University of Virginia Library

The Lord Lucas's Ghost, 1687.

From the blest Regions of eternal day,
Where Heaven born Souls imbibe th'immortal Ray,
Where Liberty and Innocence reside
Free from the Gripes of Tyranny and Pride,
Where pious Patriots that have shed their Blood
For sacred Truths and for the publick Good,
Now rest secure from thence (poor Isle) I come
To see thy Sorrows and bewail thy Doom,
Thy sore Oppressions and thy peircing Cry,
Disturbs our Rest and drowns our Harmany.
When stiff-neck'd Israel did their God reject,
And in his stead an Idol King erect:
Heaven's flaming Sword he brandish'd in his hand,
And dreadfull Thunder struck their sinfull Land;
Till Penitence atton'd his sinfull Ire,
And quench'd the rage of his consuming fire.
But this poor Land still feels the dire effect
Of his just Wrath who his mild Reign reject.
Unhappy Isle, how oft hast thou been curst
With f---lish Kings, but this of all's the worst.
The Fire, the Plague, the Sword, are dreadfull fiends,
This R---l Plague all other far transcends.
From him the Fountain all our Mischiefs flows,
From him the Fire, from him the War arose.
With Rome he plots, Religion to o'erthrow,
With France combines to enslave the People too.
No Man must near his sacred Person come,
Unless he be for Tyranny and Rome.
With hardned Face he assaults the frail and fair,
Uses his Power the Vertuous to ensnare.
With Troops of Vice he conquers Liberty,
Depresses Virtue, enthrones Tyranny,
Threatens the Coward, fawns upon the Bold,
Debauches all with Power or with Gold.
Lift up thy Head afflicted Isle, and hear,
The time of thy Deliverance draws near,
His full blown Crimes will certainly pull down
A slow, but sure Destruction of his Crown.
His loathed Acts thy freedom's Birth shall cause,
Secure Religion, produce wholsome Laws.
No more the Poor the Rich one shall devour,
No more shall Right yield to oppressive Power:
No more shall Rapine make the Country groan,
Nor civil Wars shall reign within the Town:
The Iron Scepter, and the Tyrant's Hand,
Shall cease henceforth to bruise thy happy Land.
Rome's Hocus Pocus Ministers no more
Shall cause Mankind their jugling Priests t'adore:
Thy Learned Clergy shall confound them all,
And they, like Ely's Sons, unpitied fall.
Dark Mists of Errors then must fly away,
And Hell's Delusions shrink from the bright day.
Truth's sacred Light in full abundance shall
Upon thy Teachers and thy People fall.
So when th'eternal Son was born to die
For all the World, the lesser Gods did fly;
His bright appearance struck their Prophets domb,
And Death like silence did their Gods intomb.
The tunefull Spheres with Hallelujahs rung,
Heaven's mighty Host with Man one Chorus sung.
Ne'er fading Glory unto God above,
Peace upon Earth, to Men eternal Love.
Thus the Creation showted with one Voice,
Thus Heaven and Earth did at his Birth rejoyce:
And thus shall all repeat this Song again,
When upon Earth he shall begin to reign.
But this lov'd Isle shall be the chosen place,
Here shall the King of Kings begin his race:
Judea was his Cradle and the Tomb,
Britain shall be his Throne in time to come.