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Your soaring souls they meet with triumph, all The temple's decent wealth, and modest state, Led by great Stephen their old general.

Had suffer'd ; this their avarice, that their hate : Go,--, now prefer thy fourishing state

Beggary and scorn into the church they'd bring, Above those murder'd heroes' doleful fate;

And made God glorious, as they made the king: Enjoy that life which thou durst basely save, O happy town, that to lov'd Charles's sight, And thought'st a saw-pit nobler than a grave. In those sad times, gav'st safety and delight, Thus many sav'd themselves, and night the rest, The fate which civil war itself doth bless! (ness. Night, that agrees with their dark actions best. Scarce would'st thou change for peace this happi. A dismal shade did Heaven's sad face o'ertlow, Midst all the joys which Heaven allows thee here; Dark as the night slain rebels found below: Think on thy sister, and then shed a tear. No gentle stars their chearful glories rear'd,

What fights did this sad Winter see each day, Asham'd they were at what was done, and fear'd Her winds and storms came not so thick as they ! Lest wicked men their bold excuse should frame Yet nought these far-lost rebels could recall, From some strange influence, and so vail their Not Mariborough's nor Cirencester's fall. shame.

Yet still for peace the gentle conqueror sues ; To Duty thus, Order and Law incline,

By his wrath they perish, yet his love refuse. They who ne'er err from one eternal line;

Nor yet is the plain lesson understood, As just the ruin of these men they thought, Writ by kind Heaven in B-. and HD's blood. As Sisera's was,'gainst whom themselves had fought. Chad and his church saw where their enemy lay, Still they rebellion's ends remember well,

And with just red new mark'd their holy-day. Since Lucifer the great, their shining captain, Fond men! this blow the injur'd crosier strook ; fell.

Nought was more fit to perish, but thy book. For this the bells they ring, and not in vain; Such fatal vengeance did wrong'd Charlegrove shew, Well might they all ring out for thousands slain: Where — both begun and ended too For this the bonfires their glad lightness spread, His curs'd rebellion ; where his soul's repaid When funeral flames might more befit their dead : With separation, great as that he made. For this with solemn thanks they tire their God, , whose spirit mov'd o'er this mighty frame And, whilst they feel it, mock th’ Almighty's rod; O'th' British isle, and out this chaos came. They proudly now ábuse his justice more,

the man that taught confusion's art; Than his long mercies they abus'd before.

His treasons restless, and yet noiseless heart. Yet these the men that true religion boast,

His active brain like Etna's top appear’d, The pure and holy, holy, holy, host !

Where treason's forg'd, yet no noise outward heard. What great reward for so much zeal is given ? 'Twas he contriv'd whate'er bold M— said, Why, Heaven has thank'd them since as they And all the popular noise that P— has made; thank'd Heaven.

'Twas he that taught the zealous rout to rise, Witness thon, Brentford, say, thou ancient town, And be his slaves for some feign'd liberties : How many in thy streets fell groveling down : Him for this black design, Hell thought most fit; Witness the red-coats weitering in their gore, Ah! wretched man, curs'd by too good a wit! And dy'd anew into the name they bore:

If not all this your stubborn hearts can fright, Witness their men blow'd up into the air

Think on the West, think on the Cornish might: All elements their ruins joy'd to share);

The Saxon fury, to that far-stretch'd place, In the wide air quick flames their bodies tore, Drove the torn relics of great Brutus' race: Then, drown'd in waves, they're tost by waves to

Here they of old did in long safety lie, shore:

Compass'd with seas, and a worse enemy;
Witness thou, Thames, thou wast amaz’dto see Ne'er till this time, ne'er did they meet with foes
Men madly run to save themselves in thee; More cruel and more barbarous than those.
In vain, for rebels' lives thou would'st not save, Ye noble Britons, who so oft with blood
And down they sunk beneath thy conquering wave. Of Pagan hosts have dy'd old Tamar's food;
Good, reverend Thames' the best-belov'd of all If any drop of mighty Uther still,
Those nuble blood that meet at Neptune's hall; Or Uther's mightier son, your veins does fill;
London's proud towers, which do thy head adorn, Show then that spirit, till all men think by you
Are not thy glory now, but grief and scorn. The doubtful tales of your great Arthur true :
Thou griev'st to see the white nam’d palace shine, You ’ave shown it, Britons, and have often done
Without the beams of its own lord and tbine: Things that have cheer'd the weary, setting Sun.
Thy lord, which is to all as good and free,

Again did Tamar your dread arms behold,
As thou, kind flood ! to thine own banks canst be. As just and as successful as the old :
How does thy peaceful back disdain to bear

It kiss'd the Commish banks, and vow'd to bring The rebels' busy pride at Westminster!

