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Eliza

An Epick poem. In Ten books. By Sir Richard Blackmore Rivers &c

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 I. 
 II. 
BOOK II.
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 


31

BOOK II.

Mean time the Fiend, with out-stretch'd Wings, did rise,
And swiftly cut the interposing Skies:
O'er Hills, and Dales, and Seas, and spacious Plains,
She Wings her Way, and fair Britannia gains:
Where Male-contents had unsuccessful been
In all their Methods to depose the Queen.
Yet still with Zeal they push'd their black Design,
With hopes at last her Throne to undermine.
Upon the Strand a Noble Palace stood,
Where wealthy Thames rolls down his famous Flood.
High in the Air it reer'd its stately Head,
And both the City, and the Flood survey'd:
With great Esteem, and vast Possessions crown'd,
Illustrious Arundel the Palace own'd;
And tho' that Noble Line did still reveal,
For Rome's Tyrannick Pow'r, immoderate Zeal;
None more express'd, than this impetuous Lord;
None more the Queen, or Faith reform'd abhor'd:
None more for Roman Superstition strove,
Or labour'd more Eliza to remove.

32

This Noble Briton in his Palace sate,
With Westmorlandia's Earl in close Debate,
About the weighty Business of the State.
Hither the Fiend did in this Juncture come;
She did Ignatius Rev'rend Form assume,
And with his Mein, advanc'd into the Room.
She lowly bowing, thus the Peers addrest;
Great Lords, the unmollested Seats of Rest,
By high Commission, from my bless'd Abode,
Descending swiftly through the aeiry Road;
I left, and went to mighty Phillip's Court,
To tell him, how his Empire to support;
In Belgia, how his Losses to retrieve,
And Rome's pure Faith in Albion to revive.
By me engag'd, the zealous King has laid
A bless'd Design, Britannia to invade.
A num'rous Navy from the Ports of Spain
Will quickly cover all the British Main,
Too strong for Albion's Forces to sustain.
The Troops they bring, innur'd to Camps and Toil,
Always Victorious, must subdue the Isle.
You for your bless'd Deliverance, must prepare;
Make haste to Arm, and aid the friendly War.
See how the happy Hour at last is come,
When you, and all the faithful Sons of Rome,
By joining Spain, may set your Country free
From Usurpation, and from Heresy.
And can you, Noble Lords, supinely rest,
And see your Country, and your Faith opprest?

33

Can you (inglorious Sloth!) your Fetters wear,
And all your servile Burdens tamely bear?
Think what your great Progenitors have done,
What Trophies they for Rome and Albion won;
And is their pious Zeal and Courage gone?
Does not their noble Blood your Veins dilate?
Can you descend from them, and not be great?
Bowels of Mercy to your Country show,
And save your Sons un-born from future Woe.
The Fogs, that Cloud Britannia's Skies, dispel,
And drive the Darkness to its native Hell.
Chace far away this black Fanatick Night,
That Rome may bless the Isle with Heav'nly Light.
Haste then, prepare your valiant Troops to meet
The Iberians Landing from their conqu'ring Fleet.
She said, and to their Bosoms she convey'd
A livid Flame, that did their Breasts invade,
And in their swelling Veins Infernal Heat display'd.
The Fury then her hateful Limbs undress'd,
And broke her borrow'd Shape of Air compress'd.
Her Business done, she left the Realms of Day,
And to her low Apartment cut her way.
Much on the Lords the Fiend's contagious Fire
Had gain'd, and soon full Empire did acquire.
In haughty Words their Treason they express'd,
Their Rage and Joy the Fiend within confess'd.
Resolv'd in curss'd Rebellion to proceed,
Their Friends they summond to attend with speed.

