AN HEROICK POEM TO HIS Royal Highness THE DUKE of YORK, ON HIS RETURN FROM SCOTLAND. WITH Some choice SONGS and MEDLEYES ON THE TIMES.
By MAT. TAUBMAN, Gent.
Hora. Ser. Sat. 3.
Omnibus hoc Vitium est Cantoribus inter amicos,
Ut nunquam Inducant animum cantare, Rogati,
Injussi nunquam Desistant.—
LONDON, Printed for John Smith in Russel-street, Covent-Garden, 1682
THE PUBLISHER TO THE READER.
Courteous Reader,
THe Author of these few Songs, being much sollicited for Copies, and not able to oblige all his Friends, was prevail'd upon (for the ease of both) to allow them to be Printed with the Notes, which all Gentlemen that are desirous, may have at Mr. John Smith, Bookseller, his Shop in Russell-street, Covent-Garden, together with the Basses, at reasonable Rates
THE CONTENTS.
- POem, p. i.
- Medley on the Plot, Two Changes, p. 1.
- Medley on the Association, Five Changes, p. 3.
- Catch on the Succession, p. 8.
- Philander, p. 9.
- The Dissolution at Oxford, p. 10.
- Old Jemmy, p. 11.
- The Healths, p. 12.
- York and Albany, p. 13.
- The Dukes Return from Scotland, p. 14.
- The Dukes Return after Shipwrack, p. 15.
- Great Jemmy, p. 16.
- A Pastoral, p. 17.
- Ossery, a Catch, Ibid.
- The Plot Unvail'd, Three Changes, p. 18.
TO THE DUKE, UPON HIS RETURN FROM SCOTLAND.
STill with our sins, still with our furies crost,
The Royal Barge is on the Billows tost.
We raise the Storm: You must the Jonas be,
That must appease the raging of the Sea.
You, Sir, are both the Heav'ns and Oceans care,
Whose Gods in your protection claim a share;
Who from devouring Deeps, as him before,
Did in your life, our lives and hopes restore.
So the fair Light once banish'd, does return,
When with new Brightness crown'd the Day is Born:
Tho all the time that disapears, we might
Much better say, we vanisht are from Light:
For that still guides the Day when it is here,
And flies but to extend the Day elsewhere.
As you, whom our poor Isle cannot confine,
More than the Sun can in one Country shine,
For the same cause can never Banish't be,
Contain'd in no one Land no more than He.
Ev'n he, Descending from his Shining height
With us, does rise in other Lands as Bright,
And seeming to go down to this Worlds view.
Retires, but is not Banish't to the new.
So you, no less than he, a Star too Great
To rise for ever in one place, or set.
In Sphere too noble, and of make too pure,
For envious Mists for ever to obscure.
If ought e're seem'd to intercept your Light,
The Clouds ne'r darken'd you, but hid our sight.
Like Heav'ns fair Ruler of the Day, as high
Above all Clouds, as they above our Eye.
Nor less than he a Royal Planet seem,
Born to divided Empire too, like Him.
Your Hemispheres in which you shine, have too
Your Brothers antient Empire, and its new:
The Empire of his Race, which gave the Chair
In which our Kings, when Crown'd, now seated are.
Ev'n so long since some promise seem'd to give,
That thence in time we might our Kings derive:
Gives us in you a sure support alone,
Both of the Scottish Chair, and English Throne.
Well did the ROYAL MARTYR e're he fell
To bind SUCCESSION, shew his latest zeal;
When Kissing GLOUC'STER he forbad all Claims
To CHARLES his Scepter and the Sword of JAMES.
Be CHARLES his Scepter ever sacred still,
And be the Sword of JAMES invicible.
May the young KING to mount my Throne prevail,
May th' ADMIRAL in Battel never fail:
Revolted Cities bend to th' PRINCES yoke,
While Fleets and Armies wait upon the DUKE:
His Lot to shine upon the Land, and be
The other still to Thunder on the Sea.
