University of Virginia Library

THE GHOST OF THE Old House of Commons, TO The New One, appointed to meet at Oxford.

From deepest Dungeons of Eternal Night,
The Seats of Horror, Sorrow, Pains, and Spite,
I have been sent to tell you, tender Youth,
A seasonable and important Truth.
I feel (but, Oh! too late) that no Disease
Is like a Surfeit of Luxurious Ease:
And of all other, the most tempting Things
Are too much Wealth, and too indulgent Kings.
None ever was superlatively ill,
But by Degrees, with Industry and Skill:
And some, whose Meaning hath at first been fair,
Grow Knaves by Use, and Rebels by Despair.
My Time is past, and yours will soon begin,
Keep the first Blossoms from the Blast of Sin;
And by the Fate of my Tumultuous Ways,
Preserve your selves, and bring serener Days.
The busie, subtile Serpents of the Law,
Did first my Mind from true Obedience draw:
While I did Limits to the King prescribe,
And took for Oracles that Canting Tribe,
I chang'd true Freedom for the Name of Free,
And grew seditious for Variety:
All that oppos'd me were to be accus'd,
And by the Laws Illegally abus'd,
The Robe was summon'd, Maynard in the Head,
In Legal Murder none so deeply read;
I brought him to the Bar, where once he stood
Stain'd with the (yet unexpiated) Blood
Of the brave Strafford, when three Kingdoms rung
With his Accumulative Hackney-Tongue;
Pris'ners and Witnesses were waiting by,
These had been taught to swear, and those to dye,
And to expect their arbitrary Fates,
Some for ill Faces, some for good Estates.
To fright the People, and alarm the Town,
B--- and Oates employ'd the Reverend Gown.
But while the Triple Mitre bore the Blame,
The King's three Crowns were their rebellious Aim:
I seem'd (and did but seem) to fear the Guards,
And took for mine the Bethels and the Wards:
Anti-Monarchick Hereticks of State,
Immoral Atheists, Rich and Reprobate:
But above all I got a little Guide,
Who ev'ry Foard of Villany had try'd:
None knew so well the Old Pernicious Way,
To ruin Subjects, and make Kings obey;
And my small Jehu, at a furious Rate,
Was driving Eighty, back to Forty Eight.
This the King knew, and was resolv'd to bear,
But I mistook his Patience for his Fear.
All that this happy Island cou'd afford,
Was sacrific'd to my Voluptuous Board.
In his whole Paradise, one only Tree
He had excepted by a strict Decree;
A Sacred Tree, which Royal Fruit did bear,
Yet it in Pieces I conspir'd to tear;
Beware, my Child! Divinity is there.
This so undid all I had done before,
I cou'd attempt, and he endure no more.
My unprepar'd, and unrepenting Breath
Was snatch'd away by the swift Hand of Death;
And I, with all my Sins about me, hurl'd
To th'Utter Darkness of the lower World:
A dreadful Place! which you too soon will see,
If you believe Seducers more than me.