 | Sion in distress |  |
The Evidence summed up.
O gulph of horror! O profound Abyss!Was ever mischief half so black as this!
Thou monstrous Whore, what Language can express
The boundless measure of thy wickedness.
Throughout the Earth thou hast such mischief wrought
As is amazing to a humane thought.
It would compel a heart of stone to melt,
When it revolves what Protestants have felt.
Thy bloody fury and infernal rage,
Has persecuted them in every age.
Thou mad'st the Magistrates their Enemies,
And all the tortures which thou could'st devise,
Thou didst inflict, as testimony shows,
Some thou didst hang by the Head, some by the Toes,
Some millions thou didst burn and broil on Coles,
And others starve to death in stinking holes.
Some thou didst cut to pieces very small,
And Infants Brains didst dash against the Wall.
Upon their Bodies thou didst tread like dung,
Thou hadst no mercy upon old or young.
By thy cursed crew were Women ravished,
Who then (like Butchers) knockt them on the head
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Some were made harborless, and forc'd about
To wander, till in Woods and dismal Caves
They found their woful and untimely Graves.
What rocky heart but justly may admire
Thy rage, that made poor Children to set fire
To fatal piles in which their Parents dear
In cruel flames consum'd to ashes were.
Thy wicked Agents have some Millions slain,
Who did endure the most inhumane pain.
Thy Bishops, Monks, and Fryers could devise,
Whose blood to me for speedy Vengeance Cries.
The waies thou tookst to run a Soul from error
Was unexampled flesh-amazing terror
Of horrid Racks whereon a man must lie,
Tortur'd to death, and dying cannot die.
Accursed Wretch, didst thou not give Commission
For to erect thy bloody Inquisition;
That loathsom Dungeon and most ghastly Cell,
A place of horror representing Hell,
Where nothing is so plentiful as tears,
Where Martyr'd Protestants can find no ears
To hear their Cries and lamentable moans,
Nor Hearts to pity their extorted groans;
Where Saints in torments all their daies must spend,
Not knowing when their suff'rings will have end.
Thousands by thee were in Bohemia slain,
Whose Carkasses unburied did remain.
Thou madest thy Vassals fall upon that Nation,
On no less penalty than their Damnation.
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To give them full and absolute remission,
The vilest wretch that on the Earth has stood;
You fully pardon'd, if hee'd shed the blood
Of one Bohemian; O stupendious rage!
Not to be parallel'd in any Age,
But by thy self, 'twas judg'd De Alva's Crime
That he destroy'd no more in six years time
Than eighteen thousand souls; were they so few
In the account of this blood-thirsty Crew!
But if the Wretch (De Alva's) bloody Bill
Come short in numbers, yet his hand did fill
It up with torments; dreadful to rehearse,
The very mention cannot chuse but pierce
A Marble heart, make Infidels relent,
Torments that none but Devils could invent.
But if all this was over-little still,
His Predecessors did inlarge the Bill:
For from the time thy hellish Inquisition
Did from the Devil first receive Commission,
By cruel torments (which they still retain)
There were a hundred fifty thousand slain,
From that black season when the hellish rage
Of Jesuits acted on th'European Stage
In England, France, in Italy, and Spain,
By thy accursed bloody hands were slain
Nine hundred thousand souls, or thereabout,
(E're many years had run their circuits out)
Of poor Americans by cruel Spain
In fifty years were many Millions slain.
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Thy filthy Whoredoms quickly did espye.
Thou hast with raging Persecutions rent
And murder'd Parents with their innocent
And harmless Babes; thy more than barb'rous crew
Their cursed hands did in their blood imbrue;
At once were eighty Infants famished,
And many thousands basely Murthered.
When some have fled unto obscurest Caves,
Thy Villains made their hiding place their Graves.
What part of Europe now can make their boast,
And say they have not tasted (to their cost)
Of thy Malignity? What shall I say
Of Germany, whose Martyr'd Spirits pray
For speedy Vengeance on thy cursed head?
That Sea of blood thou hast in Ireland shed,
Cries night and day for Justice; now I fix
My serious thoughts upon black sixty six,
Thou bloody Strumpet, how canst thou repair
The loss of Englands great Imperial Chair;
How many rich men were to beggars turn'd,
When that brave Isles, Metropolis was burn'd
By thy accursed Imps, Fire-brands of Hell,
Incarnate Devils without parallel.
