A dog's elegy, or, Rvpert's tears, for the late defeat given him at Marstonmoore, neer York, by the three renowned generalls; Alexander Earl of Leven, general of the Scottish forces, Fardinando, Lord Fairefax, and the Earle of Manchester generalls of the English Forces in the North. Where his beloved dog, named Boy, was killed by a valiant souldier, who had skill in necromancy. Likewise the strange breed of this shagg'd cavalier, whelp'd of a malignant water-witch; with all his tricks, and feats. Sad Cavaliers, Rupert invites you all that does survive, to his dogs funerall. Close-mourners are the witch, Pope, & devill, that much lament ye'r late befallen evill.

A dog's elegy, or, Rvpert's tears, for the late defeat given him at Marstonmoore, neer York, by the three renowned generalls; Alexander Earl of Leven, general of the Scottish forces, Fardinando, Lord Fairefax, and the Earle of Manchester generalls of the English Forces in the North. Where his beloved dog, named Boy, was killed by a valiant souldier, who had skill in necromancy. Likewise the strange breed of this shagg'd cavalier, whelp'd of a malignant water-witch; with all his tricks, and feats. Sad Cavaliers, Rupert invites you all that does survive, to his dogs funerall. Close-mourners are the witch, Pope, & devill, that much lament ye'r late befallen evill.

A dog's elegy, or, Rvpert's tears, for the late defeat given him at Marstonmoore, neer York, by the three renowned generalls; Alexander Earl of Leven, general of the Scottish forces, Fardinando, Lord Fairefax, and the Earle of Manchester generalls of the English Forces in the North. Where his beloved dog, named Boy, was killed by a valiant souldier, who had skill in necromancy. Likewise the strange breed of this shagg'd cavalier, whelp'd of a malignant water-witch; with all his tricks, and feats. Sad Cavaliers, Rupert invites you all that does survive, to his dogs funerall. Close-mourners are the witch, Pope, & devill, that much lament ye'r late befallen evill.

Table of contents

Title page

A Dogg's Elegie, OR RƲPERTS Tears.

[Page]

[Page]

A Dogg's Elegie, OR RƲPERTS Tears.

LAment poor Caevaliers, cry, howl and yelp

For the great losse of your Malignant Whelp,

Hee's dead! Hee's dead? No more alas can he

Protect you Dammes, or get Victorie.

How sad that Son of Blood did look to hear

One tell the death of this shagg'd Cavalier,

P. Ruperts sorrow.

Hee rav'd, he tore his Perriwigg, and swore,

Against the Round-heads that hee'd ne're fight more:

Close couch'd, as in a field of Beanes he lay,

His policie.

Cursing and banning all that live-long day;

Thousands of Devills Ramme me into Hell,

Or may I live and die an Infidell,

The Day's quite lost, wee are all confounded,

And made a prey to ev'ry paltry Roundhead;

Just Heav'n had so Decreed, as it fell out,

The Cavaliers receiv'd a finall Rout.

Manchester, Leslie, Fairefax weares the Bay.

His Army Routed.

And Crumwell crown'd chief Victor of the Day;

VVhile thousands weltring in their blood, did lie

VVeary of life, and yet afraid to die.

But for to tell of this Bl [...]ck Water-witch,

His Dogs Progeny.

That puppy'd was of a Malignant Bitch,

Or Hagge, so cunning in her Art, that shee

VValk'd under earth [...] in the aire [...] flie,

The property of Witches.

Sell windes she could, command the Ebb or Tide,

Raise Foggs, give Spells or on the Clowds could ride,

For Magick, Sorcery, Charme or Evill,

She well, might[?] [...] to th' Devill.

[Page]

This Witch one night, late, picking banefull Drugs,

Her Spirit.

Meeting grim Brenno, us'd to suck her duggs,

In shape of a young stripling Dammy Blade,

For Whoredome, Murder, and for Rapine made,

For all the world, some say, just such another

That used to call Prince Maurice brother:

Thus shee Accoasted him, What Forme is this

Thou hast assum'd Brenno? By the Abysse,

My blood rebells more powerfull then my Charmes,

Till I doe lodge thee in my twined armes.

The dog begotten.

No sooner had shee spake, but a black clowde

VVith duskie curtains did them both enshrowde,

VVhere was begotten this Malignant Curr,

VVho in this Iland hath made all this stirre.

Full thrice three yeears within her cursed wombe,

He did remaine, ere he to light did come:

The long'd for houre is come, most strange to tell,

The Furies straight about their businesse fell;

Megera midwife was to this strange Fiend,

For whose delivery all the Haggs attend:

Thunder and Earth quakes such a noise did make,

As if Heavens Axletree in sunder brake,

And either Poles, their heads together pash'd,

As all againe they had to Chaos dash'd:

Then was a noise, as if the Garden Beares,

And all the Doggs together by the Eares,

And those in Bedlam had inlarged been,

And to behold the bayting had come in.

