Piety, and Poesy :: :: University of Virginia Library

Is the Great Shepherd, whom our Saviour call'd
To feed his Sheep and Lambs, like them, install'd
Now by a wolvish Tyrant? Or did he
Envy our Peter's office? and would be
Himself in that high place? Badmen (we know)
Desire a Good-man's Title, though they shew
No virtue of their Calling, Thieves would be
Term'd True men, though their Trade be Felony,
'Tis a strange govern'd Kingdom, where they keep
Shepherds in hold, and Wolves to feed their Sheep:
Must Heavens mighty Keeper now obey
The wretched bondage of a Jailors Key?
Must Fetters cling about his sacred Bones?
And, for his Guard, four bold Quaternions
Of Life-depriving Souldiers, such as flie
All acts that tend not unto Tyranny?
What is the Saint accus'd of? Can your Laws
Inflict a punishment without a Cause?
Was he too Holy for your vitious Time?
Too just? or, was his Innocence his Crime?
'Tis a hard case where virtue must intreat
For right, when Guilt sits on the Judgement seat:
Peter this case is thine; yet (thou dost know)
Not thine alone, 'twas our great Masters too,
Then since his Neck unto that Yoke did come
There is no Majesty, like Martyrdom:

Observe the Sequel: In the dead of Night,
VVhen Silence rul'd the sleepy VVorld, and Light
VVas quite extinguish'd, (for the Lord did make
It darker sure, for his lov'd Peter's sake)
For whose abuse Herod and's impious Men
Might well despair of seeing day agen:
In prison 'twixt two stout-arm'd Souldiers, there
Most sweetly slept our holy Prisoner,
Though burthened with his Chains, Nought can immure
Rest from that Soul that is from guilt secure:
A sudden Light more glorious than the Sun
Enter'd the Prison VValls, which first begun
To strike and awake Peter, it is held
A doubt, whether that Peter first did yield
The motion of his Eyes unto the smite
This glorious body gave him, or his Light,
But now he is commanded to arise,
To shake his Bonds off, which he doth, off flies
The Locks, and Bolts of Prison-Doors, and He
Follows this Light that leads to Liberty:
Thus, in one Minute, doth the Jailor leese
(Spight of his care) his Pris'ner, and his Fees.