34

Soon as the Lord of Day withdrew his Light;
For Treason seeks the friendly Shades of Night;
They met, and Queen Eliza's papal Foes
Chiefly the Trait'rous Consult did compose.
Experienc'd Priests innur'd to Plot and Blood,
Able Conspirators, that understood
To charm reluctant Consciences, and make
Subjects turn Rebels for Religions sake;
With eager Zeal the Summons did obey,
And at the Consult swift Attendance pay.
Bonner presided, with the Blood distain'd
Of Martyrs murder'd, while Maria reign'd.
Impetuous Watson, once a Mitred Priest,
And Morgan at the Junto did assist.
Lesly attended, who from Scotia came,
A fiery Bigot of extended Fame,
With Parsons, Campion, of th'Ignatian Gown,
Among their Order, Priests of great Renown:
An Order founded to disturb Mankind,
Cruel, Perfidious, Turbulent of Mind,
Who still the Aims of pious Kings withstood,
In Treason Eminent, and verss'd in Blood.
Some Preachers too, who Faith reform'd profest,
No way inferior to the Roman Priest,
Met at the Consult, and were much carest.
These of a Treach'rous, double-dealing Kind,
Beyond Italian Casuists refin'd;
All Sense of Oaths, and solemn Vows effac'd,
And mock'd the Queen, whose Cause they had embrac'd.

35

No Romanist express'd sincerer Hate,
Or to Eliza, or the Church, or State.
Tho' they had sworn Allegiance to the Crown,
They labour'd hard to pull Eliza down.
Distinguish'd by the Titles which they bore,
But by their Hatred to their Country more;
They still against the Government inveigh'd,
To Rome and Spain the Church and State betray'd,
And sacrific'd the Altars, where they pray'd.
They would no Church of peaceful Temper own,
Nor e'er assert a wise, indulgent Crown,
That Sanguinary Laws would not restore,
Or Albion rule with Arbitrary Pow'r.
Strange Zealots, could no Church or Monarch please,
Who Union sought, and aim'd at Albion's Peace;
Who did the Bigots fiery Zeal controul;
And to a Factious Part, prefer the Whole?
Then Montal came, of more than vulgar Birth,
Sprung from a House long Famous in the North,
Of Wealth and Wit possess'd, but destitute of Worth.
Of the Lay-Traytors, the ambitious Head,
Who much the Faction by his Counsel led.
As Priest-hood, all Religion he condemn'd,
Renounc'd his God, the pious Queen blasphem'd,
And all Mankind with haughty Pride contemn'd.
He every Church, and every Altar curst,
But favour'd Rome's, believing that the worst:
With Hellish Art he still embroil'd the State,
Did his own Children, his own Country hate,
And Plagues to both with wond'rous Joy create.

36

To Michief from his Infancy inclin'd,
An unexampl'd Hater of his Kind.
His Wickedness by Age became mature,
Acquir'd more Strength, grew more refin'd and pure.
With Spite and Spleen swoln vastly big, his Tongue
Broke thro' his Mouth, and lolling, loathsom hung.
Whence flowing Poison on the Ground distill'd,
Which harmless Dogs, that lick'd it, always kill'd.
His lawless Speech did Kings and Queens revile,
Patriots asperse, the Senate House defile,
And spread its Venom o'er the British Isle.
His Language did in Virulence excel
The desp'rate Converse of the Fiends in Hell.
The cruel Creature, Brutal, and Morose,
Liv'd in a State of War with all Mankind, his Foes.
With such Disdain he God and Man defy'd,
Ev'n Hell might envy his superior Pride.
In every Reign he suck'd the Peoples Blood,
And did his House with publick Plunder load.
His Rapine gen'ral Hatred on him drew,
And Albion's Curses did his Head pursue.
Throgmorton, Bramhal, who Promotion mist,
To be reveng'd, the Traitors did assist.
Tilney and Norton, and great Numbers more,
Reformists stil'd, whom Montal did assure,
That Change of Empire should their Fortunes mend,
At the seditious Consult did attend.
Then Arundel, their Leader, Silence broke,
And thus the Trait'rous Junto he bespoke:

