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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

Keach, Benjamin (1640-1704)

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To their Most Excellent Majesties William and Mary, by the Grace of God, King and Queen of England, &c.

On the Ingenious Author of the Poem called, Distressed Sion Relieved.

Distressed Sion RELIEVED,

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To their Most Excellent Majesties William and Mary, by the Grace of God, King and Queen of England, &c.

Dread Soveraigns,

May it please your Majesties
Most graciously to cast your Princely Eyes,
And to accept of this small worthless Mite,
From one, whose Soul's enamour'd with the sight
Of seeing you brought to Great Britains Throne,
Which Angels do delight to look upon.
Methinks I see the Cherubs clap their wings,
Singing sweet Anthems to the King of Kings,
That such a King and Queen are set on high,
In glorious Power and Soveraign Majesty.
No marvel 'tis, since by Angelick Power
You're both preserved to this happy hour.
For sure he's blind who can't discern most clear
'Twas by Heavens Conduct you were both brought here.
Such a stupendious Providence before
Was never known, and never may no more

Be seen again in this Great Northern Isle,
Which fills our hearts with joy, & makes us smile
What a distressed and forlorn estate
Was this now glorious Kingdom in of late.
Poor England, alas! did bleeding lye,
For many years inslav'd by Tyranny.

And Sion too was in the same condition,
Weeping with bitter groans, and deep contrition.
Let me a little freely now dilate
Upon Great Britains miserable state:
When first on her you cast your Royal look,
And her Salvation likewise undertook,
A glorious Enterprize, which Heaven did bless
With such amazing and admir'd success.

Sick, sick, as heart can hold, the Kingdom lies,
Filling each corner with her mournful cryes;
Sometimes she burns, as when a Fever heats;
Anon Despair brings cold and clammy sweats.
No rest she gains, or if she do, she dreams
Of Massacres, Fires, Blood, and direful Theams.
She no Physicians finds; Bold Empiricks,
Are from St. Omers sent, to try their tricks,
Who wicked crafty counsel take together,
To poyson her, 'twas this that brought them hither.
Nay hold (says Petre) we'l first let her blood;
That's fit for her, and will do us most good.

Her Blood's infected, so corrupt, I see,
Nought else can cure her Northern Heresie.
But let us first prescribe a Golden Pill
To ease her, that she may suspect no ill,
But may conclude we choice Physicians be;
The Pill that they prepar'd was Liberty;
Curiously gilt it was, and tasted well,
But when 'twas down she int' an Ague fell;
Then these State-Mountebanks do her assure
Jesuits-Powder will effect the cure.
Yet still she's sick, and seiz'd with stronger fits,
Which made most think these Drs. all were Cheats.
Their Physick was of such a composition,
It made the Body Politick in confusion;
And many evidently did foresee
'Twas to effect a direful Tragedy.
They did pretend to purge ill humours out,
That they their black Designs might bring about;
And th' evil humours which did lurking lie
In divers parts o'th' Body, grew thereby
More strong and vigorous, and did disturb
What nature did before so strongly curb,
That wise Physicians made this wise conclusion,
'Twould wholly change the Bodys constitution
From good to bad, from healthy, free, and sound,
Would cause malignant humours to abound.

Ill ones, no doubt, it was design'd to nourish,
Tho', for a while, some good ones it did cherish.
Thus may a Medicine, which is safe and good,
(As Liberty is, if rightly understood)
When ill prepared, and unduly given,
Prove dangerous as any under Heaven;
And pity 'tis this universal Pill,
That has wrought wonders, was design'd so ill.

But ah! what shall she do? th' Impostors Art
Her head doth poison, and corrupt her heart;
Must she, O must she die! O hear her groans!
Hear Sions too; O hearken how she moans!
There is no help but from the God of Wonder,
'Tis he alone that's able to bring under
This Foe to Nature, which is grown so strong,
And hath her vital parts opprest so long.

All her Physicians weep, and secretly
Were heard to say, poor England now must die,
Unless th' Almighty by his own right hand
Work Miracles to save our sinking Land.
But who's the Instrument will rise up for her?
Who is the Man whom God delights to honour,
To bring relief when all her hopes were gone?

Great Sir, 'Twas you Jehovah fixt upon;
No sooner heard she your victorious Name,
But she reviv'd, and cheerful soon became:

But ah! the Winds were cross, this made us fear
We n're should have your long'd for presence here.
And when we heard you were upon the Seas,
Our hearts rejoyced, yet had not perfect ease;
We doubted still what dangers you might meet
In that most Glorious and Renowned Fleet,
Yet still our Prayers more fervent were and more
To see your Royal Person safe on shore:
And all the time in England you have been,
What strange amazing wonders have we seen?
A poor sick Land divided; by Christs power
Made whole and all united in an hour,
United so, as joyntly to combine
To own this just and glorious design.
O're us long hung a black and dismal Cloud,
From whence we fear'd a dreadful storm of blood;
Yet when it brake, nought but sweet dews distill,
This, this may sure our souls with wonder fill,
To see a Mighty Army rais'd by Rome,
Some flie for fear, and others Friends become,
To gain the Victory, yet never fight,
This plain appears Gods hand to all mens sight.
Poor Sion, who i'th' dust did prostrate lie,
Bewailing her approaching misery,
Began to rouse, and on her feet to stand,
When you upon the English Shore did land.

She long expected, in our Hemisphere
A glorious Star would certainly appear;
And now he's come, she can't forbear to sing,
With Joy to welcom her desired King;
And as the Sun, whose powerful reflection
Gives to all Vegetables a resurrection;
Even so Gods Witnesses now raised are,
Whose bodies lay like dead so lately here.
For though it was in the cold Winter time,
We saw so great a change in our sharp Clime
As made us cry, The Winter now is gone,
Your powerful Rays in this our Horizon,
Made Flowers bud as in the early Spring,
And chirping Birds melodiously to sing:
We heard the Turtles Voice too in our Land,
Such mighty Blessings, Thankfulness command;
Blessings which England never knew before,
For which the God of Heaven we should adore:
And since our Sun is risen, let him shine
Most gloriously in Rays which are Divine,
Like powerful Sol, whose Soul reviving Beams,
Whose warming nature and delightful gleams,
Send forth on all his powerful Influence,
So let him equally his warmth dispence.

Nor can we fail of this our expectation,
It's like your self, 'tis like your Declaration,

You by some just sublime and sacred Arts
Are both become the King and Queen of hearts;
You there erect your Throne, 'tis there you reign,
Sure such a Kingdom always will remain.
Oh may our Sun never Eclipsed be,
Oh may he send his Beams from Sea to Sea,
And may he give an Universal Light,
That all dark Regions may receive their sight;
And may his strong attractive Power likewise
Dry up those nauseous sinks of sin that rise
And grow so rife, unto our Nations shame,
And high dishonour of Jehovah's Name:
May he his growing cherishing Beams display
Upon the Good and Virtuous, so that they
May all strive to exceed in fruitfulness,
And flourish like those Trees the Lord doth bless.
But let him, Lord, be a hot scorching Sun
To thy grand Foe, The Whore of Babylon:
Let him make all those noisom weeds to fade,
And lose the glory which they lately had,
So that the Flower de Luce may hang the head,
It is high time it quite were withered.
Let proud Tyrconnels heart now die away,
To hear who does Great Britains Scepter sway.
Let our Dear Soveraign send such powerful Darts
As may subdue the most rebellious hearts

Of Teagues and Tories in that mournful Land
O're which our Princes long have had command;
But let him be a healing Sun unto
His People, and their Differences subdue;
When Both have run their Race, Crown Both on high,
Among thy Saints to all Eternity.

So prays your Majesties most humble and most obedient and truly Loyal Subject, Benj. Keach.

On the Ingenious Author of the Poem called, Distressed Sion Relieved.

Our Author heated with Seraphick Fire,
Which did his late lamenting Muse inspire.
He thereby in the highest notes of grief
Wept Tears in Verse when Sion lackt Relief
From Art high lofty strains he would not borrow.
But only did describe a Natural sorrow.
His clear discerning Soul did then foretel
Her danger, and what afterward befel.
He gave us warning to prevent the stroke,
Sins to forsake, and Mercy to invoke,
Yet would not without Consolation leave us,
Nor did that Book of comfort quite bereave us,
But still assur'd us, That the Scarlet Whore
Should in a short time fall and rise no more.

What he did then predict we hope that we
Within a little while perform'd shall see,
That Heav'n on Sion's sorrows will look down,
And for her sufferings will at length her Crown.

That Sion late distrest, God will relieve,
And for her troubles comfort to her give.

These Hopes our Authors Soul do now inspire
they rouse his Muse, and make him to admire
What Great Deliverance is already wrought,
So great that it was ev'n beyond our thought.
This he in cheerful accents to us sings,
And our past sufferings to our memory brings.
The Glory of those Worthies he revives,
That for their Countrey offered their Lives.
They Popery and Slavery did withstand,
Which was ev'n ready to o're-spread the Land.
And though God did not then success afford,
Our Author doth their Gallant Names record;
And thereby hath himself obtain'd a Name
That shall be registred in the Book of Fame;
When he is gone, his Works shall never dye,
But still be Famous to Posterity.

C. N.

Distressed Sion RELIEVED,

OR, The Garment of Praise for the Spirit of Heaviness.

For almost Thirty years last past have I
Seen Floods of Tears flowing continually
From Sions Eyes, whose sad distressed state
With Filial Sympathy I did relate.
In Sixty Six a year of expectation
Came no relief, but still fresh Lamentation;
When she was told her sorrows would be o're,
That year produc't more sorrow than before,
Which caus'd me who in Prison then did lye
To sigh and sob, and weep most bitterly,
In prospect of what I saw coming on
Poor Sion, e're her miseries would be gone,

And therefore did before that year run out,
Foretel some things time since hath brought about.
Sions Distresses plainly did appear,
And still they did increase year after year,
Until the time the Popish Plot was known,
That Grand Intrigue of Bloody Babylon,
My Soul had then some ease, I then did hope
The day was come should quite o'rethrow the Pope
And bloody Whore, That cursed Church of Rome
That she would now receive her fatal Doom;
But all my hopes being frustrate, I again
In the year Eighty pour'd out Tears amain.
For at that time came forth a new Addition
To Sions groans and sorrowful condition,
When I had thought poor Sions woes were gone
What dismal Clouds o're spread our Horizon;
Just as I deem'd I spy'd the morning Light.
How were we threatned with a dismal Night
Of Popish Darkness; this I did descry,
And mourn'd in Verse for England's misery,
But Sion's troubles I did most lament;
Whose Enemies were strong and insolent,
Which caused me in Christian Sympathy
With bitter groans my grief to testifie
In this sad manner:
‘What dismal vapour in so black a form
‘Is this which seems Harbinger to a Storm
‘What pitchy Cloud invades our starry Sky,
‘To stop the beamings of the Worlds great Eye

‘What spreading Sables of Egyptian Night
‘Would rob the Earth of its illustrious Light?
‘What interposing Fog obscures our Sun?
‘What dire Eclipse benights our Horizon?
‘Is England's Great and Royal Bridegroom fled?
‘Is its Aurora newly gone to Bed,
‘That scattered Clouds make such prodigious haste,
‘Combine in one, and re-unite so fast?
‘Clouds that so lately dissipated were,
‘Do now conspire to make a darker Air.
‘I mourn unpitied, groan without relief;
‘No bounds nor measures terminate my grief,
‘The Sluces of mine Eyes are too too narrow
‘To vent the Streams of my increasing sorrow.
‘Ebbs follow swelling Floods, and springing Days
‘Adorn the Fields which Winter dis-arrays.
‘All States and Things have their alternate ranges,
‘As Providence the Scene of Action changes.
‘All Revolutions hurry to and fro,
‘Yet rest and settlement at length do know
‘But helpless I have often lookt about
‘To find some ease and Soul refreshment out,
‘Yet can I see no prospect of relief,
‘But swift additions multiply my grief.
‘As Pilgrims wander in their great distress
‘Amongst the wild rapacious Savages,
‘In pathless Desarts, where the midnight howls
‘Of hungry Wolves mixt with the screech of Owls,
‘And Ravens dismal croaks salute the Ears
‘Of poor Erratick trembling Passengers.

‘So I'm surrounded, so the Beasts of prey
‘Conspire to take my Life and Name away.
‘My glowing Soul does melt, my Spirits faint
‘For want of vent, I'm pregnant with complaint;
‘No Age nor Generation but has known
‘Some part of this my just and grievous moan,
‘But now I'm far more dangerously charg'd
‘By bolder Foes; my sorrows are enlarg'd,
‘A Hellish Tribe of black Avernus Crew,
‘Do Blood-hound like, me and my Lambs pursue.
‘Lord Jesus come; O Christ, let me invoke,
‘Thy sacred presence to divert the stroke.
‘Have all my Friends forsook me? Are there none
‘To ease my woes? Ah must I grieve alone?

Sion's Friend.

‘What doleful noise salutes my listning Ear?
‘What grief expressing voice is that I hear?
‘Methinks the accent of this dismal cry
‘Issues from one in great extremity;
‘The shrilness of this mournful tone bespeaks
‘A Womans loud and unregarded shrieks.
‘The more her deep and piercing sighs I heed,
‘The more my Heart in Sympathy does bleed.
‘Ah! who can find her out? who can make known
‘The Author of this Heart-relenting moan;
‘Doubtless though sorrow now has seiz'd upon her,
‘She is a Lady of high Birth and Honour,
‘Of Royal Stem, extracted from above,
‘Nurs'd in the Chambers of the Fathers Love,

‘Espoused to a most Illustrious Prince,
‘Who over all has Just Preheminence,
‘Monarch of Monarchs!

‘Ah Sion! is it thou?
‘Oh mourn my Soul, Oh let my Spirit bow;
‘Let all that Love the Bridegroom sigh for grief,
‘For Sion weeps as if past all relief;
‘But why, O Sion, (since thou art belov'd
‘Of Heaven's Supream) art thou so sadly mov'd?
‘Why with stretcht Arms dost thou implore the Skies?
‘Why do such streams of Tears flow from thine Eyes?
‘This makes me wonder.

Sion.

‘My forlorn Estate
‘Is poor, unpitied, mean and desolate.
‘I long have wandred in the Wilderness,
‘Involv'd in trouble and in sore distress;
‘In Caves absconding from the horrid rage
‘Of savage Beasts; until this latter Age.
‘Yet when I but attempted to look out,
‘The Monsters to destroy me searcht about;
‘The roaring Bloud-hounds greedy on the scent,
‘To kill or drive me back again are bent.
‘No interval of peace, no rest they give,
‘Pronounce me cursed, and not fit to live.
‘The cruel Dragon joineth with the Beast
‘To gore my sides, and spoil my Interest;
‘Th' old Lion, Lyonness, and the Lyons whelp,
‘With dreadful Jaws the other Beasts do help.

‘Dogs, Bulls and Foxes, Bears and Wolves agree
‘To rend and tear, and make a spoil of me.
‘I that have been so delicately bred,
‘My Children at the Royal Table fed,
‘Am now expos'd to the Infernal spight
‘Of such who still in Fire and Blood delight.
‘Hatch Plots in Hell and Rome, whose black design
‘Is to stab Monarchs, and to undermine
‘Our Ancient Laws, subvert Religion, and
‘Bow Englands Neck to Antichrists command.
‘These were Fore-runners of that dismal Doom
‘Of Fire and Faggot, which the Whore of Rome
‘Prepar'd for English Protestants, and the rest,
‘Who won't adore the Image of the Beast.
‘I am the mark these Monsters aim at; all
‘Their Grand Intrigues were to contrive my fall.
‘If Friends or Strangers any favour show,
‘They straight conspire to work their overthrow.

1678.

‘Ah vile Conspiracy! Ah cursed Plot!
‘So deeply laid; How canst thou be forgot?
‘Th' Infernal Conclave ne're produc'd a Brat
‘Into the world so horrible as that,
‘Since Rome Usurpt the Western Monarchy,
‘Which she still Rules with Fraud and Treachery,
‘In forging Plots, imploying Hellish Actors;
‘Ah! let us treat 'um as the Devils Factors.

‘Distressed Sion! O how few regard
‘My sighs and tears, their Hearts are grown so hard
‘My restless Hurricanes with storms and wind,
‘No ease, no peace, no comfort can I find;

‘The horrid aspect of these Monsters do
‘Affright my Children, some they worry too,
‘Others they seize like greedy Beasts of prey,
‘And to their Den the Sacrifice convey.

‘Renowned GODFREY whose immortal Glory
‘Martyr'd for me shall ever live in Story;
‘Let every Loyal Eye that reads it there,
‘Yield to his name the Tribute of a Tear.
‘Brave Soul! thy Love and Loyalty do claim
‘That King and People should proclaim thy name
‘As England's Victim, ne're to be forgot,
‘Fastning on Rome an Everlasting blot.
‘The Great Jehovah who is only wise,
‘Permits thy fall as a sweet Sacrifice.
‘Thy barbarous Murder has made clearly out
‘That Plot which none but Infidels now doubt.
‘Those bloody Varlets, black Assassinates,
‘Curst Executioners of Rome's Debates,
‘Drunk with Infernal cruelty, made thee
‘A Specimen of England's Tragedy.
‘By thee we learn what curtesie to hope
‘From Romish Butchers, Vassals to the Pope
‘Thou led'st the Van, first fell'st into the Trap
‘From whence they hope't no Protestant should scape.
‘Poor Innocent! trepann'd amongst them came
‘Into their Nets like a poor harmless Lamb,
‘Whilst they like hungry Tygers ready stood
‘T'imbrue their Tallons in thy guiltless Blood.
‘Thou little dream'dst such an Infernal snare
‘Had there been laid t'intrap thee unaware.

‘'Tis strange (say some) what reason should ingage
‘Them to make thee the Object of their rage;
‘Some think 'twas 'cause the Babylonish Whore,
‘Big with a Bastard long'd as heretofore
‘For Christian Blood; Her Favourites made haste
‘In her great need to help her to a taste
‘Of choicest Liquors; thine she calls for first,
‘To cheer her sinking Heart, and quench her Thirst
‘Fearing miscarriage; when her Spirits faint
‘She drinks the Hearts blood of some Martyr'd Saint
‘Insatiate, like the Horse-leech still she cries,
‘Give, give me that, there's nought else will suffice
‘My craving Paunch; my pleasure must be done
‘This Heretick was a Pragmatick one,
‘He knew my secret Clubs, and would reveal
‘My Tragick Plots; we must prevent his Zeal,
‘Let's strangle him before he does relate
‘The Villanies we intend to perpetrate.

‘Ah brutish Whore, of Canibals the worst,
‘For this curst draught be thou for ever curst;
‘In the most lasting Records let us see
‘This horrid instance of thy cruelty.
‘This Loyal Knight ne're injur'd thee, but stood
‘Upright for Justice, and his Countreys good.

‘Will nought but Blood of Protestants give ease?
‘Or quench thy thirst? What mischievous Disease
‘Infects thy Bowels? Must your Churches food
‘Be Flesh of Saints? Your Mornings draught their Blood?
‘Fellonious Strumpet! dar'st thou be so bold
‘To steal by night into thy Neighbours Fold,

‘And seize my Lambs? Thy Theft and Cruelty,
‘And all thy Murders shall revenged be.

‘But since he's gone and Justice does pursue
‘With eager steps the Assassinating Crew,
‘We'l acquiesce; for Heav'n now seems to call,
‘And bid tears cease, at his sad Funeral.
‘Let Christians offer through the Universe
‘Whole Hecatombs upon his bleeding Herse.
‘And could their tears increase into a Floud
‘'Twere no excess; so much I prize his Bloud.

Thus, thus did I in Eighty make sad moan
For that brave Hero who was dead and gone;
But Oh my Heart!—A Cordial presently,
My Spirits faint! Ah me! Help Lord! I die
Unless I have relief, I can't sustain
My sinking Soul! was ever any pain
Or sorrow equal to what I now feel?
My burd'ned mind under her weight does reel.
Oh since that year what woes have I beheld!
How have my mournful Eyes with tears been fill'd?
I then did fear what since is come to pass
As in that Treatise plainly hinted was.

Did Rachel mourn, and all relief refuse,
How then can I forbear? How can I chuse
But weep, and to lament for my sad Lot?
What Children have I lost? who now are not.
Did I for one such Lamentation make?
My Bowels now may surely throb and ake,
When I recount how many since are gone,
Who murdered were by bloody Babylon.

1681.

Poor Colledge first before this Idol fell,
Betray'd to death by Evidence from Hell;
To drink his Blood there seem'd to be some strife,
Was twice Indicted; they must have his Life:
Yet they could never shake his constancy,
Hear his great Soul sing his own Elegy.

A Poem written by Mr. Stephen Colledge a while before he was sent to Oxford, where he Suffered Death, Aug. 31. 1681.

Wrongful Imprisonment
Hurts not the Innocent.

What if I am into a Prison cast,
By Hellish Combinations am betray'd?
My Soul is free although my Body's fast:
Let them repent that have this evil laid,
And of Eternal vengeance be afraid;
Though Racks and Gibbets can my Body kill,
My God is with me, and I fear no ill.

What boots the clamours of the giddy Throng?
What Antidote's against a poysonous Breath?
What Fence is there against a Lying Tongue,
Sharpen'd by Hell to wound a man to Death?
Snakes, Vipers, Adders do lurk underneath:
Say what you will, or never speak at all,
Our very Prayers such Wretches Treason call.

But Walls and Bars cannot a Prison make,
The Free-born Soul enjoys its Liberty;
These clods of Earth it may incaptivate,
Whilst Heavenly Minds are conversant on high,
Ranging the Fields of Blest Eternity:
So let this Bird sing sweetly in my Breast,
My Conscience clear, a Rush for all the rest.

What I have done I did with good intent,
To serve my King, my Countrey, and the Laws;
Against the bloody Papists I was bent,
Cost what it will I'le ne're repent my Cause,
Nor do I fear their Hell-devouring Jaws;
A Protestant I am, and such I'le dye,
Maugre all Deaths, and Popish Cruelty.

But what need I these Protestations make,
Actions speak men far better than their words.
Whate're I suffer's for my Countrey's sake,
Not 'cause I had a Gun, or Horse, or Sword;
Or that my Heart did Treason e're afford;
No, 'tis not me (alone) they do intend,
But thousands more, to gain their cursed End.

And sure of this the World's so well aware,
That here 'tis needless more for me to say,
I must conclude, no time have I to spare,
My winged hours do fly too fast away,
My (work) Repentance must I not delay,
I'le add my Prayers to God for England's good
And if he please will Seal them with my Blood.

O Blessed God destroy this black design
Of Popish Consults! it's in thee we trust;
Our Eyes are on thee, help, O Lord, in time.
Thou God of Truth, most Merciful and Just,
Do thou defend us, or we perish must;
Save England, Lord, from Popish Cruelty,
My Countrey bless, Thy will be done on me.

Mans Life's a Voyage through a Sea of tears,
If he would gain the Haven of his Rest;
His sighs must fill the Sails whilst some Men Steers.
When Storms arise let each man do his best,
And cast the Anchor of his hopes (opprest)
Till Time or Death shall bring us to that Shore
Where Time nor Death shall never be no more.