All this and more kind Heaven understood,
Couch't in your speechless Father's voice of Blood.
For Wounds have Mouths which seem to gape and cry
And in the voice of Blood was Prophecy.
Propitious Heav'n the Martyr's Cry has heard,
A King's and Martyr's Cry deserves regard.
Much to his Vows as the Event does show
For their success the Royal Brothers owe.
Our Sov'reign much for his Return must own,
Meeting i'th' Arms of Peace a Bloodless Crown.
Much you, maintaining to the Sea that Right,
He o're the Land had gain'd, without a Fight.
For what alas had it avail'd to boast
His Scepter gain'd, had yet his Flagg been lost?
And what a Maimed Monarch needs must be
An Island King who is not Lord at Sea?
In his Return Heaven no hands did need,
Reserving that, for its peculiar deed.
Its Act entire, as seeming to declare,
None in the Honour of that work shou'd share:
That Kings may know on whom they must depend,
Whose Gifts are Crowns, and whence they do Descend.
And we due Reverence to our Kings may learn,
Restor'd Divinely, as Divinely born.
This Heav'n perform'd, but left it to your Sword
To Guard those Rights to which he was restor'd:
Keeping in store this Honour, as your due,
What it began shou'd finisht be by you.
And teaching us where humane hands there need,
To what a kind of Choice it does proceed:
When suiting Instruments to Ends it draws
The Brightest Sword still in the bravest cause;
Appointing, and then Arming you for Fight,
Who to the Seas Command by Birth had Right:
Led by just Titles to as just a War,
To reap those Honours, in which none cou'd share.
With double Courage arm'd, you then did show
What a Great Leader, and good Cause cou'd do.
What the Kings just Rights cou'd at once require,
Or we from th' hopes of your high Birth desire:
When you the winged Hosts to Battel led,
And in your Flying Chariot 'fore them rid,
Bearing your Brothers Thunder by your side,
And waving high his Flag, with lofty Pride,
Thus high th' Ensign of his wrong'd Pow'r to show,
While that his Vengeance loudly? speaks below.
Soon as the Sov'raign of the Seas did rore
Prostrate they fell, who cou'd not bow before.
They knew his Voice, and to his Flagg submit,
His Thunder own, and him that carry'd it.
Tall Ships that with their Flaggs erect did ride,
Hide in the Seas the Trophies of their pride.
Low as the Deep their humble Top-sails bend,
And Wide as that their Ruins do extend:
Such was the Fight as did the World convince,
None but you were Born for the Crowns defence.
And tho' it were not your high Charge by Birth,
Your Merit to that place had call'd you forth;
While you at once deservedly Unite
The greatest Merit, and the Highest Right.
What vast unbounded hopes may we conceive
Who under such a pair of Brothers live?
Happy! beneath this fair Conjunction born,
Cou'd we submit to th' Throne which they adorn.
Where each so worthy is, Great CHARLES to Reign,
And YORK to Triumph o're the Conquer'd Main:
A better KING than He no Land e're knew,
No Seas a braver ADMIRAL than you.
Medley on the PLOT.
[...] DOWN, down Disco╌ve╌rers, who so long have plotted
[...] with holy Shams to gull the Nation,
[...] both Peers and Prelacy they useless voted
[...] by the old Babes of Re╌for╌ma╌tion.
[...] Property's all their cry, Rights and Freedom,
[...] Law and Religion, they pull down,
[...] with old in╌te╌stine Lance to bleed 'em,
[...] from Lawn-sleev'd Prelate to Purple Throne.
II.
Confound the Hypocrites, Birminghams Royal,
Who think Allegiance a Transgression,
Since to oppose the King is counted loyal,
And to rail high at the Succession.
Monarchy's Tyranny; Justice, cruel;
Loyalists, Tory and Rory Knaves;
And Dagon Liberty's a Jewel,
That we again may be Brewers Slaves.
Second Part.
