University of Virginia Library

Draw England ruin'd by what was giv'n before,
Then draw the Commons slow in giving more:
Too late grown wiser, they their treasure see
Consum'd by fraud, or lost by treachery;
And vainly now would some account receive
Of those vast Sums which they so idly gave,
And trusted to the management of such
As Dunkirk, sold, to make War with the Dutch;
Dunkirk, design'd once to a Nobler Use,
Than to erect a petty Lawyers House.
But what account could they from those expect,
Who to grow rich themselves, the State neglect;
Men who in England have no other Lot,
Than what they by betraying it have got;
Who can pretend to nothing but Disgrace,
Where either Birth or Merit find a place.
Plague, Fire and War, have been the Nations Curse,
But to have these our Rulers, is a worse:
Yet draw these Causers of the Kingdoms Woe,
Still urging dangers from our growing Foe,
Asking new Aid for War with the same face,
As if, when giv'n, they meant not to make Peace.
Mean while they cheat the Publick with such haste,
They will have nothing that may ease it, past.
The Law 'gainst Irish Cattel they condemn,
As shewing distrust o'th' King; that is, of them.
Yet they must now swallow this bitter Pill,
Or Money want, which were the greater ill.
And then the King to Westminster is brought,
Imperfectly to speak the Chanc'lors thought;
In which, as if no Age could parallel
A Prince and Council that had rul'd so well,
He tells the Parliament He cannot brook
What ere in them like Jealousie doth look:
Adds, That no Grievances the Nation load,
While we're undone at home, despis'd abroad.
Thus past the Irish, with the Money-Bill,
The first not half so good, as th'other ill.
With these new Millions might we not expect
Our Foes to vanquish, or our selves protect;
If not to beat them off usurped Seas,
At least to force an honourable Peace:
But though the angry fate, or folly rather,
Of our perverted State, allow us neither;
Could we hope less than to defend our Shores,
Than guard our Harbours, Forts, our Ships and Stores?
We hop'd in vain: Of these, remaining are,
Not what we sav'd, but what the Dutch did spare.
Such was our Rulers generous stratagem;
A policy worthy of none but them.

After two Millions more laid on the Nation,
The Parliament grows ripe for Prorogation:
They rise, and now a Treaty is confest,
'Gainst which before these State-Cheats did protest:
A Treaty which too well makes it appear,
Theirs, not the Kingdom's Int'rest, is their care.

Statesmen of old, thought Arms the way to Peace;
Ours scorn such thread-bare Policies as these:
All that was given for the State's defence,
They think too little for their own expence:
Or if from that they any thing can spare,
It is to buy Peace, not maintain a War:
For which great work Embassadors must go
With bare submissions to our arming foe:
Thus leaving a defenceless State behind,
Vast Fleets preparing by the Belgians find;
Against whose fury what can us defend?
Whilst our great Polititians here depend
Upon the Dutch good Nature: For when Peace
(Say they) is making, Acts of War must cease.
Thus were we by the name of Truce betray'd,
Though by the Dutch nothing like it was made.

Here, Painter, let thine Art describe a Story
Shaming our warlike Islands ancient Glory:
A Scene wich never on our Seas appear'd,
Since our first ships where on the Ocean steer'd;
Make the Dutch Fleet, while we supinely sleep,
Without Opposers, Masters of the Deep:
Make them securely the Thames mouth invade,
At once depriving us of that and Trade:
Draw Thunder from their floating Castles, sent
Against our Forts, weak as our Government:
Draw Woollige, Deptford, London, and the Tower,
Meanly abandon'd, to a foreign Power.
Yet turn their first attempt another way,
And let their Cannons upon Sheerness play;
Which soon destroy'd, their lofty Vessels ride
Big with the hope of the approaching Tide:
Make them more help from our Remisness find,
Than from the Tide, or from the Eastern wind.
Their Canvas swelling with a prosp'rous gale,
Swift as our fears make them to Chattam sail:
Through our weak Chain their Fireships break their way,
And our Great Ships (unman'd) become their prey:
Then draw the fruit of our ill-manag'd cost,
At once our Honour and our Safety lost:
Bury those Bulwarks of our Isle in smoak,
While their thick flames the neighb'ring Country choak,
The Charles escapes the raging Element,
To be with trumph into Holland sent;
Where the glad People to the shore resort,
To see their Terror now become their Sport.
But Painter, fill not up thy Piece before
Thou paint'st Confusion on our troubled shore:
Instruct then thy bold Pencil to relate
The saddest Marks of an Ill govern'd State.
Draw th'injur'd Seamen deaf to all command,
While some with Horror and Amazement stand:
Others will know no other Enemy but they
Who have unjustly robb'd them of their Pay:
Boldly refusing to oppose a Fire;
To kindle which, our Errors did Conspire:
Some (though but few) perswaded to obey,
Useless for want of Ammunition stay:
The Forts design'd to guard our Ships of War,
Void both of Powder and of Bullets are:
And what past Reigns in Peace did ne're omit,
The present (whilst invaded) doth forget.

Surpassing Chattam, make Whitehall appear,
If not in danger, yet at least in fear.
Make our dejection (if thou canst) seem more
Than our Pride, Sloth, and Ign'rance did before:
The King, of danger now shews far more fear,
Than he did ever to prevent it, care;
Yet to the City doth himself convey,
Bravely to shew he was not run away:
Whilst the Black Prince, and our Fifth Harry's Wars,
Are only acted on our Theaters:

Our States-Men finding no expedient,
(If fear of danger) but a Parliament,
Twice would a void, by clapping up a Peace;
The Cure's to them as bad as the Disease:
But Painter, end not, till it does appear
Which most, the Dutch or Parliament they fear.

As Nero once, with Harp in Hand, survey'd
His flaming Rome; and as that burnt, he plaid:
So our great Prince, when the Dutch Fleet arriv'd,
Saw his Ships burne; and as they burnt, he---