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 | Poems on Affairs of State |  |
171
The true Englishman,
1686.
Curs'd be the tim'rous fool, whose feeble mind
Is turn'd about with every blast of Wind;
Who to self-interest basely does give ear,
And suffers Reason to be led by Fear:
He only merits a true English Name,
Who always says, and does, and is the same;
Who dares be honest, though at any rate,
And stands prepar'd to meet the worst of Fate:
He laughs at Threats, and Flatt'ries does despise,
And won't be knavish to be counted wise;
No publick storm can his clear Reason blind,
Or bad example influence his mind.
Is turn'd about with every blast of Wind;
Who to self-interest basely does give ear,
And suffers Reason to be led by Fear:
He only merits a true English Name,
Who always says, and does, and is the same;
Who dares be honest, though at any rate,
And stands prepar'd to meet the worst of Fate:
He laughs at Threats, and Flatt'ries does despise,
And won't be knavish to be counted wise;
No publick storm can his clear Reason blind,
Or bad example influence his mind.
Let M--- like a Cur kick'd out of doors,
For his aspiring Projects and Amours,
Unman himself to sneak, fawn, cringe and whine,
And play the Spaniel, till they let him in;
Then, with a grinning and affected Leer,
Run his red snout in every Lady's ear.
For his aspiring Projects and Amours,
Unman himself to sneak, fawn, cringe and whine,
And play the Spaniel, till they let him in;
Then, with a grinning and affected Leer,
Run his red snout in every Lady's ear.
Let a lewd Judge come reeking from a Wench,
To vent a wilder Lust upon the Bench;
Bawl out the Venom of his rotten Heart,
Swell'd up with envy, over-act his part;
Condemn the Innocent by Laws ne'er fram'd;
And study to be more than doubly damn'd.
Let a mean scoundrel Lord (for equal fear
Of hanging, or of starving) falsely swear;
Let him, whose Knavery and Impudence
Is known to every Man's experience,
With scraps of broken evidence, contrive
To feed, and keep a fainting Plot alive:
Nay, though he swears by the same Deities,
Whom he has mock'd by Mimmic Sacrifice.
To vent a wilder Lust upon the Bench;
Bawl out the Venom of his rotten Heart,
Swell'd up with envy, over-act his part;
Condemn the Innocent by Laws ne'er fram'd;
And study to be more than doubly damn'd.
Let a mean scoundrel Lord (for equal fear
Of hanging, or of starving) falsely swear;
Let him, whose Knavery and Impudence
Is known to every Man's experience,
With scraps of broken evidence, contrive
To feed, and keep a fainting Plot alive:
Nay, though he swears by the same Deities,
Whom he has mock'd by Mimmic Sacrifice.
172
Let Rumsey, with his ill-look'd treacherous Face,
That swarthy off-spring of a Hellish Race,
Whose Mother, big with an intriguing Devil,
Brought an Epitome of all that's evil:
Let him be perjur'd, and as rashly damn
T'eternal Infamy his odious Name.
That swarthy off-spring of a Hellish Race,
Whose Mother, big with an intriguing Devil,
Brought an Epitome of all that's evil:
Let him be perjur'd, and as rashly damn
T'eternal Infamy his odious Name.
Let Knaves and Fools confound the tott'ring State,
And plunge the Subjects in their Monarch's hate;
Blinding by false accounts of Men and Things,
The most indulgent, and the best of Kings.
And plunge the Subjects in their Monarch's hate;
Blinding by false accounts of Men and Things,
The most indulgent, and the best of Kings.
Let an unthinking hare-brain'd Bigot's zeal,
(Not out of any thought of doing well,
But in a pure defiance of the Law)
In bloody Lines his true Idea draw;
That Men may be inform'd, and early see,
What such a Man (if once in pow'r) wou'd be:
Of Royal Mercy: let him stop the sourse,
That Death may have a free and boundless course;
Till shivering Ghosts come from their gloomy-Cell,
And in dumb Forms a fatal story tell.
(Not out of any thought of doing well,
But in a pure defiance of the Law)
In bloody Lines his true Idea draw;
That Men may be inform'd, and early see,
What such a Man (if once in pow'r) wou'd be:
Of Royal Mercy: let him stop the sourse,
That Death may have a free and boundless course;
Till shivering Ghosts come from their gloomy-Cell,
And in dumb Forms a fatal story tell.
Let the Court swarm with Pimps, Rogues, Bawds and Whores,
And honest Men be all turn'd out of doors;
Let Atheism and profaneness there abound,
And not an upright Man (God save the King) be found,
Let Men of Principles be in disgrace,
And mercenary Villains in their place;
Let free-born Cities be by Treach'ry won,
Lose their just Liberties, and be undone:
Let States-men sudden Changes undertake,
And make the Government's foundation shake;
Till strange tempestuous Murmurs do arise,
And show a storm that's gath'ring in the Skies.
And honest Men be all turn'd out of doors;
Let Atheism and profaneness there abound,
And not an upright Man (God save the King) be found,
Let Men of Principles be in disgrace,
And mercenary Villains in their place;
Let free-born Cities be by Treach'ry won,
Lose their just Liberties, and be undone:
Let States-men sudden Changes undertake,
And make the Government's foundation shake;
Till strange tempestuous Murmurs do arise,
And show a storm that's gath'ring in the Skies.
Let all this happen. Nay, let certain Fate
Upon the issue of their Actions wait;
If you've a true, a brave undaunted Mind
Of English Principles, as well as kind;
You'll on the bottom of true Honour stand,
Firm as a Rock, unshaken as the Land:
So when vast Seas of Trouble 'gainst you beat,
They'll break, and force themselves to a Retreat;
No Fate, no flattery can e'er controul
A steady, resolute, Heroick Soul.
Upon the issue of their Actions wait;
If you've a true, a brave undaunted Mind
Of English Principles, as well as kind;
173
Firm as a Rock, unshaken as the Land:
So when vast Seas of Trouble 'gainst you beat,
They'll break, and force themselves to a Retreat;
No Fate, no flattery can e'er controul
A steady, resolute, Heroick Soul.
| Poems on Affairs of State | |