University of Virginia Library

CANTO XIII. The Kingdom alarm'd. The Practices of the Whigs. The D*** M****l hinted. The Addresses touch'd upon: With some seasonable Reflections on the Factious Party.

The Nation much surpriz'd to find,
The Saints so Bold, and yet so Blind;
And that the People call'd the Godly,
Should manage their Intrigues so odly;

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150

Began to guess from Matters past,
How Things were like to prove at last;
Unless the Threat'ning Mischiefs were
Prevented by some timely care;
So wise Astrologers that know
By Stars, that do our Fate foreshow,
How great Affairs are mov'd below;
By timely Caution should fore-arm us,
Against those Ills they think will harm us.

The Church-men, now, began to ponder,
On Mist'ries that had rais'd their wonder;
And to examine what the Whigs
Intended, by their dark Intriegues;
And what their plotting Heads could mean,
By op'ning such a frightful Scene,
That even scar'd the very Rabble,
And turn'd the Town into a Babel;
Nay, puzzl'd wiser Heads to guess,
The true intent of their Excess;
When they'd so long amus'd the Nation,
With canting Cries of Moderation;

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151

As if the Church was bound in Honour,
To silent sit till they'd undone her;
And that it was an open breach
Of Peace and Unity to teach
That very Doctrine which the Mouth
Of Heav'n has warranted for Truth;
Only because it disagrees
With their Nefarious Practices;
And thwarts that old but cursed Cause;
That strikes at God's Eternal Laws;
As if their Aim was to dethrone
All Pow'r, to make the World their own;
And like the Impious Gyants, fight
With Heav'n it self to shew their Spight;
Or that at least they meant to be,
The bane of Church and Monarchy;
And had determin'd if they cou'd,
To drown them in a Sea of Blood;
And by an universal fray,
Make all but one Aceldema;
So Mad-men may affirm they're Kings,
And dream and talk of Mighty things;

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152

Fancy they have a Right by Birth,
To all the Regions of the Earth;
But when the Wretches once begin,
To shake their Fists, and rave and grin,
'Tis time they should be chain'd or ty'd,
To curb their silly Frantick Pride.

When a strange frenzy full as bad
As this, had made the Whigs run mad,
And Zeal, Ill-nature, and Ambition,
Had fill'd the Nation with Sedition;
That those, who had implor'd of late
The kind Indulgence of the State;
For e'ery Saint with tender Conscience,
To Pray according to his own Sense;
Were now for giving Laws to those,
Who'd hurt their own for their Repose;
And sacrific'd their Ease and Safty,
To raise a thankless Tribe too lofty;
Who now according to the black
Returns, Fanaticks us'd to make,

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153

Were for subverting those that gave 'em,
The Pow'r to injure and enslave 'em;
And grew too stately to endure
Those Laws that made the Church secure;
And too superb to yield or own,
A just Obedience to the Throne;
But at the Root of both were striking,
To bring them lower to their liking;
So the proud Hogen State we see,
That once complain'd of Poverty;
Were by one Gracious Queen reliev'd,
When much opprest, distrest, and griev'd;
But now when High and Mighty grown,
To the next Q*** their Thanks are shown;
In D****s s****al******y rude,
By way of Fl****ish Gratitude;
Or else the Whigs have forg'd a Sham,
In Hopes to mend their Losing Game;
And make themselves notorious Lyars,
T'amuse the People call'd High-Flyars.

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154

When Royal Favour thus had warm'd
Some Snakes with pointed Venom arm'd;
That they began to hiss and bite,
And spit their Poison and their Spite;
At all Men that they found devising,
Just Ways to stop their Tyrannizing;
And had in publick manner try'd,
Those Doctrines which themselves deny'd;
And taught us to despise the Bible
By B--- G--- for a Libel;
The Nation then began to see,
Their Justice and Sincerity;
And what a strange new Reformation,
The Saints were bringing into Fashion;
What Pains they took, what Zeal they shew'd,
To please their own ill-natur'd Brood;
What good old Arguments they brought
Long since by Pryn and Peters taught;
Those worthy Martyrs for the Cause,
One learn'd in Gospel, 'tother Laws;

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155

Both mighty Favourites of the Rout,
And Sainted now, we need not doubt;
To make their Arguments pass Muster,
When e'er the Whigs are pleas'd to bluster;
Yet tho' they're honour'd at this Day,
For their Good Deeds, we cannot say;
They have not left behind their Fellows,
To grace the Pill'ry or the Gallows;
Because we've many now in play,
As meritorious full as they.

Now Whig and Saint, to make us love 'em,
Ran on as if the Devil drove 'em;
And spur'd the Cause with so much Violence,
That the most Patient broke their Silence;
Much nettl'd and provok'd to find,
That all was going down the Wind;
For that the Whigs did now Conceit,
Their Harvest for the Sickle fit;
And thought 'twas time that they had mown,
What Old Achitophel had sown;

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156

No sooner were the Tribe prepar'd,
But all began to labour hard;
Endeav'ring as they always wou'd,
To Cheat the Parson if they cou'd;
That Tyth and Truth might cease together,
And Souls be lead the Lord knows whither.

This put the Nation in a Flame,
When Good Men saw their wicked aim;
And forc'd the Church upon addressing
Our only Safty and our Blessing;
Some were so impious to Prophane,
That Sacred Word Republican;
As if those Saints of Common Wealth!
Such pious Zealots would by stealth,
Prove dang'rous to the Kingdom's Health;
Or that Republicans could be,
Such Enemies to Monarchy;
As to Subvert or Circumvent,
So Just and Blest a Government;
O Fy! It never can be thought,
The Supposition's weak and naught;

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157

Smells rank of Pop'ry only fit,
To please each grumbling Jacobite.

Who, tho' they hear the Saints extol,
The glorious Reign of Plous Nol;

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158

And bless the Rump for pulling down
The Sacred Head that rul'd the Throne,
Can be such dull High-flying Slaves,
Such Jacobites, such Fools or Knaves;
To think so mild a Tribe should aim
To bring about the very same?
No, no, it ne'er can be suspected,
Unless by Persons disaffected,
Such Popish Traitors that would bring,
The Mob to be below the King;
And by their dang'rous Plots betray
The Sov'reign People to obey;
And force those Mighty Lords to shew
Allegience where it's justly due;
But who that loves his Native Land,
Will allow Monarchs to Command,
When Whigs have got the upper hand?