37

My faithful Friends, the bless'd, auspicious Hour
Advances near, that breaks th'Usurper's Pow'r:
That will Britannia of her Chains release,
Remove our Burdens, and our Suff'rings ease.
Touch'd with a gen'rous Sense of all the Woes,
Which we endure from vile Calvinian Foes,
The great and pious King by Spain obey'd,
Will send resistless Forces to our Aid.
His Captains will in Wrath and Vengeance come,
And speak in Thunder proud Eliza's Doom.
Since the Castilian King, inspir'd by Heav'n,
Has to his Friends this bless'd Occasion giv'n;
Whilst he makes ready his resistless Fleet,
Let us provide, our valiant Friends to meet:
Let us enrol our Troops, our Arms prepare,
To join th'Iberian, and assist the War:
To free this Isle from an Usurper's Pow'r,
Our ancient Laws, our Freedom to restore.
Let us the Rights of Albion's Church assert,
And let no Coward's Fear, or States-man's Art,
One Friend to Liberty from this great Work divert.
This Factious Language Montal did engage,
Stir'd up his Malice, and improv'd his Rage:
With Pride elated, and with Spleen possess'd,
From his envenom'd Heart, he these bold Words express'd.
It is a great and gen'rous Act of Spain,
With timely Aid poor Britain to sustain.
How does she groan beneath th'Oppressor's Weight?
Despairing are her Looks, deplorable her State.

38

We falsely guided by an erring Court,
Ruin Britannia, Belgia to support.
Profusely we our Blood and Treasure spend,
Our Pow'r in forreign Nations to extend,
And a vile Crew of Rebels to defend.
We undertake a wild expensive War,
To fetch Home idle Laurels from afar;
We could these Heros want, could they our Treasure spare.
If Spain's great King, his Altars to support,
Has settled Rome's high Inquisition Court;
If Spanish Troops the Belgian Lords restrain,
And make them own th'unbounded Will of Spain;
Should not the States with passive Necks obey,
And bear what Weight their King thinks fit to lay?
If they untractable reject the Yoke,
Do they not justly Phillip's Wrath provoke?
Should Britain at her noblest Blood's Expence,
With mighty Labour, and with Sums immense,
Support the Belgian, and the Rebels aid,
While they their lawful Soveraign's Throne invade?
Death! that a Nation brave as this has been,
Should tamely bear so long this haughty Queen!
Men without Courage, Honour, Sense, and Wit,
Do at the Helm our State-Directors sit;
Have Vere or Burleigh Brains for States-men fit?
Dunces! did they in Business ever shine?
Have those State-Chits superior Heads to mine?
Those Ministers accurss'd, I'll ne'er forgive;
Old as I am, still do I hope to live,

39

To see (O Glorious Day!) the Britons tear
Cecil in pieces, and his Camrade Vere.
But to the Point, Spain's Int'rest I'll support,
To be reveng'd on this ungrateful Court:
I'll let Eliza's giddy States-men see,
How much they err'd, when they affronted me.
I'll all my Friends, and mighty Clan enrol,
All fierce in Arms, and of a British Soul.
Prodigious Numbers will at my Command
Oppose Eliza's Force by Sea and Land.
Some brave Commanders in the Fleet are mine,
Who ne'er dispute the Task that I enjoin.
Bold Captains too by Land will draw the Sword,
And shew their Brav'ry, when I give the Word.
Captains who Hatred to Eliza bear,
Ne'er yet Allegiance swore, or did themselves forswear.
These and their Troops well Arm'd at Montal's Cost,
Shall meet the Iberian Landing on the Coast.
Burleigh shall my Resentment feel, and know
He has incens'd no despicable Foe.
He said, and Bramhal rose, one better bred,
Of equal Zeal, but of a cooler Head.
To serve Britannia's Church, he seem'd intent,
But by the Church, his fiery Faction meant.
He did her true and genuine Sons detest,
But Bigots, and the half Reform'd carest.
He thought no Moderation did become
Britannia's Church, but in respect to Rome:

40

And thus he spoke; My Roman Friends, to you
I've ever paid th'Esteem and Honour due.
'Tis true, ye worthy Men, we disagree
In some Religious Points; but to be free,
I think the Breach is not so vastly wide,
But Wise and Mod'rate Men on either side,
Might to a happy End our Diff'rence bring,
Which does from diff'rent Modes of Language spring,
Lies more in Phrase and Form, than in the Thing.
But if our Faiths require a diff'rent Name,
'Tis plain our Civil Int'rests are the same.
I freely speak my Thoughts; I cannot own
Eliza's Title to Britannia's Throne.
To Scotia's Queen, I firmly did adhere,
Did always zealous in her Cause appear;
Nor can I e'er forgive th'enormous Deed,
Th'unjust Command, that made Maria bleed.
I to Eliza was averse before,
But now the great Opressor I abhor.
With Zeal unfeign'd, I will the Spaniard aid,
To bring due Vengeance on Eliza's Head.
Next Morgan rose, a subtile Loyalite,
Accustom'd, Feuds and Treasons to excite:
By Rome employ'd to manage State-Intreagues,
Faction foment, and form seditious Leagues.
And thus the Ignatian Priest his Friends bespoke,
To free Britannia from Eliza's Yoke;
If I could Gallia's gen'rous Monarch see,
From forreign Wars, and civil Discord free;

41

To him I'd humble Application make,
By Int'rest mov'd, and for Affection's sake.
I love the Gaul, and would by Gallick Pow'r
Eliza crush, and Albion's Rights restore.
But since from Gallia we should now in vain
Demand Assistance, I declare for Spain.
I would the Aid of any Prince implore,
Who to Eliza has superiour Pow'r.
Spain's mighty Prince I must with Honour name,
Who does at uncontroul'd Dominion aim,
His Neighbours does chastise, does his proud Subjects tame.
And since this great Iberian King alone
Has equal Force, th'Usurper to dethrone;
Let us our Cohorts list, our Forces join,
To meet the War, and aid the great Design.
Let not a Thought, Reformists, reach your Heart,
That Phillip e'er your Altars will subvert.
Will not the just and gentle King of Spain,
Your Sacred and you Civil Rights maintain?
He'll in Religion such Concessions make,
Form such a Scheme, and such mild Measures take,
That all you mod'rate Protestants, and we,
By mutual Condescentions may agree:
If with united Forces we assail,
Eliza's Friends we shall with ease prevail.
Let us, brave Men, this happy Hour improve,
And to our native Country shew our Love.
Let us, when Spain Britannia's Coast alarms,
Display our Ensigns, and advance our Arms.

42

He said. Th'Assembly murmur'd their Applause,
And eager to promote their impious Cause,
In mutual Vows they did engage, and swear
By all things, which as Sacred they revere,
They would assist th'Iberian, and to fight
Against Eliza, all their Friends excite.
Th'Assembly broke, and having War declar'd,
To his respective Mischief each repair'd.
Mean time the King to Rome Alano sent,
To let the Pontiff know his high Intent.
And to demand, besides Religious Charms,
And Sacred Blessings on his pious Arms,
Sufficient Sums of Treasure, to support
In this expensive War, th'Iberian Court.
Alano soon this Expedition made,
The Pontiff to inform, and ask his Aid.
The Priest, as order'd, did at large reveal
His Monarch's great Design, and pious Zeal.
Soon as the purpose of his Royal Son
Was to the Holy Roman Father known,
Transporting Pleasure did his Breast extend,
And Tears of Joy did from his Eyes descend.
Then to the purple Prelate thus he spoke;
On Albion to impose Iberia's Yoke,
Is such a gen'rous, great, and good Design,
As merits Honour here, hereafter Bliss Divine.
Let the great King his Enterprize pursue,
Britannia won, all Europe he'll subdue;
And both the Worlds command, the Old and New.

43

From Heresy he'll poison'd Nations free,
The Realms enlightened will their Errors see,
And Rome's Religion shall Europa's be.
I will employ bless'd Peter's Sacred Pow'r
To aid the King, and Conquest to assure,
My Benediction shall his Arms attend,
And on his Foes I'll fatal Curses spend.
I'll Doom to Hell and everlasting Pain
All who oppose the pious Host of Spain.
I'll on your King bestow Britannia's Crown,
Pronounce them Rebels, who Eliza own.
Ample Indulgences shall be the Right
Of all, who in this Glorious Cause shall fight.
Those who in Battel fall, who will be few,
Direct to Heav'n their Passage shall pursue.
No Purgatorian Suff'rings shall retard
Their Scenes of Pleasure, and their bright Reward.
I their redundant Merit will employ,
To purchase for their Friends, Cœlestial Joy.
I'll all my Stores of potent Reliques drain,
Cœlestial Armour, for the Host of Spain.
I'll send your Chief a consecrated Sword,
Believe a Pontiff's never-erring Word,
So full of Vertue, whosoe'er shall weild
The wond'rous Steel, will win the Glorious Field.
The brave Castilian Warriors to reward,
My Holy Magazines shall be unbar'd.
Bless'd Magazines which Heav'nly Riches hold,
The Works of Saints, more worth than Gems, or Gold.

