Distressed Sion Relieved Or, The Garment of Praise for the Spirit of Heaviness. Wherein are Discovered the Grand Causes of the Churches Trouble and Misery under the late Dismal Dispensation. With a Compleat History of, and Lamentation for those Renowned Worthies that fell in England by Popish Rage and Cruelty, from the Year 1680 to 1688. Together with an Account of the late Admirable and Stupendious Providence which hath wrought such a sudden and Wonderful Deliverance for this Nation, and Gods Sion therein. Humbly Dedicated to their Present Majesties. By Benjamin Keach |
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 | Distressed Sion Relieved |  |
But stay my Muse, for here's more cause of grief,
And I have still more cause of Heav'ns relief,
For now alas! two Martyrs I espy,
On whom were acted a sad Tragedy.
The one a Person of great worth and name,
A Citizen of London of much Fame,
VVho by Time-serving wretches that would do
VVhat e're might please the Factious Romish Crew.
VVas doom'd to death by villanous Evidence,
Though for himself he made a just defence.
Alderman Cornish was this worthy man
That thus unjustly suffered. Who now can
Forbear to weep? or can forbear to tell
VVhat to a pious woman then befel?
Poor Mistress Gaunt, most dear thou wast to me,
Few of thy Sex ever excelled thee
In Zeal, in Knowledge, or in Charity,
VVho wast condemn'd a cruel death to die,
Cause thou relievedst men in misery.
These two I must bewail, who in one day
By Romish Treachery were swept away;
'Gainst whom these Miscreants malice did appear,
Though altogether innocent and clear;
As doubtless we shall find apparently,
VVhen their Case stated is impartially.
And I have still more cause of Heav'ns relief,
For now alas! two Martyrs I espy,
On whom were acted a sad Tragedy.
The one a Person of great worth and name,
A Citizen of London of much Fame,
VVho by Time-serving wretches that would do
VVhat e're might please the Factious Romish Crew.
VVas doom'd to death by villanous Evidence,
Though for himself he made a just defence.
Alderman Cornish was this worthy man
That thus unjustly suffered. Who now can
Forbear to weep? or can forbear to tell
VVhat to a pious woman then befel?
Poor Mistress Gaunt, most dear thou wast to me,
Few of thy Sex ever excelled thee
In Zeal, in Knowledge, or in Charity,
VVho wast condemn'd a cruel death to die,
Cause thou relievedst men in misery.
These two I must bewail, who in one day
By Romish Treachery were swept away;
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Though altogether innocent and clear;
As doubtless we shall find apparently,
VVhen their Case stated is impartially.
As to the woman 'twill be shewed ere long,
That many ways she suffered much wrong,
VVho by a Jury at Hicks-Hall was freed,
Yet at th' Old-Bailey 'gainst her they proceed;
A London Jury took her Life away,
VVhich they may answer for another day.
That many ways she suffered much wrong,
VVho by a Jury at Hicks-Hall was freed,
Yet at th' Old-Bailey 'gainst her they proceed;
A London Jury took her Life away,
VVhich they may answer for another day.
On the same day these worthy Christians fell,
Most of us may remember very well.
That Gods displeasure ere that day was done
Seem'd very evident to every one
That his works doth observe, and mind his hand
In his strange operations in the Land.
Most of us may remember very well.
That Gods displeasure ere that day was done
Seem'd very evident to every one
That his works doth observe, and mind his hand
In his strange operations in the Land.
O come ye Angels, lend your glorious Stile!
Created Beings to lament a while.
Ye blessed Hosts that sing Jehovah's praise,
Assist my Muse in lamentable Phrase;
For now the City Streets ev'n run with Blood
Of those Just men, who only sought our good.
Ah! London, let all future Ages see
Thy grief, that Cornish lost his Life in thee.
Could not their burning thee abate their rage?
Nor their inslaving thee their wrath asswage?
Could not Great Russel's death them mollifie?