Brave Merchants of their great Estates bereft,
To day Rich men, to morrow nothing left;
Their Wives and Children harbourless became,
Their substance all consumed in the flame.
But to conclude, I have not yet forgot
Thy Powder-Treason, nor thy modern Plot,
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Done in the Merindolian Massacre.
Should I but recapitulate thy charge,
And speak of all thy Rogueries at large
'Twould fill vast Volums; Often did I see
The Lord of Life was Crucify'd by thee
When his dear Members blood by thee was shed,
Millions unnumbred basely Murthered.
Yet still thou hast the impudence to say
That thou art innocent unto this day.
Thou shameless Curtezan, didst thou not run
With filthy Panders, and renounc'd the Son
Of Glory, this did thine Espousals break;
Canst thou deny it, shameless Strumpet, speak.
Babylon.
I am the Mother Church, and hence deny
That filthy name I am indicted by.
The odious Epithets of Scarlet Whore,
Is daily laid unjustly at my door.
I am Christs Church, his Spouse and only love,
His undefiled one and spotless Dove.
Pray then forbear the Sentence, look about
To find that Whore and grand Deliquent out.
Bold Hereticks, who never would adhere,
To the true Faith and Apostolick Chair.
Have born my just rebukes, some more, some less,
As was their Pride, Rebellion, Wickedness.
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Thou graceless Wretch, thou art bereft of shame,
How darst thou thus deny thy proper name.
Christ's Church, his Members never did annoy,
Nor persecute, and millions thus destroy.
'Tis to no purpose for thee to dispute,
For all thy Forgeries I can confute.
I am thy Judge, and never will pass by
Thy horrid Acts, and bloody Villany.
The times at hand when I'll fulfil my word,
And in just fury draw my glittering sword.
My frown shall make thy proud foundation quake,
And all the Pillars of thy House I'll shake.
Dost think because I did forbear so long,
That I'll revenge not my dear Childrens wrong.
What I resolve to do or will command,
No Pope nor Devil can the same withstand.
He that presum'd great Monarchs to depose,
Shall soon be tumbled down by some of those
Whom he so crusht; from Hell he did ascend,
And thither shall be flung down in the end.
He'll surely fall and never rise again;
The hope thou hast of him is therefore vain.
There's no recalling of the Sentence gone,
Thy Execution day approaches on,
Thy Pardon-Merchants then shall cry and howl,
And thy Destruction (in this sort) condole.
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‘Most brave and sumptuous, ev'n beyond compare.
‘Alas! how quickly are thy Judgments come,
‘Thy fall, thy ruin, and thy final doom.
‘Our Trade is gone, our gainful Merchandize
‘Is lost, and no man does regard our Cries.
‘O sad Destruction! we are all undone,
‘What shall we do, or whither shall we run?
‘O that the Mountains and the Hills would cover
‘Us, till the Vengeance of the Lord be over!
Truth.
Most glorious Judge, since this bold Whore denies
Her filthy lewdness, and Adulteries,
Let me but prove it, and proclaim her shame,
'Tis known that I a faithful Witness am.
It has been Evidenc'd by Vision clear
That some strange Monster should on earth appear,
Which by imperfect views did first amaze
Segacious minds when they on it did gaze;
Which made mens Judgments to divide asunder
To see an Object of unusual Wonder,
A Woman! City! and a scarlet Whore!
The like on Earth was never seen before.
A Woman in her pompous glory drest,
And sitting on a Monstrous Horned Beast,
Who it decypher'd by prodigious things,
His very Horns (explain'd) are Crowned Kings.
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She's plac'd on a Seven-hilled Seat;
She's stiled a Woman, and a Whore, because
She once submitted to Enacted Laws,
As other women do, when they do wed
A Husband, and enjoy a Marriage bed.
And who this Woman is, shall now be known,
Her proper Title is (Great Babylon)
Who in great Pomp and Royal State doth ride,
Excelling haughty Jezebel in Pride;
Who in our modern times hath boasting been,
That she Rules all men as a mighty Queen,
Trampling on Kings and Crowned Potentates,
Commanding Kingdoms, Common-wealths, and States,
Requiring Subjects blindly to obey,
Pressing the Beast, and Horns, to kill and slay
At such a rate, as that all Christendom
Like Butchers bloody Shambles are become.
