University of Virginia Library

There was in Holland a religious Dame,
Called Wendelmuta, she for Christ's name
Was sent to prison, where she must be kept
Till the next Sessions; her kinde kindred wept
And said thus, Ah! why dost thou not conceal
What thou believ'st but madly thus reveal
Thy secret thoughts? be more reserv'd, thereby
Thou'lt life prolong. To whom she did reply,
You know not what you say; the heart alone
Believes to righteousness; confession
Unto salvation with the tongue is made:
She burn'd, her spirit did the heav'ns invade.
George Scherter, a Divine, passing along
Tow'rd execution, to the gazing throng
Delivered these words; That you may know
I die a Christian, I a signe will show:
His head cut off, he turned on his back,
And cross'd his arms and legs; by which aspect
Many believe the Gospel; whom alive
They bury, drown, or into exile drive.
In Colen, Holland Suevia, Lovain,
The godly well-disposed part was slain.
Some lost their heads in Flanders, some were sent
Into perpetual imprisonment,

Anno 1543.

Two hundred Saints in Arteïs Brabant,
Were made away with not a few at Gaunt.
At Delden two young Virgins well-descended,
For their frequenting Sermons apprehended,
Examin'd and condemn'd must both partake
Of Martyrdom and suffer at the stake.
But after death the bodies of them both
Remained white, the fire to hurt them loth.
At Antwerp, one Christopher Fabri's brains
Are beat cut with a hammer. Sev'ral pains
Afflict the innocent; these bear great loads;
Those are companions to Frogs and Toads.
One Nicholas and Austine, with their wives,
At Dornick apprehended lost their lives.
When Nicholas did hear a Captain swear,
He said, Hath Christ done ought that thus you tear
His name in pices, reading life and limb?
Pray vent your malice upon me not him:
B'ing silenc'd at the stake. Thwarting their will,
He cry'd, O Charles wilt thou be hardned still?
With that, a souldier gave him a great blow:
He thus! Ah miserable people know,
God's word's too good for you: the Fryars cry'd,
A Devil, a Devil: with David, he reply'd,
Depart ye workers of iniquity;
Depart, depart: my God hath heard the cry
My weeping voice hath made; his holy name
Be prais'd: so said, he vanish'd in the flame.

Anno 1555

At Dormick-Bert'rand trod the Cake about;
For which distongu'd, he yet on God call'd out:
A ball is thrust into the mouth of him;
He's burnt, and's ashes in the river swim.
At Lile, for three years space in woods and caves
God's word was preached: Satan and his slaves
Took the advantage of the silent night
So finde their meetings: finding none, they light
On Robert Oquir's house; his wife, his sons
And he, rejoyce in tribulations.
Bound at the stake, their spirits they commend
To God, and make a comfortable end

The Persecution of the Duke de Alva, in the Netherlands.

