Vulgus Britannicus Or, The British Hudibrass [by Edward Ward] |
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CANTO XIV. The Loyalty of the Church; the import of their Addresses; the Impatience of the Whigs; and Modesty of the Review.
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CANTO XIV. The Loyalty of the Church; the import of their Addresses; the Impatience of the Whigs; and Modesty of the Review.
Addresses now flow'd in apace,
To th' best of Q---s from e'ery place;
That Royal Pow'r might timely see,
Which side maintain'd True Loyalty;
And who most likely to assert
The Throne, that bears an English Heart;
That they who never fear to own
Their lawful Duty to the Crown;
Might be distinguish'd from those few,
Whose Works their Disobedience shew;
And always Murmur and Complain
The most, when the best Princes Reign;
So Bullies shew their Impudence,
To those least apt to take Offence;
And Faction ever thrives the better
For a good Kings forgiving Nature.
To th' best of Q---s from e'ery place;
That Royal Pow'r might timely see,
Which side maintain'd True Loyalty;
And who most likely to assert
The Throne, that bears an English Heart;
That they who never fear to own
Their lawful Duty to the Crown;
Might be distinguish'd from those few,
Whose Works their Disobedience shew;
And always Murmur and Complain
The most, when the best Princes Reign;
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To those least apt to take Offence;
And Faction ever thrives the better
For a good Kings forgiving Nature.
The Churchmen, who can never be
Unsteady in their Loyalty;
To those of Ancient Royal Blood,
Who Reign and Govern as they shou'd;
That do to Heav'n their Scepters owe,
And not to Scum and Dirt below;
When once they saw the restless Whigs
So bare-fac'd in their vile Intrigues;
That threaten'd our Old Constitution
With some new Monstrous Revolution;
They thought 'twas time to shew they meant
To stand by English Government;
That is, th' Establish'd Church and Throne,
And the blest Q---n that sits thereon;
Against all Popish Innovators,
And base Republican Translators;
Of that blest Form we now possess,
Into a State of Wretchedness,
That no Reviews Insinuation,
Of all Good Men, or all the Nation,
Should perswade Fools that the Whole Land,
Were at the Whigish Tribe's Command,
Who are, alas, but at the best,
A worthless handful to the rest;
Meer Upstarts, who with Shams and Lies,
Would stop our Ears, and blind our Eyes;
And broach such Principles that must
Extirpate all that's Good and Just;
Bring true Religion to disgrace,
That Atheism may usurp its place,
And make the British Throne become,
The tott'ring Jest of Christendom;
Endanger e'ery Subject's Right,
And turn Fraternal Love to Spite;
That a few Reprobates may be,
The glorious Head of Anarchy;
For what can follow but Confusion,
If we translate our Constitution,
Into an endless Revolution.
Unsteady in their Loyalty;
To those of Ancient Royal Blood,
Who Reign and Govern as they shou'd;
That do to Heav'n their Scepters owe,
And not to Scum and Dirt below;
When once they saw the restless Whigs
So bare-fac'd in their vile Intrigues;
That threaten'd our Old Constitution
With some new Monstrous Revolution;
They thought 'twas time to shew they meant
To stand by English Government;
That is, th' Establish'd Church and Throne,
And the blest Q---n that sits thereon;
Against all Popish Innovators,
And base Republican Translators;
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Into a State of Wretchedness,
That no Reviews Insinuation,
Of all Good Men, or all the Nation,
Should perswade Fools that the Whole Land,
Were at the Whigish Tribe's Command,
Who are, alas, but at the best,
A worthless handful to the rest;
Meer Upstarts, who with Shams and Lies,
Would stop our Ears, and blind our Eyes;
And broach such Principles that must
Extirpate all that's Good and Just;
Bring true Religion to disgrace,
That Atheism may usurp its place,
And make the British Throne become,
The tott'ring Jest of Christendom;
Endanger e'ery Subject's Right,
And turn Fraternal Love to Spite;
That a few Reprobates may be,
The glorious Head of Anarchy;
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If we translate our Constitution,
Into an endless Revolution.
These are the Blessings they are for,
And these are what the Church abhor;
These are the Great and Glorious Ends,
Our Whigs, the Nations only Friends;
Have Tooth and Nail, altho' in vain,
Been wisely lab'ring to obtain;
These are their Drifts, wherein we see,
Their Love to Church and Monarchy;
And this is all we must expect,
By their Success, and our Neglect;
Then who that knows their Pious Aim,
Would stop their present Blessed Game;
That gives us such enticing Hopes
Of Sequestrations, Jayls and Ropes,
Without the help of Kings or Popes.
And these are what the Church abhor;
These are the Great and Glorious Ends,
Our Whigs, the Nations only Friends;
Have Tooth and Nail, altho' in vain,
Been wisely lab'ring to obtain;
These are their Drifts, wherein we see,
Their Love to Church and Monarchy;
And this is all we must expect,
By their Success, and our Neglect;
Then who that knows their Pious Aim,
Would stop their present Blessed Game;
That gives us such enticing Hopes
Of Sequestrations, Jayls and Ropes,
Without the help of Kings or Popes.
