 | The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley |  |
CANTO III.
Baffled for once, the mob retreat,
Yet conquerors still in every street,
The prostrate citizens they see,
And haste to' improve their victory;
The list of the proscribed make known,
For lives and fortunes are their own.
Yet conquerors still in every street,
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And haste to' improve their victory;
The list of the proscribed make known,
For lives and fortunes are their own.
“The chapels were a good beginning,
A hint to signify our meaning;
But Protestants, or Papists, all
Shall now without distinction fall:
Whether of high or low condition,
Whoever sign'd not the petition;
The foreigners by labour fed,
Who rob the people of their bread,
Bishops, and lords, and gentlemen,
Who proudly o'er the people reign,
And all the men on gain intent,
And all the tools of Government,
The Government o'erturn'd shall see,
And mourn its sad catastrophe.
A hint to signify our meaning;
But Protestants, or Papists, all
Shall now without distinction fall:
Whether of high or low condition,
Whoever sign'd not the petition;
The foreigners by labour fed,
Who rob the people of their bread,
Bishops, and lords, and gentlemen,
Who proudly o'er the people reign,
And all the men on gain intent,
And all the tools of Government,
The Government o'erturn'd shall see,
And mourn its sad catastrophe.
“But O! what death doth he require,
Who cast our names into the fire,
Repulsed, and treated us with scorn?
He, and his house, and church shall burn.
That rogue Romaine we soon shall have him;
Nor Mence's tuneful voice shall save him.”
(Who would not the Associates join,
Or list beneath a madman's sign.)
“Old Wesley too, to Papists kind,
Who wrote against them for a blind,
Himself a Papist still in heart,
He and his followers shall smart.
Not one of his fraternity
We here beneath our standard see,
To which whole regiments resort
Both from the Lock and Tottenham-court.”
[Who rave, like patriots disappointed,
And roar and curse the Lord's anointed.]
Who cast our names into the fire,
Repulsed, and treated us with scorn?
He, and his house, and church shall burn.
That rogue Romaine we soon shall have him;
Nor Mence's tuneful voice shall save him.”
(Who would not the Associates join,
Or list beneath a madman's sign.)
“Old Wesley too, to Papists kind,
Who wrote against them for a blind,
458
He and his followers shall smart.
Not one of his fraternity
We here beneath our standard see,
To which whole regiments resort
Both from the Lock and Tottenham-court.”
[Who rave, like patriots disappointed,
And roar and curse the Lord's anointed.]
The rabble speak, and spread their bands,
To execute their own commands,
Impetuous, as the torrent pours,
Resistless, as the flame devours,
And scattering ruin far and wide,
While terror is on every side,
With blasphemies they rend the sky,
And both their king and God defy.
To execute their own commands,
Impetuous, as the torrent pours,
Resistless, as the flame devours,
And scattering ruin far and wide,
While terror is on every side,
With blasphemies they rend the sky,
And both their king and God defy.
But chiefly those they hate and fear
Who bear the noblest character;
The hoary guardian of our laws,
Most adverse to rebellion's cause,
Most faithful to his king, and true,
Most zealous for his country too,
On him with keenest rage they fly,
As justice would with Mansfield die.
The feeble guards stand by and see
The basest tools of anarchy,
Our age and nation's foul disgrace,
Who set his mansion in a blaze:
Pictures, and monuments of art,
The utmost genius could exert,
Compilers of the' historic page,
The bard, and lawgiver, and sage,
Writings for general use, design'd
To teach, and to improve mankind,
With manuscripts of price unknown,
Upon the flaming heap are thrown,
More than a Vatican contains
Is lost, and not a wreck remains.
Who bear the noblest character;
The hoary guardian of our laws,
Most adverse to rebellion's cause,
Most faithful to his king, and true,
Most zealous for his country too,
On him with keenest rage they fly,
As justice would with Mansfield die.
The feeble guards stand by and see
The basest tools of anarchy,
Our age and nation's foul disgrace,
Who set his mansion in a blaze:
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The utmost genius could exert,
Compilers of the' historic page,
The bard, and lawgiver, and sage,
Writings for general use, design'd
To teach, and to improve mankind,
With manuscripts of price unknown,
Upon the flaming heap are thrown,
More than a Vatican contains
Is lost, and not a wreck remains.
