornful Pulls, and Haughty Frowns;
As if the Moody Slaves had been,
Beneath the Dignity of Men.
So when successless Victims yield,
To their proud Victors in the Field;
Each Conqueror looks sternly Brave,
On his dejected Captive Slave;
Whose Courage vanishes when crost
By Fortune, and his Hopes are lost.
This monstrous many Headed Beast;
And scar'd them back to stinking Allies,
From whence at first they made their Sallies;
Return'd and left the Streets as quiet,
As if there had been no such Riot;
77
Old Headboroughs and Constables;
To Neighb'ring Prisons lead away,
Th' Offenders taken in the Fray;
Treating the Tatter'd Rakes and Clowns,
With scornful Pulls, and Haughty Frowns;
As if the Moody Slaves had been,
Beneath the Dignity of Men.
So when successless Victims yield,
To their proud Victors in the Field;
Each Conqueror looks sternly Brave,
On his dejected Captive Slave;
Whose Courage vanishes when crost
By Fortune, and his Hopes are lost.
78
CANTO VII. Captain Tom's Speech to his Dispersing Brethren.
The
Mob thus scouring in a Hurry,
T'escape the Guards tremendous Fury;
Some tatter'd Fragments chanc'd to meet,
As flying in a mighty heat;
That by their Heels they now might shun,
The Dangers that attended on
Those Impious Deeds their Hands had done;
For they that make a daring push at
Such Evils that the Devil would blush at;
Must never on their Cause rely,
But from the Sword of Justice fly.
T'escape the Guards tremendous Fury;
Some tatter'd Fragments chanc'd to meet,
As flying in a mighty heat;
That by their Heels they now might shun,
The Dangers that attended on
Those Impious Deeds their Hands had done;
For they that make a daring push at
Such Evils that the Devil would blush at;
Must never on their Cause rely,
But from the Sword of Justice fly.
79
Among the rest thus running Home,
Was that fam'd Hero, Captain Tom;
Who in past Reigns in spite to Kings,
Had done so many wond'rous things;
And in perverse Rebellious Ages,
Committed such bold Sacriledges;
And with undaunted Hands effected,
Strange Works by wiser Heads projected.
Was that fam'd Hero, Captain Tom;
Who in past Reigns in spite to Kings,
Had done so many wond'rous things;
And in perverse Rebellious Ages,
Committed such bold Sacriledges;
And with undaunted Hands effected,
Strange Works by wiser Heads projected.
No sooner were these scatter'd Troops
Of Mob (that now were past all hopes,
Of further Mischief) reunited,
Who'd been so very lately frighted;
But following their Leader's Heels,
Into the midst of Lincoln Fields;
The sturdy Champion, then aloud,
Cry'd halt to the Dishearten'd Croud;
And being gravely fac'd about,
Made this Oration to the Rout.
Of Mob (that now were past all hopes,
Of further Mischief) reunited,
Who'd been so very lately frighted;
But following their Leader's Heels,
Into the midst of Lincoln Fields;
The sturdy Champion, then aloud,
Cry'd halt to the Dishearten'd Croud;
And being gravely fac'd about,
Made this Oration to the Rout.
80
My Brethren, Countryman, and Friends,
We who should scorn ignoble ends;
And with our Clubs wherein our trust is,
Without Reward do Publick Justice;
Should Recollect when o'er our Tipple,
That we are now the Sov'reign People;
No Rabble without Grace or Brains,
Like those that punish'd Former Reigns;
No foolish Croud, no Scoundrel Pack,
To be at e'ery Statesman's Beck;
No Owls to hollow up a Fool,
That is some plotting Parties Tool;
Nor yet such Heath'nish Brutes (G---d bless us)
As some will by our Practice guess us;
No, all our Advocates aver,
We're now the Original of Pow'r;
That is, the People, and have Right,
When e'er we please, to vent our Spite;
And hope the Kingdom will become,
In time, a glorious Peopledom;
That we once more aloft may mount,
And none dare call us to account.
We who should scorn ignoble ends;
And with our Clubs wherein our trust is,
Without Reward do Publick Justice;
Should Recollect when o'er our Tipple,
That we are now the Sov'reign People;
No Rabble without Grace or Brains,
Like those that punish'd Former Reigns;
No foolish Croud, no Scoundrel Pack,
To be at e'ery Statesman's Beck;
No Owls to hollow up a Fool,
That is some plotting Parties Tool;
Nor yet such Heath'nish Brutes (G---d bless us)
As some will by our Practice guess us;
No, all our Advocates aver,
We're now the Original of Pow'r;
That is, the People, and have Right,
When e'er we please, to vent our Spite;
And hope the Kingdom will become,
In time, a glorious Peopledom;
81
And none dare call us to account.