His richest waves to feed th'ensuing spring ; Thou, who thyself dost w thout murmuring pay

But murmur'd sadly, and almost deny'd Eternal tribute to thy prince, the Sea.

All fruitful moisture to the Devon side. To Oxford next great Charles in triumph came,

Ye sons of war, by whose bold acts we see Oxford, the British Muses' second fame.

How great a thing exalted man may be ; Here Learving with some stato and reverence looks, The world remains your debtor, that as yet And dwells in buildings lasting as her books; Ye have not all gone forth and conquer'd it. Both now eternal, but they'ad ashes been,

I knew that Fate some wonders for you meant, Had these religious Vandals once got in.

When matchless Hopton to your coasts she sent; Not Bodley's noble work their rage would spare, Hopton ! so wise, he needs not Fortune's aid, For books they know the chief malignants are. So fortunate, his wisdom's useless made : In vain they silence every age before;

Should his so often-try'd companions fail, For pens of time to come will wound them more! His spirit alone, and courage, would prevail.


ours :

Miraculous man ! how would I sing thy praise, Could this white day a gift more grateful bring?
Had any Mu e crown'd me with half the bays Oh yes! it brought bless'd Mary to the king !
Conquest hath given to thee ; and next thy name In Keynton field they met; at once they view
Should Berkely, Stanning, Digby, press to fame. Their former victory, and enjoy a new :
Godolphin ! thee, thee Grenville! I'd rehearse, keynton, the place that Fortune did approve,
But tears break off my verse!

To be the noblest scene of war and love.
How oft has vanquish'd Stanford backward fled; Through the glad valé ten thousand Cupids fled,
Swift as the parted souls of those he led !

And chas'd the wandering spirits of rebels dead; How few did his huge multitudes defeat,

Sull the lewd scent of powder did they fear, For inost are cyphers when the number's great! And scatter'd eastern smells through all the air. Numbers, alas ! of men, that made no more Look, happy mount ! look well ! for this is she, Than he himself ten thousand times told öer. That toil and travelld for thy victory : Whu hears of Streatton-fight, but must confess Thy Nourishing head to her with reverence bow; All that he heard or read before was less;

To her thou ow'st that fame which crowns thee Sad Germany can no such trophy b ast, For all the blood this twenty years she'as lost. From far-stretch'd shores they felt her spirit and Vast was their army, and their arms were more

might; Than th' host of hundred-handed giants bore. Princes and God at any distance fight. So strong their arms, it did almost appear

At her return well might she a conquest hare! Secuie, had neither arms nor men been there. Whose very absence such a conquest gave.In Hup'un briaks, in break the Cornish powers, This in the West ; nor did the North bestow Few, and scarce arm’d, yet was th' advantage | Less cause their usual gratitude to show:

With much of state brave Cavendish led then What doubts could be, their outward strength to forth, win,

As swift and fierce as tempest from the north; When we bore arms and magazine within ?

Cavendish ! whom every Grace, and every Muse, The violent sword's outdid the musket's ire; kiss'd at his birth, and for their own did chuse: It strook the bones, and there gave dreadful fire : So good a wit they meant pot should excel We scorn'd their thunder; and the reeking blade In arms; but now they see 't and like it well: A thicker smoke than all their cannon made; So large is that rieh empire of his lieart, Death and loud tumults fill’d the place around Well may they rest contented with a part. With fruitless rage; fall’n rebels bite the ground! How soon he fürc'd the northern clouds to flight, The arms we gain'd were wealth, bodies o'th' foe, And struck confusion into form and light! All that a full-fraught victory can bestow!