44

My Treasury immense, my every Hoard,
With old Reserves of Sacred Merit stor'd,
I'll freely empty, Pardons to bestow
On all, who shall engage the British Foe.
Armies of Saints and Martyrs I'll employ
Spain to support, and Albion to destroy.
Rather than Spain's great Monarch should decline
The Prosecution of his bless'd Design;
Rather than his high Purpose should be crost,
I will my Gold and Silver Stores exhaust.
Rome of her Wealth, Iberia to sustain,
And all my Shrines I'll of their Vertue drain.
He ceas'd. Alano who with Pleasure heard
The Pontiff's zealous Words, for Spain prepar'd.
The Priest return'd, charg'd with a gracious Load
Of Gifts and Pardons from the Vicar-God;
Of pow'rful Reliques, consecrated Arms,
Blessings and Curses, superstitious Charms,
And Spells of famous Force against invading Harms.
Pleas'd with his faithful Minister's Success,
And with the Zeal the Pontiff did express,
Th'Iberian Monarch gave the high Command,
That all his Men should Arm by Sea and Land.
Castilian Tow'rs, and all the Plains around,
Now with the loud Alarm of War resound.
The Noise of Arms the distant Frontier fills,
Rings thro' the Vales, and ecchoes in the Hills.
The rat'ling Drum and Trumpet's Voice inspire,
Iberia's noble Youth with Martial Fire.

45

They on the Downs the Royal Standards reer,
And must'ring Cohorts in the Plains appear.
Flags from the Tow'rs, Ensigns display'd in Air,
And Bloodly Banners stream denouncing War.
Lords of high Birth, urg'd with Heroick Fire,
Their Swords and War-like Equipage require.
They order all, who on their Pow'r depend,
Furnish'd with Arms, their Leaders to attend.
The valiant Vassals, at their Lord's Command,
Forsake their Houses, and neglect their Land;
For martial Labour, quit their rural Care,
Cast by their Hooks, and flaming Fauchions wear:
They leave their Vine-yards, and their gen'rous Wine,
And for the War-like Ash, desert the Vine.
Great Gen'rals, Captains, Chiefs of highest Fame,
To serve their Prince in Arms, their Zeal proclaim.
The Names of these Victorious Warriors brought
From Frontier Towns, and Countries most remote,
Prodigious Numbers, vig'rous, young, and bold,
Who Leaders sought, and ask'd to be enroll'd.
Into the Field the shouting Squadrons came,
Or from Desire of Spoil, or Thirst of Fame:
These came their broken Fortunes to repair,
And those to learn the bloody Art of War.
Some tir'd at Home with constant Strife and Jars,
Exchang'd for Publick, their Domestick Wars.
Others from gen'rous Aims took Sword in Hand,
By valiant Deeds to rise to high Command.

46

With equal Labour, Industry, and Care,
The Sea-Commanders do the Fleet prepare.
The Sailor's Clamours, and the Ship-wright's Toil,
Shake all the Tow'rs along the Oazy Soil:
Their uncouth Crys disturb the Shores around,
And hollow Rocks reverberate the sound.
The troubled Ocean is amaz'd to find
Tempestuous Uproar rais'd without a Wind.
Some make the Forrest by the Ax incline;
These fell the Fir, and those the Mountain Pine.
With wond'rous Labour to the busy Docks,
Some from the Mountains draw dismember'd Oaks:
These on the Hills, when growing in the Wood,
Defy'd the Winds, and all their Storms withstood:
But now must learn their Pleasure to obey,
And for their Pastime Dance upon the Sea:
These launch new Ships, and those refit the Old;
Some beautify the Sides, and some the Stern with Gold.
Some shape a yawning Lion for the Head,
And with Vermilion dawb the Terror Red.
These a Sea-Monster carve, and those a Saint,
Others adorn the Imag'ry with Paint.
Most, that their Voyage may successful be,
Bear in their Stern their Water-Saints to Sea:
Saints, who do o'er the aeiry Meteors reign,
Preside o'er Tempests, and controul the Main;
Such Pagan Superstition governs Spain.
Provisions some, some Ammunition bring:
These mend their Sails, and those the Cannon sling.

