The Loyal Incendiary, or The Generous Boutefieu :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Loyal Incendiary, or The Generous Boutefieu

A Poem Occasioned by the Report of the Owners bravely setting Fire to the Rye House, as the King came from Newmarket [by Samuel Pordage]

Pordage, Samuel (1633-1691?)

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THE Loyal Incendiary, OR THE GENEROUS BOUTEFIEU.

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THE Loyal Incendiary, OR THE GENEROUS BOUTEFIEU.

A POEM Occasioned by the Report of the Owners bravely setting Fire to the RYE HOUSE, AS THE KING came from NEWMARKET

I.

A sleep the Owner of that ill built Pile,
That Gothick Heap, (on which Vitruvius ne're did Smile.)
(For what but deeply Barbarous can we call
The place from whence confusion was to fall
On Cæsar on his Brother on us all.)
A Sleep, or in a Trance the Owner lay;
When Straight his Guardian Genius to him said
(Those oft attend, in Circles round the Bed)
Awake, and in dull Slumber spend thou not this glorious Day
A day in Fates long roll, for thee design'd
Awake, awake, I say,
And to my Dictates, bend thy mind.

II.

The Ray that struck, and from his Genius came,
Was an Elixar from the brightest Flame.
He saw't, and wak'd, and op't his sparkling Eyes.
Rowling now in Rapsodies.

III.

The Salamander in his hottest Glance,
Could not a Melting [illeg.]am more gloriously advance.
What [illeg.]ans, says he, this Feaver thou hast given,
As if by pussing Hell, we came to Heaven?
What [illeg.] the Flame, thou'st thrown into my Breast.
The Guardian Genius spake, and Told the Rest.
Art thou so much a stranger in our Land,
(I cannot [illeg.] the Island call,
Though we sometimes had Chiefs were R[illeg.]lls Tall,
That [illeg.] design were high, and did as Lowly Fall,
As [illeg.]re did Absaloms in War,
Or proud Achitophels that at the Bar,
Still dangerously medling are.)
Art thou so much a Stranger, yet I say
Thou know'st not when that Kings {are} on their way?
Kings move not in a common Road;
Their Motion, or their still Abode
To know, we Ephemerides must have,
And pay our Duty Round,
And Jo Pæan Sound,
When e're the Glorious Light does Rise
I'th' East;
Or Beautifie the West
As a Rich Evening Sacrifice;
Evening to us, To them a Morning Bright:
For Kings have never an Eclipsed Light.

IV.

The King great Charles our Cæsar moves,
And Blessings [illeg.]eatters, as he goes along,
Along the Spatious Road; While from the Woods and Groves,
Vertue, and blooming Joyes, about him Throng.
Do you your Joy too Show,
Do you your Mite bestow,
And let a quick, Brisk, Nimble flame lay all yon Structure Low.
Yon bl[illeg.]d, and ignoble Pile,
The Shame and Burden of the Glorious Isle:
Present the forked Thunders Dart,
And quicker Lightning, that may Start
From some big Bellied Cloud; Let thine own Hand,
Let thine own Hand apply
The Flame, till towards the Skie
It like a Burning Meteor shows,
Denouncing Terrour as it goes,
To e'ry Scismatick, within the bounds of all the Land.

V.

Pan has sprinkled all the Wood;
E'ry Tendrel, e'ry Bud.
And a Large 'lustration made,
Through e'ry Grot, through e'ry Dale, through city[s]
Where e're he thought those Trees might grow;
That Timber gave its Hall up to support,
From their Tall Tops, down to their Roots below
The Rural Deities assist, and thank him for't.
Vulcan too within his Round,
Through all the Concaves underground,
Through e'ry Mine, through ev'ry Vein
Through e'ry darksome Channel where
A Purging Urn of Liquid Sulphur thrown
So to attone
For all the Glass, the Stone,
For all the Copper, Iron, and the Lead,
That does its Bottom prop, or Caps its beset Head.

VI.

Down, down then with that hated heap
May the Flames pierce even to the Center Deep,
And Rouse Demogorgon that Lies,
Wrapt in Drowsie Lethargies,
And waken him from Sleep.
Nay further let them go,
Beyond the Axis Flow,
Till all the Spoted Earth be purg'd, to the Antipodes below.

VII.

Thus spake the prompting Genius he
All extasie, surprise, accepts the Augury.
All Enflam'd, he nought but Fire
With hearty Wish does now desire.
Doubly so; That in his Breast
A Vig'rous Zeal, the rest
He from its proper Element does now require
Or should that Fail,
From Bright Apollo Sphere
He'd gather it by Glasses here.
Or like Prometheus, Steal
His Fires from Heaven, and so
Burn it down, and purge it too.
Rob a Bright Vestals Altar; And from thence
Heat, Ruine, Flame, Combustion dispence.

