Poems on Affairs of State

Where-ever God erects a House of Prayer,
The Devil always builds a Chappel there
And 'twill be found upon Examination,
The latter has the largest Congregation:
For ever since he first debauch'd the Mind,
He made a perfect Conquest of Mankind.

With Uniformity of Service, he
Reigns with a general Aristocracy,
No Nonconforming Sects disturb his Reign,
For of his Yoke there's very few Complain.
He knows the Genius and the Inclination,
And matches proper Sins for ev'ry Nation.
He needs no Standing-Army Government;
He always Rules us by our own Consent:
His Laws are easie, and his gentle Sway
Makes it exceeding pleasant to obey.
The List of his Vice-gerents and Commanders,
Out-does your Cæsars, or your Alexanders.
They never fail of his Infernal Aid,
And he's as certain ne'er to be betray'd.
Thro' all the World they spread his vast Command,
And Death's Eternal Empire is maintain'd.
They rule so politickly and so well,
As if they were L--- J--- of Hell.
Duly divided to debauch Mankind,
And plant Infernal Dictates in his Mind.

Pride the first Peer, and President of Hell,
To his share Spain, the largest Province, fell.
The subtile Prince thought fittest to bestow
On these the Golden Mines of Mexico;
With all the Silver Mountains of Peru;
Wealth which would in wise hands the World undo:
Because he knew their Genius was such,
Too Lazy and too Haughty to be Rich.

So proud a People, so above their Fate,
That if reduc'd to beg, they'll beg in State.
Lavish of Money, to be counted Brave,
And proudly starve, because they scorn to save.
Never was Nation in the World before,
So very Rich, and yet so very Poor.

Lust chose the Torrid Zone of Italy,
Where Blood ferments in Rapes and Sodomy:
Where swelling Veins o'erflow with livid Streams,
With Heat impregnate from Vesuvian Flames:

Whose flowing Sulphur forms Infernal Lakes,
And humane Body of the Soil partakes.
There Nature ever burns with hot Desires,
Fann'd with Luxuriant Air from Subterranean Fires:
Here undisturb'd in Floods of scalding Lust,
Th'Infernal King reigns with Infernal Gust.

Drunk'nness, the Darling Favourite of Hell,
Chose Germany to Rule; and Rules so well,
No Subjects more obsequiously obey,
None please so well, or are so pleas'd as they.
The cunning Artist manages so well,
He lets them bow to Heav'n and drink to Hell.
If but to Wine and him they Homage pay,
He cares not to what Deity they pray,
What God they worship most, or in what way:
Whether by Luther, Calvin, or by Rome,
They sail for Heav'n, by Wine he steers them home.

Ungovern'd Passion settled first in France,
Where Mankind lives in Hast, and thrives by Chance;
A Dancing Nation, Fickle and Untrue,
Have oft undone themselves and others too:
Prompt the Infernal Dictates to Obey,
And in Hell's Favour none more great than they.
The Pagan World he blindly leads away,
And personally rules with Arbitrary Sway:
The Mask thrown off, Plain Devil his Title stands;
And what elsewhere he Tempts, he there Commands.
There with full Gust th'Ambition of his Mind
Governs, as he of old in Heav'n design'd.
Worship'd as God, his Painim Altars smoke,
Embru'd with Blood of those that him Invoke.

The rest by Deputies he rules as well,
And plants the distant Colonies of Hell.
By them his secret Power he maintains,
And binds the World in his Infernal Chains.

By Zeal the Irish; and the Rush by Folly:
Fury the Dane: The Swede by Melancholy:

By stupid Ignorance, the Muscovite:
The Chinese, by a Child of Hell, call'd Wit;
Wealth makes the Persian too Effeminate:
And Poverty the Tartars Desperate:
The Turks and Moors by Mah'met he subdues:
And God has giv'n him leave to rule the Jews:
Rage rules the Portuguese, and Fraud the Scotch,
Revenge the Pole, and Avarice the Dutch.

Satyr be kind, and draw a silent Veil,
Thy Native England's Vices to conceal:
Or if that Task's impossible to do,
At least be just, and show her Vertues too;
Too Great the first, Alas! the last too Few.

