A Loyal Satyr against Whiggism.
AS I did lately travel from the Town
Through distant Roads, and deserts scarcely known,
From whose dark thickets when I'd made my way,
A new-found World, as well as new-born day
I thought appear'd; where Nature rul'd alone,
No Art, or help, no gawdy pomp was shown,
But every Plant, each Bush, and spreading Tree
Did grow without mans Care or Industry.
There as I stood, and cast my eyes around,
Pleas'd with the sight of that delightful ground,
Something from midst the Walks did towards me make,
Which nearly did resemble humane shape;
Soon as it nigher came it prov'd to be
A man of most inviting honesty;
An Aspect courteous, and a brow serene,
Of humane nature, and most humble meen,
His hoary head did Veneration bear,
And his face spoke his Noble Character.
Joyful I was in those strange parts to find
A front that did foretel so brave a mind,
For asking me Transactions of the Town,
I told him what disorders late were done;
What wild distractions and mishapen fears,
And what a Cloud of Faction round appears,
What daring Treasons were but now maintain'd
By Sh. and City both in Faction train'd,
And how the bloudy minded Whigs do aim
To play again their old King-killing game.
Which when the good old man heard me relate,
In flowing tears he mourn'd his Countrys fate,
And gave me this Advice, Beware my Son
Lest by the Wiles of Traytors thou'rt undone,
For I have known th' Experience of those times,
When Loyalty was thought the worst of Crimes;
And when Rebellion with a daring eye
Was cover'd by the Veil of sanctity,
But thou art young, therefore I'le plainly show
How thou a Monster Whig mayst surely know,
It somewhat favours man; so have I seen
When on a Christmas Evening we have been
On frolicks bent, a thing of such like note,
With hairy Chin, diminish'd hanging Coat,
Broad Hat, stiff Band, and a malicious Eye,
Which at a distance fully seem'd to be
The very Villain that sequestred me.
It rais'd my wonder, but as 't tow'rds us prest
What should it prove but a Baboon well drest,
As we're in truth, they're positive in lies;
What one but says, the other straight will swear,
Let it be right or wrong, or foul or fair,
It is all one, since they the Godly are.
Vile hypocrites, who're only good in show,
Whose whole Religion lies in seeming so:
For were their Souls laid open to our view,
We should not find amongst 'em all one true.
Therefore beware (again the old man said)
Lest by their flattering tongues thou art betray'd,
But if they find you loyal, wise, and brave,
They'l leer, and smile, and smiling dig your grave;
Such is their malice, spight, and mortal hate
'Gainst all that love their Country, Prince, and State.
Now gentle Youth let any man of wit
Weigh right their Cause, and well Consider it
They'l find conceal'd a lurking Jesuit.
Morals and Whigs are Inconsistent things,
The one still saves, the other still kill's Kings;
Morality would teach'em to obey,
And make'em happy under Sovereign sway,
Make'em speak well of, and do good to all;
Envious tow'rds none, but love in general.
The very Herds do due submission yield
To the Imperial Lion of the Field;
No Mutinies or Factions do they know,
But pay Allegiance where they ought to do;
'Tis only Whig, that worser Beast than they,
That does pretend to Sense, and disobey.
He that although he hears his Brothers name
Unjustly wrong'd, won't vindicate his fame,
But rather blow those ashes into fire
Which were before just ready to expire.
Oh! where is then his Justice, does it lie
In things like these, or Acts of charity?
There I have known 'em well; ye poor beware,
Better ye starve than ask for mercy there:
For stead of helping, they will spurn your grief,
Contemn your sorrows, and forbid relief.
Once one of these did my assistance crave
For certain Sums, which I most frankly gave
Without the least distrust, his Note, or Bond,
(For who would think that man could do such wrong)
Which when I call'd for in, in rage he says,
Nay vows he never saw me in his days.
By this I only warn thee to be wise,
Nere trust 'em, for they're all deceit and lies,
Whilst still they seem to act on pious grounds,
Yet cut your throat to gain an hundred pounds.