But then, my Friends, you'l ask, no doubt,
How I thus came to lead you out,
Against their Meetings who assert,
Our Pow'r, and always take our Part;
In Answer to the Knotty Quere,
I never to your Hurt ensnare ye;
And as to that amusing Point,
I own there is a Mist'ry in't;
Which tho' at present, I conceal it,
For Reasons, yet will time reveal it;
And plainly show, our only Ends,
Were not to wrong but serve our Friends;
Altho our good Intentions had,
A Face, that look'd so very bad;
So the Fair Dame does oft disgrace,
With Ugly Mask her Beauteous Face;
That when she's pleas'd to shew what's under,
Her Charms may raise the greater wonder.
How I thus came to lead you out,
Against their Meetings who assert,
Our Pow'r, and always take our Part;
In Answer to the Knotty Quere,
I never to your Hurt ensnare ye;
And as to that amusing Point,
I own there is a Mist'ry in't;
Which tho' at present, I conceal it,
For Reasons, yet will time reveal it;
And plainly show, our only Ends,
Were not to wrong but serve our Friends;
Altho our good Intentions had,
A Face, that look'd so very bad;
So the Fair Dame does oft disgrace,
With Ugly Mask her Beauteous Face;
That when she's pleas'd to shew what's under,
Her Charms may raise the greater wonder.
82
Besides, we find, that even Watchmen,
Who lay so many Traps to Catch-men;
Break their own Lanthorns in the Scuffle,
To have a fair Pretence to Ruffle
Those Hot-brain'd Persons in the Squabble,
The Croaking Knaves design to Bubble.
Who lay so many Traps to Catch-men;
Break their own Lanthorns in the Scuffle,
To have a fair Pretence to Ruffle
Those Hot-brain'd Persons in the Squabble,
The Croaking Knaves design to Bubble.
Nay, some will scratch their very Skins,
Break their own Heads, or bruise their Shins;
Then on their Adversaries Charge
The Crime, to make the Damage large.
Break their own Heads, or bruise their Shins;
Then on their Adversaries Charge
The Crime, to make the Damage large.
Ah, Brethren, Int'rest mix'd with spite,
Give wrong, sometimes, the Face of Right;
And free the Guilty from the Error,
Of which the Innocent's the Bearer.
Give wrong, sometimes, the Face of Right;
And free the Guilty from the Error,
Of which the Innocent's the Bearer.
However, should our Friends mistake,
And think we do their Cause forsake;
To th' Scandal of the Mob agree,
We're guilty of Inconstancy;
Yet granting what they thus suppose,
And that we really are their Foes;
Yet still we're fix'd and only run,
The Course that we have ever done;
And therefore from their own Assertions,
Shall clear our selves from their Aspersions.
And think we do their Cause forsake;
To th' Scandal of the Mob agree,
We're guilty of Inconstancy;
83
And that we really are their Foes;
Yet still we're fix'd and only run,
The Course that we have ever done;
And therefore from their own Assertions,
Shall clear our selves from their Aspersions.
For do not all their Scribes declare,
The High Church but a Faction are;
Who counter run to all those Rules,
Call'd Revolution Principles;
And then suppose we had been Guided,
By them, and with their Int'rest sided;
'Tis plain, we still had done no more,
Than what we'd ever done before;
For we at all times have been true,
To Faction, and they must allow,
By their own Rules we are so now.
In Case we really stand affected,
To th' side of which we are suspected;
How then can those of Conventicle
Assert, we're giddy, false and fickle,
Since we've been ever true, they know,
To Faction, whether High or Low;
Therefore let them think what they will,
I say, My Boys, we're steady still;
To the same Cause they're always hearty,
Who strive against the Rising Party,
And still, whene'er they're vext and crost,
Oppose the side that's uppermost.
The High Church but a Faction are;
Who counter run to all those Rules,
Call'd Revolution Principles;
And then suppose we had been Guided,
By them, and with their Int'rest sided;
'Tis plain, we still had done no more,
Than what we'd ever done before;
For we at all times have been true,
To Faction, and they must allow,
By their own Rules we are so now.
In Case we really stand affected,
To th' side of which we are suspected;
How then can those of Conventicle
Assert, we're giddy, false and fickle,
84
To Faction, whether High or Low;
Therefore let them think what they will,
I say, My Boys, we're steady still;
To the same Cause they're always hearty,
Who strive against the Rising Party,
And still, whene'er they're vext and crost,
Oppose the side that's uppermost.
But now, my Friends, 'tis time to March,
The Guards are coming on the search;
Let's Scour, my Lads, to save our Bacon,
For Woe be to us if we're taken.
The Guards are coming on the search;
Let's Scour, my Lads, to save our Bacon,
For Woe be to us if we're taken.
FINIS.
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