Nor Essex's murder stop their cruelty?
VVould not th' inthralling of Great Brittain do,
Religion and Liberty to o'rethrow?
Hast thou not many years triumpht in Blood,
Undoing thousands who most faithful stood
Unto their Countreys Interest, venturing all,
The Common-weal might not to ruine fall?
Oh cursed Rome! thou'lt soon thy measure fill,
Thy wickedness grows and increases still;
Religion's shame, and all the Worlds great curse,
Why dost thou still proceed from bad to worse?
Created Beings to lament a while.
Ye blessed Hosts that sing Jehovah's praise,
Assist my Muse in lamentable Phrase;
For now the City Streets ev'n run with Blood
Of those Just men, who only sought our good.
Ah! London, let all future Ages see
Thy grief, that Cornish lost his Life in thee.
Could not their burning thee abate their rage?
Nor their inslaving thee their wrath asswage?
Could not Great Russel's death them mollifie?
Nor Essex's murder stop their cruelty?
VVould not th' inthralling of Great Brittain do,
Religion and Liberty to o'rethrow?
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Undoing thousands who most faithful stood
Unto their Countreys Interest, venturing all,
The Common-weal might not to ruine fall?
Oh cursed Rome! thou'lt soon thy measure fill,
Thy wickedness grows and increases still;
Religion's shame, and all the Worlds great curse,
Why dost thou still proceed from bad to worse?
And now, my Muse, methinks we shan't do right
To worthy Cornish, if we seem to slight
His memory, by a short Encomium
To whom so much is due; therefore let's come,
And in a few lines more expatiate
Upon the circumstances of his Fate.
Ah! London, London, did it not surprize?
Couldst thou behold poor Cornish with dry Eyes,
Hang'd like a Caitiff on a cursed Tree,
And acted in the very midst of thee?
To good men 'twas a grievous sight we know,
Though to some wretches 'twas a pleasing show.
Although with blushes Angels seem'd to see
This horrid Act; and Heav'n disturb'd to be.
To worthy Cornish, if we seem to slight
His memory, by a short Encomium
To whom so much is due; therefore let's come,
And in a few lines more expatiate
Upon the circumstances of his Fate.
Ah! London, London, did it not surprize?
Couldst thou behold poor Cornish with dry Eyes,
Hang'd like a Caitiff on a cursed Tree,
And acted in the very midst of thee?
To good men 'twas a grievous sight we know,
Though to some wretches 'twas a pleasing show.
Although with blushes Angels seem'd to see
This horrid Act; and Heav'n disturb'd to be.
What chearful looks this excellent Christian had,
As through the Streets he his last Journey made?
So that in triumph he did seem to go
To death, as if he certainly did know
That Angels thence would carry him to bliss,
And place him where no pain nor sorrow is,
To be a Courtier to the King of Kings,
Feeding on joy that from Christ Jesus springs.
As through the Streets he his last Journey made?
So that in triumph he did seem to go
To death, as if he certainly did know
That Angels thence would carry him to bliss,
And place him where no pain nor sorrow is,
To be a Courtier to the King of Kings,
Feeding on joy that from Christ Jesus springs.
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The Sun that Morning his bright Beams displays,
And sends upon the Earth his Golden Rays;
Smiling while those two Worthies here remain,
But seem'd to frown as soon as they were slain.
The Heav'ns their mourning Garments do put on
As if they'd shew, two Innocents were gone.
A Storm of Rain descends from that black Cloud
With dreadful Lightning, and with Thunder loud,
As if incensed Heav'n were in a Flame,
And Christ were coming to dissolve the same;
Or that the Judge of Judges now was come
(With all his Saints) to give the World its Doom;
And wronged Cornish should be try'd again
By upright Jurors of that blessed Train.
And in white Robes of Righteousness appear
Before Heav'ns King, his innocence to clear.
Jehovah's Trumpet sounding shook the Earth,
And to great Floods of Rain with Fire, gave Birth.