[...] DRink, drink my Boys, since Plotting is in sea╌son,
[...] and none loyal deem'd but bu╌sie Brats of Faction:
[...] Rome, Rome record no more thy ho╌ly Treason,
[...] we have those at home of more divine Extraction:
[...] We have Peers and Parsons, Smiths and Coopers too,
[...] Carpenters and Joyners of the Reformation,
[...] all your Brood of cloister'd Jesuits out-do,
[...] to reduce to Duty a di╌vi╌ded Nation.
II.
Let Whiggs and Zealots dabble deep in Treason,
And suck from the Spiggot heavenly Revelations,
We in the Glass will find more solid Reason,
And our Hearts inflam'd with nobler Inspirations,
Let 'em boast of loyal Birminghams and true,
And with these make up their Kirk of Separation,
We have honest Tory Tom, and Dick, and Hugh,
Will drink on, and do more service for the Nation
Medley on the Association.
[...] NOW Treasons haunt the Throne,
[...] and Faction sways the Town,
[...] Zea╌lots, Rebels and Traitors re╌ple╌vin,
[...] honest Men they out-brave,
[...] they can no Justice have,
[...] what shall Loy╌a╌lists do for a Living,
[...] since 'tis a Crime to defend the Royal Cause,
[...] or the Laws,
[...] 'gainst his Foes who inclose him,
[...] whilst still the gid╌dy-brain'd Mul╌ti╌tude,
[...] in their old terms so rude,
[...] dai╌╌ly do intrude
[...] with the Crowd to oppose him.
II.
What could the Commons mean,
Impeaching Duke and Queen,
But to govern the Nation without him?
'Twas such a hainous thing,
And Treason in the King,
To keep Money or good Men about him
Then they Petitions bring,
To promote the thing,
And make a Glorious King
The old fashion:
Whilst Lord and Bishop, State, Church and Throne,
With all their Rites must down,
To set up their new Babel of Reformation.
Second Change.
[...] JOckey a╌way Man,
[...] Dee'l ha' me by the Lug gin I will stay Man
[...] to be made sike a Rogue, Wonds a Geud, Sawney, gin thou wot well the thing,
[...] yance mere for money they'l gar thee sell thy King,
[...] so they did venter,
[...] banter,
[...] ranter,
[...] beth the new Whigg and aud Co╌ve╌nan╌ter,
[...] loved him, proved him,
[...] shoved him, moved him,
[...] 'till they gar head him, so well they loved him.
II.
But now at last we've got the removing on't,
And 'till a Test have turned the Covenant,
Muckle Dee'l have us, gin the Loons any mere
Shall e're bereave us of the right lawful Heir.
Now Scotland's loyal,
Joy all;
Royal
JEMMY our Head, the Whiggs we defie all.
We mighted him, righted him,
When England slighted him;
Tan-ta-ra-ra-ra, now Lads wee'l fight for him.
Third Change.
[...] HA! Fire, Fire! see the Clouds are frying,
[...] Sh╌y's acquitted,
[...] and the Flames ascending in Flakes of scorching Treasons,
[...] upwards flying against their King, against the Gods contending:
[...] These are the ho╌ly Triumphs of the Saints offending,
[...] when a damn'd Traitor scapes, that would his King revile;
[...] but let an honest Tory,
[...] to his Monarch's Glory,
[...] light but a Faggot, 'tis his fun'ral Pile.
II.
Poor Teig and Rory, who renew'd the Story,
Were Babes of Grace while swearing was in fashion,
But when the Whigg was charg'd by the true Tory,
The Joyner's Flayl did thresh them out o'th' Nation,
Then all was Gospel-proof, and now all Subornation:
Against old Cony perjur'd every Mother's Son.
And now poor Teig and Rory,
To his Nations Glory,
May plot at home, and sing O hone! O hone!
Fourth Change.