Laus Deo. Amen

From my Prison in the Tower, August 15, 1681. Stephen Colledge

Great Essex! Ah thy groans methinks I hear!
What ne're a Friend? hadst thou not one Friend near?
None, none to help; in vain it was to cry
When there were none but Savage Monsters nigh.
Since thy great Soul could not inticed be,
Nor wouldst conceal their cursed cruelty,
They make a bloody Tragedy of thee.
Surpriz'd, lest all should be discovered
Unto this Dev'lish Policy they were led;
And to conceal their horrid Plot they try
Those wicked Arts, which do it justifie
Confirming it to all Posterity.
Though thy Assassinates like men appear,
Their curst attempt shew'd least of man was there,
Incarnate Devils certainly they were.
Ah cruel Tyrants! destitute of shame,
To murder both thy Body and thy Name.
Could not thy Blood their hellish thirst suffice?
But must thou die a double Sacrifice?
What! cut thy Throat with such barbarity,
And when thy Soveraign also was so nigh!
The Royal Prison, though a Tower strong,
Was no defence nor refuge to thee long.
Thou careful wast how to preserve thy life,
And yet didst fall by a curst Romish Knife.
Thy Head almost cut off; and yet they cry
That thy own hands did act the Tragedy;
But now we hope it plainly will appear,
Who the vile Actors; who the Murderers were.

May I not borrow now (as many do)
Some proper lines, made on an Essex too.
Shall such a Noble Peer fall thus by Rome?
And shall I not drop tears upon his Tomb?
Shall none who loved him, move for a Vote?
Ye Lords and Commons, ye are bound to do't.
A Vote that all on that same day o'th' year
On which he fell shall mourn, or shed a tear,
Or else be judg'd a 'Papist? It were wise
T'erect an Office in my Childrens Eyes,
For issuing forth a constant sum of tears,
There's no way else to pay him his Arrears,
And when we've drein'd this Ages Eyes quite dry,
Let him be wept the next in History.

1683.

Renowned Great Lord Russel next, I see
Is markt out for this direful Tragedy,
Scarce had I dry'd mine Eyes for loss of one,
But they another Hero fall upon.
A braver Lord scarce ever lost his Head;
Nay few like him hath England ever bred.
From a most Noble Stem he did Spring forth,
And had a Spirit suited to his Birth.
Had I not wept so many tears before,
For him whole Rivers from mine Eyes might pour.
Had I an Helicon in either Eye,
The thoughts of Russel soon may draw them dry.
Great Soul! too great for our inferior praise,
You for your self the Noblest Trophies raise.
Your Love to Sion, and your Native Land
Shall mention'd be, ev'n while the Earth doth stand

My loss and England's too who shall repair?
Great God! his hardned Enemies do not spare;
'Twas by the Blood of these Great Men I see
England was freed from Rome's curst Tyranny.

T'avoid the Odium of their cursed Plot,
Which notwithstanding ne're will be forgot,
Another was contriv'd, wherewith they thought
The innocent to insnare, who should be brought
Thereby to ruin; and then hop'd to see
Sion and her best Friends would ruin'd be;
This was the Second part of Rome's design
To work the overthrow of me and mine,
And these two Champions standing in their way
With bloudy hands they villanously slay.
The first inhumanely was Murdered,
The other they did publickly Behead.
They charged him indeed with odious Crimes,
(And many others too, in those black times:)

Crimes he to th' last did utterly deny,
Whose Noble Soul their malice did defie,
But Villains swore, and he alas must die.

O Heav'n and Earth be ye astonished!
How fain would they have struck off my poor Head,
Yet of my Blood that they themselves might clear,
Good Protestants the scandal on't must bear.

1683.

Sydney, dear Sydney treacherously fell,
Whom I esteem'd a Prince in Israel;
Those Laws that were intended for defence,
Were wrested so thou couldst not have from thence

Any relief, but thou must likewise dye,
Although on thee no guilt at all did lye,
Jury and Judge dealt so inhumanely.
What hadst thou done? what cause of death in thee
For Sion 'twas; 'twas for thy Love to me.
Thy Principles were such, Hell could not bear
The thoughts thereof, though publisht they ne're were
Thou wast too Just, and hadst such piercing Eyes,
Those Hellish Statesmen doubted a surprize,
And therefore made thee a third Sacrifice.

1684.

By Popish Arts many more ruin'd were,
Poor Holloway likewise fell into the snare;
B'ing from th' Western World a Prisoner brought,
By those who fiercely his destruction sought;
Who at the place of Execution
Delivered his Bible unto one
Of his Relations, wherein he had writ
The following lines, which I do here transmit.

‘Owner hereof prize this, and bless the Lord
‘That yet to England doth his Word afford;
‘Had I liv'd longer, hopes I should have had
‘T'have seen times mend, but now expect them bad
‘Truth will not do, for much of it I wrote,
‘And for't I die much rather than the Plot.
‘Did you know all, you'd say I did my part
‘To free you from designed Popish smart.

And now alas! behold my dismal case,
Great Flouds of sorrow follow on apace.
Many Religious, Pious Men of worth
Are rendred vile, not fit to live on Earth.

Observe Rome's policy, who contriv'd it so
That Protestants should Protestants undo.
Conscience must now be basely shackled
Against its Light impos'd on, and misled,
And truckle like a Slave unto all those
Who did Christ's Regal power in man oppose:
Either their Consciences must wounded lye
Under despair for their Apostacy;
Or if they were resolved, and sincere,
They loss of Goods, Contempt and Scorn must bear;
Be sent to noisom Jayls, or to Exile,
Which many chose, rather than to defile
Their precious Souls, and treacherously dis-own,
Or yield the power of Christs righteous Throne

Up to Usurpers, who audaciously
Cry, All is Cæsar's due, and so deny
God over Conscience has the Soveraignty.

No wonder they Laws violently break down;
That all our Civil Rights are overthrown.
That our Just Properties they take away,
And our most Ancient Liberties betray.
Since they the Glorious Monarchy of Heav'n
Do now Invade, and strive to have it given
Into their hands that they may tread it down,
And impudently cry, All is their own.
Grand Rebels! what, attempt the Right of God?
Do you not fear his dreadful Iron Rod?
Would you Dethrone him? would your hellish spite
Deprive both God and Man of their just Right?

This you design'd (although in vain) to do,
And Christ's blest Kingdom fain would overthrow.

One while they cry, Conscience to them must bend,
Another time, Christ's Right they did defend.
When it did seem to favour their design,
Conscience in all its rights they undermine,
But when they found 'twould with their Interest stand
And with th' Intrigues that they then had in hand,
They cry, Nought's juster than that all men do
To others as they would be done unto.

But to return; nothing for many years
Is seen but Persecution, Bloud and Tears.
No Liberty at all Conscience must have,
But the Dissenters Prison proves his Grave,
Where hundreds of them lay long buried,
Whilst others of their Goods were plundered.
Many in filthy Jayls so long did lye,
That poysoned with the stench they there did dye.
Law and Religion both were trampled down,
And most good men term'd Enemies to the Crown.
Charters of Towns and Cities ta'ne away,
That Popery and Slavery might bear sway.
No Stone was left unturn'd, whereby they might
Bring O poor England an Eternal Night
Of Popish darkness; many therefore fled,
Whilst others were strangely dis-spirited.
Divers good Magistrates were laid aside,
And wicked men for Judges they provide,
Void of all fear of God, who any thing
Would give for Law, they thought would please the King

Did a Dissenter Law or Justice crave?
He's branded for a Rascal, Rebel, Slave.

Yet many men so strangely blinded were,
They could not see, though things appear'd so clear,
Because that King a Protestant was thought,
Matters by him so cunningly were wrought,
And carried on; but when he came to fall,
All things were plain and bare-fac't unto all;
For the next King his Visage did lay down,
And publickly himself a Papist own;
And I likewise more clearly did espy
My dreadful danger then approaching nigh:
The Popish Plot under a Cloud was hid,
(And a Sham Plot contrived in its stead.)
Though own'd by three Successive Parliaments;
Yet all's denied by Romish Innocents.
Those Jesuits who hang'd for Treason were,
Themselves free from all guilt or crime declare,
As th' unborn Child; nor is this strange, since they
A Dispensation have, That they may say
Whatever will preserve their Cause from blame,
And Holy Church secure from her just shame.

1685.

Therefore is Dr. Oates brought on the Stage,
Degraded and expos'd to brutish rage,
They on his Back their cruel strokes do lay,
Whereby their Hellish Plot they stifle may;
Yet let them whip and lash him till he die,
And practice all their Romish cruelty,
None of his Evidence he can deny.

'Tis to his Honour and Immortal praise,
And to his name it will high Trophies raise.
Those many hundred stripes laid on by Rome
Are as so many Monuments become,
More great and lasting than a Marble Tomb.

Poor Dangerfield! couragious and bold,
Whom Rome's Incendiaries never could
By horrid threats or subtle flattery,
Prevail upon to gainsay, or deny
What he of their Intrigues did testifie.
Unto a cruel whipping they him doom,
Which yet could not his Fortitude o'recome.
'Twould pierce ones Heart to think what miseries
He suffered from his bloody Enemies;
And though perhaps not well prepar'd to die,
Yet he must fall by Romish Tyranny,
A Villain in the midst of all his pain,
Stabbing his tender Eye out with a Cane,
Which pierc't so deep he in great torments lay,
That never ceast, till Death took him away.

The Fence b'ing thus thrown down the ravenous Beasts
Rush in, and of poor Innocents make Feasts.
Wild Boars and Bears, yea Wolves and Tygers, strive
All to destroy, and leave no Lambs alive.
Religion, Laws, though all good mens great care,
Yea, and mens precious Lives, they did not spare;
That England seem'd as if it were become
A Scene of misery, and a prey to Rome.
And what could Sion do? Alas, poor I
Bewail'd my state, but saw no comfort nigh;

Yea, my poor Children about me hung,
B'ing hardly able to endure the wrong,
And sharp Assaults of those fierce Fiends of Hell,
Yet knew not how their malice to repel.

About this time i'th' West there did appear
Some unto whom their Countrey was most dear,
Striving to free it; but mistook the time,
And Person too, who Landed then at Lyme:
A Man belov'd; but not the Instrument
God chosen had; and now to us hath sent
To save our Land, and Sion, from that blow,
Which would have been to both an overthrow.

1685.

But of my joys I must forbear to sing,
A doleful noise seems in my Ears to ring,
And still grows louder; sure 'tis from the West;
What's that I see? a cruel savage Beast!
A Man? no sure a Monster; though he came
Of Humane Race, he don't deserve that name,
A cursed Spirit of th' Infernal Legion,
A Lord Chief Justice of the Lower Region.

I cannot rest, hot strugling rage aspires,
And fills my Free-born Soul with Noble Fires.
My Muse soars high, and now she doth despise
What e're below attempts to Tyrannize.

Ah! but again she faints; how shall I tell
What to those poor mistaken Souls befel.
The dismal news of Rapine, Spoil, and Blood
Shed in those Parts, which ran ev'n like a Flood,
Works strange Effects in my afflicted Soul,
For grief my Bowels do within me rowl.

In biting Satyr I could even contemn,
That Villanous Judge who Innocents did condemn;
Who on the Bench did nought but what he knew
Would gratifie the bloody Popish Crew.

Though nature seems assistance to refuse,
Revenge and Anger both inspire my Muse.

Shall the Wretch live? why is he spar'd so long?
Justice seems to complain of having wrong;
Th' Infernal Dæmons, angry seem to say,
Dead or alive we him will fetch away,
And at his stay they all seem to repine,
That to their vengeance we don't him resign.

But Ah! his Blood can never recompence
His ruining so many Innocents.
And it may seem the wonder of the time,
And some are apt to think, may be a crime,
That we no more regard their memory,
Who for their Countries welfare dar'd to dye.
Poor Hearts! who seeing we were drawing nigh
To Vassalage and ROMISH Tyranny,
Resolv'd to save Religion and the Laws,
But mist; and fell into this Tygers Claws,
Whose mind upon the prey was wholly bent,
Pitying none, though ne're so Innocent;
But like an hungry Wolf, or furious Bear
Without remorse the harmless Lambs did tear.
No time of preparation would he give
To many; nor Petitions would receive.
Nor would he hear their Wives and Childrens cry,
But scoft and laught at them in misery;

And though they pity beg'd with sighs and groans,
He was relentless to their tears and moans,
Beg'd that distressed Widdows he'l not make,
But save their Husbands lives for Jesus sake.
It being plain, most of those who were there,
Designed well, though taken in a snare.

But with what rage did he upon them fall,
Swearing, He'd make examples of 'um all,
Cry'd, On that Sign-post take and hang them up,
The Rogues shall all taste of this bitter Cup:
Whereby this bloody Wretch destroyed more
In a few Weeks, than Bonner did before
In full three years, many as faithful men
As suffered by Popish fury then.
He hang'd 'um up by two, by three, by seven,
Whose Blood aloud for vengeance cries to Heav'n.
Their Bodies likewise cut to pieces were,
Their Quarters hang'd o'th' Hedges here and there,
Their Flesh was given to be Meat for Crows,
And all because they Antichrist oppose;
And were resolv'd never to bend the Knee
To Images, nor turn to Popery;
Nor ever Slaves or Vassals to become
Unto the Pope, and Scarlet Whore of Rome;
Whom Christ commands (his Saints, so to reward
As she has done to them) in's Holy Word.
Their ends were right, but they mistook their call,
And therefore God did suffer them to fall;
They did disdain those Yokes with generous scorn,
Which were by other servile Spirits born.

‘They saw the threatning Storm approach from far,
‘Fearing a thousand mischiefs worse than War,
‘And therefore rushing on th' impetuous waves,
‘Would rather die like Men than live like Slaves.
‘To save Me and the Land they bravely try'd,
‘Fail'd in th' attempt, and then as bravely dy'd.
‘In vain would envious Clouds their Fame obscure,
‘Which to Eternal Ages shall endure.
‘If ill designs some to the Battel drew,
‘Must all be scandalized for a few?
‘If fawning Traytors in their Councils sate
‘'Tis base to mock, rather lament their Fate.
‘Though Heav'n for England's Sins refuse to bless
‘Their great Design with the desir'd success,
‘'Tis an unequal, brutish Argument,
‘Always to judge the cause by the event;
‘Thus the unthinking giddy multitude,
‘An Innocent may Criminal conclude.

But woe to those who in cold Blood did kill,
And thereby did their own revenge fulfil.
The High-ways like a Slaughter-house became,
Or bloody Shambles, to their Enemies shame;
What multitudes of men did they destroy
And hang on Trees, which did so much annoy
The People round about, it made them cry,
O Lord defend us from Rome's cruelty.

But this Relation gives me little ease,
I must some other way seek to appease
My overflowing Passion; therefore I
Some of those Hero's Names cannot pass by

Until I drop some tears upon their Hearse,
That the next Age may mourn for them in Verse.

Brave Colonel Holmes, Wise, Valiant and Sincere,
Who didst to Sion true affection bear,
Thy worthy Name shall not forgotten be,
But shall recorded be in History
To after Ages; nor can thy Arrears
Be duly paid without a Flood of tears.
Great Soul! thy Life thou seemedst to despise,
Rather than ask it of thine Enemies.
Much less didst thou in any sort incline
Others to charge, to save that Life of thine.
How didst thou grieve and publickly bewail
Thy undertaking should so strangely fail?
But yet Prophetically didst Divine,
It would revive again in little time,
Though by what means it brought about should be,
It was impossible thou couldst then fore-see,
And thy Prediction now is come to pass,
Though by thy Foes it then contemned was.

And now the sad Spectators wondring saw,
The Horses long refuse the Sledge to draw;
The poor dumb Beasts by Heavens Instinct are
Made sharp Reprovers, whilst the lash they bear;
And seem to say, These men are innocent,
They must not die, God will not give consent,
And therefore he doth strangely us restrain
From drawing them, though lasht and lasht again.
What other voice there was I cannot see
In this amazing wondrous Prodigy.

Yet all these warnings from the Foe are hid,
For dye they must, and dye they also did;
Although on foot to slaughter they must drudge,
To gratifie a most Tyrannical Judge.

Nor did the Gallant Father fall alone,
He in the Cause lost a Religious Son.
Poor Captain Holmes, few young men like to thee,
Did hazard all to set their Countrey free
From Rome's curst Yoke, and cruel Slavery.

The next Great Worthy 'mongst the vanquisht Host
Which in that hour of darkness I have lost,
A Preacher was, indu'd with Holy Art,
Who did dissolve the Stone in many a Heart,
His name was Lark; O come my Children now,
Pay him those tears which he laid out for you;
Ah! must he fall by Fate? Ah! must he yield?
His Life up too? but why not in the Field?
Must Sampson fall by the Philistines hand
Who from their Bondage strove to save the Land?
Well! by thy death thou hast prevailed so,
Thou hastenedst their utter overthrow,
And yet I cannot but lament to think
Of what a bitter Cup thy Flock do drink.
My loss of thee is more than loss of Ten,
Though they might be sober Religious men:
When Death thus with his hands lays hold upon
The Pillars of the House, the Building's gone,
Unless God in his Mercy instantly
Raise others up their places to supply:

But Ah! how many dye? how few appear
Them to succeed, and their great weight to bear.
In Jesus Christ's own Harvest in this Nation,
(which now seems white) there's cause of Lamentation.
A Chariot and an Horseman I have lost,
But he's above, incampt i'th' Heavenly Host.
Have you not seen an early rising Lark
Mounting aloft, making the Sun her mark?
Lo here's a Lark that soar'd up higher, higher,
Till he had sung himself into Heav'ns Quire.
From Earth to Heaven he went, and in a trice
His Soul ascended into Paradice.

Now stop mine Eyes, for fear your Floods should fail,
And I want tears for all I must bewail;
But yet I need not doubt; Springs I espy,
Yea Fountains, which will give a fresh supply
For two young Plants, who both sprang from one Stem,
Belov'd of God, I hope, as well as men.
Dear Hewlins, of what use might you have been,
If you to spare th' Almighty good had seen?
What cruel Tyrants had we lately here,
That two such tender Branches would not spare?
But when I think, of Grace that they had store,
And with what patience they their Sufferings bore,
It gives such comfort I can weep no more.
What Testimony did they leave behind,
Of that sweet joy which they in Christ did find?
When wicked men all pity do deny,
Our Saviour to compassion's mov'd thereby;

And doubtless they are plac't in that High Sphere,
Where th' Spirits of Just Men Triumphant are.

Ah me! Alas! what means this Sea of Blood?
Oh! See, see, see, it breaks forth like a Flood.
Must Walcot, Bateman, Ayliff, Ansly too
Be all forgot, are no sighs to them due?
No, no, that must not be; I'm drencht in tears,
To hear this cry of Blood sound in mine Ears.

But lo! another Stream issues amain,
My sinking Spirits, Lord, with speed sustain.
Poor Nelthrop's gone too, and the Lady Lisle;
Nay more, the Gallant Noble Lord Argile.
Hath Scotland bred a greater Man than he?
Of Noble Birth, and Ancient Pedigree.
No danger could his High-born Soul restrain,
He strove his Countreys Liberty t'obtain.
And it to free from Romish Usurpation,
Beyond most of the Nobles in that Nation;
For which his Enemies many snares did lay,
Both his Estate and Life to take away,
Who only did design Tranquillity
To th' State; and to secure't from Slavery.
Were I but able I'de advance his Praise,
And with high strains of grief his Glory raise.
A Nobleman, Just, Pious, Valiant, Wise,
Able for Counsel, or for Enterprize;
Fit to set Cato Copies if alive,
Whose sharp discerning Judgment soon could dive
Into their Plots, though laid as deep as Hell;
But missing his Design, our Statesman fell.

Success sometimes does not the Wise attend,
The most Sagacious sometimes miss the end
They aim at; and yet may not be i'th' wrong;
The Race is not to th' swift, nor to the strong
The Battel is not always; and we see
This Scripture Proverb was made good in thee.
Farewel Argile! my weeping Muse shall burn
Her wither'd Laurel, at thy mournful Urn;
Contemn a Monument, and scorn a Stone;
Marbles have flaws, and must good men have none?
But gone he is; drop tears my Children all,
And mourn, because that day a Prince did fall:
Though he be gone, his Honour shall not dye,
My Children shall preserve his Memory.

Undaunted Rumbold is the next that I
Register in my mournful Elegy,
He both Couragious and Religious was,
Whose Zeal for's Countreys Freedom did surpass
Most others; and although he then did lye
Under the scandal and the infamy
Of secretly conspiring how to slay
His Soveraign Lord in a vile treacherous way,
Which he deny'd, and did abominate,
When his last Breath he yielded up to Fate
So wounded, that two Deaths he seem'd to dye:
Tears drop again, mine Eyes I cannot dry,
When I observe the Babylonish Train,
Strive all these worthy Mens repute to stain
With Lies, false Slanders, and black Calumny,
That they unpitied by all might die.

But to my comfort, I now hope the day
Is come, will wipe all their reproach away;
That whilst their Souls Triumphing are in Glory,
Their Fame will cleared be in future Story;
And that to all good Men their Memory
Will precious be to all Posterity.

But now my Muse back to the West must go,
And tell what there the Enemy more did do,
Where cause of grief be sure I cannot lack.
Brave Patchel next appears with Captain Blake;
And though I have great store of tears let fall,
Yet their sad Fate aloud on me doth call
To draw the Sluces up, and yet once more
From my wet Eyes fresh Floods of tears to pour;
For I perceive whole Troops together come
Of Western Sufferers, crying, Pray make room;
Why must our names be buried in the Croud?
And all our worth be vailed in a Cloud
Of dark Oblivion? Must we always lye
Under an Odium of the blackest dye?
Is nothing due unto our mangled Clay?
Will none strive our reproach to roul away?
Can you so partial be? What not a tear
For us to whom Liberty was so dear?
Do you disdain to speak in our defence,
Because some were of no great Eminence?
Was not our Blood as dear to us as theirs,
Whose death you do bewail with bitter tears?
Must our mean dust be slightly trampled on,
And disregarded without sigh or groan?

Ah! Must we ever, ever be forgot?
And must our names like wicked Persons rot?

No, no, Great Souls! I equally resent
The sad misfortune of each Innocent;
And though some (not for want of Ignorance)
Cry 'gainst your Prince your Arms you did advance;
Yet your Allegiance sure could never bind
Your hands, that when Rome's power had undermin'd
The Constitution, thereby to o'rethrow
The Government, yet you must nothing do.
Must every man sit still, and quiet be?
And Law, Religion, Life in Jeopardy;
The contrary Jehovah hath made out,
And thereby our Salvation's brought about.
Yet Non-resistance is our duty still,
When Princes Rule by Law; but not by Will.
When Magistrates pursue that gracious end,
God by advancing of them did intend;
Then to resist them is a horrid thing,
And God to shame will all such Rebels bring.
But must Superiors be submitted to,
When they contrive to ruin and undo
Their faithful Subjects, and o'return the State,
And their most sacred Oaths do violate?
Is Government ordained to destroy,
Or to preserve the Rights that Men enjoy?

Suppose a Father should be led away,
T'attempt the Mothers Life, and strive to slay
His Innocent Children; and to those adhere,
Who unto them malicious Enemies were:

In such a case as this the Children sure,
Their Mothers, and their own Lives may secure.
Ought they not then their Fathers hands to bind,
So to prevent the mischief he design'd?
Don't Nature teach a Man to save his Life
From th' Treachery of Father, Child, or VVife?
Must Servants yield, and passively consent
Their Master from their Bones the Flesh should rent
Is it a crime if they won't this indure,
But seek a better Master to procure?
Self-preservation 'twas that moved you,
(Fore-seeing what was ready to insue,)
To seek such ways to save your selves and me,
VVhich you thought Just, and hop'd would prosperous be
And though God did Success to you deny,
Yet you might act with all Integrity;
VVhich Heav'n doth seem to Crown now with Applause,
And to Assert the Justice of your Cause.
Since 'twas ordain'd that spot should be the Scene
VVhere the Cause dy'd, there to revive't agen:
And though for what you therein were misled
I did lament, and many tears have shed;
Yet I must vindicate you from the wrong
You suffer'd have by many a viperous Tongue;
And will more of your worthy names revive,
Though at your slips I never will connive.

Dear Hicks, shall slanderous mouths seek to defame,
And to calumniate so sweet a name?
Ah! shall detracting malice go about
VVith its rude Breath to blow thy Taper out?