England unknown as yet, unpeopled lay;
Happy, had she remain'd so to this day,
And not to every Nation been a Prey.
Her Open Harbours, and her Fertile Plains,
The Merchants Glory these, and those the Swains,
To every Barbarous Nation have betray'd her,
Who Conquer her as oft as they Invade her.
So Beauty guarded but by Innocence,
That ruins her which should be her Defence.

Ingratitude, a Devil of Black Renown,
Possess'd her very early for his own.
An Ugly, Surly, Sullen, Selfish Spirit,
Who Satan's worst Perfections does Inherit:
Second to him in Malice and in Force,
All Devil without, and all within him Worse.

He made her First-born Race to be so rude,
And suffer'd her to be so oft subdu'd:
By several Crowds of wandring Thieves o'er-run,
Often unpeopl'd, and as oft undone.
While every Nation that her Powers reduc'd,
Their Languages and Manners introduc'd;
From whose mix'd Relicks our compounded Breed,
By Spurious Generation does succeed;
Making a Race uncertain and unev'n,
Deriv'd from all the Nations under Heav'n.

The Romans first with Julius Cæsar came,
Including all the Nations of that Name,
Gauls, Greeks, and Lombards; and by Computation,
Auxiliaries, or Slaves of every Nation.
With Hengist, Saxons; Danes with Sueno came,
In search of Plunder, not in search of Fame.
Scots, Picts, and Irish from th'Hibernian Shore:
And Conqu'ring William brought the Normans o'er.

All these their barbarous Off-spring left behind,
The Dregs of Armies, they of all Mankind:
Blended with Britons who before were here,
Of whom the Welsh ha' blest the Character.

From this Amphibious Ill-born Mob began
That vain ill-natur'd thing, an, Englishman.
The Customs, Sir-names, Languages, and Manners
Of all these Nations are their own Explainers:
Whose Relicks are so lasting and so strong,
They've left a Shibboleth upon our Tongue;
By which with easie search you may distinguish
Your Roman-Saxon-Danish-Norman English.

The great invading

Wm. the Conq.

Norman let us know
What Conquerors in after-Times might do.
To every

Or Archer.

Musqueteer he brought to Town,
He gave the Lands which never were his own.
When first the English Crown he did obtain,
He did not send his Dutchmen home again.
No Reassumptions in his Reign were known,
D' Avenant might there ha' let his Book alone.
No Parliament his Army cou'd disband:
He rais'd no Money, for he paid in Land.
He gave his Legions their Eternal Station,
And made them all Freeholders of the Nation.
He Canton'd out the Country to his Men,
And ev'ry Soldier was a Denizen.
The Rascals thus enrich'd, he call'd them Lords,
To please their upstart Pride with new made words,
And Doomsday-Book his Tyranny records.

And here begins our Ancient Pedigree,
That so exalts our poor Nobility:
'Tis that from some French Trooper they derive,
Who with the Norman Bastard did arrive:
The Trophies of the Families appear;
Some show the Sword, the Bow, and some the Spear,
Which their Great Ancestor, forsooth, did wear.
These in the Heralds Register remain,
Their Noble mean Extraction to explain.
Yet who the Hero was, no Man can tell,
Whether a Drummer or a Colonel:
The silent Record blushes to reveal
Their Undescended Dark Original.

But grant the best, How came the Change to pass;
A True-Born Englishman of Norman Race?
A Turkish Horse can show more History,
To prove his Well-descended Family.
Conquest, as by the

Dr. Sherl. de Facto.

Moderns 'tis exprest,
May give a Title to the Lands possest:
But that the Longest Sword shou'd be so Civil,
To make a Frenchman English, that's the Devil.

These are the Heroes that despise the Dutch,
And rail at new-come Foreigners so much;
Forgetting that themselves are all deriv'd
From the most Scoundrel Race that ever liv'd,
A horrid Croud of Rambling Thieves and Drones,
Who ransack'd Kingdoms and dispeopled Towns.
The Pict and Painted Briton, Treach'rous Scot,
By Hunger, Theft, and Rapine, hither brought:
Norwegian Pirates, Buccaneering Danes,
Whose Red-hair'd Off-spring ev'ry where remains:
Who join'd with Norman French, compound the Breed
From whence your True-Born Englishmen proceed.