Gather the Burning Compositions lay,
And did a Venom'd Heat convey.
(Like glowing Embers) in each Scorched Breast,
Of that Sooty, black Cabal,
Were once assembled in Ryes hated Hall;
And would the World with Rage, with murder Mutiny infest

VIII.

He Summons e'ry Wind;
From e'ry point, he begs old Æolus to send
A Strong, and vigorous blast.
Old Æolus consents, and forth they rush in haste
With Stormy gusts, that Penetrate as those
The Sweating Cyclop blows,
When Vulcan on the Forge, does fome brisk Task impose.
And strongly thus prepar'd,
(E're he the Fire to the Pile apply'd,
Or put the burning Torches to its Side)
He thus to Speak was heard.

IX.

No more shalt thou a Lurkin place e're be
(For Man has nought to do with thee.)
For the rough Satyr, or the Night,
Enamour'd Owl, or speckled Serpents that in Dens delight:
Or Ghost, or Wandring Beast, or (worse then these)
The Scarlet Murderer, whom Blood does please,
And Traitour Dark, and the black Regicide
No more thou now shalt hide
In thy Deep Vaults below, or Chambers Wide.
The Lares and Penates, heard the while;
And every Houshold God,
(That for long term of years, had there his dull abode,)
Broke forth, and left it to the spoil.
Around they mov'd, around they leapt,
And many an antick tread they stept,
Then towards new mansions took their sorrow'd Way
The Cat, the Rat, the Mouse forsook their Cells.
Even the Cricket, that in Fire dwells,
Would now no longer Stay.
Nor would the Salamander bear,
The heats, like to be there,
Where all the Harbours of Rebellious Vice
Through this hot Fire Shall fall,
(From the Hut low, unto the Turret Tall)
As unto Moloch, a Rich Sacrifice

And may the Rest of all such Dark abodes
Meet the like Fate:
Until the flames in Triumph Sate,
And the whole Island lookt, like the bright Isle of Rhodes

X.

The Torches now are light,
And his brave Arm is stretcht out to the utmost Height.
Aloft, a Low, above beneath it goes:
And Round about it flame, and round it fire bestows
And Round about the Dismal place.
The fatal Element it flows.
It runs a Lofty, and a Glorious Race.
Twas a Dark Den of Thieves before,
It now Looks like a Glorious Sun;
While in the Elemental Star,
The Traitours all, like Maculæ appear,
That here their Treasons hatch'd, and dire Designs begun.

XI.

The flames were black, and as they Mounted high,
They parted Still, when Towring towards the Sky
Denouncing the Divisions practiced there.
They cannot twist, but moving Jar
Like other Flame, they Joyn not in one point,
One Pyramid; but each from t'others Rent
And in their Motion fright their Native Element
For Heaven did yet such Fires never know.
But all the compositions here,
Whatever first they were
Were at last tinctur'd, from deep Hell below.

XII.

Heart how they crackle, how they Roar!
How they Mount, and how they Soar!
And now the Buttresses give way,
And now the Massy Beams decay,
And now that Mural Angle falls.
Now the remaining Walls;
And nothing but a Globe of flame is seen,
As a burning extract bright,
Amazing with its Light,
No Sign 'twas e're a house or ought but flame't had bin,
An Old Original Fire.
Born and Bred a Meteor,
And many a Salamander hatch, beneath a Funerall Pire.

XIII.

And now farewel thou hated Mansion.
But hold! 'tis not the House alone,
The outcircling Wall, and utmost hedge must down
Fill up the Moat
(Says the Brave Owner of the spot)
Were it as Large
As is Lemanus Lake, Ide bear the charge.
Root up the accursed Hedge,
That adjoyns to its foul Sedge.
And from it Slime, does Verdure take.
(That baneful Hedge from whence their cursed aim they were to make
Root e'ry plant were all the Trees
Within its Circle Hamadryades,
And each should give a Groan,
Like Mandrakes, in the pull Ide Spare not one,
Ide Spare it not, were it Dodonahs Grove.
Or Daphne growing there,
To Lawrel turn'd, when she for Fear
Flew from Apollo's Love.

XIV.

Tear up the Surface where the Villains trod:
And Calcine e'ry Stone.
Tear all the Turfe, and each unhappy Clod,
That they have Stept upon.
The Ashes scatter that they yield.
Purge about the unhallow'd Field.
'Tis done, 'tis done; the Horses pass,
And without Snorting bite the Grass:
Each Beast does to his food repair;
And fresh again now Circulates the Air.
The gladded Master briskly goes his round,
More gladded now, then when at first, he'd Title to the ground
Wishes the Nation e're to live in peace,!
And with this flame, all dire Combustions cease.

S. P.