Scarce did the Power Divine in fewer days Yet stays not Hopton thus, but still proceeds; A peaceful world out of a chaos raise. Pursucs hiunself through all his glorious deeds : Bradford and Leeds prop'd up their sinking fame; With Hertford and the prince he joins bis fate They braggid of hosts, and Fairfax was a vame. (The Belgian trophies on their journey wait); Leeds, Bradford, Fa rfax' powers ale straight their The prince, who oft had check'd proud W-'s

own, fame,

As quickly as they vote men overthrown: And fool'd that flying conqueror's empty name ; Bootes from his wain look'd down below, Till by his loss that fertile monster thriv'd;.

And saw our victory move not half so slow, This serpent cut in parts rejoin'd and liv'd:

I see the gallant earl break through the foes; It liv'il, and would have stung us deeper yet, In dust and sweat how gloriously he shows ! But that bold Grenville its whole fury met;

I see bim lead the pikes; what will he do? He sold, like Decius, his devoted breath,

Defend him, Heaven! oh, whither will he go? And left the commonwealth heir to his death. l'p to the cannons' mouth he leads ! in vain Hail, mighty ghost ! look from on high, and see They sprak loud death, and threaten, till they're How much our hands and swords remember thee!

ta'en. At Roundway Heath, our rage at thy great fall So Capaneus two armies fill?d with wonder, Whet all our spirits, and made us Grenvilles all. When he charg'd Jove, and grappled with his thunOne thousand horse beat all their nuinerous power ; Bless me! and where was then their conqueror ? Both hosts with silence and with terrour shook, Coward of fame, he flies in haste away :

As if not he, but they, were thunder-strook. Men, arms, and name, leaves us, the victors' prey. The courage here, and boldness, was no less; What meant those irov regiments which he brought, Only the canse was better, and success. That moving statues seem'd, and so they fought? Heaven will let nought be by their cannon done, No way for death but by disease appear'd,

Since at Edgehill they sinn'd, and Burlington. Cannon, and mines, and siege, they scarcely fear'd: Go now, your silly calumnies repeat, Till, 'gainst, all hopes, they proved in this sad And make all papists w!:om you cannot beat! fight

Let the world know some way, with whom you're Too weakto stand, and yet too slow for fight.

vext, The Furies howl'd aloud through trembling air ; And vote them Turks when they o’erthrow you Th' astonish'd snakes fell sadly from their hair:

next! To Lud's proud town their hasty flight they took, Why will you die, fond men ! why will you buy The towers and temples at their entrance shook. At this fond rate your country's slavery? In vain their loss they attempted to disguise, Is 't liberty? What are those threats we hear ? 8 And mustered up new troops of fruitless lyes : God fought himself, nor could th’ event be less; A line is here evidently wanting; but the defeat Bright Conquest walks the fields in all her dress. is in all the copies hitherto known.



Why do you thus th' old and new prison fil? The church of England, 'tis your protestation ; When that 's the only why; because you will? But that's “ New"-England by a small reservaFain would you make God too thus tyrannous be,

tion. And damn poor men by such a stiff decree.

Power of dispensing oaths the Papists claim; Is 't property? Why do such numbers, then, Case hath got leave of God to do the same: From God beg vengeance, and relief from men ? For you do hate all swearing so, that when Why are th' estates and goods seiz'd-on, of all You ’ve sworu an oath, ye break it straight again. Whom coretous or malicious men miscall ?

A curse upon you! which hurts must these naWhat's more our own than our own lives? But oh tions, Could Yeomans or could Bourchier find it so? Cavaliers' swearing, or your protestations ? The barbarous coward, always us’d to fly,

Nay, though oaths be by you so much abhor'd, Did know no other way to see men die.

Y allow “ God damn me" in the Puritan Lord. Or is 't religion? What then mean your lyes, They keep the Bible from laymen; but ye Your sacrileges, and pulpit blasphemies?

Avoid this, for ye have no laity.
Why are all sects let loose that ere had birth, They in a foreign and unknown tongue pray,
Since Luther's noise wak'd the lethargic Earth?

You in an unknown sense your prayers say ;
The Author went no further.

So that this difference 'twixt you does ensue,--
Fools understand not them, not wise men you,

They an unprofitable zeal have got

Of invocating saints, that hear them not: THE PURITAN AND THE PAPIST. 'Twere well you did so; nought may more be fear'd, A SATİRE.