47

Uninterrupted Toil by Night and Day
They underwent, their Monarch to obey,
And fit a Navy to command the Sea.
Whilst with this Zeal and Haste King Phillip arm'd,
The States and Realms around were all alarm'd.
Since to the World his Mind was undeclar'd,
Against whose Head this Vengeance was prepar'd;
All were astonish'd, troubled, and amaz'd,
And on th'Iberian Sky with Terror gaz'd;
Uncertain where this black, impending Cloud,
This gath'ring Storm its Thunder would unload.
Than great Eliza, none more Umbrage took,
Who did on Spain's vast Preparations look
With great Disturbance, for she knew of late
That Monarch's Love was turn'd to greater Hate.
She knew the slighting of his proffer'd Bed,
Had in his Breast a raging Tempest bred;
That his proud Heart was with Resentment stung,
And sought Revenge for this pretended Wrong.
She knew, she had provok'd that Monarch's Rage
To a degree, no Art could e'er asswage.
For that by her, Britannia's Sons had broke
From their gall'd Necks, the Anti-christian Yoke:
Reform'd their Worship, and their antient Creed
From impious Rome's corrupt Inventions freed.
Did pure Religion, Truth Divine pursue,
And from adult'rous Rome's unclean Embraces flew.
They Babylonian Sorceries abhor'd,
No longer Bread, instead of God, ador'd.

48

She knew no Ties, no Limits could restrain
The vast Ambition of aspiring Spain;
Whose Thirst of Pow'r no Conquests could allay,
Unless she reign'd with Universal Sway,
Proud Empress of the Land, and Soveraign of the Sea.
And Spain well knew, that Albion's Naval Force
Would still obstruct her Arms Tyrannick Course.
These Thoughts Eliza's just Suspicion fed,
That the dark Cloud, that reer'd its threatning Head,
Its dreadful Course would to Britannia bend,
And breaking on her Realm, its Vengeance spend.
The pious Queen, who more Concern had shown
For Albion's Ease and Honour, than her own:
Who watch'd her Subjects with the tend'rest Care,
Fed them in Peace, and guarded them in War:
Commanded all the Captains of the Main
To fit their Ships, th'Invader to sustain;
Prevent the Landing of the Hostile Troops,
And thus defeat the proud Castilian's Hopes.
Th'unpolish'd Heros at the Queen's Command,
With Toil marine, fill every Port and Strand.
The cheerful Sailors to their Ships repair,
And with their Shouts demand th'Iberian War.
The Chiefs by Land like Zeal and Ardor show,
To guard their Country, and repel the Foe.
Their Ensigns they display in all the Towns,
Enrol the Troops, and Muster on the Downs.
Drums beat, and Trumpets sound in every Street,
Or to supply the Army, or the Fleet.

49

When other Potentates their Subjects scare,
With fain'd Invasions, and pretended War,
To make their Kingdoms bleed at every Vein;
And to enrich themselves, their Subjects drain:
Th'indulgent Queen, when Danger was sincere,
The Mother felt, and did her Britons spare.
When for their own Defence, she ask'd their Aid,
She with Reluctance easy Burdens laid.
She publick Wants and Pressures to supply,
Her State, and private Pleasures did deny.
From publick Thrift, to Sov'raign Pow'rs unknown,
She streighten'd for her Subjects Ease, the Crown;
Their Families to spare, almost distress'd her own.
She frugal of their Treasure and their Blood,
Still quitting private Ends for publick Good;
Friends to her Empire all her Subjects made,
And in their Hearts its deep Foundations laid.
Now did the Britons, fir'd with Zeal, contend,
Who should be first their Country to defend.
Merchants exchange their gainful Trade for Arms,
And for the Camp Free-holders leave their Farms.
Preferring Danger in their Country's Cause,
War-like Atchievements, and the Camp's Applause,
Before the Pomp and Pleasures of the Court,
Indulgent Parents, and their Rural Sport,
The noble Youth inspir'd with Glory's Charms,
Prepar'd their Tents, and burnish'd bright their Arms.
Lawyers, their Gowns laid by, neglect the Laws,
To plead with Sword in Hand Britannia's Cause.