And left by Length of Time it be pretended,
The Climate may this Modern Breed ha' mended;
Wise Providence, to keep us where we are,
Mixes us daily with exceeding Care:

We have been Europe's Sink, the Jakes where she
Voids all her Offal Out-cast Progeny.
From our Fifth Henry's time, the Strolling Bands
Of banish'd Fugitives from neighb'ring Lands,
Have here a certain Sanctuary found,
Th'Eternal Refuge of the Vagabond:
Where in but half a common Age of Time,
Borr'wing new Blood and Manners from the Clime,
Proudly they learn all Mankind to contemn,
And all their Race are True-born Englishmen.

Dutch, Walloons, Flemings, Irishmen, and Scots,
Vaudois and Valtolins, and Hugonots,
In good Queen Bess's Charitable Reign,
Supply'd us with three hundred thousand Men.
Religion, God we thank thee, sent them hither,
Priests, Protestants, the Devil and all together:
Of all Professions, and of ev'ry Trade,
All that were persecuted or afraid;
Whether for Debt or other Crimes they fled,
David at Hackelah was still their Head.

The Off-spring of this Miscellaneous Crowd
Had not their new Plantations long enjoy'd,
But they grew Englishmen, and rais'd their Votes
At Foreign Shoals for Interloping Scots.
The

K. J. 1.

Royal Branch from Pictland did succeed.
With Troops of Scots and Scabs from North-by-Tweed.
The Seven first Years of his Pacifick Reign
Made him and half his Nation Englishmen.
Scots from the Northern Frozen Banks of Tay,
With Packs and Plads came Whigging all away:
Thick as the Locusts which in Egypt swarm'd,
With Pride and hungry Hopes compleatly arm'd:
With native Truth, Diseases, and no Money,
Plunder'd our Canaan of the Milk and Honey.
Here they grew quickly Lords and Gentlemen,
And all their Race are True-Born Englishmen.

The Civil Wars, the common Purgative,
Which always use to make the Nation thrive,

Made way for all that stroling Congregation,
Which throng'd in Pious Ch---s's Restoration.
The Royal Refugee our Breed restores,
With Foreign Courtiers, and with Foreign Whores:
And carefully repeopled us again,
Thoughout his Lazy, Long, Lascivious Reign,
With such a blest and True-born English Fry,
As much Illustrates our Nobility.
A Gratitude which will so black appear,
As future Ages must abhor to hear:
When they look back on all that Crimson Flood,
Which stream'd in Lindsey's, and Caernarvan's Blood:
Bold Strafford, Cambridge, Capel, Lucas, Lisle,
Who crown'd in Death his Father's Fun'ral Pile.
The Loss of whom, in order to supply,
With a True-born English N---ty,
Six Bastard Dukes survive his Luscious Reign,
The Labours of Italian C---n,
French, P---h, Tabby S---t, and Cambrian:
Besides the Num'rous Bright and Virgin Throng,
Whose Female Glories shade them from my Song.

This Off-spring, if one Age they multiply,
May half the House with English Peers supply:
There with true English Pride they may contemn
S---g and P---d, new-made Noblemen.

French Cooks, Scotch Pedlars, and Italian Whores,
Were all made L*ds, or L---ds Progenitors.
Beggars and Bastards by this new Creation,
Much multiply'd the P---ge of the Nation;
Who will be all, e'er one short Age runs o'er,
As True-Born L---ds as those we had before.
Then to recruit the Commons he prepares,
And heals the Latent Breaches of the Wars;
The pious Purpose better to advance,
H' invites the banish'd Protestants of France:
Hither for God's-sake and their own they fled,
Some for Religion came, and some for Bread:

Two hundred thousand Pair of Wooden Shooes,
Who, God be thank'd, had nothing left to lose,
To Heav'n's great Praise did for Religion fly,
To make us starve our Poor in Charity.
In ev'ry Port they plant their fruitful Train,
To get a Race of True-Born Englishmen:
Whose Children will, when Riper Years they see,
Be as Ill-natur'd and as Proud as we:
Call themselves English, Foreigners despise,
Be Surly like us all, and just as Wise.