The Churchmen taking no great Pleasure
In Heav'nly Prospects, such as these are;
With all Humility Addrest,
And in the mildest Words exprest
Their ancient Duty to the Throne,
And Love of Her that sits thereon.
Asserting that with all their Might,
They would maintain Her Royal Right;
Deriv'd as well of long Descent,
As from the Act of Settlement;
'Gainst Papists, and that Factious Clan
Of Rebels, call'd Republican;
And that they ne'er would leave i'th' lurch,
The Apostolick Mother Church,
Or change her Doctrines old and true,
For any that are false and new;
But abhor, drive-out, and disown,
All Tenets against Church or Crown;
And e'ery Whigish Innovation,
Gilt o'er with Shams of Reformation,
That tend to hurt our Constitution,
By any further Revolution;
Affirming that they'll always stand,
By Church and Queen, with Heart and Hand,
Against all Deists, Atheists, Whigs,
And all their Commonwealth Intrigues;
Those Wicked Principles oppose,
Broach'd lately by the Nations Foes;
And with their Lives, and all that's Dear
Defend when any Danger's near,
The Queens just Title to the Throne,
'Gainst all Pretenders to the Crown.
In Heav'nly Prospects, such as these are;
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And in the mildest Words exprest
Their ancient Duty to the Throne,
And Love of Her that sits thereon.
Asserting that with all their Might,
They would maintain Her Royal Right;
Deriv'd as well of long Descent,
As from the Act of Settlement;
'Gainst Papists, and that Factious Clan
Of Rebels, call'd Republican;
And that they ne'er would leave i'th' lurch,
The Apostolick Mother Church,
Or change her Doctrines old and true,
For any that are false and new;
But abhor, drive-out, and disown,
All Tenets against Church or Crown;
And e'ery Whigish Innovation,
Gilt o'er with Shams of Reformation,
That tend to hurt our Constitution,
By any further Revolution;
Affirming that they'll always stand,
By Church and Queen, with Heart and Hand,
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And all their Commonwealth Intrigues;
Those Wicked Principles oppose,
Broach'd lately by the Nations Foes;
And with their Lives, and all that's Dear
Defend when any Danger's near,
The Queens just Title to the Throne,
'Gainst all Pretenders to the Crown.
These are the Sum my Muse professes,
Of all the Honest Church Addresses;
That give such wondrous Provocation,
To those that would betray the Nation.
Of all the Honest Church Addresses;
That give such wondrous Provocation,
To those that would betray the Nation.
Here's Popish stuff, says poor D--- F---
Whose Pen is like his Party, Low;
Now Countrymen, I hope you see,
How the Church aims at Tyranny,
What Pains they take to raise the Throne,
Above the Revolution;
And how they'd bring us to adore,
That Golden Badge of Sov'reign Pow'r;
The Crown which they porphanely say,
We must bow down to and obey,
Tho' the Gilt Bauble's only given
By us the People, not by Heaven;
And may be snatch'd away again,
When we find one more fit to Reign
But the High Church, you see, would have us,
Worship those Scepters that enslave us,
As Papists do their Lifeless Saints,
In Statues, Paintings, and in Prints,
Set up our Idols on the Throne,
And then adore 'em when we've done;
Tell 'em they have a Right Divine,
And Deify their Royal Line;
Advance them to a Heavenly Distance,
And bind our selves, by Non-Resistance,
To be their Slaves, and to endure,
The Scourges of Tyrannick Pow'r;
This is the Scope, says the Review,
Of what the Jacobites persue;
As e'ery flored Line expresses,
In all their Perkinite Addresses.
Whose Pen is like his Party, Low;
Now Countrymen, I hope you see,
How the Church aims at Tyranny,
What Pains they take to raise the Throne,
Above the Revolution;
And how they'd bring us to adore,
That Golden Badge of Sov'reign Pow'r;
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We must bow down to and obey,
Tho' the Gilt Bauble's only given
By us the People, not by Heaven;
And may be snatch'd away again,
When we find one more fit to Reign
But the High Church, you see, would have us,
Worship those Scepters that enslave us,
As Papists do their Lifeless Saints,
In Statues, Paintings, and in Prints,
Set up our Idols on the Throne,
And then adore 'em when we've done;
Tell 'em they have a Right Divine,
And Deify their Royal Line;
Advance them to a Heavenly Distance,
And bind our selves, by Non-Resistance,
To be their Slaves, and to endure,
The Scourges of Tyrannick Pow'r;
This is the Scope, says the Review,
Of what the Jacobites persue;
As e'ery flored Line expresses,
In all their Perkinite Addresses.
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I Vow a rare interpretation,
Of Church Obedience and Submission;
And of that Loyalty which ought
To alwaies be maintain'd and Taught;
A fine Construction to be made,
Of that due Veneration paid
To our good Queen, to whom we owe,
That Safty we enjoy below;
Whose Vertues are by all belov'd,
And Wisdom makes her Reign approv'd;
Which has been blest in Spite of Jars
Domestick, well as Foreign Wars;
Altho' her Lenity has been,
Too great for such a Pow'rful Queen;
And more especially to those,
By Principle Impatient Foes
To Monarchy, who ne'er could rest,
Tho' with the Best of Prince's Blest
But would be gaining still upon 'em,
Till they'd much wrong'd 'em or undone 'em;
So Ivy Suffer'd to Embrace
The Oak, Climbs up and Thrives apace;
And if not Pran'd in time of need,
Will Choak the Tree, that rais'd the Weed.