In your fond prayers, than that they should be

heard. So two rude waves, by storms together thrown, To them your nonsense well enough might pass, Roar at each other, fight, and then grow one. They'd ne'er see that i' th' divine looking-glass. Religion is a circle ; men contend,

Nay, whether you 'd worship saints is not knowu, And run the round in dispute, without end : For ye 'ave as yet, of your religion, none. Now, in a circle, who go contrary,

They by good-works think to be justifi'd : Must, at the last, meet of necessity.

You into the same errour deeper slide; The Roman Catholic, to advance the cause, You think by works too justify'd to be, Allows a lye, and calls it pia fraus;

And those ill-works-lyes, treason, perjury. The Puritan approves and dues the same,

But, oh! your faith is mighty ; that hath been, Dislikes nought in it but the Latin name:

As true faith ought to be, of things unseen: He flows with his devices, and dares lye

At Wor'ster, Brentford, and Edgehill, we see, In very deed, in truth, and verity.

Only by faith, ye 'ave got the victory. He whines, and sighs out lyes with so much ruth, Such is your faith, and some such unseen way, As if he griev'd 'cause he could ne'er speak truth. The public faith at last your debts will pay. Lyes have possess'd the press so, as their due, They hold free-will (that nought their souls may 'Twill scarce, I fear, henceforth print Bibles true. bind) Lyes for their next strong fort ha' th’ pulpit chose; As the great privilege of all mankind : There they throng out at th' preacher's mouth and You're here more moderate ; for 'tis your intent nose,

To make 't a privilege but of parliament. And, howe'er gross, are certain to beguile

They forbid priests to marry : you worse do; The poor book-turners of the middle isle ;

Their marriage you allow, yet punish too; Nay, to th’ Almighty's self they have been bold For you 'd make priests so poor, that upon all To lye; and their blasphemous minister told, Who marry scorn and beggary must fall. They might say false to God; for if they were They a bold power o'er sacred scriptures take, Beaten, he knew't not, for he was not there. Blot out some clauses, and some new ones make: But God, who their great thankfulness did see, Your great lord Jesuit Brookes publicly said, Rewards them straight with another victory, (Brookes, whom too little learning bath made mad) Just such an one as Brentford ; and, sans doubt, That to correct the Creed ye should do well, Will weary, ere 't be long, their gratitude out. And blot out Christ's descending into Hell. Not all the legends of the saints of old,

Repent, wild man ! or you 'll ne'er change, I fear, Not vast Baronius, nor sly Surius, hold

The sentence of your own descending there. Such plenty of apparent Iyes as are

Yet modestly they use the Creed; for they In your own author, Jo. Browne Cleric. Par. Would take the Lord's Prayer root and branch Besides what your small poets said or writ,

away: Brookes, Strode, and the baron of the saw-pit: And wisely said a levite of our nation. With many a mental reservation,

The Lord's-Prayer was a popish innovation. You 'll maintain liberty :-Reserv'd “ your own,” Take heed, you'll grant ere long it should be said, For th' public good the sums rais'd you 'll disburse; An't be but to desire your daily bread. -Resery'd "the greater part, for your own purse." They keep the people ignorant : and you You ’ll root the Cavaliers out, every man ; Keep both the people and yourselves so too. -Faith, let it be reserv'd here“ if ye can.” They blind obedience and blind duty teach : You 'll make our gracious Charles a glorious king; You blind rebellion and blind faction preach;

Reserv'd“in Heaven"-for thither ye would bring Nor can I blame you much, that ye advance His royal head; the only secure room

That which can only save you, ignorance ; Por kings; where such as you will never come. Though, Heaven be prais'd ! 't has oft been proved To keep th' estates of th' subjects you pretend;

well, -Reserv'd“ in your own trunks. You will defend Your ignorance is not invincible :


Nay, such bold lyes to God himself ye raunt, Nay, White, who sits i' th' infallible chair,
As if you'd fain keep him too ignorant.

And most infallibly speaks nonsense there;
Linbus and Purgatory they believe,

Nay, Cromwell, Pury, Whistler, sir John Wray, For lesser sinners; that is, I conceive,

He who does say, and say, ands ay, and say; Malignants only: you this trick does please; Nay, Lowry, who does new church-government For the same cause ye’ave made new Limbuses,

wish, Where we may lie imprison'd long, ere we

And prophesies, like Jonas, 'midst the fish; A day of judgment in your courts shall see. Who can such various business wisely sway, But Pym can, like the pope, with this dispenso, Handling both herrings and bishops in one day: And for a bribe deliver souls from thence.