Thus from a Mixture of all Kinds began
That Het'rogeneous Thing, An Englishman:
In eager Rapes, and furious Lust begot,
Betwixt a Painted Briton and a Scot:
Whose gend'ring Off-spring quickly learn'd to Bow,
And yoke their Heifers to the Roman Plough:
From whence a Mongrel half-bred Race there came,
With neither Name, nor Nation, Speech or Fame:
In whose hot Veins new Mixtures quickly ran,
Infus'd betwixt a Saxon and a Dane.
While their Rank Daughters, to their Parents just,
Receiv'd all Nations with Promiscuous Lust.
This Nauseous Brood directly did contain
The well-extracted Blood of Englishmen.

Which Medly canton'd in a Heptarchy,
A Rhapsody of Nations to supply,
Among themselves maintain'd eternal Wars,
And still the Ladies lov'd the Conquerors.

The Western Angles all the rest subdu'd;
A bloody Nation, barbarous and rude:
Who by the Tenure of the Sword possest
One part of Britain, and subdu'd the rest.
And as great things denominate the small,
The Conq'ring part gave Title to the Whole.
The Scot, Pict, Britain, Roman, Dane, submit,
And with the English-Saxon all Unite:
And these the Mixture have so close pursu'd,
The very Name and Memory's subdu'd:

No Roman now, no Britain does remain;
Wales strove to separate, but strove in vain:
The silent Nations undistinguish'd fall,
And Englishman's the common Name for all.
Fate jumbl'd them together, God knows how;
What e'er they were, they're True-Born English now.

The Wonder which remains is at our Pride,
To value that which all wise Men deride.
For Englishmen to boast of Generation,
Cancels their Knowledg, and lampoons the Nation.
A True-Born Englishman's a Contradiction,
In Speech an Irony, in Fact a Fiction:
A Banter made to be a Test of Fools,
Which those that use it justly ridicules:
A Metaphor invented to express
A Man a-kin to all the Universe.

For as the Scots, as Learned Men ha' said,
Throughout the World their Wand'ring Seed have spread;
So open-handed England 'tis believ'd,
Has all the Gleanings of the World receiv'd.

Some think of England, 'twas our Saviour meant,
The Gospel should to all the World be sent:
Since, when the Blessed Sound did hither reach,
They to all Nations might be said to preach.

'Tis well that Vertues give Nobility,
How shall we else the want of Birth and Blood supply?
Since scarce one Family is left alive,
Which does not from some Foreigner derive.
Of sixty thousand English Gentlemen,
Whose Names and Arms in Registers remain,
We challenge all our Heralds to declare
Ten Families which English-Saxons are.

France justly boasts the Ancient Noble Line
Of Bourbon, Montmorency, and Lorain.
The Germans too their House of Austria show,
And Holland their Invincible Nassau.
Lines which in Heraldry were Ancient grown,
Before the Name of Englishman was known.

Even Scotland too her Elder Glorys shows,
Her Gourdons, Hamiltons, and her Monroes;
Dowglas, Mackays, and Grahams, Names well known,
Long before Ancient England knew her own.

But England, Modern to the last degree,
Borrows or makes her own Nobility,
And yet she boldly boasts of Pedigree:
Repines that Foreigners are put upon her,
And talks of her Antiquity and Honour:
Her S---lls, S---ls, C---ls, De--- M---rs,
M---ns and M---ues, D---s and V---rs,
Not one have English Names, yet all are English Peers.
Your H---ns, P---llons, and L---liers,
Pass now for Trueborn-English Knights and Squires,
And make good Senate Members, or Lord-Mayors.
Wealth, howsoever got, in England makes
Lords of Mechanicks, Gentlemen of Rakes:
Antiquity and Birth are needless here;
'Tis Impudence and Money makes a P---r.

Innumerable City-Knights we know,
From Blewcoat-Hospitals and Bridewell flow.
Draymen and Porters fill the City Chair,
And Foot-Boys Magisterial Purple wear.
Fate has but very small Distinction set
Betwixt the Counter and the Coronet.
Tarpaulin L---ds, Pages of high Renown,
Rise up by Poor Mens Valour, not their own.
Great Families of Yesterday we show,
And Lords, whose Parents were the Lord knows who.

University of Virginia Library

I. PART I.