Heav'n groan'd in Thunder, and did weep in Showers,
Which did continue fiercely many hours:
Nor do I wonder that God thundered so
When two such worthy Martyrs bled below;
And since the Heav'ns seem so apparently
To justifie their Cause, why may not I?
And sends upon the Earth his Golden Rays;
Smiling while those two Worthies here remain,
But seem'd to frown as soon as they were slain.
The Heav'ns their mourning Garments do put on
As if they'd shew, two Innocents were gone.
A Storm of Rain descends from that black Cloud
With dreadful Lightning, and with Thunder loud,
As if incensed Heav'n were in a Flame,
And Christ were coming to dissolve the same;
Or that the Judge of Judges now was come
(With all his Saints) to give the World its Doom;
And wronged Cornish should be try'd again
By upright Jurors of that blessed Train.
And in white Robes of Righteousness appear
Before Heav'ns King, his innocence to clear.
Jehovah's Trumpet sounding shook the Earth,
And to great Floods of Rain with Fire, gave Birth.
Heav'n groan'd in Thunder, and did weep in Showers,
Which did continue fiercely many hours:
Nor do I wonder that God thundered so
When two such worthy Martyrs bled below;
And since the Heav'ns seem so apparently
To justifie their Cause, why may not I?
But stay! no more of these, for I espy
Another Hero just before mine Eye;
Condemn'd a Prisoner ever to remain,
Who lay as dead, but now's reviv'd again:
Brave Johnson, who can't be omitted here,
A pious Church-man, valiant and sincere:
A Man of Parts and Learning; a Divine
Who sought his Countreys good as well as mine.
Ah! was he whipt? Must he too be a Taster
Of the sharp Rod like to his Blessed Master?
In vain would envious Clouds his Fame obscure,
Reproach to him doth still more praise procure.
His Lord and Master too, was scourged sore
For bearing Witness to the Truth before;
Why then do virulent Tongues attempt to stain
The solid Glory which his Soul did gain.
But yet 'tis strange the Mother should consent
Her Sons should suffer such sad punishment.
Wounds from a Friend strike deep; but when from Foes
We dis-regard, slight, and contemn their blows.
And since few others move in the defence
Of wounded Honour, and wrong'd Innocence;
I for the kindness which to thee I bear,
At thy sad Sufferings must drop a tear.
Had all come from a treacherous Enemy
It had not been so great an injury;
But to be wounded i'th' House of thy Friends,
This, this all other cruelty transcends:
And then great Soul! to be degraded too
Was very hard to bear, but that you knew
This oft-times is the way to Dignity,
And Honour doth succeed Humility.
Another Hero just before mine Eye;
Condemn'd a Prisoner ever to remain,
Who lay as dead, but now's reviv'd again:
Brave Johnson, who can't be omitted here,
A pious Church-man, valiant and sincere:
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Who sought his Countreys good as well as mine.
Ah! was he whipt? Must he too be a Taster
Of the sharp Rod like to his Blessed Master?
In vain would envious Clouds his Fame obscure,
Reproach to him doth still more praise procure.
His Lord and Master too, was scourged sore
For bearing Witness to the Truth before;
Why then do virulent Tongues attempt to stain
The solid Glory which his Soul did gain.
But yet 'tis strange the Mother should consent
Her Sons should suffer such sad punishment.
Wounds from a Friend strike deep; but when from Foes
We dis-regard, slight, and contemn their blows.
And since few others move in the defence
Of wounded Honour, and wrong'd Innocence;
I for the kindness which to thee I bear,
At thy sad Sufferings must drop a tear.
Had all come from a treacherous Enemy
It had not been so great an injury;
But to be wounded i'th' House of thy Friends,
This, this all other cruelty transcends:
And then great Soul! to be degraded too
Was very hard to bear, but that you knew
This oft-times is the way to Dignity,
And Honour doth succeed Humility.
| Distressed Sion Relieved | |