Nay all your preachers, women, boys, and mer, Their councils claim infallibility :

From master Calamy, to mistress Ven, Such must your conventicle-synod be;

Are perfect popes, in their own parish, grown; And teachers from all parts of th' Earth ye call, For, to out-do the story of pope Joan, To make 't a council oecumenical.

Your women preach too, and are like to be They several times appoint from meats' tabstain The whores of Babylon as much as she. You now for th' Irish wars a fast ordain;

They depose kings by force: by force you'd do And, that that kingdom might be sure to fast,

it, Ye take a course to starve them all at last : But first use fair means to persuade them to it. Nay, though ye keep no eves, Fridays, nor Lent, They dare kill kings: and 'twixt ye here's the Not to dress meat on Sundays you're content;

strife, Then you repeat, repeat, and pray, and pray, That you dare shoot at kings to save their life: Your teeth keep sabbath, and tongues working. And what's the difference, pray, whether he fall day.

By the Pope's Bull or your Ox general ? They preserve relics : you have few or none, Three kingdoms thus ye strive to make your own, Unless the clout sent to John Pym be one ;

And, like the pope, usurp a triple crown. Or Holles's rich widow, she who carry'd

Such is your faith, such your religion ; A relic in her womb before she marry'd.

Let's view your manners now, and then I've done. They in succeeding Peter take a pride:

Your covetousness let gasping Ireland tell, So do you ; for your master ye 'ave deny'd. Where first the Irish lands, and next ye sell But chiefly Peter's privilege ye choose,

The English blood, and raise rebellion here At your own wills to bind and to unloose.

With that which should suppress and quench it He was a fisherman ; you 'll be so too,

there. When nothing but your ships are left to you: What mighty sums have ye squeez'd out o'th' city! He went to Rome; to Rome you back ward ride, Enough to make them poor, and something witty. ('Though both your goings are by some deny'd) Excise, loans, contributions, poll-monies, Nor is 't a contradiction, if we say,

Bribes, plunder, and such parliament priv'leges, You go to Rome the quite contrary way.

Are words which you ne'er learnt in holy writ, He dy'd o'th' cross; that death 's unusual now; Till th' spirit, and your synod, mended it. The gallows is most like 't, and that's for you. Where's all the twentieth part now, which hath They love church-music; it offends your sense,

been And therefore ye have sung it out from thence; Paid you by some, to forfeit the nineteen? Which shows, if right your mind be understood, Where's all the goods distrain'd, and plunders past? You hate it not as music, but as good :

For you're grown wretched pilfering knaves at Your madness makes you sing as much as they Dance who are bit with a tarantula.

Descend to brass and pewter, till of late, But do not to yourselves, alas ! appear

Like Midas, all ye touch'd must needs be plate. The most religious traitors that e'er were,

By what vast hopes is your ambition fed ? Because your troops singing of psalms do go; 'T'is writ in blood, and may be plainly read : There's many a traitor has march'd Holborn so. You must have places, and the kingdom sway; Nor was't your wit this holy project bore ;

The king must be a ward to your lord Say: Tweed and the Tyne have seen those tricks before. Your innocent speaker to the Rolls must rise;

They of strange miracles and wonders tell : Six thousand pound hath made him proud and wise. You are yourselves a kind of miracle ;

Kimbolton for his father's place doth call, Ev'n such a miracle as in writ divine

Would be like him ;-would he were, face and all ! We read o'—th' Devil's hurrying down the swine. Isaack would always be lord-mayor ; and so They have made images to speak : 'tis said, May always be, as much as he is now. Yon a dull image have your speaker made; For the five members, they so richly thrive, And, that your bounty in offerings might abound, That they would always be but members five. Ye’ave to that idol giv'n six thousand pound. Only Pym does his natural right enforce, They drive-out devils, they say: here ye begin By th' mother's side he's master of the horse. To differ, I confess--you let them in.