Well! let them all their full-mouth'd Bellows puff,
It is their Breath that stinks, and not thy snuff.
Oh what a judgment 'twere if such as they
Should but allow thy actions, and betray
Th' endanger'd name by their malign applause
To good opinion; that were a just cause
Of grief indeed; but to be made the Story
Of such false Tongues, Great Soul! it is thy Glory.
Ah! is he dead? did his poor Body fall
By th' rage of man? tears cannot him recall.
Yet might not then have died, but his day
Might have been lengthned, had he known the way
To Life and Peace which God hath since found out,
And for our safety, strangely brought about,
The day he longed for his Eyes had seen
If some things had, and some things had not been.
What he saw past, Heavens Eye fore-saw to come;
God saw how that contingent act should sum
The total of his days; His All-seeing Eye
(Though his own could not) saw that he should dye
That very fatal hour, yet saw his death
Not so, so necessary, but his Breath
Might have been spared to a longer date
Had he imbraced this, not taken that.

Had not a furious Judge condemned thee,
Void of all pity and humanity,
Thou might'st have liv'd and seen with joyful Eyes
That done, for which thou fell'st a Sacrifice;
Yet that God orders all things right w'are sure;
The Death of some may Life to more procure.

But here's just cause of further Lamentation,
For one we scarce can equal in the Nation.
A worthy Preacher, who could not comply
With what his Conscience could not justifie.
But hark how th' Enemy doth scoff and jear,
That a Dissenter's taken in the snare.
A better Sacrifice there could not come,
To please the Canibals of Bloody Rome,
Who do believe there is no Dish so good,
As a John Baptist's Head serv'd up in Blood.
But he's a Rebel; Ay! that, that's the cry;
Now as to that, let's weigh impartially
His dying words, now printed, which relate
He did believe Monmouth Legitimate,
Or Lawful Son of Charles, or else that he
Would ne're have acted in the least degree
In that design, and we may likewise find
The rest in general were of that mind;
And though they were mistaken, let's take care
Not to asperse what dying men declare.
But sober thoughts of them still to retain,
And not with Obloquy their Memory stain.

But lo! a multitude of Sufferers more
(Whose Blood for vengeance cries,) stand at the door.
Open to them; my Muse; Ah! do but see
What a great number of them still there be;
Now they are come, 'tis fit I first make room
For the most gallant generous Battiscombe:
A worthy Person of a great Estate,
Although he was cut off by cruel Fate.

The wretched Judge allur'd him to accuse
Some other Gentlemen, which he did refuse
VVith scorn; for he abhorr'd his Life to buy
By such base and unmanly treachery.
VVhen he o'th' Ladder was he seemed to smile;
Saying, He hoped in a little while
He should enjoy a Crown and Diadem
Of Glory in the New Jerusalem;
That from a Land of misery and woe
To the Cœlestial Paradice he should go.

Hamling fell too, nor was his Innocence
Before so vile a Judge, the least defence
Against the Crimes wherewith they charged him,
Though altogether free from any Crime;
VVho neither was in Arms, nor did assist
Any that were; nor any who did List
Themselves for Monmouth; nay he did advise
His Son not to ingage, but to be wise,
And unto Gods dispose leave every thing,
VVho in due Season would Deliverance bring.
But he was a Dissenter, and for this
He must not live; for he accused is
By two such Rascals as did never care
VVhether 'twere truth or falshood they did Swear;
But with the Judges humour would comply,
And by such Evidence this man must die.

Next Mr. Brag a Man of good Descent,
And well known to be wholly innocent;
VVho though a Lawyer, yet no Law could have
VVhereby his Life from violence to save,

When Law and Justice both o're-ruled were,
And Judge and Jury too resolv'd to steer
By the false Compass of the Princes will,
In vain was the most Learned Lawyers skill;
None were secure, neither the weak nor strong:
Will was made Law whether 'twere right or wrong.
The Land-mark was remov'd, all Common laid;
And all our English Liberties betray'd.

But time will fail me, therefore I'll proceed,
And not forget Smith, Rose, and Joseph Speed,
And Evans too; shall such a man as he
Fall basely, and not draw a tear from me?
Then Madder, Kid, young Jenkins too all bled,
Who for his Youth ought to be pitied;
With Doctor Temple, Spark, and Captain Lisle
Kill'd in cold Blood, their malice was so vile;
And many hundred others who there fell
So barbarously, there's scarce a Parallel
Of Stirs that were in any former Reign,
Where so much cruelty was; and leaves a stain
Upon that time, will ne're be wip't away
Until the World and all things else decay.
But notwithstanding so much Blood was shed,
Some hundreds of poor Souls were banished;
Bereaved of their VVives and Children dear,
And into Forreign Countreys driven were,
And there exposed to all misery,
And the severities of Slavery.
The Husband separated from the VVife,
Depriv'd of all the joys of humane Life.

Their Goods, and their Estates all forfeited,
And nothing left wherewith to buy them Bread.

But should I all their miseries recount,
They to a mighty number would amount;
Yet now Great Nassaw's setled on the Throne,
VVe do not doubt but he'll regard their moan;
That on their sorrows he will cast his Eyes,
And of his Princely goodness, ease their cries.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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?

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.

But now alas! new griefs do me surround,
Groans from the North my mournful Soul confound,
My Muse must now take wing and swiftly fly,
To have a view of Scotland's misery.

Be silent and attend; you soon will hear,
Their dismal cries will penetrate your Ear.
The Sufferings of my Children here were bad,
But in that Nation they were far more sad;
No place more like to France man ever saw,
Where Arbitrary Power stood for Law.
Men of all Ranks were seized, and did lye
In noisome Jayls, yet knew no reason why;
And to insnare them, swarms of cursed Spies
Abroad are sent under a false disguise,
Who strove t'incense them to dislike, and hate
The King, and all his Ministers of State:
And to extort some words from them, that so
They thereby might unwary Souls o'rethrow.

If they found any pious, just and good,
Then many snares were laid to suck their Blood,
By those vile Emissaries, who were sent
On purpose to intrap the Innocent,
Suborned Witnesses imployed were,
Who for their wages any thing would Swear,
Whereby Mens Lives, Estates and Honours too
Are all indangered; were they High or Low.
The Chiefest Peers, and Worthiest Patriots
Had many times the most unhappy Lots;
Unless they'd be Debaucht, down they must go,
And suffer as the meanest Rebels do.
If to Gods Laws Men faithfully do stand,
And won't be Subject to the Kings command;
Refusing what their Conscience offends
Th' are judg'd, To Cæsar then to be no Friends.

Some Men they try'd, and on that very day
Condemned, and their Lives were ta'ne away.
No Pray'rs nor Intercessions will they hear
A little time to grant them, to prepare
For Death; nay, they did impiously say,
Hell was too good for Rebels, such as they.

Yea, they made Laws the thoughts of men to reach,
Whom of ill words or deeds none could impeach.
If of the Government they evil think,
They of Deaths bitter Cup are sure to drink.
Sometimes they wheedl'd them to a Confession,
Promising Life upon the same condition.
Come, come (say they) freely to us declare
What your conceptions of the Government are,
Speak what you think; sure you are not afraid,
Nor will disown what you so lately said?
Dissemble not in matters of your Faith,
Since you remember what the Scripture saith,
That they who won't confess Christ Jesus here,
He will not own them when he does appear.
Subscribe to your Profession; you shall see
How very kind and merciful we'l be.
Speak man! and let's your Testimony have,
If you will both your Soul and Body save.

Thus do they mock them with Expostulations,
As Priests and Jesuits do in Popish Nations:
But all the time they hide their cruel hate,
While thus they craftily expostulate.
For in the Council Men concealed stood
To witness what they said, and shed their Blood;

And thus with them they dealt most treacherously,
And many of their Lives depriv'd thereby.
And when they came to dye they beat a Drum,
Lest to the light their wickedness should come.
A very bad Cause sure, that could not bear
The dying words of those that Sufferers were;
But those that wary are, and won't accuse
Themselves of ought, they barbarously use
With Engines of most horrid cruelty
Tormenting them; they rather chose to die.
The torturing Boot, and burning Matches too,
They made these innocent Souls to undergo;
And after all were Sentenc'd unto death,
And villainously were depriv'd of Breath.
Some that were guiltless, yet were Sentenced
To lose their Ears, and then be Banished;
And after this again Examin'd were
Whether to their Opinions they adhere,
If so; a second Sentence doth succeed,
And they are instantly condemn'd to bleed.

Thus multitudes of Men and Families
Were ruined by such Barbarities,
Extravagant Fines, and long Imprisonment,
And all the Hellish ways Rome can invent
Were exercis'd severely on all those
Who Popery and Slavery durst oppose.

Yea, they not only took their Lives away,
But their good Name seek likewise to destroy,
By representing them as Mortal Foes
T'th' King, and that they did his Power oppose.

Thus was our Saviour dealt with by the Jews,
And thus did they his blest Apostles use;
Hoping, that by their heaping infamy
Upon good men, they would obnoxious be
Unto the Censure of the Mobile;
And by this their Infernal Policy
Induce them all Religion to decry;
Especially if they be Men of Name,
As many were whom they sought to defame;
And hereby thought all Piety to root out,
Their vile Intrigues with ease to bring about;
For when Men all Religion do defie,
They'll quickly suck in Rome's Idolatry.

Their wicked Laws good Men must not transgress,
Nay which is worse; they force them to profess,
And to declare, They just and righteous are,
And fit to be obey'd; yea they must Swear
They will defend them, and that Power too
That did Enact them; which was hard to do.
There's one thing more that's grievous to relate,
Which shews their cruel and malicious hate.
That finding Legal Tryals 'gainst them slow
And troublesome, they grant a power to
The rude ungovern'd Souldiers; so that they
Have pow'r to challenge, and examine may
Whom they think fit, and Oaths likewise impose,
Scotland ne're saw such Justices as those.
Yea they commanded and enjoined were
To put to death all such as would not Swear:

Yea if they would not answer the demands
Of these leud wretches; then into their hands
They fell, who most severely them did use;
The French Dragoons could them not worse abuse:
And in few weeks no less than Fifty dy'd
Of those that their curst Tyranny decry'd.
No Judge these Martyr'd Christians did condemn,
Neither did any Jury pass on them.
The Souldiers without cause destroy'd them all,
Which doth aloud to Heav'n for vengeance call:
They kill and slay without respect to Age
Or Sex; to gratifie their brutish rage.
They raise an Army like to that in France,
Their Arbitrary Power to advance;
And the Intrigues of Rome to carry on,
And this for Scotland's sorrows makes me moan.

Poor men Free Quarters must provide, or they
Are plundered, and all is swept away;
And many hundred sober Persons were
Inhumanely destroy'd year after year.
No former Tyrant scarcely did invent
More Tortures than good men there under-went;
VVhich they must suffer, or must else defile
Their Consciences with their Opinions vile.
It seem'd as if Inquisitors were come
To Scotland now from Spain, or else from Rome.
Ah! poor inslaved Land, Ah! must thou be
The Scene of Popish Pride and Cruelty?
Thy Magistrates are ravening VVolves become,
Of Esau's Race, fit Instruments for Rome.

Thy Noble Patriots mourn, thy Priests are sad;
Thy Kirk has lost that Glory which she had.
'Tis good for thee to weigh, and lay to Heart
What caus'd these woes, under which thou dost smart.

Hast thou not been too hot, and too severe,
And hence are forc'd such miseries now to bear?
Learn wisdom then, and mild and gentle be,
Since God doth never love severity.
If ever he return to thee again,
Let not thy sharpness all thy glory stain.
Let such who can't unite and joyn with thee
Have equal Love, and Christian Liberty;
Or else at length a fiercer Storm may come,
Than what thou hast already had from Rome.
Farewel, poor Scotland, for I must be gone;
And now methinks I hear poor Ireland groan:
With a sad Heart I take my leave of thee,
And what is doing there resolve to see.

Ah dismal sight!—What! all in Popish hands,
Not one good Protestant that here commands?
Must Wolves be Keepers of my harmless Sheep?
Take heed, poor Souls! take heed, and do not sleep.
Ah! now I see what the King did intend;
Is this the love and kindness of a Friend?
Did he pretend, all should have equal share
Of Trust and Honour? how does this appear?
Yet let their Honour go; if that were all
I should not care; but when to mind I call
The sad and dismal year of Forty One;
And what by Irish Papists then was done.

I cannot think my Children safe to be,
Whilst only such are in Authority.
Is't fit such bloody Butchers should bear sway,
Whose Hearts were never changed to this day.
Here's not a Constable, ev'n so mean a place,
But what is of the Irish Popish Race.
I fear (dear Children) if God don't appear,
Your utter ruin now approaches near.
I cannot but lament when I behold
These hungry Lions compassing my Fold:
If Heav'n don't them deter, and soon prevent,
You will ere long be all in pieces rent.
But yet cheer up, I long expected have
The Lion of the North will come to save
Both me and mine, and will great Wonders do,
Protecting of these Lands from overthrow.
The Chicken of the Eagle will appear,
And vanquish all my Foes both far and near;
When you of him have Tidings, weep no more,
For your Redemption then is at the door.
I can't stay longer; here my Eye doth glance,
To pity my poor Children too in France:
But should I dive into their State, I fear
I should want strength their miseries to bear.

‘But other grounds of grief are in mine Eye,
‘Which cause my sorrows to advance so high,
‘That my o're-burthen'd Heart can scarce express
‘The nature of my inward heaviness.

Sion's Friend.
‘Sion, thy sad and bitter lamentation,
‘Does move my very Heart unto compassion;
‘But say, what cause does aggravate your fears,
‘And thus provokes to further cries and tears.

Sion.

‘Oh if my Head were waters, and each Eye
‘A Springing Fountain I could drein 'em dry.
‘I'm steep'd in brackish Floods, nay almost drown'd
‘To see how Sin does ev'ry where abound.
‘This was my cry and moan Eight years ago,
‘And worse since that I find these evils grow;
‘I therefore must repeat them o're again,
‘For these alas do England's Glory stain,
‘And bring reproach likewise on my blest name,
‘The grief of Heaven, and my Childrens shame.

‘Where-e're I am, I nought can see or hear,
‘But that which doth my Soul in pieces tear.
‘It breaks my Heart that England thus should be
‘A Scene for th' Actors of Debauchery.
‘What perpetrations of the blackest Crimes
‘Appear not bare-fac'd in our present times?
‘Though God (incens'd) has fearful Judgments sent
‘To humble men, and move them to repent;
‘Yet they proceed in foul impenitence,
‘And aggravate their horrid insolence;
‘Seeming to bid defiance unto Heaven,
‘Scorning to take the dreadful warnings given.

‘The sweeping Plague (that Messenger of wrath)
‘In such as scap'd small Reformation hath
‘Produc'd! nor has the desolating Fire
‘(A perfect token of Gods flaming Ire,)
‘Burnt up the Cities Pride; 'twas great before,
‘And now it seems to multiply much more.
‘Fantastick Garbs and Antick Modes declare,
‘How much from Pride their Souls reformed are.
‘Should any Women have such Children Born
‘With such Attire as on their Heads are worn,
‘Would it not them affright and terrifie?
‘God may do so if you don't speedily
‘Reform your Lives, and cast your Fashions off,
‘Which make ill men at you revile and scoff.
‘Though Want, though Poverty, and loss of Trade
‘Do many Men and Families invade;
‘Yet do they vaunt in Pride and Luxury,
‘As they had Mines of Treasure lying by.
‘Some know not what to eat, nor how to go,
‘Yet on the Poor will no compassion show
‘(Whose unregarded cries, unheeded moans.
‘Whose unreliev'd distress, unpity'd groans,
‘Can scarce extort a Mite) such do not grudge
‘To purchase Hell at dearest rates and drudge
‘To please their brutish Lusts, who void of measure,
‘Consume Estates to wantonize in pleasure;
‘Tumbling in Riot (as proud Dives sate)
‘Whilst Lazarus lies starving at the Gate.

A Complaint against Oaths.

Volleys of Oaths with horrid Blasphemy,
And dreadful Cursings in mine Ears do cry.
Mark but our impious Gallants when they meet,
Observe the Mode, how they each other greet;
What new-coin'd Oaths? what modish Execrations?
What Damning, Sinking, horrid Imprecations
Do they disgorge? the Serpents fiery hiss
That belches Sulphur from the black Abyss
Can scarce out-do this Ranting Tribe, who count
The Man Genteel that is most Paramount
In wickedness; he that Blasphemes aloud.
Christ's Blood and Wounds, a Courtier's Alamode.
How can th' abused Earth but gape again,
To swallow quick, vile wretches so prophane?
How can Heavens great Artillery so long
Forbear the Treasons of a Mortal Tongue?
Jehovah's Attributes so vilely us'd,
His Sacred Essence, and his Name abus'd.
Fresh Blasphemies they mint, new Curses frame,
And sins that never had before a name
Graduates in Courtship are preferr'd, who 'ave made
Most quick proficience in the Hellish Trade:
That Rant and Roar, Revel and Domineer,
As if nor God, nor Devil they did fear.
Approaching dangers can't disturb their pleasure,
But still they sin until they fill their measure.

Judgments deferr'd in evil makes them bold,
Despising such by whom they are controul'd;
As if th' avenging hand their Lives did spare,
Thus to provoke him without dread or fear.

But poor Blasphemer, though thou art past by,
'Tis not t'indulge thee in iniquity.
Think'st thou the God of purity does like
Such ways, because he yet forbears to strike?
Dost think a gloomy interposing Cloud,
From Gods All-searching Eye can be thy shroud?
Or that because he is inthron'd on high,
Thy deeds of darkness he cannot espy?
Or since his Judgments are so long delay'd,
Wilt thou proceed, and be no whit afraid?
Wilt thou his patience without end abuse,
Slight true Repentance, and his Grace refuse?
If so, thy Judgment hastens—for a Rod
Will quickly reach thee from an angry God,
Because of Oaths the Land does greatly mourn,
For which my Soul much inward grief has born.

A Complaint against Drunkenness.

Dost thou not see how filthy Drunkenness
Does reign in City, and in Villages?
Some reel and wallow in the Streets like Swine,
Whilst others boast their strength in drinking Wine;
Although to such God doth denounce a curse,
They mind it not, but still grow worse and worse:

Dread not Examples of Gods wrath at all,
Nor what to Drunkards does so oft befal:
Although Gods Word has fearful warnings given,
That Drunkards never shall inherit Heaven,
But that their Lot shall with damn'd Spirits be
In Chains of darkness to Eternity.
They Drink, Carouse, and waste their jolly Breath
Upon the brink of Everlasting death.
What-e're ensues, they are resolv'd they will
Carouse full Goblets, and be filthy still.
Thus men by Pride, by Oaths, by Worldliness,
By daily swallowing Liquor to Excess
Defile the Land, and do the Lord provoke,
To cause his vengeance on the Land to smoke.
Sin sets the door wide open, and makes way
For all the sorrows of th' approaching day,
These are in part the cause of Englands woe,
And will (if Grace prevents not) it undo:
But there are other heinous Sins behind,
Which pierce my Bowels, and perplex my Mind.

A Complaint against Whoredom and Adultery.

Did filthy Lust and Whoredom ever rage
With more success than in the present Age?
Abominations of so vile a name,
That their bare mention is indeed a shame.
What Sin more hateful in Jehovah's Eye,
Than this of Whoredom and Adultery?

'Tis rank'd as chief, and marches in the Van
Of all the gross Debaucheries of Man,
In those black Muster-Rolls God does Record,
Of grand offences in his holy Word;
What more affronts the second Table? or
Provokes the Lord? No fitter Metaphor
Could be produc'd t'express Idolatry,
Than that abhorred name Adultery.
Besides the terrors of Gods fiery wrath,
Which judges such to Everlasting death;
On Earth amongst all sober men, they gain
So vile a blot, so infamous a stain,
That all the waters in the Sea can never
VVipe off, nor can it be forgot for ever.
The leud Embraces of Lascivious Dames
VVill rot their Bones, breed Cankers in their names,
Beget consumption in Estate and Purse,
Produce destruction, and a certain curse:
The common ends that such arrive unto
Are foul Diseases, Beggery and VVoe.
They're sottish Fools (says wise Demosthenes)
That buy Repentance at such rates as these:
VVho Sin to please an Enemy, that strives
To damn their Souls, and rob them of their Lives.
God in his Sacred

Lev. 20. 10.

Ordinances hath
Appointed such to an immediate Death.
VVould men but judge it as their greatest Foe,
They'd never love nor hug it as they do.
Each Sex is bad, but VVomen seem to be
The very Brokers of Immodesty;

Which makes that passage to be born in mind,
A Wise and vertuous Woman who can find?
Your City Dames and Ladies are on Fire
With wanton Passion, and unchast Desire,
Providing Meats on purpose to inflame
Their pamper'd Gallants to their wonted shame.
Bare Breasts and naked Necks a Harlots Dress,
Are strong Temptations unto wickedness.
All other Sins (th' Apostle does declare)
Which men commit without the Body are:
But this abominable Act alone,
Against his Body by a man is done.
Marriage to all, the undefiled Bed,
Is honourable; he that will may Wed,
But Whoremongers God judges; and they shall
Be cast into the Lake, both great and small,
The Wiseman calls th' Adulterer a Fool,
And well he may, for he destroys his Soul.
No Fools like them; though branded still they shew
The marks of folly, wheresoe're they go.
O how th' unclean and brutish man exceeds
Inferior Sinners in reproachful deeds!

My grievances are many, and my fear
Is more than my distressed Soul can bear:
My panting Breast and akeing Heart is sad,
To think of what I further have to add.

A Complaint against Atheism.

But O amazing Master-piece of wonder!
That's like to rend my very Heart asunder,
When I consider that an Age of Light
Produces Monsters blacker than the Night:
A cursed Tribe of wretched Atheists dare
Without all dread and reverential fear,
Strike at the Essence of the Great Jehove,
And all the Glories that reside Above,
As if meer fancies of a cloudy Brain,
And all Religion an Intrigue of Man:
That dare pronounce all Evangelick Law.
A trick of State to keep the World in awe,
Creating Idols in their Brains; that even
Make mocks of Hell, and a meer scorn of Heaven.

But can such fancies challenge an abode
Within your Heart to dis-believe a God?
On th' Universal Fabrick cast an Eye,
The Sea, the Earth, and the expanded Sky:
Can so sublime illustrious an Effect
Be form'd without a Glorious Architect?
If Reason be your Rule, true Logicks Laws
Pronounce Effects resulting from a Cause,
Whose order leads us to Infinity,
Sure Arguments of a Divinity.
Created things must a Creator have;
And that Begetter who first Being gave

Unto all Essences can't be Begot;
He's therefore God, and other else is not.
This causa prima, without time or date,
We do believe could not himself Create,
And therefore hence we do conclude that he
Must have his Essence from Eternity.

Who can make Phœbus his swift course reverse?
Or Ballance in his Palm the Universe?
Who can the Ocean in a Sieve confine?
If none can do't then none can God define.
First Principles are beyond definition;
No Logick reaches at so high a Vision:
'Tis unreveal'd to Reason, for no strain
Of lofty Metaphysicks can contain
Those Mysteries; true Wisdom therefore hath
Commanded Reason to give room to Faith.
If what we see had not a first Creator,
Then 'tis its own immediate Operator;
If so, it Acts before it had a Being:
But such conclusions are too dis-agreeing
With Reasons Maxims: For all things that be,
May say they are their own Divinity,
If each can make it self, and that which can
Create it self, can so it self sustain
In infinitum, and will ne're dissolve
It self; for Natures principal Resolve
Is, that no Essence will forbear to be,
If it can keep up its own Entity.
This strain of Atheistick Sophistry
Makes all of equal Independancy

Without Subordination: 'Tis a Theme,
Without inferior, making all Supreme.
First CAUSE supposes time, and time supposes
Some second Acts which after-time discloses.
So view their Series, you may trace them all
(As links in Chains) to their Original
The Great JEHOVAH; whose unfathom'd Glory
Is Emblem'd in the Universe before ye.