50

In haste they quit the loud, litigious Bar,
To undertake a far more noble War.
They shut the Volumes of the Law, to fill
With War-like Deeds the Annals of their Isle.
The valiant Judges from the Bench descend,
Against Invaders, Albion to defend:
To shew they can with Arms, and bloody Fight,
As well as Law, protect the Britons Right.
Their awful Courts they to the Camp adjourn,
And their red Robes to Martial Scarlet turn:
They brandish flaming Fauchions in the Field,
Who did before the Sword of Justice weild.
And we their Courage may in Battel trust,
Who on the Bench unshaken, dare be Just.
Of all Employments, and of all Degrees,
They run in haste, and on their Weapons seize.
The confluent Troops did wond'rous Courage show,
Impatient to engage th'Iberian Foe;
Who to the Queen should most express their Love,
And publick Zeal, the eager Britons strove.
To guard her Sacred Throne, with speed they Arm,
Spring to the Field, and round her Standard swarm.
Never can Monarchs, to repel the Foe,
E'er want their Hearts, who rule their Subjects so.
When Satan saw Britannia's Youth reveal
To serve Eliza, such an ardent Zeal;
Disturb'd, and fearing for the great Event,
To his low Realms he made a swift Descent.

51

Arriving there, he sought the lonesome Cell,
Where dwells a Fiend, a Favourite of Hell:
Of courteous Language, and a winning Grace,
Of lovely Shape, and beautiful of Face.
She does to all Mankind obliging seem,
And pays to all particular Esteem.
But she betrays those she has most carest,
And when she vows most Friendship, means the least.
All, who her Oaths and Promises believe,
The charming Sorceress does still deceive.
She does her Foes with Tenderness embrace,
And hides deep Hate beneath a smiling Face.
Courtiers from her have learnt their fawning way,
And Sycophants by her their Prince betray.
States-men imploring Aid, to her repair,
To cover deep Designs, and hide the Snare.
Princes apply to her, to set them free,
When solemn Vows and Int'rest disagree.
Those who their Nuptial Honour have betray'd,
Address themselves to her, to give them Aid;
Whose subtil Arts do oft successful prove,
And make even Jealousy as blind as Love.
Double her Tongue, and hollow is her Heart,
Her Looks and Mein, when most she plays a part,
Unfeign'd and easy seem, when all is Art.
Ne'er to deceive the World did yet appear
A Hypocrite so finish'd, so sincere.
Deeds gain'd by Fraud, forg'd Testaments and Wills,
Lay heap'd within her Cell in mighty Piles.

52

Treaties of Peace by perjur'd Princes sworn,
Contracts and written Vows in pieces torn,
And in Disorder on the Pavement spread,
Were the sweet Food, on which the Glutton fed.
Whom Satan thus bespoke: Kind Treach'ry, rise,
And quickly fly to gain Iberia's Skies.
Then to Madrita's Tow'rs direct thy Flight,
And at her Monarch's busy Court alight.
With thy engaging Arts the King perswade,
Before his Troops Britannia's Coasts invade,
To send a friendly Embassy to treat
A lasting Peace, and mutual Trust create:
Let them with Oaths and solemn Vows protest,
That Spain will ne'er Britannia's Realm molest.
That she to Albion bears no Hostile Mind,
And ne'er with Arms to vex her Coast design'd.
This may Eliza's jealous Bosom clear
From all Suspicion, and remove her Fear.
Then lull'd asleep, and safe in Leagues of Peace,
She'll stop her Levies, and neglect the Seas.
King Phillip then may seize th'unguarded Coast,
And on their naked Shore, debark his mighty Host.
He ceas'd. The Fiend reply'd, Without delay
Your high Command with Pleasure I obey.
She said, and swiftly from his Presence flew,
Th'important Expedition to pursue.
She pass'd the dark, Tartarean Atmosphere,
And saw the Regions bless'd with Day appear.

