THE President of Presidents:

WHat! he that blasted Tyranny with's breath,
Has he submitted now to Tyrant Death!
Could he the fate of Kingdoms doom? yet he
Not countermand prevailing Destiny.
Who could find Law 'gainst Law, condemn, and trie,
The King-like Reason, God-like Maiesty;
Should have gone on, me-thinks, seen gasping lie
The Queen of Reason too, Philosophy.
Nor should he have staid there, but by some new,
Strange Judic'ture have Censur'd Nature too.
But stay, Did [...] [...]ot think himself to be
Above the reach [...] [...]il Mortality?
[Having bee [...] [...] [...]v'd Senate die,
Himself beco [...] [...]us [...]he Property.
And Generati [...] [...]rom Corruption now,
Another rising from their overthrow.
And that aspiring Pyramide to fall!
(The Father's greatnesse, the Son's funeral.)
And the forgotten Carcase, that had lain
Disanimated long, revive again.
Assuming (what was thought for ever gone)
Their Power, at their Resurrection.]
And rising with 'em, thought himself to be
Invested with their Immortality.
But, as a Flower on a Chymist's call
Rais'd, to attend on its own funerall.
Short was their Time, and soon expir'd their Reigne,
Returning to their Chaos back again.
Which Bradshaw sadly viewing, sigh'd, that he
Must now submit t' imperious Destiny.
For he, who kept their Seal, while he had breath,
Has yielded now to the Broad-Seal of Death.
But some may be so sawcie as to prie
Into the Councel of the Deitie:
Think Justice is not hood-wink'd now, but blind;
Style Murther Law, and Cruelty most kind.
That Bradshaw, (England's Pilat) who durst own
The Act, of murthering his Soveraign;
Usurp the seat of Justice, doom to death,
Whom God himself had styl'd a god on earth:
That at one fatall Sentence, and one Blow,
Lay butcher'd Maj'stie, and three Kingdoms too.
Drest in his sanguine Roabs, Law the pretence,
T'assasinate both Law and Innocence.
That, not the horrour of his crimes, nor sense
Of sin, could wake his sleeping Conscience;
And on himself, like a foul o'recharg'd Gun,
Recoil, and be his own destruction.
Or was the Sword of Justice dull? had he
Brib'd that too, to comply with Villany?
Must he expire in his soft bed? no force!
Could not the
Whitehall, where he di­ed.
Place inspire him with Remorce?
Know, that his Crimes were such, transcended far
All Parallel, and must stand singular.
The wittiest Vengeance man could here invent,
Must fall far short of such a President.
There is no name to know him by. Nay, we
Ought to forget him, that Posterity,
Searching our Records, might no pattern find,
This to Re-act, but damn it to Mankind.
Should man attempt this Punishment, it were
To rob just Heaven of its Vengeance here.
Oblivion ought to swallow the intent,
And this Example find no President.
T. B.

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