There is a thing in Man call'd CONSCIENCE,
Which of his Actions gives clear Evidence,
Whether he likes or not that's ready still
To check the course of his disorder'd will:
It is Eccentrick to his sensual part,
Arraigns his words, his deeds, his very heart;
And if it finds they be irregular,
It does pursue them with continual War.
What can this just, this inward witness be,
But some bright Beam of a Divinity?

In former times was not Jehovah known
By Miracles which visibly were shown?
Can Reason brag that Causes natural
Could raise the dead? or that a Word can call
An Intomb'd Carcase to behold the Light?
Make sound a Cripple? give the Blind their sight?
If not, then surely it will follow hence,
That 'tis an Act of some Omnipotence:
That such were done we have the common Vote
Of Pagans, Jews, and all the Men of Note,
Whose Works are Extant, whom we may believe,
Because they had no int'rest to deceive.

Whence come those Judgments which you daily hear,
Of wrath and vengeance darted every where
Against Prophaners of that Sacred Name?
Whence come those Arrows, that consuming Flame
Which terrifies the World? and whence the Breath
That strikes Blasphemers with a sudden Death?
Which of these rare Philosophers can show
What makes the spacious deep to Ebb and Flow?
Let them produce their Maxims, if they can,
How scatter'd Atoms can compose a Man?
VVho brandishes those blazing Signs of wonder?
VVho frights the Earth with rapid peals of Thunder?
VVho did defeat the fatal Enterprize
VVhich Rome by Devils Council did devise?
VVho sets the Comets in the angry Sky,
Those dismal Harbingers of misery?
God does himself by many ways make known,
Fore-warning men of what's a coming on:
Yet senseless Mortals faulter more and more,
Though hovering vengeance threaten at the door,
Deceit, Soul-killing-Errors, Perjury,
Injustice, Murder, Theft, Hypocrisie,
Do so abound through our enlightned Isle,
That Sodom hardly e're appear'd more vile.

A Complaint against Hypocrites.

I am not only Persecuted by
My open Foes, but lurking Snakes do lye

VVithin my Bosom, using all their Art
To seize my Vitals, and corrode my Heart.
Such seeming Friends, such Traytors in disguise,
Are more malignant than known Enemies:
For the Attaques of these, a man may VVard;
Those unsuspected, stand within our Guard.
How many seem to reverence my name,
For worldly Ends, or to avoid the shame
Of Irreligion? frequently they go
To worship God, and so devout do show
As if meer Saints; but Hypocrites in grain,
Do all the while Intelligence maintain,
VVith my declared Foes, who proudly join,
And all their Politicks in one combine,
To root my name from off the very Earth,
And make provision that no more get Birth;
Betray'd by middle and by low degrees,
But most of all by Capital Grandees.
Such as my peace and safety should procure,
Contribute most to make me unsecure:
Such seem their purpose by soft words to smother;
So Boatsmen look one way, but row another.
Such perjur'd Statesmen have the Art to smile
Upon my Face, but cut my Throat the while.
But grant, dread Soveraign of the Universe,
That whilst I weep my grievances in Verse,
Thy Sion's interest may not be betray'd
To Rome, by Protestants in Masquerade.
O let me hear the joyful Trumpet sounded,
That does proclaim their Babylon confounded.

Rome's black Militia is all up in Arms,
Annoying Europe in unusual swarms.
This critick moment they expect and hope,
To thrust Me out, and introduce a Pope
To plague this Noble Nation, that has been
A VVall, a Fort, a Counterscarp between
Their bawling Canons most impetuous shots,
And Forreign States, that countermines their Plots.
The desp'rate Archers are aware of this,
They know that England the chief Bulwark is,
To check their growth: If they could make it sup
Th' invenom'd dregs of th' Antichristian Cup,
They judge it easie to subdue the rest
Of my European Gospel-interest.

But Oh! my melting, Soul-tormenting fears
Burst into sighs, and bubble into tears.
Observe the Heavens! view that dreadful mark
Of flaming vengeance that precedes the dark
Approach of night! can this vast Comet be
Ought but the Prologue of calamity?
Prodigious Meteors, blazing fiery Stars,
Are Heraulds sent to menace open VVars
Against rebellious and polluted Coasts,
By him who is the mighty Lord of Hosts.
Awake O England! this Lethargick sleep
Is out of Season, 'tis a time to weep;
'Tis guilty Children tremble at the Rod,
Can you be stupid when the angry God
Sets up this dreadful Ensign of his wrath?
Rouze up Repentance, let a lively Faith

Now go to work; see how the preaching Air,
Instead of sinning, does exhort to Prayer:
For thy fantastick Garbs, Perfumes, and all
Thy other trash, it doth for Sackcloth call:
From carnal sports it bids thee quickly get,
Calls from the Taverns to the Mercy seat.
From that accursed Randezvouz of Lust
It bids thee hasten, and repent in dust.
Have not th' experience of past Ages given
Their sad remarks upon these Signs in Heaven?
VVhat follow'd still, but certain spoil of Nations,
Plagues, Fire and Sword, and other devastations?
The sure Eversion of some potent Crown;
The death of Heroes, Monarchs tumbled down.

But thou Illustrious Architect of wonder,
Remove the sorrows which I labour under.
Does this amazing Prodigy betoken
That Rampant Babel shall be quickly broken?
Does it portend that Antichrist shall break
In pieces, striving to destroy the weak
Remains that on this blessed name do call?
Or does't presage that (trembling) I shall fall?
Lord canst thou see thy pleasant Vineyard tore,
And rooted up, by this rapacious Boar?
Or have my Childrens crying sins provok'd
That dismal sentence, not to be revok'd.
(Gods methods were to chasten, not destroy
Those sinning Souls in whom he once took joy.)
O give thy sinking Church a true discerning
VVhat thou dost mean by this prodigious warning:

That by thy Spirits sacred Flame calcin'd,
By Scourges mended, and by heat refin'd,
We may find Grace, and all our ways amend,
For some strange change this doubtless doth portend.

Sion's Friend.

This was first published eight years ago,
Just as God did that Fiery Meteor show;
And when amaz'd at that astonishing sight,
What you have read, I moved was to write,
What in my judgment it might signifie,
Though I did ne're pretend to Prophecy;
But yet we see some things since come to pass,
Of what so plainly then predicted was.
A dismal hour of darkness did appear,
And from that time increased every year;
Which England, nor Gods Witnesses before
Did ever see; nor I hope ne're will more.
Our Governments Foundation up was torn,
Our famous City stript, and left forlorn.
Good men turn'd out of Office without cause,
And those imploy'd who violate those Laws
Which only can the Subjects Right secure,
And England did sad Slavery to endure.

Gods Witnesses have likewise since been slain,
Though they are lately brought to Life again.
Yea, what a wondrous strange Catastrophie
Has since befall'n Great Brittain's Monarchy
And what a blow is thereby given to Rome?
We may presage what further is to come;

For I don't doubt ere its effects are o're,
The Church of Rome shall fall and rise no more.
And though proud Lewis triumph, let him know
It may foretel his final overthrow.
The Turks have felt the sad effects, and shall
(Unless they own the truth) entirely fall.
No Comet (I believe) did e're fore-show
More good that unto Protestants should grow.

But lest I should appear unkind to be
In stopping Sion's groans in misery,
I will forbear; that she may yet relate
What for some years has been her direful state;
And shew what grief she now does labour under,
Which seems to break her very Heart asunder.

Dear Mother pray be pleased to proceed,
For to your words I'll give attentive heed.

Sion.

Your news is good; but Oh! my Spirits faint,
Finding such doleful causes of complaint.
My panting Soul renewed grief doth feel,
My feeble knees beneath their burden reel.
Such are the black enormities and crimes
Which do attend these dark and gloomy times;
Although I see a Parliament most just,
Yet I alas lye covered in the dust.

This was in Eighty when thou couldst not see
The Saviour which God had prepar'd for thee.

I am beset within, and round about,
Nor can I see how God will bring about

Deliverance; for my Enemies are strong,
And snares have laid to ruin me ere long.
And since my sins, and Englands are so great,
It may God move to leave his Mercy-Seat,
And give us up into Rome's Hellish power,
To be destroy'd in this most dismal hour:
And if at this time we preserved be,
When Rome attacks us with such subtilty;
Playing (with so much malice) her last Game,
We ought to praise the great Jehovahs Name.
Since nothing but a Miracle can do this,
So very dangerous our condition is.

Sion's Children.

Ah Mother! who can disallow your moan,
The Cause is just; for every one must own
Our failing great, and that our sins provoke
Impending Judgments, and a future stroke,
If interceeding Mercy step not in
To Ward the blow, and Cancel all our sin.
But since amazing Providence now gives light,
And makes appear the dark Intrigues o'th' night.
Since Heav'n exposes the results of Rome
To publick notice; since the Traytors come
To Legal Execution; since the Grand
Contrivers of these mischiefs, dare not stand
The Test of Law, or due Examination;

1680.

Since such brave Hero's represent the Nation,
Whose Clear, Sagacious, penetrating Eyes,
Dive into Rome's abhorred Mysteries.

VVhose Noble Souls, whose Loyal English Hearts,
The closest sleights of Antichristian Arts
Can ne're deceive; whose brave resolves defeat
Those curs'd Delinquents, whether small or great.
VVhose Free-born courages do scorn to stoop
To be the Vassals of a doting Pope,
An upstart Vicar whose Pow'r ne're was given,
By binding Laws of either Earth or Heaven.
VVe therefore, (Dearest Mother,) do conclude,
That what has past of Romish interlude,
Is near an Exit; That the Scene will be
Chang'd from a Tempest to Serenity.

[_]

This was writ in 1680. respecting the Worthy English Parliament then Sitting. Such were our hopes then.

Sion.

O that's a Cordial! but my grief does borrow
Some fresh objections to renew my sorrow;
For some that wish me well, do yet in spite
Of Gospel-beamings, and the clearest Light
Retain some Romish fragments which displeases
The meek, the humble, self-denying JESUS.
His way of worship Scripture does express,
No useless Pomp, no Artificial Dress
Becomes Religion; Chastity abhors
The Garb, the Painting, and the Gate of Whores.
VVhy should my Friends a Virgin-Church pollute
VVith any Relicks of that Prostitute?
VVhy gawdy things, that never had their name
In Sacred Records, our Profession shame?

Why are our Rites enammel'd with their gloss?
Why, must our Gold be mingled with their dross?
Why, farther Reformation is supprest,
T'uphold a Grandeur that's Usurp'd at best?
Why doors and windows must be shut up quite,
To stop the radiance of its further Light?
And why must such as disallow those tricks,
Be branded as the vilest Schismaticks?

But that's not all; my Children (more refin'd
From those corruptions,) do afflict my mind.
Oh depths of sorrow that disturb my rest!
Oh racking grief that rends my woful Breast!
Some are so carnal, some so swiftly hurl'd
Into the Lab'rinths of th' inticing World,
That in the hurries of that crouded Road,
They find small leisure to attend their God;
Preferring filthy gain, and ill-got wealth,
Before the means of their Eternal health.
Some that in words respect me, I behold,
In that sad posture, betwixt hot and cold:
Sometimes they seem sor sanctity; sometimes
Slide with the current of prevailing crimes:
Their Pulses beat with an alternate motion;
Now for the world, then for some faint devotion:
Some that unto my Tabernacle were
Admitted, left me for Egyptians fare:
These not content with my Celestial Diet,
Do run with others to excess of Riot.
Some to be popular, away would give
Those Gospel-duties that are positive:

From such as these, my sorrows do increase,
That sell Gods order for a seeming peace;
Allow such gaps as do pervert the Laws
Of my just Right, and well-defended Cause.
But O! how many easy Christians take
Their rest in forms, and no distinction make
'Twixt shell and kernel, that rely on Duty,
As if it were the sole adorning Beauty.
Such give the Lord the more invalid part,
Present their Bodies, but deny their Heart.

Are not some Pastors careless to provide
A Word in Season, for the Flocks they guide?
Some are too backward to supply the need
Of painful Lab'rers, that their Souls do feed:
Discourag'd by close-fisted Avarice,
Despis'd, neglected, through this Hellish Vice.
My Workmen languish, and have cause of moan,
To see their toyl so ineffectual grown.
The most pathetick Preaching scarce can move
Some Rocky hearers to the Grace of Love.
Must hag-fac'd Envy, and foul-tongu'd Detraction,
Invenom'd Malice, and unfaithful Action,
Ill-grounded Slander, and uncertain Rumors,
Backbiting, Quarrels, and the worst of Humors
Be practic'd thus? Ah grief of griefs to see
Professing people act iniquity
To such a pitch!—some Husbands and some Wives
Do lead such shameful, such unsavoury Lives;
Whilst mutually at strife, they do impeach
That name that should be very dear to each.

Such pride, such churlish reprehension
For every toy, such sharpness and contention,
As does disgrace Religion, and does lay
Blocks and offences in a Converts way.
Ah! why can't we in Families eschew
That which meer Heathens are asham'd to do?
Their Houses are the Scene of Civil Wars,
Of Brawls, of Discord, and Domestick Jars;
In Grace or Comfort can they find increase,
Or Heavenly Blessings, who are void of peace?

How oft do Parents ill Example draw
Their tender Children to infringe the Law,
And Sanctions of the Everlasting God?
Do they not spoil them when they spare the Rod?
To strange Extreams some Parents do adhere,
Check not at all, or else are too severe:
On Back and Belly they bestow much cost,
But care not if their precious Souls be lost:
Are they not guilty of prodigious folly
That teach them Courtship, and neglect what's holy?
A Child untutor'd (a meer lump of sin,)
May justly curse its cause of having been.
Such as instruct, do doubly them beget,
By timely Lessons lab'ring to defeat
Their growth in ill; such cure their better part
(By wise prevention) of a canker'd Heart.
Oh! then's the time to give 'em Form and Mold,
For Trees admit no bending that are old;
Who timely sow such Seed they would have grow,
Will surely reap according as they sow.

Some like the Ape, that does by hugging kill,
Prompt on a Child to tip his Tongue with ill
In his first prattle; but it is less pain,
To form good habits, than reform the vain.
On th' other hand, how many Children do
Prove vain, rebellious, disobedient to
Their godly Parents? slight their careful teaching,
Make sport of Prayer, and a mock of Preaching?
Contempt of Parents, of what kind so e're,
Contracts a bitter curse, which every where
Will find them out. But Oh my akeing Soul
Beats sad Alarms of grief! I must condole
The dismal Fate of Youth! alas how few
The ways of God and holiness pursue!
But very eager to obey the Devil,
In quickly Learning every reigning evil;
Here you may see if you survey the Nation,
Our youth grown old in vile Abomination:
Such early Graduates in the Hellish Science,
Setting both Heaven and Hell at loud defiance.
Let Grace and Vertue grovel in the dust,
Their Youth and Strength they'l Sacrifice to Lust:
That Sacred Precept in the Word of Truth,
To mind their Maker in the days of Youth
They scorn to heed: Ah Fools! that would begin
Conversion, when they can no longer Sin;
But know, preposterous Souls; the day of Doom
(That dreadful Audit of Accounts) will come.
How dare you run this vile career till Death,
Like a grim Serjeant, comes t'arrest your Breath?

When your Tongues faulter, and your Eye-strings crack,
When stings of horror do your Conscience rack,
When Hells Abyss sets ope its spacious Gate,
And Troops of Devils round about you wait.
When nought but horror and confusion seizes
Upon your Sences? when those foul Diseases
You got by vile Debauches have at length
Destroy'd your Persons, and subdu'd your Strength;
Is this a Season to detest your Leudness,
To talk of Vertue, or pretend to Goodness?
Egregious Fools! how dare you to delay
Your Souls Affairs to that uncertain day?
Oh! can you trust so grand a work to that
Moment of anguish? when you know not what
(When sound) your end will be, nor yet how soon,
Though brisk at Morning, you may die ere Noon:
And if unchang'd, your certain doom will be
To lye in Hell to all Eternity.

Sion's Children.
O dismal state! O miserable case!
Enough to daunt all that are void of grace!
And crush the bragging of the stoutest mind!
But are there still more grievances behind?

Sion.
Still more behind! O that there were no more!
Since they'r too many that I've told before:
Masters and Servants, Kings and Subjects err
In their Relation: does not each prefer

Base selfish Ends to gratifie a Lust,
Before what's honest, and supreamly just.

Sion's Friend.
Thus, thus I'm sure it was that year when I
Publisht that Book of Sion's Misery;
For King and People strangely were misled,
And the curst Popish Plot near smothered;
And many other horrid shameless crimes
I'th' Land were perpetrated in those times,
But I'll have done; (Dread Matron) pray declare
What th' other Motives of your sorrows are.

Sion.

Ah! how much time by Christians is spent
In fruitless idle talk? how negligent
In holy conference? strange to each other!
How dull is each to quicken up his Brother
In Gospel-duties? O! how few do nourish
That Love and Zeal which heretofore did flourish?
A Love whose flaming heat and gen'rous rays
(Repleat with Spirit) fam'd the former days.
Pious discourses may reclaim the vile;
But they are hardn'd in their sins the while
Christians converse like them, and rather learn
Their vicious tricks, than teach them to discern
The dismal snares and perils that do lurk
In sinful words, and every evil work.
Some are so covetous that they would grasp
The World in Arm-fulls till their latest gasp.

Some full of Envy, others do express
Their Lust on dainties, feeding to Excess:
So nice and delicate in choice of Meat,
Whilst their poor Brethren scarce have Bread to eat.

Merchants and Traders have a nimble Art
To sum their Shop-books, but neglect the Heart;
For that they think there's time enough, and look
But seldom to the Reck'nings of that Book.

How many come for fashion sake to hear?
(What one receives, goes out at t'other Ear)
How many loyter in their Christian Race,
Profusely squandering the day of Grace?
Many like Drones on others toyl do live,
Though 'tis less honour to receive than give.
What Lying, Cheating, Couz'ning and Deceit
Do Traders use? Oh! how they over-rate
What they would sell? but if they be to buy,
They under-value each commodity.

But why should Pride, that vile Abomination
Be found in Christians? must each Apish Fashion
Bewitch their Minds when God is so Express,
In strict forbidding of so vile a Dress.

Prayer that sacred Ordinance, that holds
An intercourse with Heaven, which beholds
The Fathers Glory, and on high does mount,
Is made by many but of small account.
'Tis that which carries our desires to God,
And comes down fraighted with a blessed load
Of sweet returns; yet 'tis much disrespected,
And Closet Prayer too too much neglected.

Scriptures themselves are slighted and disus'd,
And oft, when read, perverted or abus'd:
Helping the weak, is turn'd into its slighting,
Gospel-reproofs perverted to Backbiting.
Many that do of God his Mercy crave,
Yet on the needy little Mercy have.
They own they 've Blessings from the God of Love,
Yet too too many do unthankful prove.

Some follow whimsies that do nearly border
Upon confusion, and despise all order:
Such on all sacred Institutions trample,
Though fortify'd by Precept and Example;
As if 'twere low for an exalted mind,
To be to Gods declared will confin'd;
But can these men of Rapture make pretence
That they have more Divine intelligence
Than all th' illustrious Saints, as Prophets, Priests,
Apostles, Martyrs and Evangelists,
That were the Scribes and Messengers of Heaven,
And strictly practic'd all the Duties given
Unto the Church; which are without repeal?
But if they're disanul'd whō did reveal
Their Abrogation to these bold pretenders?
Gods Laws are sound, and need no humane menders,

But Oh! that dismal evil that's behind,
Disturbs my Reason, and distracts my Mind,
It is Division; that unhappy word
Has done more mischief than a Popish Sword
Could ever do; Oh! that a sweet Communion
(At least of Love) did but compleat our Union.

Why should licentious heat, my Children hurry
To those Extreams? must they each other worry
For trivial things? do they not all agree
In fundamentals of Divinity?
Is there no room for Love? or must that grace
Among my Children have no proper place?
Why is one Christian angry with his Brother
If not so tall as he? or with another,
Because his face is not so white as his?
Or that his habit not so gawdy is?
Alas! no folly can be more absurd,
Nor more exploded in Gods holy word.
All should to Gospel-purity adhere;
But to calumniate, vilifie and jeer
All such as are not of their very pitch,
Is Anti-gospel, and a practice which
The Lord abhors; If causes of Dissent
Evert not Truth, nor shake the Fundament
Of true Religion, why such angry bawling?
Suck odious nick-names, and such vile miscalling.

Who dares intrude into the Judgment-seat
Of God Almighty who is only great,
And only judgment gives; to him belongs
To pass the sentence, and to punish wrongs.
Why cannot Christians with each other bear?
Among Apostles some dissentions were;
But did they therefore Persecute each other?
These Mortal conflicts, Brother against Brother,
Destroy our safety, for they set a gap
Open for Rome, that would us all intrap

In fatal snares: their Maxim is we know,
Divide and rule, distract and overthrow.
Their crafty Agents do creep in among
Our heedless parties, and divide the throng,
That with more ease they may us all devour,
Destroy our Nation, and subvert our Power.
Why therefore do not Protestants agree
As one, against the common Enemy?
Who waits with bloody hand t'involve 'em all,
In one destruction Epidemical.

Sion's Children.
Ah Mother! who can remedy your grief?
For this Disease admits of no relief.

Sion.

Of no relief? O then my Heart must break!
Unless my Sons their Mothers counsel take,
Which will those fatal flaming heats allay,
Obstruct their growth, and take 'em clear away.
Oh! can a Mothers tears and woful cries
Be disregarded in her Childrens Eyes?
Can English Protestants, who do profess
To serve one God in truth and holiness,
Slight all my wishes, and requests despise?
Oh! hearken to my counsel and be wise:
Let wrathful Pride, and foolish Self-conceit;
Let Quibbles and Sophistical Deceit
Be quite exploded: let a cool debate
All Fundamentals of Religion state:

In such you all will certainly agree:
Oh happy Model of sweet Unity!
Let none that to those Principles do stick,
Be branded with the name of Heretick;
It glads my Heart to hear 'em treat each other,
By that sweet title of a Christian Brother.
Next if you would not Charity explode,
Abuse the guiltless, and affront your God,
Judge not your Brethren at a distance; neither.
Give easy Credit to the Tales of either
Hot-headed Scriblers, or Licentious tongues
That often load the Innocent with wrongs:
So hellish Monks did serve Waldensian Saints
With horrid Clamour, and unjust Complaints.
So Popish Impudence spews out its Gall
To make us odious, and bespatter all
The Reformation; Sure that cause is bad
Whose chief support from Railing must be had;
If giddy Rumour, or uncertain Fame
Should raise a slander on your brothers name,
Repair to him, and in converse you'll see
Whether he guilty or not guilty be:
If he be faulty, tell him of his sin;
Be Mild and Secret, and you may him win.
Admonish Gently, let your whole discourse,
Be full of Savour, love and Scripture force.
This is the way to bring him to a sence,
And Gods prescribed Method, to convince;
But if you fail, then leave him to his God,
Who can reform, or punish with a Rod.

Your work is done, you have discharg'd the part
Of Friend of Brother, of a Christian heart

Before Belief examine what is vented
Good men by Malice may be represented
In Monstrous Shapes: Some that to God are dear,
Hatred will paint like a Mishapen Bear;
Believe not therefore distant imputation,
No censure's just before Examination,

In all Debate's be sure to lay aside
All prejudice, and let the Scriptures guide
Your calm, sedate disputes, let truth be scan'd
VVith cool resolves: O! Let that great Command
Of Love take place! for that should moderate
All Eager Sallies in a warm debate.
VVho loses Error, truly gains the field,
And he is Victor, that to truth does yield;
VVhere e're you find it, though in mean aray,
Subscribe and win the glory of the day.
O: what's the world, but Shackles to the mind
VVhat's Reputation, but a fleeting-wind.
VVhy should those bawbles which the Lord abhors
Become the Sacred Truths Competitors?
Away with all such rubs let truth take place
And then the Springs of Everlasting grace
VVill drop down blessings, Unity, increase
Among my Children as the Fruits of peace.

