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The Protector

A poem Briefly illustrating the Supereminency of that Dignity; Rationally demonstrating, that the Title of Protector, providentially conferred upon the Supreme Governour of the British Republike, is the most Honorable of all Titles, and, that which, probably, promiseth most Propitiousness to these Nations; if our Sins and Divisions prevent it not. Composed by George Wither
 

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A Recal to the Reader.


43

A Recal to the Reader.

My Poem's done; yet, prethee READER stay:
I have another word or two, to say,
VVherewith, before thou hence depart, I will
These following leaves of empty paper fill:
That, if it shall be possible, I might
Once in my life, to thy advantage write,
And, of my labour, view some fruit, before
I, there am laid, where, I shall speak no more;
And, that, those Truths, which I have oft, in vain,
Spoke mildly, be not eccho'd forth again
VVith dreadful Repetitions, unto those
VVho, to my Charmes, their Adders ears now close;
Or, scorn, and slight them, as fantastick dreams,
Or, needless descants, upon trivial Theams.
Having perus'd this, what art thou the better?
Unless, thou finde arising from the Letter,
That Spirit, which begot these words in me,
The Soul of them, infusing into thee?
VVith credit of their Truth, and with a sence
Of that, eternal Love's, sweet influence,
VVhich, for thy welfare, did my heart incline
To pour forth my Affections, into thine?
That, thou mightst, timely, take from hence occasion
Of due resolvings, for thy preservation:

44

For, on this fatal juncture of Affairs,
Either thy Ruine, or else, thy Repairs
Do now depend; and, will have an effect,
According, as thy Course, thou shalt direct.
What, wilt thou profit by it, if thou, still,
Retainest a Perverseness in thy Will?
How ill dost thou requite me, if, my Love
No change in thy affections, hereby move?
Since, I, desire no other recompence,
But, that, thou mayst have benefit from hence?
And, I, that small share, which a single one
Hath in that good, which is to many done?
And, with, how little comfort, shall I speak
Another time, if, no effect, this take?
What, had I thereby lost, if unexprest,
These things, had still remained in my brest?
Since, I had been, whilst they continu'd there,
The same I am, now they divulged are?
Or, what, by setting thus my heart at large,
Gain I, except, my Consciences discharge,
With some weak hopes, that, thou, and others, may
Be benefited, by the words I say?
Sure, none: Then, grudge me not that small effect,
Which, from this Friendly service, I, expect
By thy improvement; in which profit, thine
Will be a Portion, far exceeding mine.
If, for my sole Advantage, thou believe
I, publish this; thy thinkings, thee deceive;
Nor, Profit, or Protection, peace or praise
Do I obtain, or look for, in these days
By such Expressions; or, by Services
Which are so little cared for, as these.
Whilst many, sad Confusions on us lies;
VVhilst, most men, their own safety do despise;

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And, when, few, any Cautions much regard,
Save those, whereby, vain ends may be prefer'd;
I shall, to this intent, prevail no more
Then if I should endeavour, to out-rore
The Windes and Seas. I have, now, yeer, by yeer,
And almost day by day, attended there
Full twice six yeers; where, was within one wall
A perfect Representative of all
Within this Isle, both at the best and worst;
And I so well observ'd it, from the first,
Ev'n to the last; and, by that Model, see
So truely, what of those may judged be
Whom they did represent, that I presume
Gods providence constrain'd me to consume
So many hours, to wait on them in vain,
That, by such loss, I, better things might gain.
What can be got by words? where sighs, & grones,
And tears, & cries, move men no more then stones?
When five, or ten, or twelve whole yeers delay
Shall be no more consider'd then a day?
And, when nor wants, nor justness of the Cause,
Nor Importunitie, compassion draws;
Or, where few Suits are brought to wished end
But by a Bribe, or some corrupted friend?
What, can be got by words, desir'd by none?
When deeds, which, for the Publike weal were done,
And, begg'd for, with a vowed Retribution,
Have neither good respect, nor restitution?
Where, serious Protestations, are forgot?
Where promises, seem things intended not?
And, when most men, resolved seem, to cherish
Their wilfulness, although thereby, they perish?
If, for my words, receive again, I may
Respective words, I take it for large pay,

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And, 'twill enough content me, if my will
To do thee good, be not repay'd with ill;
Or, if I may but know, ere 't is too late,
My hope, of what is justly aimed at,
Shall be deny'd, with loss of no more cost,
Or, time, then is thereon, already lost:
For, such a mercy, many had preserv'd,
Whom fruitless hopes have begger'd, yea, & starv'd.
If, thou suppose, I, gain, by what I write;
Consider it, and thou such thoughts wilt slight.
What profit is it, which, thence raise he may
Who writes, and prints, and freely gives away
At his own charge? and, doth expect no more,
But, good acceptance, and the reading o'er?
What gain I, else, for time and labour spent,
But, to my face, perhaps, a Complement?
And, sometimes, when my back is turn'd about,
A secret sleight, or, else, an open flout?
What Patronage, have I, yet thereby gained
Through which, my cause, or person, is sustained?
What favours, am I likely to obtain,
Who flatter not the proud, nor sooth the vain?
But, rather, venture Freedom, and Estate,
Then, not to speak truth home; or, speak too late?
So, need require it; so, my free expression
Wrongs not the Common Peace, nor sound discretion,
Nor Innocents; nor, those, who guilty are,
Arraigneth anywhere, save at the Bar
Of their own Consciences, by Writs, that come
In gen'ral terms, and to I know not whom?
If, thou conceive, that, I ambitious am
Of Praise hereby; Thou, therein art too blame,
What praise, from POETRY, can I expect,
Which, findes an Epidemical neglect?