If by this Mark she is not understood,
Neither by Garb, Beast, Actions, or by Blood,
To other waies of proof, I'le quickly come
And shew this Whore to be the Church of Rome.
The Woman which th'Apostle John beheld
Array'd in Purple, and in Pomp upheld
By that blasphemous, scarlet colour'd Beast
That was with Gold and Stones of value drest:
Holding a Cup full of Abominations,
And black pollutions of her Fornications;
That with great Kings Adultery commits,
And on a Sev'n-hill'd Habitation sits,
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That 'tis that City which so proudly Reigns
Over the Kings of th'Earth; but all these Notes,
And what besides the blessed Spirit quotes,
With Papal Rome, exactly do agree,
She therefore must this bloody Strumpet be.
If all the Marks that of this Whore are given
Will not meet any where so plain and even
As on the Church and People I did name,
Then certainly She is the very same;
First, then 'tis evident that there is none
May be so fitly stiled Babylon.
Was Babylon a People of Renown
To that same height the Church of Rome is grown.
Had Babylon a great and peerless King?
This Church can shew an Image of that thing.
Did Babylon poor Israel Invade?
This Church on Sion the same Invades made.
Did Babylon make Salem desolate?
This hath brought Sion near to that Estate.
Did Babylon make Prophets drink their Tears,
Shake Kingdoms, and fill Peoples hearts with fears?
This Church hath done so; yea, and far out-done
Her Arch-type, and so beyond her run.
Did Babylon the Prophets bear away
Into Captivity, and make a prey
Of all the Treasure that her hand could find?
This Papal Church is not a whit behind.
On th'ablest guides she laid her hellish hands,
Confining them to Prison under Bands;
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She seiz'd their Persons, and their substance too.
Did Babylon God's Worship over-throw,
Set up an Idol, and command to Bow?
This Church hath done the same, yea, and much more,
Fill'd heaped measure, and much running o're.
'Twas she that took the Word of God away,
And by a String of Beads taught men to pray.
She rob'd the Layety of the blessed Cup,
And spoil'd the Feast where Children come to Sup,
At the Lords Table where they us'd to mind
The blessed things their Saviour left behind.
She did set up her Superstitious Mass,
As rank an Idol as yet ever was,
Commanding adoration to be given
Of equal honour with the God of Heaven;
Imposing Vows, unwarranted Traditions,
Implicit Faith, and thousand Superstitions,
Pretended Miracles, apparent Lies,
Damnable Errors, and fond Fopperies;
She clogs the Conscience, and to make all well,
Boasts all her Dictates are Infallible.
Did Babylon the burning Work begin?
Make a hot Farnace? Thrust Gods Worthies in?
This Church herein hath driven such a trade,
That thousands, broiling Martyrs she hath made.
She sets the Pope above the holy one,
The great Jehovah and his blessed Son.
'Tis she declares him Universal Head,
'Tis she forbids the Bible to be read.
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'Tis she that wounded Sion to the heart.
'Tis she hath been the occasion of all evil,
'Tis she advanc'd the Doctrine of the Devil.
'Tis she that taught her Sons to swear and lie,
To vouch great falshdods, and plain truths deny.
'Tis she that did forbid the Marriage Bed,
Whilst her vile Clergy such ill lives have led
Was it not she that Canon did create,
Commanding plainly to abstain from meat,
Which God gave licence unto all to eat.
If from this charge she can her self defend,
Then may she make the Judge and Law her friend
Or if she can produce another tribe,
To whom we may this Character ascribe;
With greater clearness than we do to her,
We will consent her Sentence to defer.
Judge.
Rome , since thou canst not make a fair defence,
And shew to all the World thine innocence.
'Tis very evident that all these things,
Have been fulfilled on Kingdoms and their Kings[illeg.]
And now if there no other People be,
That did the like, then thou alone art she.
Let thy denials trouble men no more,
Thou only art the bloody scarlet Whore.
Therefore in Justice I at length am come,
(Being long provokt) to pass thy final doom.
| Sion in distress | |