Sion's Children.
Our common danger, and the Real sence,
Which we have got by dear experience

Of those advantages our cruel Foe
Gets by our Factions, will unite us so,
As that our Enemies shall ne'er prevail
To break our League, or make our courage fail.
But speak (Dear Mother,) has some new affright
So discompos'd you, that you fear our Light
Is near Extinction? Tell your Sons, we pray;
What are the Symptoms of th' expiring day.
Why do you Judge, that Englands day of grace
Draws to an Evening, and declines apace?
Shew some prognosticks of that dismal night,
That threatens to succeed our Gospel Light.

Sion.

When Sol once touches our Meridian Line,
It straight descends, does by degrees decline;
Its heat grows less, its dis-appearing Light
Yields to the Sable of approaching night:
Just so the Gospel in its Altitude,
Once shot such beams, that in this Isle ensu'd
So great conversion, that those former days
Did feel its blest and universal Rays.
A general heat did warm this happy Nation,
From its benign and powerful operation
But now it falls and from our Horizon
Its vigorous influence is almost gone.
Thousands of Sermons lately have been preacht,
But very few (if any) sinners reacht.
How ineffectual is the quickening word!
It shines, but warms not, 'tis but like a Sword

That's fair to sight, but has not Edge at all,
Few prick'd at heart, and scarce do any fall
At Jesus feet; Or have a sense of sin,
Confessing how Rebellious they have been!

It is a dismal and apparent sign
That night comes on, when Phœbus does decline,
When heat and fervour fail, our hemisphere
Will quickly see its glory disappear.
The ev'ning of the nat'ral day is come
When harvest-work-men are repairing home:
So when quick Summons of Omnipotence,
Removes the Dressers of his Vineyard hence,
We may conclude the Gospel-morning past,
Because Gods Servants disappear so fast.
Can I when Gap-defenders fall asleep,
But (like old Israel) for my Prophets weep?
How can the naked and unguarded Flock,
Against devouring Wolves sustain the shock,
When of the Shepherds it is thus bereft,
When scarce a Moses or a Joshua's left
How many active Guides, most dearly lov'd
By me, have been, in little time remov'd,
Scarce can I dry mine Eyes for loss of one,
But news arrives of many others gone:
Ah if my head were waters, and each Eye
A well of tears, I could distil 'em dry;
Bright Lamps extinguish't! and no other Lights
Appear to chase the horrour of our nights!
Shook by concussions of my Foes, I stand
Whilst few are rais'd to hold my trembling hand,

If thus my Horsemen and Commanders dye
What will become of the poor Infantry?
Who can support the burden of the day,
When such brave Hero's daily drop away?
Is summer past, or is the harvest done?
That such Presages of a Storm come on!
Sure God (as Monarchs do) intendeth Wars,
When he recals his choice Embassadors.
Ah too Licentious world! Come look about,
Before the Lord the bloudy Flag puts out,
When God, from Sodom righteous Lot did call,
Sulphurious flashes did consume them all.

Another ground of my prevailing fear,
That England's black Catastrophe is near,
Is that, as in the closure of the day,
The Evening-wolves do range abroad to prey.
So Romish Beasts in monstrous swarms do peep
From their black Caverns to destroy my Sheep:
Such hate the tell tale-Light, and therefore hide
Themselves in Dens, until the Ev'ning tide
Their cursed products are resolves of night,
Like silent Curs, that in the dark do bite.

Another Symptom of the days declension,
Is when the Shadows do increase dimension.
So when I look about I plainly see
Our Ev'ning Shadows very long to be;
In humane bodies when the head grows hoary,
It notes decay of vigor, strength, and glory,
Gray hairs are thick upon our Ephraims head
His Strength decays, his Face is withered,

When Joynts grow palsi'd, and the blood's congeal'd,
Into a Jelly, can the man be heal'd?
When limbs grow Stiff, and feeble Age does plow
Its wrinkled furrows on the Patients brow,
When heat gives place to a benumming cold,
When doting fancy cares not to be told
Of its approaches to a certain Grave,
When it rejects the Physick that would save;
The case is desperate, for the Patient's just
Upon the point to be intomb'd in dust:
Even so (Alas!) This gasping Nation lies
Under the pressure of sad Maladies!

'Tis sick at heart yet seems averse to take
That Sacred Physick whose Ingredients make
Diseases vanish, and would ward the blow
Which will I fear produce its overthrow:
Ah! must our glory, (like a brittle Glass
Reduc'd to fractions) into Atomes pass
So Rude a Chaos! An unform'd confusion
Threatning the whole with utter dissolution.

Once happy Isle, I grieve at thy condition
Where's thy Repentance? Where is thy contrition?
Thou hast been counted our Emanuel's Land
The Gospel seems on Tip-toe now to stand
To bid thee farewel: Must thy Sun so soon
Be set! before it did approach to noon!
Must that illustrious Morning-light be gone
That spread its beams through all our Horizon!
Must wretched Malice and prodigious Lust
Must bare-fac'd pride, and impudent distrust,

Rob thee of this inestimable Jewel?
How canst thou be so pittyless, so cruel
Unto thy self? Sin is the flaming dart
That cuts thy Veins, and Wounds thy very heart.

Can Sion chuse but send out mournful cries
And weep thy downfal ïn sad Elegies?
Within thy bounds my tabernacles were
Built up, and I did long inhabit here
Thy Gospel-glory, and Renown's gone forth
Into all parts and corners of the Earth,
Thou maist be Justly stil'd the place of Vision
(Though made by foes an Object of derision)
The Joy of Saints, the Protestants delight,
The Mark and Butt of Antichristian spite.
But if the Crown be ravish't from thy head,
And Romish Clouds thy Lustre overspread,
VVhat heart's so brawny but my doleful cry
Must move to pity? VVhat relentless Eye
Can see thy fall and not dissolve to drops?
Oh fleeting Joys; Oh disappearing hopes!
Oh hastning horrour, Oh invading fears!
Had I a sea of never empty'd tears,
My boundless, helpless grief wide open sets
The Sluces for its Streaming Rivulets
The very Air, drest in prodigious Forms,
Must groan in Thunder, and must weep in Storms;
Nature of strong convulsions sickned is,
To see this horrid Metamorphosis:
VVhere Gospel Pastors did some Millions feed
Must Blind and Sottish ignorance succeed?

Must all their throats be cut that won't adore
The hateful carcass of a filthy Whore?
Must all that execrate Romes Superstition,
Be Murder'd by a bloudy Inquisition?
Must such as won't to Idols bow, be broke?
Must flaming Smithfield belch out Fire and Smoke
Of Martyr'd Saints? Must all that will not turn,
VVith Bibles and good Books together burn?
Must Monkish Tories, meer incarnate Devils
Possess our Land, and pester it with Evils
Of such an odious and abhorred grain,
That but to name 'em is a lasting stain?
Must our Renowned Ministers give place
To Romish Block-heads? Oh the vile disgrace
Of such a change? Must an adulterous Priest
Belch our his Mass, where they have preached Christ.
Must that absur'd and irreligious Tribe,
VVho fetter conscience, and regard a bribe
Beyond their Souls, be leaders to our Flocks
Must Paultry non-sence, and those Apish Mocks
Miscall'd devotion, fill the house of prayer?
Must Pestilence infect our purer Air?
Must Sodom be translated to our Isle,
And filthy Priests our chastity defile?
Must Satans factors in a humane Shape
On modest Virgins perpetrate a Rape?
Must all our painful Ministers be driven
To Fiery Stakes, if they renounce not heaven?
Must our dear Infants lose their harmless lives
In flaming Faggots, or with Popish Knives?

Must guiltless, blood through all our Streets rebound
A mournful Eccho? Must the horrid sound
Of Axes, Whips, and dreadful Scourges tear
Our aking hearts and pierce the yielding Air?
All this will be, if Rome can but prevail!
Amazement stops my Speech! My Spirits fail!
I only can in interjections cry,
I sink in trances! O I dye, I dye!

Sions Children.
Ah! How can we with any patience bear
This sad Complaint? Ah! How can Children hear
Their Mother delug'd in a Sea of grief,
And not step in to give her some relief?
Chear up, Illustrious Sion, be not cast
Into despair by this impending blast;
Christ is our Captain, and we may be bold.
For in all Storms he is our Anchor hold
But what's that Beast whereof thou dost complain
From whence came he? And of what date's his Reign?
Give us his marks, that we thereby may know him,
And then abate his pride, and overthrow him
With Universal, and United force,
Our Armed Legions shall impede his course,
I'th' cause of God who does all Scepters weild
We'l fight his battels, and dispute i'th' Field,
In Martial Syllogisms our Arms shall speak
We'l storm his Walls, and make his Bulwarks quake
Revenge and Anger in our bosom burns
Patience too much provokt to fury turns.

Sion.
See! That's the Beast upon whose back the great
Inticing Strumpet rides in pomp and State
By him she was supported all along
By his Impostures she was rendred strong
He's not content to be Supream below,
And make all Scepters to his Crozier bow,
But th' Impious wretch is grown so bold that ev'n
He dares affront the Majesty of Heav'n
VVhat God Commands this Antichrist controuls
Condemns the Sav'd, and saves Condemned Souls.
Himself he places in Jehovahs Throne,
As Principal, and Second unto none;
A brace of Keys he carries in his hand
To shut and open at his own Command;
He curses and absolves; He binds, releases,
Puts down, advances, whom so e're he pleases
This is th' Apocalyptick Beast that claims
Sublimest Titles, and Blasphemous names,
VVith matchless Pride, and monstrous Impudence,
He does for money with Gods Laws dispence;
Yea, such is his unheard of avarice,
Upon the worst of crimes he set a price.

Sion's Children.
These Marks are so notorious that we can
Clearly discern the Pope of Rome's the Man,
This raging Monster, and this Beast of prey;
Shall we arise, and take his strength away,

That hath so long time tyrannized thus
With Hellish fury over thee and us?
Self-preservation is by every creature
Esteemed a Sacred Principle in Nature;
Each Free-born Soul must at those Tyrants spurn
That would infect their Souls; Their bodies burn
Why should this Beast still rage and domineer
As he hath done without controul or fear.

Sion.

Gods time is best, and in due season he
Will bring this Beast to his Catastrophe.
He sits in Heav'n, and there beholds with scorn
This Rebels Pride; His glorious Son that's born
Heir of the World, and Prince of Kingdoms too,
Shall surely reign because it is his due
For all to him the Soveraign Rule must yield;
His is the Crown; He shall the Scepter weild;
To Jesus all shall bow; He shall be King,
And to poor Sion shall Redemption bring.
Forty two months unto this Beast is given
So long shall he tread down the Host of Heav'n;
And now I hope the end thereof draws nigh,
And that some will be spirited from on high,
Who in the Great Jehovahs name shall sound
Such an Alarm as shall his power confound.

Another Enemy, his Confederate
There is likewise, that my forlorn Estate
Hath much occasion'd, and of whom before
I made complaint; The proud insulting Whore,

Who with lascivious looks and wanton eyes
Incites to Lust and all Debaucheries.
By her provoking and bewitching charms
Grandees she doth intice into her arms,
Corrupting Princes by her incantations,
And ruining the Nobles of the Nations.

Great God! Assist me, lest my Spirits fail,
That I the State of Monarchs may bewail,
Who to her Yoke yield their Illustrious necks
And move like Vassals at her haughty becks;
Ah! they that should my nursing Fathers be
Are Executioners of her Cruelty,
And by her influence the Civil Power
Is made a dreadful Engine to devour
The Saints of God, and kick at their Creator,
But let them know the Soveraign Arbitrator
Of all their destinies, is Great and Just,
And can at pleasure crumble them to dust

Thus hath she made the Greatest Kings and Peers
Submit to her Dominion many years,
Exhaust their treasures, ruinate their fame,
And at the last gain nought but loss and shame;
For by ingaging in her Hellish Plots
They to their names have gain'd Eternal Blots;
Nay of their Kingdoms some depriv'd have been
As it in divers Nations has been seen;

Impudent Strumpet! Whose curst wiles defile
Mens Consciences, and do their Souls beguile
And when involved in the deepest guilt
She then pretends to wash away the filth

By impious Pardons; Yea to such a height
Of folly does bewitch them, that the sight
Of Death approaching won't make them confess
Apparent guilt and horrid wickedness;
And by her Arts, when they are parting hence
Their Fronts Steels with such hardned impudence
That though brought to a most deserved death,
With lies and falshoods they resign their breath,
Her Agents buzzing in their doubting ears
False hopes, whereby they may forget their fears,
Who like ill Angels round about them hover,
Doubting they should their Villanies discover.

VVhen some are stretcht upon the fatal block,
And Justice ready to discharge the stroke,
Such is the strength of her inebriation,
That they, (Oh! horrible) on their Salvation
Protest they're innocent, when all the while
No Treason ever did appear more vile
Than that for which Impartial Justice them
To a just death as Traytors did condemn;
For Rome, by downright impudence ev'n would
Outface the Sun, and baffle if she could
The clearest proofs, and Solid'st evidence
Produc'd by Heavens unerring Providence.

Ah cruel Mistriss of deluded Souls!
That's not content to make them arrant fools,
To lose Estates and Lives, but must thereby
Make them stab conscience when they come to dye
She to incourage Treasons does prefer
Those Traytors Martyrs in her Calender

But will this recompence the loss of Thrones,
Or ease the Soul in hell of its sad groans.

Sions Children.
Shall we (indangered by her Plots) arise,
And curb this Harlot who our God defies?
Why should her Treasons any more annoy
Thy precious Saints, and Nations thus destroy?
Let's make her drink of that invenom'd Cup
She fiill'd for us; Shall she not drink it up?
Will none fall on, provoked by just ire
To eat her flesh, and burn her in the Fire?

Sion.
Dear Children! as to what you have requir'd,
At present you must keep your selves retir'd,
Make no attempts until God from on high
Affords you strength this Babel to defie;
At present you are ev'n like Persons dead
And seem unable to erect your head,
But then you shall appear to be alive,
Gods Spirit shall your fainting Souls revive,
VVho to the fixed time will be exact
VVhen he'l begin this strange and dreadful Act,
To the confusion of your Enemies,
Then God will cause his Witnesses to rise,
And you will have a clear and gracious Call
To join with those that on the Whore shall fall.

Sion's Friend.
These lines were writ eight years ago or more
In the book which I mentioned before
We then had hopes of what was drawing near;
But stay my Muse! To Sion lend an Ear,
To what she at that time was heard to say
About the Dispensations of that day.

Sion.
VVith patience (Children) wait upon the Lord,
Until his saving Strength he does afford;
To him you all must make your Supplication,
For from him only is my expectation.
Oh! sigh with me, and in your Spirits groan
Send up strong cries to the Almighties Throne,
Give him no rest until those happy days
I shall exalted be, and made the praise
Of all the Earth; And I will likewise cry
And mount my voice to Him who sits on High.

The Churches Prayer.

O Lord of Hosts consider my Estate,
Let me remain no longer desolate.
Have I not been most precious in thy sight?
Lord therefore do not my Petition slight.
But let thy bowels to thy Children move,
In token of parental, tender love;
Shall Sion totter, and the Beast be steady
In his proud Seat? Hast thou not seen already

VVhat they have done, who evil good do call,
From whom we can expect no good at all;

VVill they make Judgment i'th' right Channel go
Extirpate vice? make righteousness to flow
Like mighty Streams; VVill they a blessing be?
To me or mine who haters are of thee?
Can men of thorns expect sweet grapes to find?
VVill ravenous VVolves to innocent Lambs be kind
VVill such as have thy Childrens blood let out,
Striving to bring their black designs about,
And with mine Enemies daily still combine
To root out and destroy both me and mine;
VVill these be now chief Friends and me relieve?
Sure none but mad men would such things believe.

If Thanks and Praises will on Earth be giv'n
If Hallelujahs will be sung in Heav'n
To thy great name for rasing Babylon.
If placing of a Papist on the Throne
Be for our good, by opening a door
For mens Salvation readier than before;
If the access of sinners easier be
In their approaches (Blessed God) to thee,
By Romanists having the Soveraignty,
Oh! then exalt them; Let all others fall
And Rome usurp Dominion over all.

But if in thy just and all seeing Eye,
Their monstrous crimes are of a crimson dye;
If they from their Original have been
The vilest wretches and the worst of men;

If for the future they intend to be
The Perpetrators of all Villany;
If their dark Heathenish Idolatry
Pride, horrid murthers and base Perjury
Mount up to Heavens High Imperial Throne;
If their Oppressions make thy Churches gone,
If they will burn the Scriptures, and suppress
All Books that treat of Gospel Holiness;
If guiltless Souls without respect to age
Or Sex, must be the objects of their rage;
If they are Enemies to thy Covenants,
If they would trample under foot thy Saints,
If 'cause thou dost not seem to hear, and save
Thy Sion, or to grant what she doth crave,
They Scoff at, and deride thy glorious name,
And put thy Faithful ones to open shame:

Then hear, O Lord? Thou see'st my power's gone:
In thee I trust; Besides thee there is none

Deut. 32. 36.

That can thy Church from her Stern Foes deliver.
Oh draw thy flaming Arrows from thy Quiver,
To quell the Pride of this Insulting Crew;
Thy mighty Arm alone can them subdue:
On thee I have my absolute reliance;
Do thou assist, I'le bid them all defiance:
Hear, O my God, and for thy mercy Sake,
On Gasping Sion some compassion take;
I have been Ransom'd by the precious bloud
Of thy Dear Son, and fed with heavenly food;
Thy Churches sins O pardon and forgive
And in sweet concord let thy Children live

Teach them true saving knowledge from thy Word,
That they may worship thee with one accord;
My breach thou canst repair, and cure my wound,
Nothing too difficult for thee is found:
Thou knowest my grief (O Lord) incline thine ear,
Revive my hope, and chace away my fear,
In Achors Valley open thou a door,
Make me rejoyce as I did heretofore;
I pray thee, break my bonds, ease my distress,
Bring me out of this dolesom wilderness,
Oh let me Shine like Sols illustrious light,
Make me an Army terrible in fight;
Rend off that Vail which does thy Sion cover,
Scatter the Clouds, whereby I may discover
What thou designest by this thy Dispensation
And what my work is in this generation.
'Tis time for thee to plead thy righteous cause
When wicked men make void thy righteous Laws,
Thou canst cause them to drink of their own cup,
And loftiest Cedars by the roots pluck up.

But Lord, remember Sion, spare thy Vine,
That spreading Plant which thou hast chose for thine,
Make that to flourish, and be ever green,
And full of Clusters as before 't has been
From Egypt thou hast brought it heretofore;
O God, I pray, bring it out thence once more,
Let thy hand plant, and water so the Root,
That all the Land may feast upon the fruit;
O let its cordial juice the Nation fill,
And let its boughs o're-shadow every Hill,

From Sea to Sea do thou her branches send,
From all her Enemies always her defend:
Preserve her Fence, be unto her a Wall,
And keep her from the violence of all
Wild Beasts, and from that Boars malicious power,
That would destroy her, and her fruit devour.

Lord from on high thy Lovely Vine behold,
'Tis thine own Plant, of greater price than Gold;
Canst thou deny her thy assistance, while
These Ravenous Creatures do thy Vineyard spoil?
Take notice how her bulwarks are thrown down,
And more heart-breaking evils coming on;
Breach upon breach, Alas! I daily see,
And doubtless I shall quickly ruin'd be,

Unless by some unknown and Glorious hand,
Thou speedily dost save me, and the Land.

I am Christ's Spouse: His undefiled one;
Wilt thou permit me to be trod upon?
'Tis by thy grace I am intit'led so,
Great God! relieve me and divert my wo;
Who am surrounded every way with grief,
Oh let thy lovely smiles bring me relief;
Thou hast withdraw the beamings of thy grace,
And wrapt in Clouds the Splendor of thy face,
Which has upon me brought such anxious smart,
As tears my Soul, and makes my very heart:
Drop tears of blood: For if the glorious Sun
Of Righteousness be hid, where shall I run,
For joy or comfort in this dismal hour,
Who only to bemoan my self have power?

More she had spoke, but that her Passion ties
Her mournful Tongue; The Floodgates of her eyes,
In Chrystal Streams, do represent such anguish,
As makes her vital operations languish
Sunk in despairing Swouns, she scarce appears
To breathe or live, but by her Sighs and Tears.

Sion's Children.

Mourn, Mourn, Oh Heavens! And thou Oh earth bewail,
Weep ye blest Saints, until your Spirits fail,
For she that is the glory of the Earth,
Of the most Noble and Illustrious birth,
Lies sadly groaning in a deep despair
Whose grievous sorrows no tongue can declare
Oh! that our brethren would but hasten hither,
That in Gods fear we might confer together.

Sure you must grieve when her complaints you hear
You cannot certainly but shed a tear;
Do not your Eyes ev'n like a Fountain stream,
And all your joys turn to a mourning Theme?
Does not your nightly rest from you depart?
Are you not pierced to the very heart,
And fall'n into the depth of bitterness,
Because of Sions Trouble and distress?
How can our hearts delight in things below?
How can we rest secure, as sinners do?
How can we comfort take, or pleasure find,
Or how can we the Worlds concernments mind?
Or with Terrene enjoyments be content,
And not poor Sions miseries lament?

How can we hear our Mothers doleful cries?
She Sighs, she Sobs, she Languishes, she lies
In dreadful Agonies, in bitter pain,
How can we bear her Enemies disdain?
Who wickedly reproach her every day,
And like a broken pot she's thrown away,
Despis'd and trod upon ev'n like the dung
The Drunkard on her makes his daily Song
But Christ will come, and look on her sad State,
And with poor Sion he'l Expostulate.

‘Why art thou sometimes high, then low again
‘Sometimes at ease and then in bitter pain?
‘Doubtless th' are Throwes; Chear up and do not fear,
‘For thy deliverance is very near;
‘These labouring pangs will speedily be o're,
‘Take heart, thou shall not die; One or two more
‘Will bring that Child into the World which thou
‘Hast travell'd with in bitter pangs till now;
‘Address thy self to God, for surely he
‘From these thy tortures will deliver thee;
‘'Tis he alone that brings unto the birth,
‘And giveth strength and vigor to bring forth;
‘Then stay thy self upon th' Almighty Lord,
‘His gracious help he to thee will afford
‘Upon his promises do thou depend
‘And thou shalt see deliverance in the end.

These words of Comfort, like a Cordial wrought
And to her sences, mourning Sion brought,
With fainting looks, and with a weeping Eye
Unto her Children she renews her cry.

Sion.
How am I spoil'd? How do I sit forlorn?
How long wil't be e're I shall cease to mourn?
I'm like a Ship by raging Tempests tost
'Midst Rocks and Sands, just ready to be lost.
Where every billow do's present a grave,
And Death in Triumph rides on every Wave.
But yet, I am ingraven on his hand,
And in his sight for ever I do stand.
Awake, O arm of God! Oh come away!
My woes are very great! Ah do not Stay!
Hear me, Dear Jesus; unto thee I cry,
Unless thou save me I must surely dye;

Christ.