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Chiefly, from such as mine, upon such Theams
As I oft chuse? and, when both winds and streams
Against me are? and, also, in a time,
When Poetry it self is thought a crime?
When, they, who would reputed be, most holy,
Look on it, as Prophaness, or meer folly?
VVhen, they, you call the VVITS, all strains disgust
That, sooth not vanitie, or stir up lust?
Or, are not, with forc'd metaphors, and words
(VVhose juncture, neither perfect sense affords,
Nor any useful matter) sent abroad
Drest, and trim'd up, in their affected mode?
And, when the most part, are so ignorant,
That, they, sufficient understanding want
To read a Verse? and, put no difference
'Twixt best Composers, and that base non-sence
VVhich, Pedlers, up and down the Country bring,
And, Rogues and Whores about the City sing?
Nor, is my Peace, or safety to be got
Thereby; and, doubtless, if I know it not,
I am a fool: for, I, have often lost
My Freedom by it, with no little cost.
He, that their Courses, constantly gainsays,
VVho, Ahab-like, are wilful in their ways,
From them, gets nothing, by his contradiction,
But, Micah's bread and water of affliction.
And, what on my Remembrancer, ensu'd,
(VVhich, thousands in my time, fulfil'd have view'd)
Informs me fully, what retaliation
I, am to look for, from this Generation.
VVho, then can think, that, he, who doth expose
His thoughts, as I have done, to friends and foes,
Amidst so many Factions? (when, but one
He well can please, and, peradventure none?)

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VVho then, I say, can think, that outward rest
VVas his chief aim? or, his own Interest
The mark he shot at? or, that he shall ever
Finde Peace external, whilst, he doth persever
In such a Course? until, a change, GOD brings,
As well in Manners, as in other things?
Such, onely, hitherto, hath been my lot,
That, I, in sixty six yeers have scarce got
Six months together of that common Rest,
VVhich is by many, all their life possest;
And, now of late, unto what Side soe'er,
Or, Principle, I truely did adhere:
Some men of all Sides; ev'n of That, whose Cause
Hath had my suffrages, pen, purse, applause,
And faithful'st aid, hath brought as sad effects
On me, by their despights, or disrespects,
As pave all they, whose more deserved hate,
My Pen, for their sakes, did exasperate.
Nay; would it were no worse: By some of those,
I suffer more, then, by our common Foes.
VVhich, here, I mention, onely to prevent
A false surmise; and, not in discontent:
For, I, embrace my Portion, with thanks-giving,
And, would not change it, with the best man living!
To sum up all, and give thee my best pledge
For my good meaning, in what I alledge;
I hereby call to witness, Him, that knows
VVhat, in my heart, I secretly propose,
That, my chief purpose in divulging this,
Is, to reform, those things which are amiss
Both, in my self, and others: to make strong
His hand, to whom this Title doth belong:
And, to preserve that Peace, which, being lost,
More then our lives, and our estates may cost.

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I look for nothing, but to be abus'd
And, some way to be wrongfully accus'd
By those whom this distastes, that, it may seem
The less worth hearing, by my disesteem:
And if his Vertue, who must break the blow
Defend me not, I'm sure it will be so.
I nothing seek on me to be bestown
Save onely that, which is by right mine own;
To disengage me from the world; wherein
(And wherewith) I, unwarily have bin
Too far, of late, engaged; and, from whom
I cannot fairly disoblig'd become,
VVithout a Retribution, of such things
VVhich she hath lent; yea, which her promisings
Embolden'd me to take; (and, which, she knows
That, more then twice told, she unto me ows,
Upon a just Account.) But, were I free,
I hope she should not re-intangle me
In ought, save what will visibly pertain
More to the Publike, then my private gain.
For, my ambition, is to live and die
Henceforth, unheeded; and, retir'd to lie
VVhere, I a little while, without annoy,
My self, with my relations, may enjoy:
And, then, resigne my place, to him, that must
Supply it, when I slumber in the dust.
But if this be too great an earthly bliss,
For my enjoyment; yet I'm sure of this,
That, I shall there be laid, ere it be long,
VVhere, I shall have no sense of right or wrong;
And, though I nothing have, rest quiet, there,
VVhere, I shall also, neither want, nor care.

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This Postscript, READER, is on thee bestown,
To rouze thy Spirit, and hold up mine own;
(VVho, have enough to do, to keep my mind
Close to that work, for which I was design'd,
Amid those great temptations, and desertions
VVhich set before me manifold diversions:)
And, if, thou make me, now, no recompence,
For this my Pains, by drawing profit hence
Unto thy self; thou, wholly, wilt destroy,
That, which I hereby hoped to enjoy,
And, dost me wrong. To thee, thus much, to tell
I had a minde: which being done, Farewel.
Henceforth, say, or or gainsay; do, what ye will;
(Let him, that's filthy, so continue still.)
I've done my part, to make clean what was foul;
I, to my pow'r, have here discharg'd my Soul,
Of what it had in charge; and, on this string
VVill strike no more: But for the future sing
To GOD, and to my self, till they appear
VVho come with eyes to see, and ears to hear.