So when ferocious Omar comes,
And learning to destruction dooms,
Ptolemy's stores erect the pyre,
His volumes all in smoke expire,
And the barbaric flames devour
The work of ages in an hour.
And learning to destruction dooms,
Ptolemy's stores erect the pyre,
His volumes all in smoke expire,
And the barbaric flames devour
The work of ages in an hour.
What hinders now the fell banditti
From plundering the devoted city?
Boldly they cast the mask away,
And stand confess'd in open day;
Hourly with fresh recruits increased;
The cry of Popery now is ceased:
They threaten general desolation,
A fire to purify the nation;
A fire impartial to consume
The friends and enemies of Rome.
“Throughly to purge is our intent,
Is—to blow up the Parliament,
The rich to level with the poor,
Unbounded freedom to restore.
To pull the courts and churches down,
And all the palaces in town.
Demolish every public place,
Set all your records in a blaze,
And warm you with the glorious sight—
Expect a specimen to-night!”
From plundering the devoted city?
Boldly they cast the mask away,
And stand confess'd in open day;
Hourly with fresh recruits increased;
The cry of Popery now is ceased:
They threaten general desolation,
A fire to purify the nation;
A fire impartial to consume
The friends and enemies of Rome.
“Throughly to purge is our intent,
Is—to blow up the Parliament,
The rich to level with the poor,
Unbounded freedom to restore.
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And all the palaces in town.
Demolish every public place,
Set all your records in a blaze,
And warm you with the glorious sight—
Expect a specimen to-night!”
O what a night was that! the crowd
As congregated waters loud,
Tremendous as the sea in storm,
Their promise terribly perform!
Fierce flames on every side aspire,
And vault the firmament with fire!
The clash of arms, the thundering sound,
The pierced, who fall and bite the ground,
The roaring of Abaddon's sons,
The shoutings, and the dying groans,
The shrieks of anguish and dismay,
(A picture of that final day,)
Horrible sympathy impart,
And thrill with fear the boldest heart!
As congregated waters loud,
Tremendous as the sea in storm,
Their promise terribly perform!
Fierce flames on every side aspire,
And vault the firmament with fire!
The clash of arms, the thundering sound,
The pierced, who fall and bite the ground,
The roaring of Abaddon's sons,
The shoutings, and the dying groans,
The shrieks of anguish and dismay,
(A picture of that final day,)
Horrible sympathy impart,
And thrill with fear the boldest heart!
Where'er we turn our blasted eyes,
The torrent roars, the flames arise:
The old, the sick, the women fear,
Or die through dread of death so near!
Swiftly the catching fire proceeds,
From house to house destruction spreads,
And streets entire are doom'd to fall,
And vengeance vows to' o'erwhelm us all.
The torrent roars, the flames arise:
The old, the sick, the women fear,
Or die through dread of death so near!
Swiftly the catching fire proceeds,
From house to house destruction spreads,
And streets entire are doom'd to fall,
And vengeance vows to' o'erwhelm us all.
Unhappy Langdale! who could see
Unmoved his mournful tragedy,
Enough to mollify the nature
Of the most stern Associator!
His numerous babes, an helpless throng,
They deprecate the cruel wrong;
The father sad, with fruitless prayer,
Entreats the savages to spare,
(Whom wine inflames, and fury blinds,)
Talks to the waves, and courts the winds;
In vain to magistrates applies,
Before his house in ashes lies,
To aldermen most humbly suing,
While trembling on the verge of ruin,
He instantaneous aid requires,
Or to prevent, or quench the fires.
Compassion steals into their breast,
And W--- assents to his request,
(That hero in tumultuous fights,
That champion for the City's rights!)
“Let's save him then,” he cries, “from murder,—
But all things must be done in order;—
Let's save him from the mob so cursed,—
But let us call a council first!”
Unmoved his mournful tragedy,
461
Of the most stern Associator!
