The converted Jacobite being a brief admonition to all our present murmurers, upon the present descent against France / by a late Jacobite. Late Jacobite. 1692 Approx. 8 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 3 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2011-04 (EEBO-TCP Phase 2). A34392 Wing C5984_VARIANT ESTC R37662 16998891 ocm 16998891 105677

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. A34392) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 105677) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1641-1700 ; 1612:25) The converted Jacobite being a brief admonition to all our present murmurers, upon the present descent against France / by a late Jacobite. Late Jacobite. 4 p. Printed for A. Westby ..., London : 1692. In verse. Caption title. Imprint from colophon. Reproduction of original in the British Library.

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 eng Jacobites -- Poetry. Great Britain -- Politics and government -- 1689-1702 -- Poetry. 2020-09-21 Content of 'availability' element changed when EEBO Phase 2 texts came into the public domain 2009-04 Assigned for keying and markup 2009-05 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2009-07 Sampled and proofread 2009-07 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-09 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
THE Converted Jacobite: BEING A Brief Admonition To all our preſent MURMURERS, Upon the Preſent Deſcent againſt France. 28. July. 1692 By a Late Jacobite. ONce being overwhelm'd with Grief and Care, In a moſt Melancholy deep Deſpair, I ſate me down in a ſweet ſilent Grove, Implor'd Aſſiſtance from Great Thundering Jove; And that he would be pleas'd to let me know, His Mind to Mortals in this World below, Whether the Ways were Good which here they take, Allegiance from Great James thus to forſake, And give the Crown unto his Royal Son: Now, Is this well, which they on Earth have done? When I had ſpoke, and theſe my Words had ended, Great Jove, as I did think, to me deſcended, And with a ſurly Voice, theſe words he ſaid, What wilt thou have of me? Art not afraid To queſtion what I have done in this ſame thing, To take the Crown from a Delinquent King, And give the ſame unto his Royal Son? Then Murmur not, for what I've done, I've done: For 'twas my • oyal Will, and my Decree, That now, henceforth, this Britiſh Land ſhould be From Po • i • h • iſpenſations ever free; And not once buckle to the Whore of Rome, Who ſhortly muſt expect her final Doom. Then what do you, proud Mortals, to deſpiſe What I have done? And with your loudeſt Cries, Seek unto Him, who lately was caſt down, And ſhall no more Poſſeſs the Engliſh Crown: For now I've given it to a Potent Prince; And this was by the Fates decreed long ſince: And by the Word of Mighty Jove I ſpoke, That he ſhould free you from all Tyrants Yoke. He Tyrants ſhall ſubdue, and Nations free From Servitude; and all the French ſhall ſee His Mighty Actions, trembling at the ſame, And ſtand amazed at Great WILLIAM's Name, Which ſhall be Honour'd with eternal Fame. Ceaſe then your Tricks; in vain 'tis that you ſtrive, To ſet Him up, whom Heaven did deprive: Your Plots will fail; and you ſhall quickly know, That I have pre-ordain'd your Overthrow: Your Ruine and Deſtruction it will bring, To ſeek to raiſe your Abdicated King, Who was Dethron'd by the Eternal Doom, That Mighty WILLIAM ſhould ſupply his room▪ Give o'er then in time, elſe you ſhall ſee, The • igid Fate of your curſt Deſtiny. Not being fit with Engliſh Men to dwell, You muſt turn off, for there is room in Hell, Which, for ſuch Rogues, is much the fitter place, Who are the Spawn of a Rebellious Race. Then be content, and don't pretend to Slander The Mighty Actions of the World's Commander: For I do ſwear, by my fierce roaring Thunder, I'll do ſuch Things will fill the World with Wonder. No ſooner Jove himſelf theſe Words had ſpoke, But at ſome diſtance there appear'd a Smoke, An horrid, ſtin • ing, and ſulphureous Smell, Then quickly did appear the Devil of Hell; Who, when he ſaw Great Jove to be ſo near, He kept far off, ſurpriz'd with ſudden fear, And from his Preſence did begin to fly; Jove call'd him back, then he came quickly nigh. Where haſt thou been, Grim Pluto, then he ſaid? Haſt been at Work at thy Infernal Trade? I have, ſaid he, (and in a Paſſion Swore) And Work'd ſo hard, I ne'er Work'd ſo before. What is the reaſon thou'rt ſo hard at Work? Doſt thou expect Great Lewis, or the Turk, For to attend at thy Infernal Court? Or doſt thou want ſome Fools to make the Sport? If ſo, a Thouſand Jacobites I'll ſend thee, Their Company's good, and can't offend thee. Thou always wer't their Friend, they like thee well, I think no Place ſo fit for them as Hell. Be thou but ſure, that when thou haſt them there, Thou keep them under with a Slaviſh Fear: Thus if thou doſt, the better they will be, And Chain them faſt, they'll never run from thee. Then Pluto ſaid, Great Jove I thee implore, To ſend enough, none I'll lay up in Store: This ſort of Cattle I like beſt of all, None comes amiſs to me of great and ſmall. Ne'er ſparing be, or think that I want Room; But ſend them all, I do not care how ſoon; I have ſome by me, ſeem to be good Meat, I'll fry them well, then they'll be fit to eat: When they are caught and foil'd in their own Treaſon, Then the Jacobites are here in Seaſon. But if I thought they would officiate As heretofore, with a projecting Pate, Then I would beg they might here longer ſtay, And not be hurried in ſuch haſt away. They've done their beſt, and they can do no more, To me their welcome, I will pay their Score; Well then quoth Jove, I'll ſend you them ſo faſt, You ſhant miſs one, but have them all at laſt. For as for Heaven, now I Vow and Swear, And do proteſt that none ſhall e'er come there. So get thee Back, now Pluto to retreat, And take thy Place in thy infernal Seat; Be ready to receive, when I do ſend 'em, And try what you can do, for we can't mend 'em; I'll ſend you LEWIS, and make Room be ſure, For he a rouzing Heat may well endure. Prepare a Place for him then with all Speed, I'll ſend him quickly, he ſhall come indeed. With that Grim Pluto made no longer ſtay, But of a ſuddain vaniſht quite away. And then quoth Jove, no mortal Man doth hear Their tragick End, which now approaches near. Love Great King William, his Sword that ſhall prevail, This I have ſaid, and not one Word ſhall fail. For nought ſhall hurt him, or ſtand in his Way To hinder him, for he ſhall win the Day. Thus Jove departing flew into the Skies, And ſoon was hid from my poor Mortal Eyes. This was my Viſion then which I did ſee, My Brother Jacobites, belive you me, But if you don't, the Caſe is ſtill the ſame; I told the Truth, and you are all to blame. If you perſiſt in your rebellious Will, You make your ſelves alone unhappy ſtill; Then be content, and don't your ſelves deceive, Take good Advice, and ſo I'll take my Leave. Vale.

London: Printed for A. Weſtby without Temple-Bar. 1692.