THE Famous Battel OF THE CATTS, IN THE PROVINCE OF ULSTER. June 25. 1668.
In the SAVOY, Printed by T. Newcomb in the Year, 1668.
THE Famous Battel OF THE CATTS IN THE PROVINCE of VLSTER, June 25. 1668.
WHat wild Fanatick broke his Cage?
The Valiant Catti to engage,
The same that the Hessi.
Into this more then Civil Rage?
Alass, I need not question that,
It was the Egyptian God, the Ratt,
Trapan'd the poor Vltonian Catt.
Though Ireland of no Venome boasts,
Supplanters plant (in mighty Hosts)
Reforming Ratts on all her Coasts:
These Vermin soon together get,
And being all on Mischief set,
Form'd in a dark Assembly, met.
One goodly Ratt above the rest,
Since He was biggest, would be best,
Stood forth, (his Paw upon his Breast.)
This Ratt was Hee, a Ratt of Fame,
Who all things but himself o'recame,
And Rattamountain was his name:
He all the Rules and Tricks could show,
Both Arts of War, and Peace did know,
To cheat a Friend or spoil a Foe.
The Chair, the Chair, they cry'd (whereat
He smil'd at first, and then down sate
This over-undertaking Ratt.
Then they began, since I alone
Must speak, what e're I touch upon,
Shall be cleer Demonstration;
They made us Golden Gods, and then,
Ador'd us at our Shrines, but when
Saw ye one Ratt that worship't men?
Did not our Troops devoure all Thrace,
Not only beasts, but human Race,
And left them neither name, nor place;
And did we not neer Mentz devour,
Their Prelate (Maugre all his power)
A Castle yet standing upon the Rhine.
Whence still 'tis call'd the RATTIN TOWER.
And having slain one Bishop Prince,
Princes and Bishops ever since,
We into popular Classes Mince.
Did we not since destroy and spoile
In one short night, Bermudas Isle?
And eat up all the Planters toil.
In all Records our Honour Lives,
But the vile Cat (who 'gainst us strives)
From th' Alchoran his birth derives:
The Lyon, (if that Legend's true)
Did sneeze, and from his Nostrels threw
A Catt, which instantly cry'd Mew.
Since Catts the Lyon's Nature share,
We for the Great as little care;
Who Rampant Passant, Guardant are.
How long shall they devour us thus?
Stow's Annals of London.
Ye know one Whittingtonian PussSlew Legions of the best of us;
No mortal power could us annoy,
If Unity we could Injoy,
We our Destroyers should destroy,
Then let's Unite, and break their pride,
Make Catts against the Catts to side,
(Those may Command, who can divide:)
All weaker States that would surprise
The stronger, prudently advise
How to make Parties, and Allies.
I now a People shall make known,
Who under like oppression groan,
Whose Interest and ours are one.
I know you'll quickly smell a Ratt,
(Then this is it I would be at)
Ingage the Mouse against the Catt.
Our Cause, when they to us resort,
Three strong Militia's shall support,
From City, Countrey, and from Court.
Though Millions in a Battle dy,
Our Race with their Infinity
Will us with fresh recruits supply.
The Anti-Gresham Stagyrit
Aristotle in his History of Animals.
Says he Beheld with great delight
This strange Superfoetatious sight.
A Female of the Persian Ratts
Brought forth at once full sixscore Bratts;
Nay more, (now look about you Catts.)
Parturiunt montes, Anglice, Rattamountain.
The young were big with young, beforeTheir birth, with many hundreds more,
And she her Childrens Children bore.
George Pine, to us thou art an Ass,
One year thy Hundred did surpass,
Amongst thy four, shew one such Lass:
Thy Island in a hundred years,
(As on thy own Account appears)
But only twice six thousand bears.
And now to make your Grandure rise
Form into Assemblies your supplies,
To rescue your old Liberties:
No Petifoggers shall set Traps,
By Nusance stop our holes, and gaps,
Nor Quacks, with Arsnick give us Claps,
Nor no Owl-Constable by night,
Shall seize the less, or greater fright,
Though they have Bills, yet we can bite.
Now let us close in joynt consent,
That with the Mice we are content
To share the Spoil and Government:
And when our Common-wealth prefers
Their Members, we will be the Peers,
And honest Mice the Commoners:
And when this Order's Rattifi'd,
They on our Honours may confide,
The Deans and Chapters to divide.
Pardon this boldness, nor seem nice,
(For when we have to do with Mice,)
Quibble and Witt bear equal price.
To shew I am a Ratt of sense,
All my Proposals I Commence,
From Reason and Experience.
I'le all in one advice give in:
If from the English Catts you'll win
Trophies, with Ireland first begin.
Thus Rattamountain, Then they call,
That the Word might be, Have at all,
In Vlster they will stand and fall;
Their Agitator then they name,
Active Mac-Ratt, who (swift as Fame)
On crooked errands went and came.
Who straight from Ireland answer made,
That he had their Commands obey'd,
And all the trains of mischief laid.
So Lull'd asleep the Catti were,
His Arts had them secur'd from fear,
But what did from themselves appear,
Yet all that Rattamountain knew,
Or diligent Mac-Ratt could shew,
Was vain, to that which did insue.
Soon as the Moon in Cancer rose,
Midsummer Moon.
Into the Tiberts brains she throws
Such rage, as all their plots out-goes.
Three hundred Catts on Vlsters shore
Each with nine Lives (that's nine times more)
Into the field their Colours bore.
The Field, a Gutter which did run
Blood, (which the name of Field may own,
As Iambah that of Islington.)
Long time the fight so equal was,
The greater half fell on the place,
Nor Quarter given in the Chace;
But their most hideous Catterwaule,
With the Allarm it gave, did all
Th' Vltonian Ratts together call.
Lest they should no Interment have,
To the departed Catts, a grave
The Ratts in their own bowels gave.
Where the Rats eat all the dead bodies of the Rebels Army.
They at Bonratty, (so says fame)To Rebels bodies did the same,
(This place and that may bear one name.)
Now the Staggs Duel's out of door,
The Cause was great, the Effect was poor,
At Gresham-Colledg.
I saw two Savage Lice do more.Staggs are not so, t' whom Grass gives food,
But Catts and Lice, who feast on blood,
For savage beasts are understood.
Two Staggs Militia's were but four,
Nothing to what the Tiberts bore,
For each having nine Lives, had more.
Mac-Ratt is now return'd, t'invite
Those Ratts, who scap'd by Londons Light,
To march through Scotland in the night;
And with the Highland Ratts t' agree
To pass Dunbartons narrow sea,
To accomplish this Cattastrophe.
The Isle of Ratts when they those boggs
Shall dispossess of Irish froggs,
Will goe beyond our Isle of Doggs.
There shall we see the new rais'd Throne,
Of Rattamountain in his own
Metropolis, High't Rattisbone.
Some Irish Bard thy skill bequeath,
To charm our English Poets breath,
Like thee to Rhime our Ratts to death;
Else we are sou'st in our old Pickle,
For now or never we must stickle,
When Playhouse turns to Conventicle.
FINIS.