[...] MOrbleu! the Monsieur's come,
[...] as if the Furies bore him,
[...] with Trumpet, Pipe, and Drum,
[...] to 'larm the World around,
[...] the dread of Chri╌sten╌dom:
[...] The Cannons loudly roar him,
[...] the Dev'l will not presume
[...] 'gainst him to stand his ground:
[...] The Spaniard, Dane, and Pole,
[...] submit to his Commanders,
[...] and does the Fates controll
[...] in Germany and Flanders,
[...] 'till to compleat the whole
[...] he makes them all No-Landers,
[...] whilst Fools with patience bear it, and the Loss condole.
II.
Secure in warlike Robe
He rends the World asunder,
He tramples o're the Globe,
And Monarchs truckle down.
What factious plotting Foes,
With hopes to keep him under,
His Justice dare oppose?
His Will's his Law alone.
Shall I (says he) like Fool
Be Hector'd by the Rabble,
When I was born to rule?
Ha! futra le Diable!
I'le curb the head-strong Tool
As long as I am able.
Jerné! To give the Beast the Reigns, 'tis ridicule.
Fifth Change.
[...] HArk! hark! England's Mighty Monarch's come, in the Reer approaches,
[...] he who daily loses ground at home while the Foe encroaches;
[...] he, he who rid in the Front of all the Princes,
[...] formost in the Trenches,
[...] and for all their large pre╌ten╌ces,
[...] did out-strip both the Flow'r of France, and German Eagles,
[...] the A╌cte╌on that never yet was overcome,
[...] but by his own Beagles.
II.
See, see, Great Monarch, how the Pack the old Game inveagles:
Whilst the old Tribe of Forty One is still i'th' Nation,
Plotting's a Vocation,
Treason still will be in fashion.
Lest we all truckle under the Association,
Root out the whole Stock,
Tony to the Block,
To work a thorough Reformation.
[In the second Verse, sing the first Part of the Tune but once over.]
A Drinking CATCH.
[...] COME Boys fill up a Bumper,
[...] wee'l make the Nation roar;
[...] She's grown sick of a Rumper,
[...] that ticks on the old score,
[...] 'pox on Birminghams, rout 'em,
[...] they thirst for our Blood,
[...] wee'l raise Tax╌es without 'em,
[...] and drink for the Na╌ti╌ons Good.
II.
Charge the Bottles and Gallons,
And bring the Hogsheads in,
Wee'l begin with the tall ones,
A Brimmer to the KING:
Round, a-round, fill a fresh one,
That no Man bauk his Wine,
Wee'l drink to the next in Succession,
And keep it in the Right Line.
PHILANDER.
[...] A POX on the factious o' th' C—y,
[...] for chusing two Presbyter Shr—s!
[...] alas! 'tis a great deal of pi╌ty,
[...] my heart for Philander grieves.
[...] He sent the Recorder of L—n,
[...] who by the Factious was run down;
[...] they are such Rogues,
[...] they wish us undone;
[...] hang up those Dogs,
[...] oh! Bil╌ly Scroggs.
II.
They tell us of Plots and of Wonders,
To run Church and Monarchy down,
Whilst still the loud Pa—nt thunders
Against both the Miter and Crown.
The Co—ns to th' City are trotting amain,
Where they sit plotting
Who next shall reign,
While we lye sotting;
Charles to the Wain;
Rogue 'em again.
A SONG.
[...] NOW, now the Work's done, and the Par╌lia╌ment set,
[...] are sent back a╌gain like Fools as they met,
[...] to prove without change they were true to their Trust,
[...] they voted their Actions both legal and just;
[...] but on Rowley, who knew them, the Cheat would not pass,
[...] who cut off the Rump of the Po╌li╌tick Ass.
II.
Let S—b—y plot, and M—n—h contrive,
And Waller lye buzzing like Drone in a Hive,
Let Phanaticks fret on, and preach to the Crowd
Sedition and Faction and Treason aloud;
Wee'l drink off our Liquor to cherish good Blood,
And in our King's Service wee'l let out the Flood.