53

The aeiry Road her out-stretch'd Pinions beat,
And quickly gain'd the King's Imperial Seat.
She did Caraffa's Face and Form assume,
One of the Purple Sanhedrim of Rome.
Who then resided in th'Iberian Court,
The Sacred Roman Int'rest to support.
For Holy Forgeries, and Pious Fraud,
The Roman Church did this great Son applaud.
Th'insinuating Priest's Italian Art
Had gain'd the King's Esteem, and won his Heart.
The Reverend Fiend, clad in a Scarlet Gown,
That from her Shoulders to her Feet hung down,
And in the borrow'd Person of the Priest,
Audience obtain'd, and thus the King addrest.
The glorious Enterprize you have in veiw,
Britannia to invade, great King, pursue.
For this will best secure Iberia's Throne,
Extend the Church's Empire, and your own.
Tho' as a Heav'nly Angel, you are Wise,
And may as needless States-mens Thoughts despise,
Yet, Pious Prince, forgive a well-meant Zeal,
Which urges me my Judgment to reveal.
The mighty Preparations you have made
To gain your End, your Purpose have betray'd.
Britain's sharp-sighted Queen did quickly guess,
You rais'd your Troops, her Kingdom to oppress.
To break your Force, forthwith she gave Command
For Albion's Youth to Arm by Sea and Land.

54

If you advance, and with your Royal Fleet
Britain assail, you'll stout Resistance meet.
They on the Ocean will expect their Foes,
And Arms to Arms, and Ships to Ships oppose;
And Heav'n alone th'important Issue knows.
You therefore chosen Orators should send,
Who may with speed Britannia's Court attend:
With solemn Imprecations may abjure
Your true Intentions, and the Queen secure
From all her Fears of Spain's collected Pow'r.
They may the strictest League of Friendship make,
And what Conditions she proposes, take.
This Treaty finish'd, will the Queen amuse,
And in your Friendship Confidence produce.
She'll slacken then her Care, by Sea and Land,
And with her Doubts, she will her Troops disband.
Then unmollested you may cross the Main,
Surprize th'unguarded Coasts, and easy Conquest gain.
Should you Remorse or Scruple feel, you know
Rome's Holy Father will absolve your Vow.
Good Catholicks will ne'er your Conduct blame,
Or once reflect Dishonour on your Name.
The Means, which none can else as just defend,
Once consecrated by a pious End,
By which we shew our Heav'nly Zeal and Love,
Are purg'd from Guilt, and meritorious prove.

55

Apostate Princes by a righteous Doom
Of the Supream, Imperial Court of Rome
Condemn'd, proscrib'd, depos'd, and out-law'd, loose
All Right to Treaties, Promises, and Vows.
To such Allegiance is no longer due
From their own Subjects, much less Faith from you.
To such we are not bound to be sincere,
Vows are but Sounds, to charm and sooth their Ear,
And Oaths but Wind to dissipate their Fear.
The Extirpation of this impious Sect,
Whose spreading Poison does the North infect,
Will high as Heav'n, Iberia's Glory raise,
And crown King Phillip with immortal Praise.
She said, then bow'd, and as she left the place,
Breath'd her perfidious Venom in his Face.
Th'insinuating Plague seiz'd every Vein,
His Vitals poison'd, mounted to his Brain,
And o'er the King did full Dominion gain.
Her Errand done, the faithless Fiend withdrew,
Put off her red Disguise, and downward flew.
So well the Wise, Infernal Casuist
Had play'd the crafty, sly, Italian Priest,
That with her Counsel pleas'd, the Monarch rose,
And three great Lords, as proper Envoys, chose.
Carrero 'midst Italian States-men bred
Parmensis, late the Belgian Army's Head,
And Arenberg, by whom the Horse were led:

56

To these in Belgia did King Phillip send,
His Order Albion's Monarch to attend:
Eliza of his Kindness to assure,
And a strict League of Friendship to procure.
The End of the Second Book.