The Gospel shining in the Netherlands;
Philip, that wore the Spanish crown, commands
The Duke de Alva, with a warlike train,
To slay Professors, and with might and main,
Promote the Romish Doctrine; to rebuke
Nobles, and Commons too: the desep'rate Duke
Scarce breath'd, but on them violently pour'd;
Matrons he ravished, and Maids deflour'd
Before their husbands and their parents eyes,
Or put them unto worser cruelties.
He on a time (at his own Table sate)
Boasted his diligence t'eradicate
Heret'cal weeds: for that besides the slain
During the war in six years space, a train
Of more then eighteen thousand persons were
By him deliv'red to the hangmans care.
Don Frederick his son kindely receiv'd
By Zutphen Bourgers cruelly bereav'd
The poor inhabitants of all their lives,
Hang'd, drown'd, brain'd very infants, virgins, wives;
Then marched he to Naerden; and the town
(All the indwellers kill'd) he batt'red down.
At Harlem, he three hundered Walloons
Beheads; five hundred Bourgers and Dragoons
He hangs, or drowns: all th' English, and the Scots,
To lose their heads in gen'ral, he alots.
The wounded, and diseas'd, are killed all
Before the entrance to the Hospital
John Herwin said unto the gazing throng,
(As he to execution went along)
See what rewards the wicked world do give
Christ his poor servants: for whilst I did live
A drunkard's life, and play'd at Cards and Dice,
A foe to Vertue, and a friend to Vice;
O then I liv'd at ease, and was a stranger
To bonds, and fetters; nay, was out of danger
Of suffering for the Truth; yonder they cry
A Boon Companion goes; who then but I?
No sooner did I seek my God, but lo
This fawning friend, became a frowning foe:
Yet this doth not, (and so I hope shall never,)
Discourage me one jot; I must persever
In what is good, and follow Christ the faster:
The servant is not better then his master.
His soul refreshed then with Gileads Balm,
To sing he did begin the thirtieth Psalm
With lift-up heart: but an impatient Frier
Thus interrupted him, Avoid the fire,
Oh John, and turn; yet you have time and space.
The disregarding Martyr turn'd his face
Another way: then some that were in sight,
Retorted this; Turn thou, thou hypocrite.
Herwin sung on, until his Psalm was ended:
The Fryer then: Good people ben't offended
To hear the clamour of this Her'ticks song.
Her'tick? thou Bala'mite thou, hold thy tongue,
The crow'd reply'd; no living soul here bears
Offence: his Musick much delights our ears.
Four hundred folks encourag'd him to run
His race, and finish what he had begun:
To whom he thus; Breth'ren, I undertake
This spir'tual Combate, meerly for the sake
Of my great Lord, and Captain Jesus Christ:
I now am going to be sacrific'd;
And when God shall of his abundant grace
Call you to suffer, follow me apace.
He's on the gallowes, and the ladder's turn'd,
And then his body's into ashes burn'd.
Some Cit'zens in a fi'ry Chariot sent
From Antwerp, to the City Heaven went.
One Scoblant, as he to his Tryal past,
Said thus; Would God that I might be the last
That thus might suffer death; O that my blood
Might satisfy their thirst, if God see good;
That so the Church of Christ, forlorn, distrest,
Might ever after live, at ease, and rest.
I now put off this Mantle transitory,
In hope to wear a robe of lasting glory.
A Popish Priest, by a religious Dame
Converted to the faith, spake thus: I came
To comfort you; but I my self indeed,
Of you to comfort me have greater need.
Christopher Gaud'rin said, Mans life on earth
Consists but of two dayes; the first his birth;
The next, his dying day: and therefore I
Must needs die once: who would refuse to die
To live for ever? death and I must kiss:
'Tis death conducteth to eternal bliss.
The sentence past, he did apart repair,
And poured out his soul to God in pray'r:
Then from his hands and face he wash'd the dirt;
And puting on his back a fine white shirt,
He thus his fellow-prisoners bespake:
Breth'ren, this is my wedding-day: I make
To heav'n-ward: being come unto the place,
He found three other ready to embrace
The self-same death: these four themselves did chear
With patient suff'ring, and rejoyc'd to bear.
Then came a Fryar under a pretence
To win them: Christopher said thus; Hence, hence,
Thou soul-seducer; from our presence flee;
We have not any thing to do whith thee.
They must be gag'd: May not our tongues have power
Said they, to praise God at our latest hour?
Sermons they used to frequent: hard ropes
Annex'd their necks, they finished their hopes.
In Flanders multitudes of true believers
Were sent to be eternal life's receivers.
In Breda, there a Goldsmith dwelt, his name
Was Peter Coulogue; whose renowned fame
Had spred all o're the town, and ev'ry mouth
Proclam'd him faithful, if they spake the truth.
This Pious Deacon quickly was beset
With popish catchpoles; neither would they let
Him once enjoy the company of any
Of his own Church; he over-pows'd by many
Was hurry'd to the Castle, while he staid
A pris'ner there: once every day his maid
Brought him his sustenance, till they perceiv'd
He had much comfort from her lips receiv'd.
She also was imprison'd, where she found
Such inward joys as made her heart rebound.
Now when a little tract of time was spent,
Peter was called forth; who underwent
Great pains with admirable patience:
These cruel villains for to recompence
His maids true zeal, fetch'd Betkin to the rack,
Cruelty undeserv'd! she nothing slack,
Went chearfully along; ere she did part
With life, her tongue thus empty'd out her heart:
Since needs I must sustain afflictions rod,
First suffer me to pray unto my God.
This they consented to; she scap'd a scouring
By this; for whilst she out her pray'rs was pouring,
One of the then-Commissioners fell down
Into an irrecoverable swown.
This miracle was hush'd, as though in vain
'Twas sent: now to their cruelty again;
Examples will not take; they'll not be turn'd,
They are condemned, and they must be burn'd.
The people wept; Peter and Betkin pray'd
To God for strength: the courage of the maid
Did work so kindly on the well-affected,
That breaking through (the danger unrespected)
The throng'd crowd, they the pris'ners did embrace,
And praised God for his supporting grace;
Then spake to this effect: Fight on, fight on,
The crown prepared you shall wear anon.
These words spake Betkin (with a brow as clear
As day) My Bretheren and sisters dear,
See you to Gods word, be obedient still,
And fear not them who can the body kill,
Not hurt the soul; but rather fear him, who
Hath power to kill the soul and body too,
And fling them into hell. I go to meet
My glorious Spouse, wrap'd in a fi'ry sheet.
Then falling on their knees, they sent their prayers
As welcom ghests to Gods attentive ears.
Bound to the stake, they prais'd the Lord; the flame
Sent up their souls to heav'n, from whence they came.
William of Nassaw Prince of Orange, by
A bloody villain shot, did thus let fly
His latest words: O God, my God, condoul
My wounded state, take pity on my soul,
On my departing soul; O spare, O spare
The Spanish people, though they sinful are.
These words no sooner cut, his soul forsook
This earthly, and an heavenly Mansion took.