Almighty Interest, and a secret Whore
Can touch the Letchers so, that they agen
Shall hug and fleer as if they're Jurymen;
Oh that blest time! then, then the Cause did rise,
And full revenge for Tory Injuries,
It was not Right, but Faction did prevail,
A well-grown Whig of Verdicts ne're could fail;
Oh then ye common Hirelings, Cheats, and Knaves,
Heroes in Stews, Stabbers, and Alley-braves;
Turn, turn t' embrace so good, so safe a Cause
There you may act your Murders with applause,
Kill but a Tory, and you serve the Laws.
Nay, though 'tis prov'd, that 'twas your dire Intent
To seize your King at Oxford Parliament.
Yet bring it up to Town, and you shall be
Prais'd by a Jury for your Loyalty;
Though at the very moment Oaths they take
That all they do is mee [...] for Conscience sake.
At this he paus'd, and somewhat weary grown
In a fine od'rous Grotto we sate down,
And then he thus went on, Think not dear Youth
That what I've said is malice more than truth,
For Heaven can tell from such vile thoughts I'm free,
And all is out of sense of honesty.
Which did they know, they would not dare to own
The Hellish Principles of Forty one,
Nor in their Tubs of Treason still declare
That Kings Elective by the People are.
Nor would they now, (but Whig is still the same)
Foment Divisions, and blow up the flame;
But Jealousies, Suspicion, Guilt, and Fear
Do on their disaffected brow appear;
Their business is to raise Commotions higher,
Lay open breaches, peoples hearts to fire
With wild Chimeraes of tyrannick Pow'r,
And of another bloudy Massacre;
Or now, which is so much the Nations Cry,
The eminent increase of Popery.
'Tis Popery that round our City waits,
'Tis Popery that taints our Magistrates;
'Tis that alone that makes our Nation fear
A Popish Miss, and Popish Successor,
Cries out old Belial's Heir, the noble Peer.
Whose little bulk with Treason's so orecast
That it is vanish'd in the mist at last;
He that's reserv'd so long only to be
A fitter pattern of Hells Cruelty,
Where with his Faction when he groveling lies,
They may, too late, cast up repenting eyes,
And ask forgiveness of that Prince, whose name
They made it still their business to defame;
Their guilty heads shan't bear that glorious light,
But from his presence sink, and howl in dismal night.
Another Tenet Whig does surely hold,
Is to rail at these times, and praise the old;
To cry out on the Nations horrid pride,
And cast all sins upon the Tory side;
As if that formal looks and dress precise
Mayn't hide a heart more proud than ever lies
In those that wear more handsom Decencies.
Then Whoring, Drinking, Swearing to our Charge
They all impute, and lay our Crimes at large;
And Crimes they are, but such with them are done,
Ienny can tell how well the Tap did run.
'Tis thus that Faction moves, 'tis these foul ways
That makes Rebellions, broyls, and threatning days;
These are the men from whom all trouble springs;
'Tis they that ruine States, 'tis they that ruine Kings;
Though he be ne're so gracious, just, and good,
One that wa'nt pleas'd ev'n with Traytors bloud;
And though whole Hecatombs could ne'r attone
For Royal bloud, and an Usurped Throne,
Yet, like the Almighty, with a giving hand
Pours favours still on an ungrateful Land;
And how do they requite him now at last?
'Tis well, 'tis well, Acts of Oblivion past.
Sure 'twas enough to have a Father slain,
Not to attempt it in the Son again:
But they who are not grateful, cannot be
Ever expected to have honesty.
The very Beasts do gratitude profess;
Oblige them once, what kindness they'l express
By every sign, and in their Language say,
Rather than you shall die, we'll be the prey:
Now to be Whig and grateful ne'r was known,
It is enough to make their Charter none.
For if such bounteous graces of their Prince
Can't raise a grateful, nor a Loyal sense,
But they who after all, his Pow'r disown,
His Favours slight, and undermine his Throne,
First bring him low, to seize at last his Crown.
Who're so to Kings, oh what will they then be
To Fellow Creatures of their own Degree?
How are they fit for Mans Society?