In Glorious Regions of approachless Light,
VVhere Joys unmixt with perfect Love unite;
There do I sit; There do I see and hear
VVhat Kings and Potentates consulting are;
But in mine Ears methinks I hear the cry
Of some distressed Soul in misery;
My Bowels in me with compassion move,
Oh!—'tis the voice of her I dearly love;
She whom I purchast with my dearest blood,
Seems drencht, yea drown'd in tears, as in a Floud;
Some mighty Sorrow sure, and Tribulation,
Extorts from her this doleful Lamentation,
Enough to pierce my tender heart again,
And make the Temple once more rend in twain

Alas, poor Sion, thy Complaints I hear,
And I will rescue thee; Oh do not fear,
I know thy sorrows, and I hear thy cries,
And from what apprehensions they arise:
Know! I can still the blustring Winds and Seas,
And in the greatest anguish can give ease;
I can both wound and cure; Build up and break:
I kill, I make alive, I give, I take!
The Greatest Monarchs I can soon pull down,
I can make void, and then fill up the Throne;
VVhen I think fit, I make the Nations Shake,
And haughty Princes at my presence quake,
Kingdoms to totter, and reel to and fro;
All this and greater things for thee I'll do:
Although thy Foes do thee environ now,
All power and wisdom's mine, and I know how
Thee to support and make them all to bow,
I will arise, and Shew my Soveraignty,
And make them to the Rocks and Mountains fly;
Though with the Powers of Hell they have combin'd,
I will pursue them, and they shall not find
A hiding place my vengeance to avoid,
Till by my fury they are all destroy'd;
I'll soon bring down the most Exalted head,
The Mighty Ones I into dust will tread;
Thy cause I'll plead; Though I have silent stood,
I'll be reveng'd for all the righteous blood
That has run down, ev'n like a mighty Flood;
The day of vengeance shall no longer stay,
VVhat's due to Justice they shall surely pay.

100

Besides the cruel wrongs thou dost repeat,
The bloud of former Martyrs does intreat
Me to avenge their cause; I therefore will
Come down in fury and those Monsters kill.
For though I seem'd to have forsaken thee,
Yet from all bondage I will set thee free;
Though I have thee afflicted heretofore,
I'll turn my hand upon the Bloudy Whore
Shortly, her place shall never know her more.

Because thou dost my Holy name profess,
I'll break in peices such as thee oppress;
Arm'd with Commission from the Great Jehove,
I will come down, and all thy griefs remove,
All weapons form'd against my Churches shall
Unprosperous prove, for I will break them all,
All Kingdoms of the Earth shall now be mine,
And thou in beauty like a Queen shalt Shine,
And with thy Children in sweet consort sing,
Triumphant Hallelujahs to your King.

Sion.

Thy voice is to my ravisht Soul so sweet,
I am reviv'd, and set upon my feet;
I'll speak thy Praise in Songs, because I see
That Glory near, which thou hast promis'd me;
And now, Great Babylon, who art my Foe,
My time's at hand, and thou shalt quickly know
My God has not forsaken me, for now
He will advance me, and make thee to bow;

101

Then shalt thou hide for shame thy wretched head,
Whilst I in triumph will upon thee tread?
Because thou upon me so long hast trod,
And in contempt hast said; Where is that God?
He therefore will rightly retaliate,
And bring just vengeance on thy cursed pate,

The Insolent Triumph of the Romish Strumpet over the Protestant Church.

VVhy do these Hereticks so brisk appear,
And their false Church such jollity declare?
Poor silly Souls! 'Tis now but Eighty seven,
And soon you'll find I with you will be ev'n:
I smile to think how much thou art mistaken,
'Tis I am mounted high; Thou art forsaken;
Sure thou are frantick, and thy senses fail,
To think that over me thou canst prevail,
A final Conquest I shall make o're thee;
And swift destruction shall thy portion be.
For all my wounds I now have got a cure,
And from your fiery darts I am secure:
I now am raised to the height of bliss,
And all my Glory in its Zenith is,
I am a Queen, and so shall still remain.
And as Supream I o're the Earth will reign,
In Pomp and Glory I must govern all,
The Mightiest Monarchs me their Mistriss call.

How can I fall when such a Holy prop
Does me support as, My Lord God the Pope.

102

The Great men of the Earth his Vassals are,
VVho sits in grandeur in St. Peters Chair;
The Glorious Empire of the VVorld he hath,
And he retains the keys of Heaven, and Death;
Think not that he regards the little tricks
Of the weak, ignorant, and damn'd Hereticks,
Alas! He can make use, when e're he please,
Of Peters Sword, as well as Peters Keys.
He'l make his Canons roar louder than Guns,
To ruin those thou call'st, Thy Protestant Son's;
If once his roaring Bulls give the Alarm,
He'l make all Christendom forthwith to arm
Themselves in my defence, who soon will work,
Thy overthrow; Alas! didst thou not lurk,
Hundreds of years in holes where none could see
Or understand what was become of thee?
He that then broke thy feeble force asunder,
Has still sufficient strength to hold thee under,
And in such strict Subjection thee will keep,
That thou e're long shalt not even dare to peep;

Am I not arm'd with the Stupendious power
Of all the Earth? Can't I with ease devour
Thy whole Concernments at one single mess?
Have I not Skilful Cooks such meals to dress?
Ev'n the Imperial and the Royal Sword,
Are ready to be brandish't at my word;

Great Britains King, and Catholick Nobles will
My Interest to promote, use all their Skill,
Oh! happy hour; Oh long desired day,
Great James doth now the Royal Scepter sway;

103

Ah! VVhat a night of darkness has been here,
On me and mine, when nothing did appear,
But black despair, until this happy Reign;
And dost thou think e're to prevail again?
Is not the Soveraign Power in my hand?
I'll make thee now submit to my command,
The Sacred Sword is once more giv'n to me,
And all shall now obey the Holy See.
Heav'n has beheld my sorrows, and therefore
In favour, me hath visited once more;
Nor can I now miscarry; For you see,
How wise our King, and's Secret Council be;
VVhat e're you hope, 'tis certain I can't fail,
VVhen over Crowned Heads I thus prevail;
VVhen Reverend Jesuits sit at the Helm,
They'll quickly raise up my Jerusalem.

The former Governments for many years,
Ruin'd the Monarchy, and increast my fears;
The Old Foundations we will raze up quite,
And new ones raise, either by force or right;
Impudent Varlets question Royal pleasure,
Though from the Power Divine he takes his measure;
VVhy may not Gods Vicegerent justly claim,
The same Dominion? And why not aim,
At such an absolute Soveraignty, that none
Shall contradict whatever he'll have done?
If th' People rule, what use is there of Kings,
VVhen Subjects may at pleasure clip their wings?
This with my Doctrine never will agree,
VVhere Will is Law, there's the best Monarchy.

104

This is the Government I approve of too,
'Twill strengthen me, and work thy overthrow;

A Parliament shall do what er'e they please,
That so disturbed minds we may appease;
But if they fail; We have already seen,
That none of them for many years have been
Fit to be trusted; And their name I hate,
For they Eclipse the glory of the State;
They make the Crown seem but an Airy thing;
As good be nothing as not Absolute King.
Why may not Kings be as they were of old,
Why should they be in any thing controul'd?
I'le have it here e're long as 'tis in France,
'Tis only that my Glory will advance;

I now perceive what made us lose the Game,
It was our slow proceedings caus'd the same;
Our timorous Spirits; But to my Joy I know,
We now have one who fast enough will go,
Delays are dangerous; The Sword is ours;
By Law declar'd; what need we other powers?
We may be counted Fools indeed, or worse,
If we can't make the Sword command the Purse;
And though the Nation be inslav'd thereby,
Who shall contend with Just Authority?
For Monarchy is so Divine a thing,
None dares gainsay what e're's done by the King.
He surely is accountable to none,
But God alone who set him on the Throne.

Your Protestants will to Providence impute
Their thraldom, and will presently grow mute,

105

For they poor pious Fools think the Decree,
Of Heav'n falls on them, though from Hell it be;
And when their Reason is abus'd by it,
Religion then will teach them to submit,
For Non-resistance is a truth so clear,
Your Reverend Church-men preach it every where,
And well they may; Does not the Apostle Paul,
Declare what doom will on Resister's fall?
For all who do resist Authority,
Are doubtless damn'd to all Eternity.

But seeing Tyranny does so odious look
To catch you Hereticks we must hide the hook,
And of your Burdens give you present ease,
That afterward we may do what we please;
For since the Nation is returned back,
Dear Mother Church will never see them lack
Money nor Men, so that they all shall see,
My Purse as open as my arms now be;
Besides Great Sums the Catholicks in France
Have offered my Interest to advance,
Lewis the Great vast Treasures will bestow,
If he thereby can work your overthrow:
The Pope will likewise drein his Treasures dry,
Before he'l lose this opportunity
You to depress and me to set on high;
No Aid from Parliaments we need to crave
Without Demand money enough we have,
And thus the Commons we shall gratify,
By taking off the pressures which did lye

106

So heavy on them in the former Reign,
VVhereby we hope their very hearts to gain.

Some others of thy Children we will please,
By giving of their Consciences some ease;
VVe'll give them Conventicle room that they
May let us steal the Englishman away,
And though the greatest part of them I see,
Are crafty Foxes and discover me,
Yet divers of them us do magnify,
Since we declared for their Liberty;
That Declaration hath great Service done,
And many discontented minds has won.

I odious strove to make the former Reign,
That of our Actings they might not complain;
So that they now confess, a Popish King
Is no such dangerous or frightful thing:
VVe manag'd all at such a subtle Rate,
One heretick we made another hate,
And their destruction we contrived so,
That blindfold they might utterly undo,
And ruin one another; Yet not see,
How subtilly things were carryed on by me.
And you'll perceive within a little while,
We only did design you to beguile,
That you might quietly the halter take,
Or else be burnt in Smithfield at the Stake.
I laugh to see some of your Children join
With us, to bring about our blest Design,
These Mighty Statesmen, like unwary Fools,
To serve a present turn become my Tools;

107

I knew what they from Penal Laws did fear,
And did foresee how ease would them ensnare.

Look on the Army, and you'll soon espy,
Not mine, but your destruction's drawing nigh;
What though you grin? No matter for your hate,
To rule by Law becomes a Sneaking State;
We value not what e're you prate or say
Regard to you will our Intrigues betray;
When you cant't bite, what hurt will barking do?
Nay in a while we'll spoil your barking too.
My Holy Mass begins now to go down,
Is boldly said in City and in Town,
For even in London, there two Chappels are,
To which without controul all may repair,
And in the middle of that City stand,
With divers more in several Parts o'th' Land.
This, I assure you, fills my Soul with joy,
Nor do I matter though it some annoy.
Since I observe them guarded carefully,
By Protestants now in Authority.

Thou silly Wretch, do I not all command?
Is not the Kingdoms strength all in my hand?
The Sword and Scepter too, even all the power;
Such blessings Heav'n upon my head does shower.
But yet our Claws and Teeth must not appear
Until more firmly all things setled are.

Yea, what doth further to my glory add,
Comes from the joyful news I lately had,
The Turk our Pagan Enemy, is o'recome,
And forc't to fly before all-conquering Rome?

108

Hungary whose reduction cost so dear,
And who t'oth' Hereticks closely did adhere,
Is now recover'd, and in tears returns,
And for her former deviations mourns:
The Transilvanians likewise, do comply,
And now submit to my authority;
With many other Protestants I could name,
Who in those Countreys my Protection claim.

Ah! What a face of things does now appear,
This is my Jubilee; A glorious year;
England and Scotland both returned are
Unto their Mother, and th' Apostolick Chair
Tho' Ireland still is unto me most Dear;
Yet all are mine; They all themselves submit,
And prostrate lye at Mother Churches feet;
Into my bosom they again are come,
And like the Prodigal are returned home.

What mighty favours are bestow'd on me?
No Widdowhood, nor sorrow shall I see,
Ever hereafter I shall sit as Queen,
Though almost desolate I have lately been;
We sing Te Deum, and Great Gifts we send
For joy that now thy Power's at an end,
Thou art subdu'd; Thy witnesses are slain,
They never more shall me torment again;
My Children now under their Mothers wings,
Are safe; Which Joy to Holy Father brings;

There's little more for me, or mine to do,
But since we have contriv'd thy overthrow,

109

That we now root thy name from off the Earth;
And this Design is almost at the birth,
And cannot fail, Vengeance will you or'ethrow,
The Plot is laid so strong and secreet too;
And such great men therein concerned are,
That of success we never need despair,

My Chancellor and Loyal Judges will,
Spare for no Cost, no Pains, no Time, no Skill;
Nay they resolve their very Lives to spend,
Rather than not perform what I intend,
My brisk Monsieurs, and lofty Spanish Dons,
Will overmatch thy Weak and Silly Sons;
Of murdering Villains I great numbers have,
As pliable as any Turkish slave,
Who at my beck will with their bloody Knives,
Massacre Fathers, Infants, Virgins, Wives.
Kill any but themselves; I'm sure they'll do't,
And quickly lay them sprawling at my foot;
I've Irish Teagues and Tories still at hand,
To act the greatest mischiefs I command;
Bold hardned Miscreants who will never start,
If bid to tear out their own Mothers heart.

Faint hearted Rogues may melt with qualms and fears,
At Fathers groans, or Mothers bitter tears,
But mine, as little pitty have, as sence,
And ne're are plagu'd with gripes of Conscience,
Many of these I have in constant pay,
For they can hunt and live upon the Prey;
Thy tender Infants that like Carps were stew'd,
In their own bloud, their Teeth have often chew'd,

110

With humane Fat, Candles they made, to light
Them in those horrid Banquets of the night.
Whatever 'tis my greedy Stomach craves,
Let me but nod, 'tis done by these my slaves.
They know no Scruples, Scorning to dispute,
But always act just like a Turkish Mute;
Nor need you wonder they do thus, since I
Endeavour to perswade them certainly
That they do well, and will gain Heav'n thereby.
For what will Holy Church, advance, is right,
Though ne're so hateful in Jehovahs sight.

Therefore besides those I did now describe,
I have vast numbers of my Sacred Tribe,
My Clergy make a very numerous Host,
And wait but for my Word, in every Coast;
Nay in these Northern, and Heretical Regions,
I have in secret, many armed Legions,
The Priest, the Monk, the Fryer my Ensign carries,
The Jesuits are still my Janisaries;
Having such Troops as these to guard my Chair,
Sure it will make your Protestants despair,
That so invincible I now should be!
And that thy God hath quite forsaken thee.
Since he to me discovers so much favour,
My deeds sure to him are a pleasant savour,
Therefore th' Apocalyptick Prophecy,
You very foolishly to me apply,
Who from pollution, and all Stains am clean;
Thou art that filthy Harlot he doth mean:

111

I am his Holy Church, and it is I
Thy threatnings, Thy God, and Thee defy.

But what approaches? Hark! methinks I hear,
A dreadful noise! What is it? Ah! I fear,
All is not well; A Lyon seems to Roar,
The Eccho comes too from the Eastern shore;
Dear Children wake! Rouze up and look about,
Guard all the Coasts with speed the Land throughout;
My very heart does tremble, Ah! I quake,
What shall I do! Ah! what course shall I take?
The Lyon of the North; I doubt 'tis he,
That is foretold in ancient Prophecy,
What! in the midst of all my Jollities,
Must I meet with this terrible surprize,
And into such amazement now be thrown,
Just when I thought that all had been my own?

Oh blessed Virgin help! Ah pity show,
Scatter my fears, my enemies overthrow;
St. Patrick, and St. Andrew, George and all,
Unite your strength! Oh now prevent my fall,
Oh haste, make haste, or I am quite undone,
What shall I do? Oh whither shall I run?

Romes Angel Guardian, I do thee invoke,
To save our Church, and to divert this stroke;
You Saints and Martyrs who at Tyburn dy'd,
Pray the blest Virgin to be on our side;

O mighty Neptune, with an angry brow,
Upon my Foes thy utmost vengeance show,
That this proud Pharaoh, whose ambitious mind
To ruin Mother Church hath now design'd,
May ne'r prevail; From landing, oh! him keep,
Let all his hopes be buried in the deep.
Why are the Sea's so calm? will they consent,
Him to preserve, to my sad detriment?
Ah! raise your boistrous winds and swelling waves,
And in your bowels let them have, their graves,

112

Break all their Ships, let them sink down like lead,
And in the raging Seas be buried.
Look out you English Heroes, hoist your Sails,
Cursed be he whose heart or courage fails;
Fight valiantly, and then I need not fear,
That Eighty Eight will be a fatal year.

Ah! heark; He's landed, that's bad news if true,
And in the West, I dread what will insue,
What cursed Star bears Rule? Ah! cruel Fate,
The Sea, and Seamen both now shew their hate,
What! none t'oppose, none that will them withstand?
What! suffer such an Enemy to land?
Are all the Gods asleep on whom I call?
No they have heard me; and on him will fall.
Though he has scap'd the Seas you'l soon perceive,
Vengeance much longer will not let him live.

Chear up my gallant Souldiers; you I trust,
Will never fly; Therefore with speed you must,
Be all in readiness, and do not fear,
But fierce as Lyons, 'gainst your foes appear;
Though he pas pass'd the Seas, yet let your rage
Declare, he greater dangers must ingage,
In glittering Armor now march bravely on,
Fight but like men, and then the day's our own;
You'll be Invincible, none can you oppose,
For you in Number, Courage, Skill, your Foes,
Do far exceed, I likewise do depend
Much on my Forreign Allies who will lend
Both Money, Men and Council, for the Cause;
Then down go all the Hereticks and their Laws,
Their Houses, Lands, their Gold and Silver too,
We'll Seize, and then distribute them to you.

Hah! What's the matter; What bad news again!
How are things carried pray, at Salisbury Plain

We hear the Enemy is coming on,
With mighty force, and is oppos'd by none,
Our damn'd Heretical Army do declare,
That they to Popery sworn Enemies are;

113

Some to our Foes are gone, and more will go,
Heav'n pity us; Alas! What shall we do?
Nay more then that, the worst is still behind,
Most of the Greatest Peers with them are join'd.
We hear they are an hundred thousand strong,
And we much doubt they will be here ere long,
All things against us now seem to combine,
As if our ruin all men did design
Such pannick fears our senses do affright;
We neither strength nor courage have to fight,
Such Giants, as we hear, our Enemies are,
Whose Men and Horses both do armour wear
Their frightful Whiskers and two handed Swords
No little terror to our men affords,
One of these Brandenburghers sure will be
Able to cut off many such as we.

But silence! Heark! Another Post! What now?
Bad Tydings still?—Alas I scarce know how,
Or what to tell you, but most certainly
Our Army does before the Enemy fly;
All, All is lost, Ah! Where now shall we run?
Shift for your selves, sad times are coming on,
Sure so unfortunate none ever were,
Oh see how th' Hereticks do laugh and jeer!
So great an Army scattered and gone,
Who soon might have a glorious Conquest now!
Had they resolv'd to face the enemy,
We quickly should have got the Victory.

But Stay! Stay! Stay! Here's more ill news I fear,
A Post from Reading I see drawing near,
Well what's done there—Alas the Town is taken,
I doubt that all our Saints have us forsaken:
Some were there slain, and others put to flight;
The Teagues are kill'd; The Scots refuse to fight,
Nay which is worse, The King this night is gone,
Ah now my heart fails quite! w'are all undone:
Alas! must I be tamely forc'd to yield,
Must I thus cowardly forsake the Field,

115

Must all my hopes be blasted in a day?
Let Vengeance fall on those, who did betray
The cause I've carryed on from age to age,
With deepest policy, and fiercest rage.
Fly Children for your lives; Oh! search about,
And strive to find some place of refuge out.

A Protestant.

See how they look, and with what dread and fear
These guilty wretches now fly here and there,
To hide their Heads? and skulk in holes alone,
And dare not now themselves for Papists own;
They post away, and hurry to and fro,
To Dover, Portsmouth, and Gravesend they go,
Their Priests and Jesuits are in great despair,
Throw off their Gowns, and run they scarce know where;
Their Judges too that lately gave their Votes,
So learnedly from their dispensing Throats,
Who, what Rome would have done, durst ne're deny,
But to all Arbitrary Power did comply,
Are routed now, and forc't in haste to trudge,
Each wishing he had never been a Judge:
The Chancellor, that Mighty Man of sence,
Is nonplust now, how to escape from hence;
That Loyal Soul, that zealous Slave to Rome,
The Wappingers on him pronounce his doom:
He that to them did always malice bear,
By providence, at last was taken there,
Others were seiz'd that strove themselves to save,
Who in short time may their demerits have.

Great Nassaw, like the rising Sun, appears,
Whose warming influence drys up all our tears,
Marching to London with his Noble train,
Whereby our dying hopes revive again:
But let us hear what Sion now does say,
Who seem'd o'rewhelm'd with grief the other day.

116

Sion.

“Ah! I am still perplext; although I stand
“Amaz'd to see these wonders in the Land,
“I know not yet how things with me may go,
“Nor what my gracious God intends to do:
“Whether my Foes are absolutely slain,
“Or whether yet they may not rise again,
“Whether my Children shall have equal share
“Of favour and protection, without fear,
“And whether those who did our Rights betray,
“And for a mess of Pottage, sold away
“Our dear bought Freedoms, shall now trusted be,
“As Conservators of our Libertie.

“Yet let things go as the great God shall please,
“(I must rejoice in this my present ease,)
“Who by his Glorious and Almighty Pow'r
“Sent us relief in a most needful hour,
“Whereby my dreadful and most cruel Foe
“Received an amazing overthrow.

“But yet I find some strugling in my Womb,
“Another Birth I do expect to come,
“That God who hath this gracious work begun,
“Will greater things effect ere he has done;
“I intermissions have, now ease, then pain,
“Sometimes I soar aloft, then down again.

Having thus spoke she bow'd, and with her tears
Bedew'd the parched Earth; when straight appears
A comforter by pittying Heav'n then sent,
To raise her drooping Spirits almost spent,
And his approach unto her having made,
In most obliging terms thus to her said.

“Distressed Church, I fully know thy grief,
“And as thou hast received some relief,
“So God will hear thy sighs and fervent Pray'rs,
“And suddenly will wipe away all tears
“From thy wet Eyes, and all thy griefs expell,
“And in sweet peace and safety thou shalt dwell,

117

“My Grand Design I've publickly made known,
“Each part whereof in time thou shalt see done,
“Wait but with patience; I, for Englands good,
“Think nought too much; No not my dearest blood

“I equally my favour will extend
“To all whose Faithfulness shall them commend,
“Unto my service; and appear to be
“Lovers of Englands Ancient Liberty.
“All Protestants I jointly will respect,
“And equally my People will protect.
“But yet the best deserving Men I will
“Imploy; and chiefly them incourage still.
“My subjects Hearts I would unite together,
“That nothing might divide them more for ever.
“I none but treacherous Papists will disown,
“Or such as are sworn Enemies to my Crown.
“To such (they must expect) I shall appear,
“(As Justice leads me to it) most severe.
“The Good and Virtuous I shall always cherish,
“That Truth and Goodness in my reign may flourish.

“My coming was design'd to cover all,
“That Persecution upon none should fall
“In these poor Kingdoms; But that now at last
“Forgetting all the mischiefs which are past,
“Whereby ill men contriv'd, to bring about
“their Plots, and root the true Religion out,
“Not only here, but likewise in each Land,
“Where it establisht is by Christs right hand;
“I now resolve, if God will prosper me,
“All Protestants shall safe and happy be,
“And live in perfect Love and Unity.

Protestant Church.

Great Sir! your Speeches to your Parliament
Sufficiently discover your intent.
Yea they revive our Souls; neither do we
See cause to doubt of your Integrity.

118

But hope that God who such great things hath wrought,
And by your hand this strange Deliverance brought,
Will so endear you to the hearts of all
True Englishmen, especially those that call
Sincerely upon Heaven; That they may cry
With Pray'rs and Tears for you continually,
And never to the Throne of Grace draw near,
But you upon their tender Hearts may bear.

Your last most gracious offer, That you'l ease
Your Subjects of so great a Tax, doth please,
And them obliges to that high degree,
They all will strive who shall most Loyal be.

