[...] STORM And DEATH OF THE PROTECTOR Ensuing the same.
IN that Prodigious Winde, when lately dy'd
This Nations Scourge, that Barbarous Regicide,
Heaven did proclaim with a most dreadful Breath,
Its Vengeance on the Tyrant at his Death.
He that all other Villains did excell,
Was not to go with common signs to Hell.
Commets light Princes to their Sepulchers:
His end in storms, was like a Conjurers.
As first was Rome, founded was our New State,
And just like Hero was our first Tyrants fate:
Wolf nursed Romulus, together drew,
By Liberty proclaim'd an Impious Crew
Of banish'd Thieves, and bloudy Fugitives,
Such that their Neighbors scorn'd to give them wives:
Strengthen'd with these, having his Brother slain,
Committed Rape, with war began his Raign.
To Jupiter he prays for Victory,
And with Religion cloakt his Cruelty,
Till in a Tempest from his Subjects snacht,
He was with Thunder to the Shades dispacht:
In Romulus his steps, and by his Crimes,
Up to the Throne Brittains Usurper climbes:
The holy Hypocrite, first Heaven to mock,
Then brings his Righteous Sovereign to the Block!
Gods Worship he forbids, his Priests reviles,
His Temples robs, pulls down, or else defiles.
To keep what he usurpt by our own Jars,
Upon his peaceful Neighbors forceth Wars;
Assaults their Towns, onely to give those Graves,
Whose generous Souls repin'd to be his Slaves.
At length of Orphants Tears and Christian Bloud,
Which he had spilt, the Cry became so loud,
Incensed Heaven with a Tempestuous Winde,
Swept from the Earth this Locust of Mankinde.
And after death, as wicked Romulus
Was deified, so are there some with us,
That style this Monster Hero, Hercules,
His Puny Upstart Successor to please.
How base are Flatterers! Even Wickedness
Shall Panegericks finde, if't have success.
On the late STORM, &c.
REsign we must, Hell his damn'd Soul doth claim,
In Storms as hideous as his cursed Fame:
His dying screiks affrighted makes [...]le;
Trees are turn'd down for his Inferna [...] Pile,
And about him round for Gibbets, Roots are tost:
In such a Storm Great Vandermast was lost.
Ma [...] room then for him, Hell, who kill'd his King,
And [...]rom Rebelling's fall'n to Bellowing.
From the top on's Pride this Monster now lies dead,
With ruin'd Soul, and Curses 'bout him spread.
His latter Fury from Gods Temple rent
A Sacred
Dr. He [...].
Priest, a Murthered Innocent.Houses from Towns, Corns from their fields lye rest,
This as his latest Legacy he left.
The Ocean which so long our Isle confin'd,
No bounds could give to his ambitious Minde:
Our Bonds enlargement was his earnest toyl:
To a s [...]d Prison hath he turn'd our Isle.
Under both Tropicks are his Mischiefs spoke,
He ruin'd England, yet would he Flanders yoke.
In uncivil Broyls he did this Land engage:
The Noblest still were Objects of his Rage.
New ways of Treason he his Countrey show'd,
And then conducted Regicides abroad.
Ungrateful man! no tears we can allow
To him that gave us whips and scourges too.
Usurpers fear and tremble, now you see,
The great'st of Villains from the Grave's not free.
Nature her self took notice of his Death,
And jocoun'd swell'd the Sea with such a breath,
That to remotest Shores her Billows rold,
And the near Fate of this Great Rebel told.
London, Printed in the Year of our Lord, 1659.