The Confusion of Babel a poem. 1683 Approx. 17 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 8 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2011-12 (EEBO-TCP Phase 2). A34266 Wing C5809 ESTC R29675 11192210 ocm 11192210 46640

To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal. This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.

 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. A34266) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 46640) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1438:25) The Confusion of Babel a poem. 13 p. Printed for W. Davis ..., London : [1683?] Reproduction of the original in the Harvard University Library.

Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl, TEI @ Oxford.

EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO.

EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org).

The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source.

Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data.

Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so.

Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as <gap>s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor.

The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines.

Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements).

Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site.

 eng 2020-09-21 Content of 'availability' element changed when EEBO Phase 2 texts came into the public domain 2010-04 Assigned for keying and markup 2010-05 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2010-06 Sampled and proofread 2010-06 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2011-06 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion

THE CONFUSION OF BABEL.

A Poem.

—Quid nos Dira Refugimus Aetas quid intactum nefaſti Liquimus.

Licenſed and Entred according to Order:

LONDON, Printed for W. Davis, in Amen-Corner.

The Confuſion OF BABEL. IN what unhappy Times was the Foundation lay'd, When Trait'rous Earth that bold Defiance made, And ev'ry Atom its poor ſtrength betray'd ? Some overpow'ring evil, Like a deluding Devil, Did ſtill attend the Ambitious Rout, To generate, or bring their Treaſon out. And could they dart at thy Imperial Throne, Great God, to ſeperate thy Union; Who art thus individed All in one? Thus ſilly Mortals can Couragious grow, With numbers, thinking to outweigh the Foe: But never dream, How much thy ſtrength ſurpaſſes them, Till Ruin teaches them to ſee, The difference 'twixt Worms and Heavens Majeſty. Not happy till their Ignorance they know. What cou'd the ſenſeleſs Fabrick do, Tho' Mountains on the top they threw? Bold Aetna now in, Flames conſumes, And belches out its nauſeous fumes, Who dar'd ſo Impiouſly to aſpire, And proudly Reach the All-revenging Fire. 2. The fruitful Earth unboſom'd all her ſtore, Whoſe fatten'd Glebe was never poor, Tho' impetuous Floods had Drown'd the world before. Yet Covetous Man, Tho' all this Liberty was given, Muſt turn a Rebel and conſpire 'gainſt Heaven: Still aggravaning his Fore-Fathers fall, Who more by Pride then Ignorance; did Damn us all. The guilty Stones cou'd repreſent, Nothing but a Monument; Whoſe vaſt Circumference might contain, The endleſs Labours of their Brain, And all the Frantick Whymſies bare, That ever cou'd inhabit there. Let beauteous Shinar now decay, And periſh with th' infected Duſt, Who prov'd ſo unfaithful in her truſt. Nothing now thy ſhame can hide, Who wer't by Nature Beautified, Till affected Art ſwell'd thee up with Pride; No wonder then thy eſteem is loſt, Who war't confounded in the Coſt: Now diff'rent Tongues may Curſe thy Name, And variouſly expreſs thy ſhame, Who mad'ſt the world more impiouſly the ſame. 2. From this infected Hive, All Nations do derive, The Ills which to this day ſurvive. Nor can we wonder at thy fall? Since all thy Dreggs are Epidemical. Let every Stone, Weep to imagine what 't has done: For all's derivative from thee alone. England, that had th' Imperial Sway, And bore the Victory of the day, From hence did ſo inſenſibly decay. What can we find, Where there is nothing elſe but Wind? For Pride ne'r leaves the plenteous Spoil behind. The Zealous Rout cou'd lead the Rebels on, And all for True Religion, Which was Eſtabliſh'd, and yet none. Their Tow'ring thoughts too proudly did aſpire, But eyes will dim when held too near the Fire; What is't in their fond Projects we admire? Scepters and Crowns at ev'ry foot were thrown, Tho' in th' deſcent, The Head ne'r ſuffer'd that ſweet puniſhment, But all was in Imagination; And in that Pious Sect was found, Pulpit above, but the Church under-ground, With bluſt'ring Noiſe, but a meer empty ſound 4. The Faithful Brethren in a knot were ty'd, Which to Diſ-ſect were Parricide; Yet when an Alexander e're ſhall come, They dread th' unwelcome Doom: And think the Fate too near their home. What cou'd Rebellious Cataline effect, Tho' Armies to the Field he'd led? Victor o're his Conquer'd Dead, Yet his own ſelf he could not then protect. Caeſar in Triumph there might Ride, Tho' Enemies on ev'ry ſide: And too great a number to deride: Tho' Flames about the Sacred Altar dance, 'Tis yet ſecure from all injurious chance. Security to Kings is always given, (For Kings are all Allies to Heaven) And tho' the Sea ſwell with impetuous rage, Yet there are Pow'rs that can aſſwage The ſhort-Iiv'd Fury, and comply Within a Calm, t' effect a Prodigy. No wonder now the Gyants fade, When little Inſects learn their Trade. And from a Mole-hill top would be, Bleſt with Sacred Immortality. 