His numerous babes, an helpless throng,
They deprecate the cruel wrong;
The father sad, with fruitless prayer,
Entreats the savages to spare,
(Whom wine inflames, and fury blinds,)
Talks to the waves, and courts the winds;
In vain to magistrates applies,
Before his house in ashes lies,
To aldermen most humbly suing,
While trembling on the verge of ruin,
He instantaneous aid requires,
Or to prevent, or quench the fires.
Compassion steals into their breast,
And W--- assents to his request,
(That hero in tumultuous fights,
That champion for the City's rights!)
“Let's save him then,” he cries, “from murder,—
But all things must be done in order;—
Let's save him from the mob so cursed,—
But let us call a council first!”
Vain help, alas, which never came!
Consumed by the voracious flame,
His all is lost! and numbers more
His ruin and their own deplore,
Recalling oft with fresh affright
The havoc of that dreadful night!
Consumed by the voracious flame,
His all is lost! and numbers more
His ruin and their own deplore,
Recalling oft with fresh affright
The havoc of that dreadful night!
At morn we see the fiery void,
And glorying o'er their foes destroy'd,
We shrink from the assassin band,
Possess'd of absolute command:
The nation's scum together rise,
To swell their host with new supplies,
From smoking jails a desperate crew,
Who rob the gibbet of its due,
Vile instruments of depredation
Let loose on an abandon'd nation,
Incendiaries from every side
Heighten the wild tumultuous tide:
Hibernians join to rend and tear,
And Papists last, the spoils to share,
(As vultures to the carcase fly,
Smelling the bloody banquet nigh,)
Flock to the city of confusion,
Given up to mobbish execution.
And glorying o'er their foes destroy'd,
We shrink from the assassin band,
Possess'd of absolute command:
462
To swell their host with new supplies,
From smoking jails a desperate crew,
Who rob the gibbet of its due,
Vile instruments of depredation
Let loose on an abandon'd nation,
Incendiaries from every side
Heighten the wild tumultuous tide:
Hibernians join to rend and tear,
And Papists last, the spoils to share,
(As vultures to the carcase fly,
Smelling the bloody banquet nigh,)
Flock to the city of confusion,
Given up to mobbish execution.
Who can against the ruffians stand,
Or dare deny their just demand?
Religion's friends, our faith's protectors,
Our guards—an army of collectors,
May they not maintenance require,
As workmen worthy of their hire,
And lay us under contribution,
And bring us to a good conclusion?
Or dare deny their just demand?
Religion's friends, our faith's protectors,
Our guards—an army of collectors,
May they not maintenance require,
As workmen worthy of their hire,
And lay us under contribution,
And bring us to a good conclusion?
“That good and full conclusion's come,
Your sure, inevitable doom:
The exterminating word is pass'd,
And the next night shall be your last:
'Tis fix'd (the hellish murderer cries,)
A thousand fires at once shall rise;
Your aqueducts cut off shall fail,
And flames unquenchable prevail,
(Strange flames that never can expire,
A compound of Tartarian fire,)
Destruction shall your city sweep,
Burn'd down into a ruinous heap,
Your proud metropolis shall lie,
And London's boast for ever die.”
Your sure, inevitable doom:
The exterminating word is pass'd,
And the next night shall be your last:
'Tis fix'd (the hellish murderer cries,)
A thousand fires at once shall rise;
Your aqueducts cut off shall fail,
And flames unquenchable prevail,
(Strange flames that never can expire,
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Destruction shall your city sweep,
Burn'd down into a ruinous heap,
Your proud metropolis shall lie,
And London's boast for ever die.”
What can their purpose fell defeat,
Or snatch us from the gaping pit?
We shudder on the brink of fate,
And for our sure excision wait:
Let but another night pass o'er,
And England's glory is no more,
Triumph the Luciferan host,
Abaddon reigns, and all is lost!
Or snatch us from the gaping pit?
We shudder on the brink of fate,
And for our sure excision wait:
Let but another night pass o'er,
And England's glory is no more,
Triumph the Luciferan host,
Abaddon reigns, and all is lost!
| The poetical works of John and Charles Wesley | |