Brachy-Martyrologia Or, A Brewery of all the greatest Persecutions Which have befallen the Saints and People of God From the Creation to our present Times: Paraphras'd, By Nicholas Billingsly |
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SECT. XXVII. The Persecution of the Church in France, which began Anno 1524.
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SECT. XXVII. The Persecution of the Church in France, which began Anno 1524.
At Melden, Pari, Fonutains, Lions, Rhone,Many were put to death, some burn'd, some thrown
Into the liquid floods; into the fire
Others let down by pulleys, did expire;
Others with Oyl and brimstone were anointed,
Then burnt; many distong'd, disnos'd dis-joynted:
Some slander'd; some imprison'd were; some rack'd;
And they that would not bow, nor give respect
Unto the Images of molten-lead,
Passing along the streets, were massacred.
John Clark, through zeal, brake all the Idols down
That he could light on: in the Metzian town,
Condemn'd he was to die, and first to lose
His right hand, then his arms, and breasts, and nose;
VVhich quietly he bore, pronouncing then
Their gods are silver, and are made by men:
At last they burnt him. At the Castle Vik
Doctor John Castellane was burned quick.
James Panane one that educated youth,
At Paris dy'd for the professed truth.
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Degraded was, and burnt at Limosine.
One John de Beck a Minister at Troyes,
Went through the fire unto eternal joyes.
At Rutiers, Stephen Brune for Christ his sake,
Adjudged was to suffer at the stake;
The fire was kindled, but the wind so drave
The flame from him, that he stood up and gave
(A whole hours space) instructions to the rude
And easily-seduced multitude:
They brought Oyl-vessels, and more faggots too;
The wind continu'd, and all would not do.
With that, the hangman struck him on the head:
To whom he thus: And must I then indeed
Be beaten like a dog? as well as I,
You know by fire I am condemn'd to die.
He was thrust through, and in the fire thrown down,
And his left ashes in the Air were strown.
At Bourdeaux, Aymond de Lavoy accus'd,
His friends advis'd his flight, but he refus'd.
Not so, said he, I shall be thought absurd
To feed men with vain dreams not Gods pure word,
Whereas I fear not, as a truths defender,
My soul and body too up to surrender.
In pains he said, This body once must die,
My spir't shall live, and that eternally.
He swowned, but recov'ring, said he,
Oh Lord, Lord, why hast thou forsaken me?
Nay, said the president, thou art mistook
Curs'd Lutherane, thou hast thy God forsook:
Alas good masters, why, why do you so
Torment me? Lord, they know not what they do:
Forgive them I beseech thee. See, said thus
The Pres'dent, how this Caitiff prayes for us.
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To God, not you, will I confess my sins.
O Lord, make hast to help; do not despise
Thine-handy work. My brethren, I advise
You that are Scholars, to improve your youth
In learning of the everlasting truth:
Labour to know what is Jehovahs will,
And fear not them that can the body kill,
Not hurt the soul: my flesh (too weak) withstands
My spir't; which Lord I give into thine hands.
With that he strangled was, his body burn'd,
His soul until the day of Doom adjourn'd.
One Bribard, to a Card'nal Secretary,
And William Husson an Apothecary
Had, for their scattering good books about,
And cleaving to the truth, their tongues cut out;
Then with a pully pulled up and down
Into the fire, they dy'd, but gain'd a crown.
James Cobard, having prov'd the Mass a fable,
Unto the quick nor dead not profitable,
Was at St. Michael burnt. Stephen Polliot
Suffred at Paris. Michael Michelot
Was put unto his choice, either to turn
And lose his head, or persevere, and burn.
He answer'd, God who caus'd him not to tire,
Would give him patience to abide the fire.
Blondel a Merchant that profess'd Christs name,
Condemn'd at Paris, yeilded to the flame.
One Hubert, a young man, who did rely on
Christ Jesus merits, suffered at Dyion.
Anne Audeburt drag'd forth, said thus; This rope
My wedding-girdle is, wherewith I hope
To be conjoyn'd to Christ: I was first marri'd
Upon a Saturday, and now have tarri'd
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I shall (glad day!) be married agin.
She in the dung-Cart sang and in the fire
Her constancy Spectators did admire.
One Florent Venote, that had four years lain
In Paris prison, where all kinds of pain
He felt and overcome; for seven weeks space
Was close confin'd to such a narrow place,
That he could neither stand (with ease) nor ly:
At last distongu'd, he in the fire did die.
One Thomas, a young man, was rack'd so long,
The hangman grew a weary: one among
Th' Inquis'tors wept. They bare him to be burn'd,
And asked him, if he would yet be turn'd.
To whom he said, Friends, I am in my way
To God, O do not hinder me I pray.
One Mathew Dimonel, Simon Laloe,
And Peter Serre, did torments undergo.
Two men at Nivern, had their tongues pull'd out;
Yet God was pleas'd to bring it so about,
That they spake plain, We bid the world, flesh, sin,
And devil farewel, never to meet agin;
Of brimstone, and gunpowder bring a fresh
Supply; salt on, salt on this stinking flesh:
And so persisting constant till the last,
Their souls to heaven, their earth to ashes past.
One Philbert Hamlin fed the cruel flame,
One Nicholas of Jenvil did the same.
At Paris did a Christian congregation
Run through much sorrow: by the Mediation
Of the Palat'nate Prince, and Switzers, some
Of them (hardly) escaped Martyrdome.
In Dauphin, Provence, multitudes were kill'd;
In many other places blood was spill'd:
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Like to a Palm, still more and more encreast.
| Brachy-Martyrologia | |