University of Virginia Library

The Hieroglyphick.

Come, Painter, take a Prospect from this Hill,
And on a well-spread Canvas shew thy Skill:
Draw all in Colours as they shall appear,
And as they stand in Merit place 'em there.
Draw, as the Heralds do, a spacious Field,
And, as directed, so let it be fill'd.
First draw a Popish Army, brisk and gay,
Fighting and beat, destroy'd and run away:
Then draw a Herse, and let it stand in view,
The Mourners more, far more than they're in shew,
Cursing their Fate, their Stars; and in that Fear
Shew, if thou canst, how those damn'd Sots prepare
To run, to stay, and skulk in Holes alone,
By 'em this Motto, Gallows, take thy own.
Now to the Life let thy brisk Pencil shew
Distinctly, what they are, and what's their due.
Now draw a Croud of Priests prepar'd to run,
Like broken Merchants when their Stock is gone.
Some howling do their Pray'rs forget, and say,
Save us St. Ketch: Are all our Saints away?
Draw 'em in hurry, running to and fro,
Posting to Dover, Portsmouth, Tyburn too.
Next draw a Cloud of Lords, this Libel by;
The great Design is lost. Alas! they cry,
Who'd serve a Cause of such curs'd Destiny?
Then draw four Priests; shew how they Rome adore,
And each Man's Scarf hang to be seen before.
Two Brace of Bishops fallen to Despair,
Arm'd Cap-a-pe, but running God knows where.
Next draw the Judges, and employ thy Skill,
That all may praise thy Work, and say, 'tis well;
In Caps and Gowns as they in order sate,
'Twixt Heaven and Earth do thou them elevate,
For their grave Noddles can dispense with that.
Last draw the little Rogues, the scoundrel Crew,
Knights, Knaves, and Beggars; they must have their due,
Gadbury, Butler, and wise Roger too.
Amid this Croud, on a fit spot of Land,
To crown the Work, let a large Gallows stand:
Let them all trembling with their Guilt and Fears,
Kneel to that Image, and pour out their Pray'rs,
And then die by Suffocation.