Old JEMMY.
[...] OLD JEMMY is a Lad,
[...] right law╌ful╌ly descended,
[...] no Bastard born nor bred,
[...] nor for a Whigg suspended:
[...] A Heart and Soul so wondrous great,
[...] with such a conqu'ring Eye,
[...] that ev'ry loyal Lad would plead
[...] in Jemmy's Cause to dye.
II.
Old JEMMY is a Prince
Of noble Resolutions,
Whose powerful Influence
Can order our Confusions:
But, oh! he fights with such a grace,
No force can him withstand;
No God of War but must give place
Where Jemmy leads the Van.
III.
To Jemmy ev'ry Swain
Does pay due veneration,
And Scotland does maintain
His Title to the Nation:
The Pride of all the Court he stands,
The Patron of his Cause,
The Joy and Hope of all his Friends,
The Terrour of his Foes.
IV.
And now, oh happy Pate!
The Kirk has taught a Lesson,
A Blessing on the State,
To settle the Succession:
They loyal were, both Knight and Lord,
And will his Rights maintain,
By Royal Parliament restor'd,
Old Jemmy's YORK again.
The HEALTHS.
[...] SINCE Plotting's a Trade, like the rest of the Nation,
[...] let 'em lye and swear on to keep up the Vo╌ca╌tion.
[...] Let Weavers and Turners and Joyners agree
[...] to find work for the Cooper, they'l have none of me.
[...] Let politick Shams in the Statesman a╌bound,
[...] while we quaff our Bumpers and set the Glass round:
[...] The jol╌ly Toper's the best Subject still,
[...] who drinks off his Liquor, and thinks no more ill.
II.
Here's a Health to the King and his lawful Successors.
To honest Tantivies and loyal Addressers;
But a pox take all those that promoted Petitions,
To poison the Nation, and stir up Seditions.
Here's a Health to the Queen and her Ladies of Honour,
And a pox take all those that put Sham-plots upon her.
Here's a Health to the Duke and Senate of Scotland,
To all honest Men, who from Bishops ne're got Land.
III.
Here's a Health to all those love the King and his Laws,
And may they ne're pledge it that broach the Old Cause.
Here's a Health to the State, and a pox on the Pack
Of Commonwealth-Canters, and Presbyter Jack;
To the uppermost Pendent that ever did play
On the highest Top-Gallant o'th' Soveraign o'th' Sea:
And he that denies to the Standard to low'r,
May he sink in the Ocean, and never drink more.
YORK and ALBANY.
[...] NOW, now the Zealots all must droop,
[...] the Synagogues shall down,
[...] and Truth and Loyal╌ty get up,
[...] the Pillars of the Throne.
[...] The Whiggs (who Loyal╌ty forsook)
[...] shall with one Voice agree,
[...] to welcome home the Mighty Duke
[...] of YORK and ALBANY.
II.
The wandring Dove, that was sent forth
To find some Landing near,
When England's Ark was tost on Floods
Of Jealousie and Fear,
Returns with Olive-Branch of Joy,
To set the Nation free
From Whiggish Rage, that wou'd destroy
Great YORK and ALBANY.
III.
And may he with the Joys he wed
For ever happy be,
And live to crush the Serpents Head,
Whose Sting did pierce his Knee:
'Till Rebells tremble at his Name,
And all the Land agree,
The Rightful Int'rest to proclaim
Of YORK and ALBANY.
The DUKE's Return from Scotland.
[...] NOW the To╌ries that glory
[...] in Royal Jemmy's Return,
[...] i'th' Tavern rore it and score it,
[...] your Caps and Bonnets burn.
[...] Let the Lads and the Las╌ses
[...] set foot to foot in their turn,
[...] and he that pas╌ses his Glasses
[...] may he never scape the Horn.
