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 |
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| A POEM UPON THE Imprisonment OF MR. CALAMY In NEWGATE. |
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A POEM UPON THE Imprisonment OF MR. CALAMY In NEWGATE.
This Page I send you Sir, your Newgate Fate
Not to condole, but to congratulate.
I envy not our Mitred men, their Places,
Their rich Preferments, nor their richer Faces:
To see them Steeple upon Steeple set,
As if they meant that way to Heaven to get.
I can behold them take into their Gills
A dose of Churches, as men swallow Pills,
And never grieve at it: Let them swim in Wine
While others drown in tears, i'le not repine,
But my heart truly grudges (I confess)
That you thus loaded are with happiness;
For so it is: And you more blessed are
In Peters Chain, than if you set in's Chair.
One Sermon hath preferr'd you so much Honour,
A man could scarce have had from Bishop Bonner;
Whilst we (your Brethren) poor Erraticks be,
You are a glorious fixed Star we see.
Hundreds of us turn out of House and Home,
To a safe Habitation you are come.
What though it be a Goal? Shame and Disgrace
Rise only from the Crime, not from the place.
Who thinks reproach or injuries is done
By an Eclipse to the unspotted Sun?
He only by that black upon his brow
Allures spectators more; and so do you.
Let me find Honey, though upon a Rod,
And prize the Prison, where my Keeper's God:
Newgate or Hell were Heav'n, if Christ were there,
He made the Stable so, and Sepulcher.
Indeed the place did for your presence call;
Prisons do want perfuming most of all.
Thanks to the Bishop, and his good Lord Mayor,
Who turn'd the Den of Thieves into a House of Prayer:
And may some Thief by you converted be,
Like him who suffer'd in Christs company.
Not to condole, but to congratulate.
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Their rich Preferments, nor their richer Faces:
To see them Steeple upon Steeple set,
As if they meant that way to Heaven to get.
I can behold them take into their Gills
A dose of Churches, as men swallow Pills,
And never grieve at it: Let them swim in Wine
While others drown in tears, i'le not repine,
But my heart truly grudges (I confess)
That you thus loaded are with happiness;
For so it is: And you more blessed are
In Peters Chain, than if you set in's Chair.
One Sermon hath preferr'd you so much Honour,
A man could scarce have had from Bishop Bonner;
Whilst we (your Brethren) poor Erraticks be,
You are a glorious fixed Star we see.
Hundreds of us turn out of House and Home,
To a safe Habitation you are come.
What though it be a Goal? Shame and Disgrace
Rise only from the Crime, not from the place.
Who thinks reproach or injuries is done
By an Eclipse to the unspotted Sun?
He only by that black upon his brow
Allures spectators more; and so do you.
Let me find Honey, though upon a Rod,
And prize the Prison, where my Keeper's God:
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He made the Stable so, and Sepulcher.
Indeed the place did for your presence call;
Prisons do want perfuming most of all.
Thanks to the Bishop, and his good Lord Mayor,
Who turn'd the Den of Thieves into a House of Prayer:
And may some Thief by you converted be,
Like him who suffer'd in Christs company.
Now would I had sight of your Mittimus;
Fain would I know why you are dealt with thus.
Jaylor, set forth your Prisoner at the Bar,
Sir, you shall hear what your offences are.
Fain would I know why you are dealt with thus.
Jaylor, set forth your Prisoner at the Bar,
Sir, you shall hear what your offences are.
First, It is prov'd that you being dead in Law
(As if you car'd not for that death a straw)
Did walk and haunt your Church, as if you'ld scarce
Away the Reader and his Common-Prayer.
Nay 'twill be prov'd you did not only walk,
But like a Puritan your Ghost did talk.
Dead, and yet Preach! these Presbyterian slaves
Will not give over Preaching in their Graves.
(As if you car'd not for that death a straw)
Did walk and haunt your Church, as if you'ld scarce
Away the Reader and his Common-Prayer.
Nay 'twill be prov'd you did not only walk,
But like a Puritan your Ghost did talk.
Dead, and yet Preach! these Presbyterian slaves
Will not give over Preaching in their Graves.
Item, You play'd the Thief, and ift be so,
Good reason (Sir) to Newgate you should go:
And now you're there, some dare to swear you are
The greatest Pick-pocket that e're came there:
Your Wife too, little better then your self you make,
She is th' Receiver of each Purse you take.
