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Iter boreale

With large additions of several other poems: being an exact collection of all hitherto extant. Never before published together. The author R. Wild
Wild, Robert (1609-1679)

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Iter Boreale.
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XVI.
  
THE TRAGEDY OF Mr. Christopher Love, Late Minister of the Gospel;
  
UPON The much to be Lamented DEATH OF THE Reverend Mr. Vines.
  
TO THE MEMORY OF Mr. Jeremy Whitaker,
  
On his Preaching.
  
UPON THE DEATH OF So many Reverend Ministers of late.
  
AN ELOGY UPON THE Earl of Essex HIS FUNERAL.
  
To the Father of a very vertuous Virgin, Deceased; who desired an obscure Person to make an Elegy, &c.
  
IN MEMORY Of Mris E. T.
  
AN EPITAPH Upon E. T.
  
UPON The Learned Works of the Reverend DIVINE Ed. Reynolds, D. D.
  
Another.
  
Aliud.
  
AN EPITAPH For a Godly Mans Tomb.
  
AN EPITAPH For a Wicked Mans Tomb.
  
[From a kind Hand there came t' enrich a place]
  
Alas poor Scholar, VVhither wilt thou go?
  
THE Norfolk and Wisbich.
  
UPON THE DEATH OF Dennis Bond, Esq;
  
Upon some Bottles of Sack and Claret, laid in Sand, and covered with a Sheet.
  
AN ESSAY Upon the late VICTORY obtained by His Royal Highness the Duke of York,
  
To the KING.
  
THE GRATEFUL NON-CONFORMIST:
  
A POEM UPON THE Imprisonment OF MR. CALAMY In NEWGATE.
  
ON THE DEATH OF MR. CALAMY,
  
The EPITAPH.
  
THE Loyal-Nonconformist;
  
THE RECANTATION Of A Penitent Proteus;
  
THE PORING DOCTOR,
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THE FAIR QUARREL.
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Mr. Nathan Wanley to Dr. Wild, who was laid aside for Nonconformity.
  
Dr. Wild to the Ingenious Mr. Wanley.
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Mr. Wanley to Dr. Wild.
  
Dr. Wild to Mr. Wanley.

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VIII.

The Churches Patrimony and rich Store,
Alas! was swallow'd many years before:
Bishops and Deans we fed upon before,
They were the Ribs and Surloyns of the Whore:
Now let her Legs (the Priests go to the Pot,
(They have the Pope's eye in them) spare them not:
We have fat Benefices yet to eat,
(Bell, and our Dragon-Army must have meat:)
Let us devour her Limb-meal, great and small,
Tythe Calves, Geese, Pigs, the Petitoes and all:
A Vicaridg in Sippets, though it be
But small, will serve a squeamish Sectary.
Though Universities we can't endure,
There's no false Latine in their Lands (be sure.)
Give Oxford to our Horse, and let the Foot
Take Cambridge for their booty, and fall too't.
Christ-Church ile have (cries Vane;) Disbrow swops
At Trinity; Kings is for Berry's chops;
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Kelsey, take Corpus Christi; All-Souls, Packer;
Grave Creed, St. Johns; New Colledg leave to Hacker;
Fleetwood cries, Weeping Maudlin shall be mine,
Her tears Ile drink instead of Muscadine:
The smaller Halls and Houses scarce are big
Enough to make one dish for Hasilrig;
We must be sure to stop his mouth, though wide,
Else all our fat will be i'th fire (they cry'd:
And when we have done these, we'l not be quiet,
Lordships and Landlords Rents shall be our diet.
Thus talk'd this jolly crew, but still mine Host
Lambert resolves that he will rule the Rost.
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