[...] Royal Jemmy is come again,
[...] there's for honest Men room again,
[...] the true Heir is come home again,
[...] Fools and Bastards we scorn,
[...] then heigh Boys laugh it, and quaff it,
[...] let Whiggs and Zealots mourn.
II.
Let Impeaches and Speeches
Be with the Authors pull'd down,
And he that preaches or teaches
Against the Heir o'th' Crown:
No more the Jealous shall tell us
Of the Succession o'th' Throne,
'Till the Rebellious, so zealous,
His lawful Int'rests own,
Monarchy is got up again,
Every Man take his Cup again,
'Till we make the Slaves droop again,
Who our Peace wou'd inthrall;
And every Rebel that libell'd,
Do at his Footstool fall.
III.
Then the Station o'th' Nation
On Terms more honest will be▪
Nor bold Oration in fashion
To rail at Monarchy:
The City Royal be loyal,
And common Justice agree,
T'avenge lost Heads on the Tryal
Of O—s and S—b—y:
Then Dissenters shall aid the Throne,
And Addressers perswade the Throne,
Gainst the Traitors invade the Throne:
London Charter be free,
And Ignoramus be famous
For Truth and Loyalty.
On the DUKE's Return after Shipwrack.
[...] TH'rough Tempests at Sea, th'rough Tumults on Shore,
[...] the wandring bright Planet a╌gain is restor'd,
[...] still welcome, but ne're more welcome before
[...] to all honest Men, who his absence deplor'd:
[...] We sigh'd in the Shade for the Sun we a╌dore,
[...] and now with fresh Incense our Altars run o're.
II.
To the King and the Queen, to the Brim let it flow,
The Duke and the Dutchess shall have the next place,
To the Royal Blew-Cap about let it go,
The blooming fresh Blossom of the ancient Race:
May he reign, and live ever to conquer his Foes,
Who Monarchy hate, and its Rights dare oppose.
III.
But Pilot take care, and look to your Charge,
Keep loof to the Windings, the Glass is run out,
For if you want Depth you endanger the Barge,
Then launch in the Ocean, and tack it about:
If Quicksands or Shallows our Vessel withstood,
To waft her off safe we will raise a new Flood.
IV.
Then fill up, and see no Ebb in the Glass,
For want of High-water the Ship run aground;
Then if we must fall while he safely does pass,
Wee'l in the full Tide of Allegiance be drown'd:
The Dog that dares bark while this Planet does shine,
In a Thirst let him dye, and in Darkness repine.
Great JEMMY.
[...] HERE's a Health to the Man, that ne're did op╌pose
[...] the King, nor his Interest, Council, nor Laws,
[...] Great JEMMY, that scorns to stoop to such toys,
[...] as the Noise of the Rabble, or Shouting of Boys:
[...] Great JEMMY, the Va╌l'ant, the Injur'd and Brave,
[...] the Di'mond that shines in the darksomest Cave.
II.
Crown every Glass with Lawrel and Bays,
Whilst we drink to his Health, and sing to his Praise:
Then think on the Dutch, what Conquests did flow
From that Spring-Tide of Glories, to varnish his Brow:
Then with one consent let's boldly declare,
He's the Soul of our Peace, and the God of our War,
III.
Let's drink to the HERO who Scotland subdu'd,
And brought to Allegiance the factious Crowd:
Each Day may fresh Garlands his Temples adorn,
As bright as the Day, and as fresh as the Morn:
That Jemmy the Valiant, to Scotland's great praise,
May shine like the Sun in the midst of his Rays.
IV.
Away with it then, set the Bumpers about,
His Enemies all may He put to the rout:
Each snarling Phanatick may he hang down his Ears,
Whose Malice created our Doubts and our Fears;
That JEMMY the Great, with encrease of good Days,
May shine like the Sun in the midst of his Rays.
A Pastoral SONG.
[...] IN fair Arcadian Plains
[...] Philander fed his Sheep,
[...] where safe in the Shade the Lambs undisturb'd did sleep,
[...] young Strephon was chief amongst the Swains.
