University of Virginia Library

---

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;

---

54

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.

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;

---

55

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.

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;

---

56

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.

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;

---

57

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.

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;

---

58

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.

---

59

---

60

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;

---

61

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.

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;

---

62

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.

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;

---

63

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.

---

64

---

65

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;

---

66

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.