Your Justice in asserting each mans right,
To Worship God according to that Light
He hath receiv'd, will multitudes procure,
To own your Interest, and your Rights secure.
For who will not to Cæsars Cause be true,
When Cæsar unto God doth give his due?
And the Almighty's Government will maintain,
Who over Conscience is sole Soveraign,
If any do the Civil State disturb,
On such you justly ought to put a curb,
But if like Men, and Christians they do live,
Doubtless just Liberty to them you'l give.

Nor will our Parliament this Right deny,
Whose Protestant zeal, hath rais'd their Fame so high
For you we ought to praise the God of Heaven,
Who by your means such blessings hath us given,
When all our Liberties were near infring'd,
And Englands Fundamental Laws unhing'd,
When all things both in Church and State did run
To ruin; and we judg'd our selves undone,
You under God, have now restor'd our Laws,
And likewise have defended Sions Cause.
The Mighty God (Dread Prince) chose you to be
Our only help in great extremity.
With double blessings may you both be Crown'd,
Who in compassion to us did abound.

119

My Children resolve unanimously
With you to stand and fall; To live and dye:
With hazard of your life their Chains you broke,
And off their necks remov'd the Romish Yoke;
With vast expence you this great act have done,
And of your Person have much danger run.
Shall I not then with all my Children cry,
We with our King and Queen will live and die?
Our lives we, under God, to you do owe,
And therefore whatsoever we can do,
Can't be too much; And in a grateful way
We ought to strive your goodness to repay;
We find our rising proves our Enemies fall,
Where are they now that did us then inthrall?
They dig'd a Pit, and in it fallen are,
Yea wonderfully catcht in their own snare.
This is Gods doing, and is marvellous,
Even to our Enemies as well as us.
And therefore now my self I must address,
Unto the God of Truth and Righteousness,
I'le lift my Soul to him in Thanks and Praise,
And ne're forget his Wonders in these days.

The Churches Song of Praise and Thanksgiving to God for her late Gracious deliverance.

Oh matchless Grace; Oh Love beyond degree,
Now I am certain there is none like thee,
In Heav'n or Earth; I will Praise thee therefore,
For thou a Salve hast now found for my sore,
Transported by thy Love, with Joy I cry,
My ravisht Spirit must exalt the High
And Mighty God, by whose unbounded grace,
My heart's enlarg'd to run the blessed race.
Thou shalt conduct me to the Living Springs,
From thence I'le rise up as with Eagles Wings
Unto that heavenly Mount of Faiths desire,
Where thy Transcendent Glory I'll admire;

120

And in those happy Seats of Bliss above
I'l be imbraced in thy Arms of Love.
I'l hold thee fast, and never let thee go,
For by thy loss, Oh what a depth of woe
Did I fall into? What a dreadful case
Was I in, when thou Lord didst hide thy face?
If I have thee, I nothing else need crave,
Without thee (if all else) I nothing have;
Nothing without thee is of worth to me,
All things are vanity, compar'd to thee.
To be thy Portion, Lord, thou didst me chuse,
And sure so great a grace I'll ne're refuse,
Thou art my Saviour, and my Heritage,
My Sanctuary too, from Age to Age;
I therefore evermore will dwell with thee,
And thou alone my hiding place shalt be.
When I was fal'n, thou raisedst me on High
For which thy blessed name I'll magnify,
Thou didst in mercy look on my distress,
When I, Lord, was in woful heaviness,
Beset with cruel Foes, and could not see
The many dangers that incompast me;
Thou didst observe my ruin very near,
And thou didst suddenly for me appear,
Didst send thy Servant speedily away
To save me from the ravenous Beasts of Prey;
Thou, like a tender Father, couldst not see
Thy Children fall by Romish Cruelty;
Thy special favours may I ne're forget,
Let them with Power on my heart be set.

Ah! how unworthy was this sinful Land,
For whom thou didst stretch forth thy mighty hand,
To save and help them in that dreadful hour,
When all their hope was lost, and all their power?
Though thy own Children too unworthy were,
This did not hinder thy Parental care;
How earthly, unbelieving, Ah! how vain?
How did their Lives their Holy Calling stain?

121

Cold, Carnal, Senseless, dead; They seem'd to be
A People laden with iniquity.
Deserving nothing at thy hands O Lord,
When thou this great deliverance didst afford,
I then did much bewail their faults and crimes,
Both those of old, and those of latter times;
Yet thou o'relookedst their unworthiness,
And camest down to save them ne'retheless.

Thou wonderfully didst make it appear,
That these strange works which thou hast shewed here,
Were like to those in Egypt long ago,
When thou didst Pharaoh utterly o'rethrow.
For when we thought we should have been destroy'd,
And their dire vengeance never could avoid,
We saw them suddenly before us fall,
And could not do us any hurt at all.

A raging sea we seem'd, before, to see,
Behind us was a raging Enemy,
But when thy chosen Servant did draw near,
The threatning waters soon divided were,
A sure presage Gods presence too was there,
Who sav'd us from what we so much did fear;
These are thy doings, Lord, and Marvellous
Are all thy Dispensations unto us.

Nay let us not forget, this one thing more,
As worthy notice, as those nam'd before,
The People of the Land divided were,
Nay to each other did much hatred bear,
Yet thou no sooner sent'st thy Servant hither
But they united, and were join'd together
All as One man against their comon Foe,
In prayers, in wishes and in Arms also,
Which gave me hopes that the set time was come,
Of thy great wrath against the Whore of Rome.

Our Nobles and our Gentry did their part,
Assisting both with counsel, hand and heart,
Like our Old English Heroes they did rise,
And chearfully espouse this enterprize.

122

Undauntedly they undertook the Cause
Of our Religion, Liberties, and Laws,
Their free-born Souls contemn'd the Romish Yoke,
And to a just revenge it did provoke
These Gallant Spirits who could not endure
The Jesuits should our slavery procure,
With so much impudence; that they seem'd to laugh
At all our Laws, and at our Parliaments Scoff.

A great Convention, Lord, thou didst convene,
And didst unite them so that like brave men,
The Throne they did declare Vacant to be,
And it to fill again, did soon agree,
To the great Satisfaction of the Land,
And with their Lives they did ingage to stand
By William thy Servant and our King,
Whom for our safety thou didst hither bring.

All this we saw perform'd by thee alone
Who dost abase, and set upon the Throne,
To every man dost measure what is right,
And actest still what seems good in thy sight;
Ah! how didst thou confound, ev'n in an hour,
Those dark Intrigues, contrived by the Power
Of bloudy Rome, and carried on so long,
And by such Aids, that they grew mighty strong
Here and abroad; So that they durst to say,
All was their own, and they should have the day;
When in her heart she said; I fit a Queen,
And ne're shall loss of Children see agen:
Yet then, Oh blessed Lord, thou heardst our cries,
And suddenly our Enemies didst surprize.

As soon as thy poor Protestants abroad
Heard these Strange wonders of our Gracious God.
It did their Spirits raise, and them enliven,
To sing the Praises of the God of Heav'n;
Poor Holland that was so much threatned,
And to effect the work, all ventured,
Began thereat again to raise its head.

123

When we were sore distressed, it was they
That to relieve us hastened away;
They 'gainst our Foes for our defence did stand,
Let them be dear to thee, and to this Land,
How were thy People strengthened thereby,
Who did before like withered branches lye,
Expecting mischief would upon them fall,
And Popery would overwhelm us all.

All Praise and Glory therefore now be given
Unto the Lord of Lords, and King of Heaven;
O let the Throne surely establisht be
In righteousness; which will Establish me:
And let the King so wisely all dispose,
To please his God, and disappoint his Foes:
Let his Court still with Virtuous Men abound,
And let no vitious Persons there be found;
This will most happy days to him procure,
And cause his Government long to endure.

Let Scotland to his Crown united be,
That we may live in peace and amity,
Incline their minds their Interest to discern,
And that our Union is their great Concern.

Do not forget poor Irelands sad fate,
Destroy those Rebels who disturb that State,
O give our Armies Victory and Success,
Thy People save; Their Enemies distress:
This is my Prayer, and when this is done,
I'le sing the Praises of the Three in One.
Mean while let us our best Affections raise
To celebrate, in grateful Songs, his praise
Who has been our deliverer in these days.

An Hymn of Gratitude and Thankfulness.

I do not in a lofty strain
Strive to revive Great Hectors Glory;
Nor the all-conquering Pagan Train,

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Whose acts recorded are in Story;
Nor is it our Great Williams Fame,
Who came, and saw, and overcame.

Nor any of those Worthy Nine,
Nor Alexanders Great renown,
Whose Deeds were thought almost Divine,
When Victory did his Temples Crown;
But 'tis the Praise of God I sing,
Who hath wrought Wonders by our King.

My Heart and Tongue, shall both rejoice,
Whil'st England sings Triumphantly,
And with a loud melodious voice,
Doth laud the name of God most High;
O 'tis his praise; That Holy One
That I must magnify alone.

My Heart is warm'd whil'st I proclaim,
The praises of the God of wonder,
My lips shall glorify his name
Whose voice is like a mighty Thunder;
I'll bless him, for 'tis he alone
Has vacated, and fill'd the Throne,

Whose Feet are like to burning Brass,
Whose Eyes are like a flaming Fire,
Who bringeth wondrous things to pass,
Him I adore, him I admire;
What changes hath he suddenly,
Made in Great Brittains Monarchy?

My Soul and Pen shall both express
The Praises of Great Judahs Lion,
The sweet and fragrant Flower of Jess,
The Holy Lamb; The King of Sion;
For He it is, and he alone
Has vacated and fill'd the Throne,

Whose Head is Whiter than the Snow,
That's driven with the Eastern Wind,
Whose Visage like a Flame doth show,

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Confining all, yet unconfin'd.
Tis He who Marvels wrought of late,
To save a sinking, bleeding State.

Ye praise his name, who hath made known
The Man to us, he fixt upon,
To save us from the envious frown
O'th' bloudy Whore of Babylon,
In Righteousness, Oh! let him Reign,
That nothing may his Glory stain.

For this great subject of my Verse,
Though discontented subjects should
Refuse Gods praises to rehearse,
The Hills, the Rocks, and Mountains would
Make his deserved Praises known
For Wonders here so lately shown.

You twinkling Stars, which day and night,
Do your appointed circuit run,
Sweet Cynthia in thy monthly flight,
Also thou bright and flaming Sun,
Who to the Earth Gods blessing bring;
Do you Great Brittains mercies sing.

That all Gods Foes both far and near,
Who Tyrannize and haughty be,
May all be smitten with great fear,
And meet the like Catastrophe,
As those who lately in this Land
Declar'd, Their will should us command.

Let all men know; The Power Divine
Is absolute, and that alone,
None ever 'gainst him did combine,
But they were surely overthrown.
'Tis He pulls down, and sets up too,
And who dares say, What dost thou do?

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To the Discontented Subject.

Come Sir, let us a while debate
About great Brittains Present State,
What is it you would have?
Is't Liberty as Englishmen,
Or had you rather be again
A fetter'd Romish slave?

Are you so fond of Tyranny,
That you fain back again would fly
To Egypts former fare?
Do you not know their Garlick's strong?
Their Flesh Pots have been poysoned long;
For shame come no more there.

Hath God Wrought wonders in our Land,
Ev'n by another Moses's hand,
And yet when all is done,
Will you to Egypt shew your love;
And slight the works of God above,
And back again be gone?

What Humour's this of Discontent,
That such a King and Parliament
You will not cleave unto,
By whom God hath such wonders done,
Who have such mighty hazards run,
To save the Land and you?

You lately seemed full of grief,
And greatly did desire relief,
And now 'tis come will ye
With sullen minds repine and say;
Things are not carried that same way
Which we did hope to see?

Ah! be not like Haman of old,
Who though exalted, yet b'ing told,
That Mordecai also

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Was in the favour of the King,
Did much sorrow to him bring,
Ah! no such hatred show

To those who have an equal right
To favour in their Princes sight,
And faithful Subjects are;
Who are Free-born as well as you,
Why may not they of Honour too
Expect an equal share?

If that which pleaseth all the Land,
With your self Interest will not stand
How can it helped be?
Shall England wholly be undone,
And be by Popery over-run,
To humor such as ye?

O do not shew your selves again
Of the vile race of Cursed Cain;
Must Abel have no Friend
But be observ'd with envious Eyes,
And by you made a Sacrifice
Until the World shall end?

O be not guilty of such pride,
Not to be on your Soveraigns side,
Unless he please to show
His indignation, and suppress
Those that love Truth and Righteousness,
And better are than you.

Can none be Loyal to the King,
But only those that roar and sing,
And drink his health each day?
Come don't mistake, for certainly
He shews the greatest Loyalty,
Who for him most doth Pray.

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Let all good Protestants agree,
And live in love and unity,
For 'tis the only thing
That's pleasing unto God above,
And will procure to us his Love,
And other blessings bring.

Since God designs good unto all,
VVhy should we on each other fall,
Or shew so ill a mind,
As by unjust, and evil ways,
To hinder that by our delays,
VVhich good men long to find.

Shall any Christian be so vain
To plead for Laws, that do prophane
The Holy Sacrament?
VVhich Christ did never institute,
Nor any ought to prostitute
To such a low intent.

To that design and only end,
It was ordain'd let us attend,
Lest God offended be,
And bring his dreadful Judgments forth,
To cut us down in his great wrath
For such iniquity.

It's neither righteous, just, nor good,
And has too long already stood,
Oh! let it fall for ever,
The King will stronger be hereby,
His subjects serve him cheerfully,
And all cement together.

An Hymn of Praise.

Instead of Grief Joy now appears,
And scatter'd are our dismal fears,
The Northern Lyon's come;
See how our haughty Foes do cry,
And at his looks see how they fly,
Bewailing their sad doom.

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If men refuse, and will not speak,
The Rocks and Stones will silence break,
For Heav'n and Earth resolve
To Judge great Babels bloudy Whore,
And she ere long shall be no more,
Her power shall dissolve.

The Star we did expect t'appear
Is risen in our Hemisphere,
And warning gives to all,
Of wonders which will suddenly;
Amaze the World far off, and nigh,
For Rome must surely fall.

Strange and amazing Tragedies,
Kept secret long from all mens Eyes,
To light will all now come,
Such Villanies as were never known,
Which Devils are asham'd to own,
Yet acted were by Rome.

She that did say, I fit a Queen,
And hop'd no sorrow to have seen,
Now strangely is brought under;
Which sure could never have been done
By any hand but his alone
Who is the God of wonder.

And he who hath such Marvels wrought,
And with just vengeence down hath brought
Englands and Sions Foe;
Will greater things effect e're long,
And cause his Saints another Song
To sing, than now they do.

For there are none stand in his way
But they must fall or him obey,
For God is risen up;
Those who have ruined good men,
Unless Repentance they obtain,
Must drink that very Cup:

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For God a Righteous Judge will be,
For wicked men a scourge has he,
Let them be who they will;
He is a God that cannot lye,
And therefore will Impartially
On all, his Word fulfil.

Come therefore, and loud praise proclaim
Unto Jehovahs Glorious Name,
All you his People Dear;
Who long time have desir'd to see
An end of Sions misery,
For her Salvation's near.

The Tryal and Condemnation of Mystery Babylon, the Great Whore.

But what approaches! Heark! Methinks I hear
The Sound of dreadful Trumpets in mine ear,
To usher in Gods day of wrath and Ire
On those who did against his Saints conspire;
The Great Assize, that happy day is come,
To Judge, and give the Whore her Fatal Doom,
She's charg'd with Treason 'gainst Gods Holy Laws,
Impartial Justice now will try the Cause,
She's seiz'd upon, and in the Jaylors hand,
Who will produce her when he has command;
Jehovah bids, that Babylon the Great
Be forthwith brought before the Judgment Seat.

Justice.

Most Sovereign Lord, who is it dares gain say
VVhat thou command'st? I must and will obey;
Lo, here I bring the Scarlet Strumpet forth,
Before thee who createdst Heaven and Earth;

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Thy Judgment Seat she seems to slight and scorn,
Says she's as guiltless as the Child unborn.

Jehovah.

“Her crimes lay open, and her facts declare,
“Turn up her skirts and let her faults appear,
“Let th' Universe by her indictment see
“The cause of my most Just severity.

Justice.

Dread Soveraign of the VVorld! I will proceed,
And will her black indictment loudly read,
Come forth great VVhore! & hear thy dismal charge
VVhich shall by proofs be evidenc'd at large;
By th' name of Babylon thou art hither Cited,
And by the name of VVhore thou stand'st Indicted
Thou void of Grace and Gods most holy Fear,
To Satans Machinations didst adhere;
VVith him to Plot against thy Soveraign Prince,
To whom thou oughtst to yield Preheminence
In Ancient times he was thine only Spouse,
(Our Holy Law no Bigamy allows,)
Yet thou hast him perfidiously forsook,
And to thy self another Husband took,
And with a graceless Impudence art led,
By thy lewd train, to an Adultrous Bed;
Thou hast dethron'd him, and thy VVhorish face,
Sets up a monstrous Traytor in his place,
To whom thou hast blasphemous Titles given,
Exalting him above the God of Heaven;

Thou hast not only plaid th' Adulteress,
But plain Idolatry thou dost profess;
Of Treason, Murder Theft, abhorred things,
Of burning Cities, poysoning of Kings,
Of undermining States, and furthermore,
Of Spoiling Trade and making Kingdoms Poor,
Of horrid Plots of causeless bloudy VVars,
And of contriving cruel Massacres,

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Thou guilty art; Thy bloudy rage has hurld,
Millions of Innocents out of the World,
Prodigious numbers have in divers Lands
Been sacrific'd by thy bloud-thirsty hands;
Insatiate Butcheries that know no end,
Thou stab'dst men when thou pity didst pretend;
In times of Peace thy horrid rage has shed
Bloud without Measure, thou hast murthered;
(Perfidious wretch) thy nearest Neighbours when
They thought themselves the most secure of men,
Thou hast made currents of their guiltless bloud
To run like waters of a mighty flood;
Yea void of pity your inhumane Rage
Destroy'd the Saints and spar'd no Sex nor Age,
Speak bloudy VVhore, hold up thy graceless head;
Guilty or not? By Law thou art to plead.

Babylon.

Look down, blest Virgin, and bid Justice stay,
Speak to thy Son to drive my foes away;
You glorious Saints who near St. Mary stand,
In my distress lend me your helping hand;
All Angels and Arch-Angels I invoke,
To strengthen me, and to divert the stroke;
These Hereticks will work my overthrow,
I am amaz'd I know not what to do!

Beelzebub

What needs my Darling thus to stand and pause?
Thou know'st the Custom of our Romish Laws,
Though black as hell, yet be not so forlorn,
Swear that thou'rt guiltless, as the Child unborn;
What violence to Hereticks you do,
Is Lawful, honest and your duty too.

Justice.
Plead, vile Delinquent! or thou shalt receive,
The fatal sentence which I am to give.

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Babylon.
I do affirm the Charge is false, and I
All Points of this Indictment do deny;
Produce your Proofs, I'le stand in just Defence
Of my apparent spotless Innocence.

Justice.

That like a Harlot, of thine own accord,
Thou hast forsaken thine espoused Lord,
Will be made evident to thy disgrace,
By clear Probation in its proper place.
You say that you your God can daily make,
Which is an Idol of a Wafer-cake.
If thou dost Shrines and Images adore,
And proved art th' Apocalyptick Whore;
If thou upon the Scarlet Beast dost sit,
And lewdness with so many Kings commit,
It clearly follows from these Marks, that thou
Art a meer Strumpet, and hast broke thy Vow,
If thou art by the Papal Edict led,
Dis-owning Christ, and making that thy Head,
The consequence is clear, for thou must be
Guilty of Whoredom and Idolatry.
And to examine thy notorious deeds,
This great Tribunal out of hand proceeds:
Call in the Witnesses,—

Waldenses, Albingenses, Protestants of Piedmont, Savoy, &c.

Dread Lord! We're here,
And with our Just complaint do now appear,
That Bloody Whore, the Prisoner at the Bar
Has follow'd us with a perpetual War,
Because we would not to her Idols bow,
Nor her curs'd Edicts, and vile Laws allow.

About the dismal year of fifty five,
A dreadful Massacre she did contrive

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Within the territories of Savoy,
Where thirty thousand Souls she did destroy
In three days time; Curs'd Edicts bid them turn,
To Popery, or they must Hang, or Burn.
Which when those Innocents refus'd to do;
Most horrid Execution did ensue,
Our Brethrens brains out of their Heads were beaten
And by curst Villains fry'd and after eaten;
Our Children rent to pieces; Thrown to Dogs,
And our dear Pastors flung as Meat to Hogs,
Others on Pikes into the Air were tost,
And many Others they alive did rost;
Some ti'd with Ropes they pierc'd unto the Hearts,
And hung up Others by their secret parts;
Houses and Barns full they have burnt, so that
Our sufferings are beyond an Estimat.

Bohemia, Germany, Poland, Lithuania &c.
To satisfie this cruel Strumpets Lust,
Some thousands have been turned unto dust,
Our Towns, and famous Cities of renown
She hath dis-peopled, burnt, or broken down;
The ruins still appear, and desolations,
In many places of our spoiled Nations;
Great multitudes un-numbred she hath slain,
VVhich in the Field unburied did remain.
Our Brethren they have hung upon a Beam:
And then consum'd them in a lingring Flame,
Some she has into boiling Cauldrons put,
And many others into pieces cut,
VVithout respect unto the Hoary Head,
Into their Throats they pour'd down melted Lead,
And many other deaths she did contrive,
Some burned were, and others flead alive.
Into deep Mines, three thousand Souls and more,
At several times were tumbled by this VVhore,
Because they would not their Religion leave,
And unto Romish superstitions cleave.

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That worthy man John Huss was burn'd to death,
For owning of the Apostolick Faith;
Jerom of Prague, to fill her Measure up,
She made soon after drink that woful cup,
'Twere endless to enumerate our grief;
From thee, Just Judge, we do expect relief.

France.
Ah! How shall I my inward grief disclose?
VVhat Tongue is able to recount my woes?
Prodigious numbers of my natives have,
By this VVhores means, found an untimely grave,
The Barb'rous Harlot, would not be content
To Kill, or drive them into Banishment;
But with unheard of Cruelty she must
Their Bodys mangle, to asswage her Lust;
Some hang'd in VVater, yield their strangl'd breath,
Some brain'd on Anvils, some were starv'd to death,
Some hall'd with Pullies till the top they meet,
VVith heavy weights, and loads upon their Feet,
Rap't Maidens stab'd, poor Infants yet unborn
From Mothers Wombs, by bloudy hands were torn;
How many thousand guiltless Christians were
Butcher'd in the Parisian Massacre?
Some broke on Crosses, some were cut in twain,
VVhilst others languished in lingring pain;
Our worthy Kings have lost their noble lives,
By Jesuits Poyson, and by Monkish Knives.
I can produce an uncontroul'd record
Of many thousands murder'd by her Sword,
It would require whole volumes to transcribe
The bloudy acts of this infernal Tribe.
Deep dolour hinders what I would say more,
O glorious Judg! Avenge me on this Whore.

Italy, Spain, Portugal, Low-Countrys &c.
Renowned Judge! those Witnesses that have
Their grief presented, and do Judgment crave,

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Save us much labour, for we heretofore
Have felt the same from this blood-thirsty Whore.
Besides, being next her seat, and near her power,
Her greedy Jaws our Brethren did devour;
With cruel spite, and without intermission,
We have been tortur'd in her Inquisition;
No Tongue can speak, the unexampled terror
Of that curst Pattern of Infernal Horror;
They count it mild when they our persons burn
And Wives and Children into Ashes turn,
They say they're courteous, when our Throats they cut,
Or when in Dungeons (dark as Hell) we are put,
They say they favour us, when they'l imploy
Their Daggers, Pistols, Axes to destroy;
In lingring flames they did our Brethren roast,
On Halberts tops we saw our Infants tost.
This we have suffer'd, and abundance more,
And all by means of this Infernal Whore.