Most shall have places by these popular tricks, They maintain transubstantiation ;

The rest must be content with bishoprics. You, by a contrary philosophers-stone,

For 'tis 'gainst superstition you're intent; To transubstantiate metals have the skill,

First to root out that great church-ornament, And turn the kingdom's gold to ir'n and steel. Money and lands: your swords, alas ! are drawn l'th' sacrament ye differ; but 'tis noted,

Against the bishop, not his cap, or lawn.
Bread must be flesh, wine blood, if e'er 't be voted. I let not such lewd sacrilege begin,
They make the pope their head; y' exalt for | Tempted by Henry's rich, successful sin!

Henry! the monster-king of all that age;
Primate and metropolitan, master Pym;

Wild in his lust, but wilder in his rage.



Expect not you his fate, though Hotham thrives We thank you for true real fears, at last,
In imitating Henry's tricks for wives;

Which free us from so many false ones past; Nor fewer churches hopes, than wives, to see We thank you for the blood which fats our coast, Buried, and then their lands his own to be.

As a just debt paid to great Strafford's ghost; Ye boundless tyrants ! how do you outvy

We thank you for the ills receiv'd, and all Th’Athenians: Thirty, Rome's Decemviry ! Which yet by your good care in time we shall; In rage, injustice, cruelty, as far

We thank you, and our gratitude's as great Abore those men, as you in number are,

As yours, when you thank'd God for being beat. What mysteries of iniquity do we see ! New prisons made to defend liberty! Our goods forc'd from us for property's sake; And all the real nonsense which ye make ! Ship-money was unjustly ta'en, ye say;

She that can sit three sermons in a day, Unjustlier far, you take the ships away.

And of those three scarce bear three words away; The High Commission you call'd tyranny :

She that can rob her husband, to repair
Ye did! good God! what is the High Committee ? A budget-priest, that noses a long prayer;
Ye said that gifts and bribes preferments bought:

She that with lamp-black purifies her shoes,
By money and blood too they now are sought.

And with half-eyes and Bible softly goes ; To the king's will, the laws men-strove to draw :

She that her pockets with lay-gospel stuffs, The subjects' will is now become the law.

And edifies her looks with little ruffs; 'Twas feard a new religion would begin :

She that loves sermons as she does the rest, All new religions, now, are enter'd in.

Still standing stiff that longest are the best ; The king delinquents to protect did strive :

She that will lye, yet swear she hates a lyar, What clubs,pikes, halberts,lighters, sav'd the Five!

Except it be the man that will lie by her; You think th' parl'ment like your state of grace;

She that at christenings thirsteth for more sack, Whatever sins men do, they keep their place.

And draws the broadest handkerchief for cake; Invasions then were fear'd against the state;

She that sings psalms devoutly next the street, And Strode swore last years would be eighty-eight.

And beats her maid i' th' kitchen, where nona You bring-in foreign aid to your designs,

see 't; First those great foreign forces of divines,

She that will sit in shop for fire hours space, With which ships from America were fraught;

And register the sins of all that pass, Rather may stinking tobacco still be brought

Damn at first sight, and proudly dares to say, From thence, I say; next, ye the Scots invite,

That none can possibly be sav'd but they Which you term brotherly-assistance, right;

That hang religion in a naked ear, For England you intend with them to share:

And judge men's hearts according to their hair; They, who, alas! but younger brothers are,

That could afford to doubt, who wrote best sense, Must have the monies for their portion;

Moses, or Dod on the commandements; The houses and the lands will be your own.

She that can sigh, and cry “Queen Elizabeth," We thank you for the wounds which we endure, Rail at the pope, and scratch-out“gudden death :" Whilst scratches and slight pricks ye seek to cure; And for all this can give no reason why:

This is an holy-sister, verily. viz, 1642.




1. LOVE.
I'LL sing of heroes and of kings,
In mighty members, mighty things.
Begin, my Muse! but lo! the strings
To my great song rebellious prove;
The strings will sound of nought but love.
I broke them all, and put on new ;
'Tis this or nothing sure will do.

These sure (said I) will me obey;
These, sure, heroic notes will play.
Straight I began with thundering Jove,
And all th' immortal powers; but Love,
Love smil'd, and from m'enfeebled lyre
Came gentle airs, such as inspire
Melting love and soft desire.
Farewell then, heroes ! farewell, kings!
And mighty numbers, mighty things!
Love tunes my heart just to my strings.

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