5. The Pious Puritan may ſpare his breath, And Pray'rs more fitter at his death. Which by the Spirit laſt two hours long, Mixt with a ſecret Curſe, and Holy Song. The Funeral Requiems for great Charles's Soul, Are now unneceſſary things, For Kings, Still are more powerful where they leaſt controul. Well may they gaze on Heav'n ſo faſt. And take their leave, ſeeing 'tis the laſt: Who knows but all their time is paſt. O how they love to be, Eunuch'd with ſtrange Formality; Whoſe whitned eyes wou'd repreſent, The happy thoughts of th' Innocent: But within, That ſordid Skin, Lye the rank baits of all preſumptuous Sin: That Piety ſhould yield, And quit the field, When ſuch pernicious Antichriſts ariſe; Who wou'd at once their King and Country Sacrifice. Of Solemn Black their Garbes are made, To them an Emblem of the ſilent Shade: Where Schiſm and Diſtraction Reigns, The Element which all things curs'd maintains. 6. In the firſt Rank Diego ſtood, An everlaſting Enemy to Good: Whoſe Cure for his Diſeaſe was Innocent Blood. Had he liv'd ſtill one might fear, Th' Egyptian Murderer here. What cou'd he leſs in ſuch a Cauſe maintain? VVho wou'd Depoſe his Soveraign, Or more compleatly have him ſlain. Diego, Curſed from his Mothers VVomb, Born to be th' Epitaph to his Tomb: Deform'd, and Crooked, whoſe miſtake Did never yet a Circle make; O how the little fiery Soul wou'd ſtorm! VVhich from its Body took its Form. And thoughts within that narrow compaſs breed, VVhich might diſturb his very Aſhes now he's, dead. VVhat cou'd the Puny Rebels do? Tho' on the top of Babel he, VVou'd Execute his Treachery, Are there no Subjects left that can be True? Honour and VVealth, did ſtill attend his days, And Bounteous Charles preferr'd his praiſe: But whilſt the hungry Serpent fled, He ſecretly all o're his Venom ſpread. VVell might the Forreign Nations keep His Aſhes, now aſleep, For here, The fear, Of Cadmas Brood were juſt, VVhen Earth is mingled with ſuch poyſ'nous Duſt. Old Charon gaz'd, when from the Brook, The little Paſſenger he took; VVith ſuch a Burthen on his back, That made the aged Veſſel crack: Amaz'd at this, he haſt'ned o're, And ſet him on the ſhore; VVhere all the Furies with one general ſhout, Did the Magnetick Harbinger Salute. 7. Good Obadiah next, Unfold the Text, Whoſe Roſey Cheeks, and ſmiling Face, Becomes the Office of his place, And ſeem ſome Holy Gifts of Grace. Then with ſound Doctrine he, Feeds the Fraternity, Till they repay again with Charity. He Bellows out like a Geneva Bull, Hell and Damnation, a Pulpit full. Perilous Tyranny to this, Seems rather happineſs, For th' puniſhment was Death, but thine Torture with active life doſt joyn. Soul-ſaving Sentences are loſt, When undervalu'd in the Coſt. And thou like Quacks doſt Med'cines give, With thouſand Names Superlative, And all from Super-natural Providence doſt derive. Shapes thou haſt had a thouſand more, Then ever Proteus bore: And in this, Thou doſt Engroſs all Ovid's Metamorphoſis. Whither wilt thou go at laſt? Having already through the Popes Dominions paſt, And Purgatory too, with too much haſte. Cou'dſt thou preſerve Great Charles's Life? Whoſe after-Perjuries were more, Then all thy Memorandum Truths before. Days, Months, and Year • , were in thy Brain contain'd, But the faithleſs Clock as yet, Never went true but when 'twas ſet. And ſomething always by going backward gain'd. All thy Luxurious Pomp and State, Was but to make thee miſerably Great, Or ſomething much beneath the turn of Fate. No kind Compariſon will hide thy ſhame, For now thy Name, Is as Injurious as thy Fame. For Pluto's Porter now we may thee take, When at thy Gate, The Tripple-headed Cerbirus does always wait: Thy Hydra-Witneſſes may hold their Tongue, Aeſon again will never now be young, Or Old Times be renew'd by living long. Monarchs can ſee when at their Feet, Reverence and Treaſon meet: And thy Diſcovery might paſs, Where through a Glaſs, The Cheating Portait ſeem'd t'appear as 'twas. 8. And next the wretched Poliphus appears, Whoſe younger Years, Were ſpent in vicious Luſt, Till the bright Luſtre periſht with the Ruſt. Priſons and Goals him to contain, Were