But your great Theft, you act it in your Church,
(I do not mean you did your Sermon lurch,
That's crime Canonical) but you did pray
And preach, so that you stole mens hearts away.
So that good man to whom your place doth fall,
Will find they have no heart for him at all:
This Felony deserv'd Imprisonment;
What can't you Non-conformists be content
Sermons to make except you preach them too;
They that your places have, this Work can do.
Thirdly, 'tis prov'd, when you pray most devout
For all good men, you leave the Bishops out:
This makes Seer Sheldon by his powerful spel
Conjure and lay you safe in Newgate-hell:
Would I were there too, I should like it wel.
I would you durst swap punishment with me;
Pain makes me fitter for the company
Of roaring boys; and you may lie a bed,
Now your Name's up; pray do it in my stead,
And if it be deny'd us to change places,
Let us for sympathy compare our cases;
For if in suffering we both agree,
Sir, I may challenge you to pity me:
I am the older Goal-bird; my hard fate
Hath kept me twenty years in Cripple-gate;
Old Bishop Gout, that Lordly proud disease,
Took my fat body for his Diocess,
Where he keeps Court, there visits every Limb,
And makes them (Levite-like) conform to him,
Severely he doth Article each joint,
And makes enquiry into every point:
A bitter enemy to preaching; he
Hath half a year sometimes suspended me:
And if he find me painful in my station,
Down I am sure to go next Visitation:
He binds up, looseth; sets up and pulls down;
Pretends he draws ill humours from the Crown:
But I am sure he maketh such ado,
His humors trouble Head and members too:
He hath me now in hand, and e're he goes,
I fear for Hereticks he'l burn my toes.
O! I would give all I am worth, a fee,
That from his jurisdiction I were free.
Now Sir, you find our sufferitgs do agree,
Good reason (Sir) to Newgate you should go:
And now you're there, some dare to swear you are
The greatest Pick-pocket that e're came there:
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She is th' Receiver of each Purse you take.
But your great Theft, you act it in your Church,
(I do not mean you did your Sermon lurch,
That's crime Canonical) but you did pray
And preach, so that you stole mens hearts away.
So that good man to whom your place doth fall,
Will find they have no heart for him at all:
This Felony deserv'd Imprisonment;
What can't you Non-conformists be content
Sermons to make except you preach them too;
They that your places have, this Work can do.
Thirdly, 'tis prov'd, when you pray most devout
For all good men, you leave the Bishops out:
This makes Seer Sheldon by his powerful spel
Conjure and lay you safe in Newgate-hell:
Would I were there too, I should like it wel.
I would you durst swap punishment with me;
Pain makes me fitter for the company
Of roaring boys; and you may lie a bed,
Now your Name's up; pray do it in my stead,
And if it be deny'd us to change places,
Let us for sympathy compare our cases;
For if in suffering we both agree,
Sir, I may challenge you to pity me:
I am the older Goal-bird; my hard fate
Hath kept me twenty years in Cripple-gate;
Old Bishop Gout, that Lordly proud disease,
Took my fat body for his Diocess,
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And makes them (Levite-like) conform to him,
Severely he doth Article each joint,
And makes enquiry into every point:
A bitter enemy to preaching; he
Hath half a year sometimes suspended me:
And if he find me painful in my station,
Down I am sure to go next Visitation:
He binds up, looseth; sets up and pulls down;
Pretends he draws ill humours from the Crown:
But I am sure he maketh such ado,
His humors trouble Head and members too:
He hath me now in hand, and e're he goes,
I fear for Hereticks he'l burn my toes.
O! I would give all I am worth, a fee,
That from his jurisdiction I were free.
One Bishop clapt up you, another me:
But oh! the difference too is very great,
You are allow'd to walk, to drink and eat,
I want them all, and never a penny get.
And though you be debarr'd your liberty,
Yet all your Visitors I hope are free,
Good Men, good Women, and good Angels come
And make your Prison better then your home.
Now may it be so till your foes repent
They gave you such a rich Imprisonment.
May for the greater comfort of your lives,
Your lying in be better then your Wives.
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And none prove empty, except this from me.
And if you stay may I come keep your door,
Then farewel Parsonage, I shall ne'r be poor.
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