Sion in distress or, the groans of the Protestant chruch [by Benjamin Keach] |
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To his Friend the AUTHOR, On the FIRST IMPRESSION. |
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 | Sion in distress |  |
To his Friend the AUTHOR, On the FIRST IMPRESSION.
What
Muse is this, that thus inspires thy Brain,
And leads thy Genius to so high a Strain?
Must thy Aspiring Fancy now rehearse
Thy Mothers Groans in an Elegiack Verse?
Is Prose too mean and unregarded now,
That still in Verse thou let'st the World know how
SION's abus'd by Rome's Infernal Crew?
How in her Blood they did their hands imbrew?
Let thy Endeavours prosper: Let them prove
To be Rome's shame: A Token of thy Love
To thy Distressed Mother, (now the scorn
Of black-mouth'd Imps, who are of Satan born.)
Aspiring Soul! What from her Sorrows climb
To a Prophetick Spirit in thy Rhime!
Foretelling how she shall deliver'd be
From all those Bloody Beasts, whom thou do'st see
God will destroy, and will thy Mother make
Heav'ns Glory, and Earths Joy, for his Names sake.
Jehovah bless thy Work this Book, though small,
And make it prove a Preface to Rome's Fall.
And leads thy Genius to so high a Strain?
Must thy Aspiring Fancy now rehearse
Thy Mothers Groans in an Elegiack Verse?
Is Prose too mean and unregarded now,
That still in Verse thou let'st the World know how
SION's abus'd by Rome's Infernal Crew?
How in her Blood they did their hands imbrew?
Let thy Endeavours prosper: Let them prove
To be Rome's shame: A Token of thy Love
To thy Distressed Mother, (now the scorn
Of black-mouth'd Imps, who are of Satan born.)
Aspiring Soul! What from her Sorrows climb
To a Prophetick Spirit in thy Rhime!
Foretelling how she shall deliver'd be
From all those Bloody Beasts, whom thou do'st see
God will destroy, and will thy Mother make
Heav'ns Glory, and Earths Joy, for his Names sake.
Jehovah bless thy Work this Book, though small,
And make it prove a Preface to Rome's Fall.
Vale.
| Sion in distress | |