[...] 'Twas then Phi╌lan╌der cry'd, ha me! ha! ha me!
[...] What Insolence, what Pride did his Sen—ses steep?
[...] that thus the un╌hap╌py Boy shou'd side with Wolves
[...] and Bears against the Shepherd and the Sheep.
II.
But charming Youth beware
Thy projects are in vain,
The wrong'd Celadon to the Flocks is return'd again,
Great Celadon, the Rightful Heir:
Then Strephon, oh return!
Oh! oh! oh! Return, e're thou too late becomes a fatal prey,
The pride, and unlamented scorn
Of that devouring Herd that led thy Heart astray.
III.
Philander thus complain'd,
But all alas! in vain;
An old Serpent lurk'd in the Grass; the unwary Swain
Suck'd in the Charm, and the Sting remain'd:
The poysoning Tap he drains:
Alas! A-A-las! the deadly Draught that did so fatal prove,
That since th 'Inchanted Youth remains
Than poyson'd Adders deafer, and more blind than Love.
Young JEMMY, a Catch.
YOung Jemmy, the Blade of Royal Stamp, is blasted in the Case,
The Faries crept in, the Faries, and left a Changeling in his place.
The Spark, the Spark that fires the Nymphs, and the Sun that gilds the Plains:
Then bring us more Wine, the Dog-star bites, more Wine to cool our Brains.
Was ever poor Youth, was ever poor Youth so unhappily undone!
H'as lost a Father, but who can say the Father has lost a Son?
[You may sing this to what Tune you please, 'till we get a better.]
OSSERY, a Catch.
[...] COunt OSSERY, and what of he?
[...] He beat out the French,
[...] out of their own Trench,
[...] then take off your Beer,
[...] and remember Myn Heer;
[...] sing hey ho! for the poor Monsieur.
The PLOT unvail'd.
[...] DRaw, draw the Vail,
[...] the Plot's growing stale,
[...] that has blinded three parts of the Nation.
[...] The Tap's on the Lees,
[...] and ev'ry Man sees
[...] through the Cask of the As╌so╌ci╌a╌tion.
[...] You brood on a Plot
[...] which Rome cou'd not effect,
[...] This Stalk-horse you bring
[...] to shoot at the King,
[...] on the Game, while the Fowler is watching.
[...] WHat a pox do you mean?
[...] for to gull us again?
[...] with a specious pretence
[...] of Allegiance to your Prince,
[...] whilst to Loyalty each Man pretends,
[...] yet hates in his heart both the King and his Friends;
[...] both the King and his Friends.
[...] SUre he was a loy╌al Subject too,
[...] who cut off the King's Head, as well as you.
[...] So they call'd themselves then, and so do you now:
[...] For Religion and Conscience the Saints did it then,
[...] and you'd make no Conscience to do it a╌gain.
[Sing the three following Stanza's to the Measure of the three foregoing.]
Thus, thus you made
Religion a Trade
In City, and Country, and Village,
Your Rights to maintain,
And Freedom to gain,
By Imprisoning, Plunder, and Pillage;
With Fire and with Sword,
Your All you secur'd,
The Safety and Peace of the Nation;
Whilst Sacrilege, and
The Church to trapan,
Was all the Religion in fashion.
For shame then give o're
With your shamekin Tricks,
To rail as before
With your Goathams and Dicks,
Whilst Popery's still the pretence,
To stir up the Rabble against the true Prince,
Against the true Prince.
Is there Religion, Law, or Sence,
In opposing Decrees of Providence?
Kings are her chief care, then Whigg is a thing
Is a Rebel to his Maker as well as his King.
CHORUS.
[...] THen since 'tis de╌creed by Pro╌vi╌dence,
[...] let's freely submit to its In╌flu╌ence,
[...] in the lawful Succession, and own the great Blessing,
[...] that Heav'n hath re╌stor'd us the lawful Prince.
FINIS.