Ireland.

Could deepest grief receive additions, I
Would give examples of her cruelty,
I can her in more monstrous colours draw,
Than bloudy Nero or Caligula.
Those horrid tortures, which my Brethren say
She exercis'd on them, the same I may
Affirm t'have suffer'd, by the instigation
Of this vile Strumpet, whose abomination
Stinks in the Nostrils of each civil Nation,
Her cursed Priests, when first they did begin
Our Massacre, proclaim'd, it was a sin
Unpardonable, if they durst to give
Quarter, or our necessities relieve;
Some they stript naked, and then made them go
Through Bogs and Mountains, in the Frost and Snow,
Men, Women, Children, then were butchered,
And all that spake our Language punished;

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The very Cattel, if of English breed,
They slasht and mangled that they could not feed.

With joy that Romish and Rebellious brood
Have wash't their hands in English Martyr's bloud,
Thousands of naked Protestants, that fled
From these curst Villains, have been famished,
Their Faithless Gentry that pretended love,
Perswaded th' English, that they would remove
Their goods to them, but when possession got,
They like perfidious VVretches cut their throat,
Numbers of naked Women, they did drive
Into a Barn, and Burnt them all alive,
Each Sex and Age that could not from them fly,
Did by these blood Hounds without mercy die.
Once at the fatal Bridge of Portladown,
A thousand Souls these Miscreants did drown,
A Couple (with five Children) first they hung,
And in a hole th' expiring Bodys flung,
The youngest on the Mothers Breast did stick,
Cries, Mammy, Mammy, yet is buried quick,
Some hackt to pieces: travelling Women strip'd,
And half born Infants from their bellies rip'd,
Which (with their Mothers) hungry Dogs did eat,
And Swine fed on them as on common meat.
When some poor Souls in burning houses cry,
The Villains said, How sweetly do they fry?
When Holy Scripture in the Flames were cast,
They cry, 'tis Hell Fire, and a lovely blast,
That blessed Book when some have trampled on,
They cry, Plague on't! that has the mischief done;
They made poor Wives their Husbands blood to spill,
And trembling Youth their aged Parents kill,
They forc'd the Son to stab his dearest Mother,
And caus'd one Brother to destroy another;
Some they put fast in stocks, then teach a Brat
To rip them, and make Candles of their Fat,
How many Virgins did they ravish first?
Then with their Hearts-blood quench their eager thirst;

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Some they did bury just unto the head,
And left them on surrounding grass to feed.
Stuck fast on tender-nooks grave Matrons were,
And Virgins hang'd up in their Mothers hair,
Some with their small guts out, were forc'd to run,
About a tree until their life was gone;
The Mouths of Worthy Ministers they cut,
Unto their Ears, betwixt their jaws they put,
A monstrous gag, then with a Romish scoff,
Bid them go Preach their Mouths were large enough.

And now thou seem'st the same thing to design,
All their Just Liberties to undermine,
By great Tyrronnels power, yet once again,
By whom so many Protestants were slain,
And barbarous Acts formerly done by him,
To fill thy measure up unto the brim.

Alas! who now can cast an eye on me,
But must lament to see my misery,
And what a sad condition I am in,
By this vile Strumpets wicked Plots agen?
Who hopes her craving appetite once more,
To fill and glut with Protestant bloud and gore,
By those curst Furies, who did boast with Joy,
They once two hundred thousand did destroy,
We therefore pray as others did before,
For a Just Sentence on this bloudy Whore.

Scotland.
Oh! Monstrous horror! Oh abhorred sink,
Of villany! O bloudy throats that drink
The bloods of Innocents! which oft they quaft,
As freely as a common Mornings Draught!
Thousands of mine were butchered by this Whore,
In that poor Nation that has spoke before,
The suff'rings of my guiltless Natives were
Equal with theirs in every title there,
Yet this blood-thirty Curtezan of Rome
Was not content, but tortured me at home,

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Some burnt, some hang'd, some scourg'd, some banished,
Some drown'd, and some in dungeons murdered,
A sinking grief forbids me to enlarge,
Or else with ease I'de aggravate her Charge,
Since Gospel Light did in my borders shine,
She thirsted to destroy both me and mine,
Her Imps all parts, Like filthy Locusts, fill,
And such as they cannot delude they kill;
Her VVolves put on the habit of my sheep,
And in their folds destroy them as they Sheep;
They have an Art to work upon the weak,
That they Gods order should in pieces break,
Under pretences of Reform'd Devotion,
They instigate the Rabble to Commotion;
That in those troubled waters they may fish,
And bring about their long expected wish;
Their cursed Politicks have been employ'd
To ruin those that they have so decoy'd.
A thousand Forgeries they do invent,
To charge their Plots upon the Innocent,
That (whilst they Act the Rogues in Masquerade)
Poor guiltless Saints their Victims may be made,
Thus have I open'd something of my grief,
And from the Judge expect a quick relief.

England.

Had I as many Tongues at my command,
As Argus Eyes or as Briarous hands,
I scarce could in a Century express
One half of my unspeakable distress!
In every age I had some Sons of Light,
That would discover Romes Egyptian night,
Yet they no sooner on the Stage appear,
But that her setting Dogs like Blood-hounds were
Upon the scent, and never left pursuit,
Until to death they did them persecute,
My Royal Edicts this bold Whore has broke,
And on my neck clapt her tyrannick Yoke;

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Vast treasures from my Natives were extorted,
And her Exchequer to inrich transported.
Prodigious Sums she yearly squeezed hence,
For Pardons, Obits, Annals, Peter-pence)
And through each Land where she her triumphs led
Whole swarms of Locusts Priests and Friers bred,
These (as the Janizaries to the Turk)
Were faithful Slaves still to promote her work,
Whilst to maintain these Drones, she swept away
The Fat and Wealth of Nations for their prey.
Such as would not be by her witch-craft led,
Were Tortur'd, Murther'd, Burnt or Massacred,
The Papal Beast could in a frollick tell,
I was his Fountain inexhaustible.
She planted Priests and Ganymeds she rooted
Within my Bowels, which the Land polluted
VVith such a Pest of vile debaucheries,
As Pagans, Turks, and Infidels, outvies,
She crushes any that her acts opposes,
My Kings she Poisons, Murders, or Deposes;
Some she deludes her Soveraignty to own,
And does instruct them to betray the Crown,
Her Lurking Vipers menace me with Storms,
Like Egypts Frogs in pestilential swarms;
She is so greedy nothing will suffice,
Unless I'm made a general sacrifice.

'Tis known to all the Earth how many ways,
She martyr'd Protestants in Marian days.
Then was I made a dismal field of Blood,
VVhich run like currents of a swelling Flood,
She stirs the Spaniard in a great bravado,
For to invade me with his proud Armado;
The Hellish Powder Treason she prepares,
At once to blow up Commons, Kings and Peers;
Her hellish brands (without a spark of pity)
Consum'd to Ashes my Imperial City.
My Justices she does assassinate,
For many years she has been carrying on

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A Damn'd intreague for my destruction,
And all the ways that Satan prompts her to
Contrive my fall, she's ready still to do,
Her spite and malice nothing will abate,
It's still more deadly and inveterate,
Dread Providence shall ever have my thanks,
That has discover'd her Infernal pranks;

Yea lately she much innocent bloud hath shed,
And divers worthy men hath Murdered,
Nay so insinuating too was she,
That she perswaded his late Majesty
To tast of her intoxicating Cup,
VVhich he unto his detriment drank up,
VVhereby the Church and State were ne're o'rethrown
Only to humor Cruel Babylon:
These with her other Crimes, considered,
I beg she justly may be Sentenced.

The Evidence summed up.

O gulph of horror! O profound Abiss,
VVas 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,
VVhen 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 that thou could'st devise,
Thou didst inflict, as History to us shows,
Some thou didst hang by th' head, some by the toes,
Yea Millions thou didst burn and broil on coles,
And others Starve to death in stinking holes.
Some of them thou didst cut in pieces small,
And Infants brains didst dash against the wall.

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Upon their bodies thou didst tread like dung,
Thou hadst no mercy upon Old or Young;
By thy curs'd Crew were Women ravished,
VVho then (like Butchers) knockt 'em on the head,
Some had their Eyes and tongues by thee pull'd out,
Some were made harborless and forced about
To wander, till in VVoods and dismal Caves,
They found their woful and untimely Graves,
VVhat 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,
VVho did endure the most inhumane pain
Thy Bishops, Monks, and Fryers, could devise,
VVhose blood to me for speedy vengeance cries.

The ways thou took'st to free a Soul from error,
VVas unexampled flesh-amazing terror
Of horrid Racks, whereon a man must lye,
Tortur'd to death, and dying cannot die;
Accursed Wretch! didst thou not give Commission,
For to erect thy bloudy Inquisition,
That loathsom Dungeon and most nasty Cell,
A place of horror representing Hell?
Where nothing is so plentiful as tears,
Where Martyred Protestants can find no ears
To hear their cries and lamentable moans,
Nor hearts to pity their extorted groans,
VVhere Saints in torment all their days must spend
Not knowing when their sufferings will have end,
Thousands by thee were in Bohemia slain,
VVhose Carkasses unburied did remain.
Thou mad'st thy Vassals fall upon that Nation,
On no less penalty than their damnation,
Didst thou not promise upon that condition,
To give them full and absolute remission?
The vilest Wretch that on the Earth has stood,
You fully pardon'd if he'd shed the blood,

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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-thristy Crew?
But if the VVretch, (De Alva's) bloudy Bill
Come short in numbers, yet his hand did fill
It up with Torments; dreadful to reherse,
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 the European Stage,
In England, France, in Italy, and Spain,
By thy accursed bloody hands were slain,
Nine hundred thousand Souls or thereabout,
Ere many years had run their circuits out;
Of poor Americans by Cruel Spain.
In fifty years were many Millions slain;
The poor Waldenses whose enlightned Eye,
Thy filthy Whoredoms quickly did espy,
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 bloud imbrew,
At once were Eighty Infants famished,
And many thousands basely murthered.
When some have fled into 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)

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Of thy malignity? What shall I say
Of Germany, whose marty'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 bloudy Strumpet. How canst thou repair
The loss of Englands great Imperial Chair?
How many Rich men were to Beggars turned.
When that brave Isle's Metropolis was burned
By thy accursed 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 quite forlorn became,
Their substance all consumed in the Flame.

But to conclude; I have not yet forgot
Thy Powder Treason, nor thy modern Plot,
Nor all thy dismal Villanies that were
Done in the Merindolian Massacre,
Should I but recapitulate thy charge,
And speak of all thy Villanies at Large,
'Twould fill vast Volumes; Often did I see
The Lord of Life was crucified by thee,
When his dear members Blood by thee was shed,
Numberless numbers basely murthered:
Yet still thou hast the Impudence to say,
That thou art Innocent ev'n to this day,
Yea thou proceedest as thou hast begun,
And lately a great Monarch hast undone,
Whom thou didst so delude, that he did try
T'inslave us under Romish Tyranny,
And probably thou hadst attain'd thy end,
But that God did to us deliverance send:
And did defeat thy Hellish Enterprize,
Throwing thee down, that Sion might arise;
Yea thy Espousals thou didst often break,
Canst thou deny it? Shameless, Strumpet speak.

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Babylon.

“I am the Mother Church, and hence deny
“That filthy name I am indicted by,
“The odious Epithet 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 Delinquent out,
“Bold Hereticks who never would adhear
“To the true Faith and Apostolick Chair,
“Have born my just rebukes, some more, some less,
“As was their Pride, Rebellion, Wickedness.

Judge.

Thou graceless Wretch thou art bereft of shame
How dar'st 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 time's at hand when I'le fullfil 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'le shake.
Dost think because I did forbear so long,
That I will not revenge my Childrens wrong?
What I resolve to do, or will command,
No Pope, nor Devil ever can 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'l surely fall and never rise again;
The hope thou hast of him is therefore vain,

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There's no recalling of the Sentence gone,
Thy Execution day approaches on.

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 VVitness am,
It has been Evidenc'd by Vision clear,
That some strange Monster should on Earth appear;
Which by imperfect views did first amaze
Sagacious minds, when they on it did gaze,
Which made mens Judgments to divide asunder,
To see an object of unusual wonder.
A VVoman! 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 is decyphered by Prodigious things,
His very Horns (explain'd) are Crowned Kings;
And then this mighty VVonder to compleat,
She's placed on a seven hilled Seat,
She's stil'd a VVoman and a VVhore, because,
She once submitted to Enacted Laws,
As other VVomen 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)
VVho in great Pomp and Royal State doth ride,
Excelling haughty Jezebel in pride,
VVho 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 bloudy Shambles are become.

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If by this mark she is not understood,
Neither by Garb, Beast, Actions, or by Blood,
To other ways of proof, I'le quickly come,
And shew this Whore to be the Church of Rome.

The Woman which th' Apostle John beheld,
Arayed 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;

Rev. 17. 18.

The holy Angel of the Lord explains,
That 'tis the 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 bloudy Strumpet be;
If all the marks of this great 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;
For it is evident that there is none,
May be so fitly stiled Babylon.
'Twas she that took the Word of God away,
And by a string of Beads taught men to pray;
She rob'd the Laity of the blessed Cup,
And spoil'd the Feast where Children came 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;

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She clogs the Conscience, and to make all well,
Boasts all her dictates are infallible.
Did Babylon the burning work begin,
Make a hot furnace? 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.
'Tis she that first did from the Faith depart,
'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 falshoods, 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 People to abstain from Meat,
Which God gave licence unto all to eat?

That all may know we do to Rome no wrong,
A little Book will publish'd be ere long,
That will make it most evident and clear,
That only Papal Rome's intended here;
If from this charge she can her self defend,
Then may she make the Judg and Law her friend,
Or if she can produce another Tribe,
To whom we may this Character ascribe,
VVith greater clearness than we do to her,
VVe will consent her sentence to defer.

Judge.
Rome, since thou canst not make a fair Defence,
And shew to all the VVorld thine Innocence.
'Tis very evident that all these things,
Have been fulfilled, on Kingdoms and their Kings,

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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 bloudy Scarlet Whore,
Therefore in Justice I at length am come,
(Being Long provokt) to pass thy final Doom.

The Sentence.

Rome! Thou hast been indicted by the Name of Mystery Babylon, Mother of Harlots, Scarlet-coloured Whore, False Church, and Pretended Spouse of Jesus Christ; and thou art found Guilty of all the Horrid and Prodigious Crimes following: That thou didst Apostatize from the Holy Religion of God and his Son Jesus Christ, and didst advance the Pope or Man of Sin, and hast Sacrilegiously attributed and given to him those Names and Titles which belong only to God, and the Great Emanuel, magnifying his Decrees in wicked Councils above the Laws of God, and hast made void the Laws and Constitutions of the Gospel; making the Church National, and forming whole Kingdoms into one Universal Church. Thou hast insinuated thy self into the Courts of the Emperors, Kings, and Princes of the Earth, perswading them to commit Fornication and Idolatry with thee, to the utter Ruin and Destruction of many of them, as well as of several Peers, Noblemen & others, of all Ranks and Degrees. Thou hast contrived innumerable Treasons, Rebellions and Seditions; thereby endeavouring to betray Kingdoms and States, and to subject them to the Pope and See of Rome. Thou hast laboured to Corrupt and Debauch all Nations by countenancing and allowing Stews and Brothel-houses, where filthy and abominable Sodomy, and Adulteries are practiced; Hast murthered the best of Men, even the Saints of Jesus, putting them to all manner of cruel Tortures and Deaths, that with the Devil's assistance could be invented; Ripping up Women with Child, causing thy villanous Sons to ravish Chast Women and Virgins, and then barbarously Murthering them. Thou hast Burned Thousands alive, Roasted many on Spits, Thrown worthy Christians into Furnaces of boyling Oyl; Blown their Heads in pieces with Gun-powder; Fleaing off their Skins alive; Starving several to Death, and exercising on them abundance of other hideous Torments. Thou hast made Wives to be Widdows, and Children Fatherless, Towns and Cities to be without Inhabitant; Hast burned famous Cities, and destroyed divers Countries by Fire, Sword, and other lamentable Devastations, and hast endeavour'd to enslave others, by depriving them of their Just and Good Laws, Liberties, and Properties. Thou hast not only murder'd the Bodies, but likewise the Souls of multitudes of People. In short, Thou hast been guilty of shedding a mighty mass of innocent Blood, by cutting off Millions of Men, Women and Children without cause, and many other unspeakable Enormities hast thou committed. For all which horrid Crimes thou hast been Legally Indicted and Tryed, and against which thou hast made no defence: And therefore by the Laws of God, Nature and Nations, thou oughtest to be Punished

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according to the following Sentence. Thou shalt be thrown off the Ten Horn'd Beast in every Kingdom whereon thou hast fate, and all the 7 Vials of God's Wrath shall successively be poured out upon thee, by the Angel, out of the Temple, till thou art utterly consumed from off the face of the Earth— The Horns or Powers of the Nations which thou hast deceived (with the Swords of good men) shall destroy thee; Death, Mourning and Famine shall come upon thee in one day, and thou shalt be utterly burnt with Fire. Amen, Hallelujah.

An Hymn of Praise upon Babylons Fall,

grounded upon, Revel. 19. 1, 2, 3, 4.

Rouse up, my Muse, attend and hear
What Melody is in mine ear,
For Sions Joy is at the door.
Great Babel howls, and is in pain,
Now falling is that Bloudy Whore;
And never more shall rise again,
The Saints and all that dwell on high,
Sing Allelujahs constantly,

That haughty City called Great,
Which boasted of her lofty Seat,
Is on a sudden now brought under.
She prostrate in the dust does lye,
Hearken; I hear a mighty Thunder,
Which no good man doth terrify,
For Babels fall'n; and Saints now sing,
Sweet Allelujahs to their King.

Out of the Throne, voices descend,
As if they would the Heavens rend,
With Praises unto God on High,
For he's come forth in dreadful ire,
And hath the VVhore Judg'd righteously,
To be consum'd in flaming Fire,
They Hallelujahs sing amain,
Nay heark! They double them again.

See! How her Smoak does fill the air,
Whilst Harpers sing and merry are,

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And with one voice loud Praise proclaim,
To God the Lord Omnipotent,
Ah! how they magnify his name,
With th' highest strains they can invent,
Again they Hallelujahs sing
To God and Christ their Glorious King.

Yet this Joy's only in One Isle,
Which Babel lately strove to spoil,
Scituate in the Northern Sea.
That Heav'n has sav'd from Bloudy Rome.
Could Ireland too as joyful be,
Would God in Mercy to them come,
How would it add unto our Joys,
Our Hallelujahs, and our Praise.

A Happy Land thou seem'st to be,
And greater Glory shalt thou see.
If by Repentance thou dost fly
To God in Christ by Faith and Pray'r,
And cast off all Iniquity.
For God will then remove thy fear,
And then thou shalt have cause to sing
Sweet Allelujahs to thy King.

Poor Ireland and France also,
E're long shall triumph as we do;
For God will quickly crush his Foes.
Their Bloud like water out he'l pour,
Their Flesh shall feeding be for Crows.
And the Great Whore shall be no more;
That Allelujahs may be sung
Throughout the Earth by old and young.

Now God Omnipotent will Reign,
Who will the Pride of Nations stain,
And make his Pow'r and Glory known;
His Son he'l set on Sion Hill;
His Enemies shall be overthrown,
He will the Earth with Glory fill;

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In th' heights of Sion we shall sing
Sweet Allelujahs to our King.

Sighs for Ireland.

O Lord who hast such wonders wrought
Of late as well as formerly!
And down with vengeance now hast brought
Thy Churches bloudy Enemy;
Oh! look upon poor Ireland,
And save them with thine own right hand.

Lord Bless our King; and as he's great,
Let him be likewise just and good;
His Enemies, O Lord defeat!
VVho greedily thirst for his blood:
Oh! be his guard continually,
From workers of Iniquity.

Shall England thus triumph and sing,
VVhilst Ireland still does bleeding lye?
Ah! this is an afflicting thing,
It wounds our Souls, and makes us cry,
To Ireland, Lord, send help we pray,
Ah! succour them without delay.

Unite us here, and make us one,
And let our mutual Love appear,
Let's never into fractions run,
And then our Foes we need not fear,
Whilst Protestants united be,
No dread of Rome or Popery.

The Sun on us begins to shine,
Lord! let it break forth more and more,
And by that mighty pow'r of thine,
Confound our Foes as heretofore;
Arise O Lord, Let Ireland be,
Reliev'd with speed and sav'd by thee.

These days in England seem to us,
As pleasant as the flourishing spring,

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Oh! let them still continue thus!
Prevent our Foes; Preserve our King;
Thy People, Lord, in Ireland
Redeem with thy out-stretched hand.

When we for Darkness look't, and Night,
At Evening tyde we did behold
The Sun broke forth with Glorious Light,
As in the Scripture 'tis foretold.
O're Ireland, Lord, thy beams display,
Like to the dawning of the day.

Let not our Sun Eclipsed be,
Nor Clouds of Darkness interpose
Between Great Britain, Lord, and thee,
Since thus in Mercy thou art rose:
From Ireland let's good Tydings here,
That thou likewise art risen there.

Let not thy Glorious Sun appear
To lighten only these dark Parts;
But let the Nations, far and near,
Thy Gospel-Light have in their hearts:
From Ireland, Lord, all Clouds expel;
Oh, pity there thy Israel.

Let Light and Glory there break forth,
And Popish darkness thence be gone;
That all good Protestants on Earth
In the Truth, may be joyn'd in one:
On Ireland, Lord, Compassion take,
Their Sorrows we our own would make.

Let the French Tyrant, thy Great Foe,
The Scourge and Plague of Christendom.
Receive an utter Overthrow;
Ah! quickly let his downfall come:
Those vile Usurpers, Lord, abase,
And pity there, thy Childrens case.

Let France, and Spain, and Germany
Enlightned be; and let them see
The folly of Idolatry:
From Babylon, Lord, make them flee,
Because her Judgment now is come,
And they thereby may 'scape her doom.

Let Christendom new Christened be,
(why should they still believe a Lye?)
And not on Names depend; But see
The great Deceits of Popery:

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Christ's Name no good at all will do,
Unless they have his Nature too.

Let thy blest Gospel grow and work
Victoriously in every place;
Let Tartars, and the ignorant Turk
Enlightned be with Heavenly Grace:
Poor Ireland, Lord, relieve with speed,
For whom our Hearts do almost bleed.

Send forth thy Light ev'n like the Morn,
That it o're all the Earth may fly,
From Cancer unto Capricorn;
That all Lands, which in darkness lye,
May see how they have gone astray,
And be reduc'd to the Right way.

The fulness of the Gentiles now
Bring in; and give them all a Call,
That they may unto Jesus bow,
And under his Dominion fall:
That Popish Pow'r, which do's annoy
Poor Ireland, Lord, do thou destroy

The Gospel-Tydings, and good News
Of Jesus Christ the Saviour,
Declare to the hard-hearted Jews,
And their strong Unbelief o're-power:
Oh let the Gospel on them shine,
For Abraham's sake, that Friend of thine.

The Saints be'ng many Members join'd,
One Body make; the Head thou art;
Lord, let them have One Will, One Mind;
Let this One Body have One Heart:
Then shall I see a blest increase
Of Sion's Glory; Israel's Peace.

Out of all Nations under Heaven
Expel thick Darkness, Lord, away;
Let Power to thy Saints be given,
That all may thee and them obey:
Mean while, let these three Northern Lands
United be in Sacred Bands.
Let Holland likewise Happy be,
Bless those Great Sev'n; Preserve these Three.

FINIS.