then in vain, When his inchanting Tongue cou'd let him act agen Cou'd Don Tomazo repreſent his Crimes? Or number up his Follies with the Times? Too poor a Subject then he took, And clipt the Volumn his Book: O did the Perjur'd Villain know! What to our Maker, and our God we owe, Life were no triffle to be ſhuffl'd ſo. Ireland may ceaſe, To boaſt its Peace, From all pernicious poyſons there; When Brutiſh Man ſhall claim the greater ſhare: And with more eaſineſs can Commence a Beaſt before a Man. Unhappy Nation then, that th' Pillars ſhou'd, Be Trayt'rous where the Fabrick ſtood: And the deſerving Vertue periſh in the Wood. For that Degree thou Poliphus wer't fit, Who prov'd too Fatal in thy Wit: Happy 'twere had thy Fortune Ruin'd it. Thy Native Soil cannot be grateful now, And Perjurers for Words we muſt allow, But the Beaſt will drive when the Devil holds the Plow. Strange that dull Ore ſhould cheat thy pining Soul, And make thy Remedy more foul: The Servile Captives ſcorn to feed, Or Triumph o're their miſerable dead: But waſh away, With Tears, the Sympathizing Clay. 9: Why did the Renegadoes ſlyly peep, Then Snore, to rouſe us from our drouſie ſleep? But Noiſe will Eccho from the Trayt'rous Deep. Faux might have ſatisfi'd his Will, but Night, Trembl'd at his ſight, And hover'd o're to hide the diſmal ſight: But ſee what Nature now has done, For Tapors vaniſh at th' approaching Sun: What tho' the undiſcover'd fire was lay'd, Yet 'twas enough to be betray'd; And thou the Sacrifice wer't made. VVhen once Prometheus ſtole, From Jove the Heav'nly Cole, The Vulters gnaw'd his never dying Soul: And with Juſtice was repay'd, Who dy'd to ſave the Man he made. Yet Hell ne'r troubled thee, nor Heaven, For thou in th' meen, Did'ſt hang between, To make the unexpected Ballance even. Traytors may think their work is done, VVhen Reſolution makes them bold; And that the fatal Tale is told, VVhen the Prologue's but begun. Alas their Conſcience does, betray their Guilt, And they may gaze on him whoſe Blood they wou'd have ſpilt. 10. Tempeſtuous Storms may riſe, And darken all the Skies; The bluſt'ring VVinds may Buffet at the VVall, But the Majeſtick Building will not fall. The ſwelling VVaves may proudly Vaunt, And the tim'rous Marriners daunt; But when upon a Rock they'r toſt, All the Majeſtick Fury's loſt. Heart-hardned Pharoah, when Iſraelites He Did follow through the Deep divided Sea; His Triumph was before his Victory. Chariots and Arms did beautifie the Train, But all alas in vain! For tho' Revenge ſtill tortures to expire, Yet too much water will Extinguiſh Fire. The Guardian Pillar there was Light, But on thy ſide ill-boding Night. What could'ſt thou then expect, When Heav'n the Innocent does ſtill protect? The Sea thou cou'dſt not rule, altho' the Land, Was at thy Soveraign Command, And govern'd by thy Conqu'ring hand. But Rebels Lives have but a ſhort Extent, Nothing lives long in a ſtrange Element. 11. Why ſhould I number up the Tribe agen? Or dream I ſaw the Tragick Seean? The Catalogue its Title now does want, O cou'd they but renew the Covenant, How prittily the Devil wou'd play the Saint. Like ſcatter'd Duſt before the Wind they flye, And Aegypts Plague does verifie, But on themſelves firſt the Diſeaſe muſt lye. And whilſt the Marks-man thought to bare the ſpoil, 'Tis ſtrange the ſpecious Musket ſhou'd recoil! Conſpiracies when once begun, Still periſh more by going on, And like the Viper does not reſt, Unleſs it eat its way through its own Mothers Breaſt. Preſaging Comets they may fear, When every Year, To tell their Ruin they appear. Fantaſtick Viſions will not fright, Tho' made more horrid by the night: But ſight is double by a flatt'ring Light. Th' Imperial Eagle does not fear, When the buzzing Inſects humm about his Ear, Tho' they with all their buſie Train, Paſs o're and o're his back again, Like Marriners upon the quiet Main: 'Tis ſure he's ſenſible of what is done, Whoſe Eyes can gaze upon the Sun. 12. Forreign Invaders now may quit their Arms, And quite Unravel all their ſecret Charms: For Bloſſoms on the flouriſhing Tree will laſt, Whilſt milder Gales defend them from the Blaſt: Thoſe fiery Zealots may repent, Their Curs'd intent, And Recollect the time they've ſpent: Better 'twere far cou'd they but meet, With Humble Rev'rence at Great Charles's feet; And their Obedience pay, Like purling Rivers haſt'ning to the Sea. But yet again they muſt diſpair, For no polluted Soul comes there, When to the Altar comes Amphibious Pray'r. Caeſar need fear, No Brutus here, To all the Senate ſhou'd appear: For from the Conſcious vain, Wou'd ſpring the Sympathizing Blood again. What tho' the Tow'ring Pile does fade, And ev'ry Stone is in Confuſion lay'd; Yet all the Tongues this Ditty ſing, And every one does ſtand, Like Branded Pilferers Burnt on th' Hand, Bawling out, God Save the KING. FINIS.