Of Church Obedience and Submission;
And of that Loyalty which ought
To alwaies be maintain'd and Taught;
A fine Construction to be made,
Of that due Veneration paid
To our good Queen, to whom we owe,
That Safty we enjoy below;
Whose Vertues are by all belov'd,
And Wisdom makes her Reign approv'd;
Which has been blest in Spite of Jars
Domestick, well as Foreign Wars;
Altho' her Lenity has been,
Too great for such a Pow'rful Queen;
And more especially to those,
By Principle Impatient Foes
To Monarchy, who ne'er could rest,
Tho' with the Best of Prince's Blest
But would be gaining still upon 'em,
Till they'd much wrong'd 'em or undone 'em;
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The Oak, Climbs up and Thrives apace;
And if not Pran'd in time of need,
Will Choak the Tree, that rais'd the Weed.
What a Strange dull Infatuation
Must Numb and Stupify the Nation;
If Men for justly Setting forth,
Their Duty and their Sov'reign's Worth;
The Joy and Comfort they have in
Th' Establish' Church and rightful Queen;
Affirming by their utmost Troth,
That they're resolv'd to stand by Both;
Against all Popish Plots and Traytors,
And vile Republick Innovators;
Must for such Solemn Vows as these,
Such timely good Assurances;
Be Counted Jacobites by Knaves,
Who want to make the Land their Slaves;
Be mumbl'd by their Bull-dog Writers,
Those fiery Barkers tho' no Biters;
Who with their Foolish Rage alarm
Poor Zelous Fools to keep 'em Warm,
Whilst their own Party do the Harm;
So Whigs of old, when they were bent,
To undermine the Government,
They still Amus'd the giddy Town,
With Popish Plots to hide their own.
Must Numb and Stupify the Nation;
If Men for justly Setting forth,
Their Duty and their Sov'reign's Worth;
The Joy and Comfort they have in
Th' Establish' Church and rightful Queen;
Affirming by their utmost Troth,
That they're resolv'd to stand by Both;
Against all Popish Plots and Traytors,
And vile Republick Innovators;
Must for such Solemn Vows as these,
Such timely good Assurances;
Be Counted Jacobites by Knaves,
Who want to make the Land their Slaves;
Be mumbl'd by their Bull-dog Writers,
Those fiery Barkers tho' no Biters;
168
Poor Zelous Fools to keep 'em Warm,
Whilst their own Party do the Harm;
So Whigs of old, when they were bent,
To undermine the Government,
They still Amus'd the giddy Town,
With Popish Plots to hide their own.
Since to be Loyal to the Throne,
And faithful to the Corner-Stone;
Friends to our Ancient Constitution,
Against all further Revolution;
True to the Int'rest of the Nation,
Without the least Prevarication;
Obedient Peaceful well Content,
With the late Act of Settlement;
Is to be what, the Whigs in Spite,
Are pleas'd to call a Jacobite;
I wish themselves but half as Just,
As those they'd have the Throne Distrust;
And that they had no worse Designs,
Carr'd on in their Republick Mines;
Against the Kingdom than by those,
Their Scriblers call' the Nation's Foes;
Then might they say we had Abus'd 'em,
And not like Brother Christians us'd 'em;
But 'tis the old Fanatick Cunning,
When they themselves full tilt are Running
Into a Common-Wealth, to Cry,
Beware of Popish Tyranny;
Just so they Serv'd that Pious Prince,
Whose fall the Traitors work'd long since;
Blam'd him, when they were basely bent,
To blow up Kingly Government;
Because he would not freely lay,
His Sceptre down and so betray
That Power, which they Snatch'd away.
And faithful to the Corner-Stone;
Friends to our Ancient Constitution,
Against all further Revolution;
True to the Int'rest of the Nation,
Without the least Prevarication;
Obedient Peaceful well Content,
With the late Act of Settlement;
Is to be what, the Whigs in Spite,
Are pleas'd to call a Jacobite;
I wish themselves but half as Just,
As those they'd have the Throne Distrust;
And that they had no worse Designs,
Carr'd on in their Republick Mines;
169
Their Scriblers call' the Nation's Foes;
Then might they say we had Abus'd 'em,
And not like Brother Christians us'd 'em;
But 'tis the old Fanatick Cunning,
When they themselves full tilt are Running
Into a Common-Wealth, to Cry,
Beware of Popish Tyranny;
Just so they Serv'd that Pious Prince,
Whose fall the Traitors work'd long since;
Blam'd him, when they were basely bent,
To blow up Kingly Government;
Because he would not freely lay,
His Sceptre down and so betray
That Power, which they Snatch'd away.
| Vulgus Britannicus | |