Signs of prodigious births.

About by noon flew the affrighted Owls,

And Dogs in corners set them down to howle,

Bitches and Wolves these fatall signes among,

Brought forth most monstrous, and prodigious young:

And from his height, the earth-refreshing Sun,

Before his houre his golden beams doth run

Farre under us, in doubt his glorious Eye

Should be polluted with this Progedy.

A trembling fear straight on the people grew,

But for what cause there was not one that knew,

Th' Destinies, Furyes, Fates, and all hells Crew

Came trembling in, and would this Monster view,

[Page]And long it was not ere there came to light.

The most abhorred, and most fearfull sight

That ever eye beheld, a birth so strange,

That at the view it made their looks to change:

VVomen stand off (quoth one) and come not neer it,

The dogges birth.

The Devill, if he saw it, sure would fear it,

For by it's shape, for ought that I can gather,

The Childe is able to affright the Father:

'Twas like a Dog, yet there was none did know

VVhether it Devill was, or Dog, or no.

Scarce twice two yeers past o're,

His cunning.

but quickly hee

Excell'd his Mother in her VVitcherie,

And in his black and gloomy Arts so skill'd,

That he even Hell in his subjection held;

Hee could command the Spirits up from below,

And binde them strongly, till they let him know

All the dread secrets that belong them to,

And what those did, with whom they had to doe.

This VVizard in his knowledge most profound,

His depth of skill▪

Sate on a day the depths of things to sound,

For that the VVorld was brought to such a passe,

That it well nere in a confusion was,

For things set right, ran quickly out of frame,

And those awrie, to rare perfection came,

And matters in such sort about were brought,

That States were puzzl'd almost beyond thought,

VVhich made him thinke as he might very well,

There were more Devills then he knew in hell.

Now for to Act his part he doth beginne,

And tempt's the VVorld to all abhorred sinne:

To Rome he first resolves his course to steere,

His first trick.

And quickly leaps into the Prelates Chaire,

Just 'bout the time some think when as Pope Jone

VVas head o'the Church, and troubled with the stone,

He cur'd her Holinesse, brought her abed,

And shew'd the Romish Church her Maiden head:

But finding Rome already prone to Vice,

To Pride, Vain-glory, Lust and Avarice,

To Murder, Rape, Idolatry and more

Then he (though Devill) ever knew before,

[Page]For Spaine hee comes, just about Eighty Eight,

And there a Fleet he Rigg'd for England streight,

The great Armado.

There did hee play his Water-prize with Dr [...]ke,

Who with Earth's thunder, made proud Neptune quake;

He taught this Dog to Duck, to swim, and dive,

Till scarce a Spaniard he had left alive;

But being vex'd, missing his aime at Sea,

He vow'd on Land revenged he would be,

Queen Elizabeth many times miraculously delivered.

But Heav'n which ever did Protect that Queene,

Debarr'd his malice, and repell'd his spleene;

Till Jove fetching her hence, gave her a Crowne,

More bright, more glorious, and of more renowne,

Who Reignes till Time hath date, or Fame hath breath,

Queen of true English hearts in life and death.

Aurora's gone: Bright Sol is in his Throne,

Then dry your eyes, and cease for her to mourne:

This Dogge now casts about, tries all his skill,

To poyson, stab, or some new way to kill

Never yet heard of; The Master-piece of hell

The Popish Powder-plot.

Is now contriv'd that wants a Paralell,

The Powder-Plot, that would in one half houre,

King, Prince, Peers, Commons, at one blow devower,

But then he failed too, the Eye of Heav'n

Descri'd the Plot, and Justice with an even

Impartiall hand, by the Decree of Jove,

Set free our Kingdom, and did them remove,

Gave them their just reward, sent them to Hell,

'Mongst better Devills then themselves and well.

Our Dog is masterlesse; Could he but frame

Himself to serve the Fav'rite Buckingham,

The Dog turns Courtier.

This cunning, slie, insinuating Elfe,

By him would work strange wonders for himself,

Then doth he Plot, contrive and cast about[?] ▪

And Hell it self doth search, for to finde out,

If any way were left, he vow'd to [...]

Once more to bring this land to [...].

Duke of Lenox.

Now dies that Noble Scot, who [...]s tell,

'Twas thy Ambition made his carcasse swell.

Prince Henry.

Next, Prince Henry—But here my Muse strikes saile,

A damp glide through [...]

[Page]I know not, unlesse some powerfull Spell

Hath charm'd my head into a watery VVell:

"Eyes weep out tears, tears weep out eyes in kindnesse,

"Since he is dead, how best of all is blindnesse.

A Match with Spaine must now be practised,

VVhich soon will strike the nayle up to the head:

Oh, now it works, which makes his Holinesse,

The Popes letter.

Salute his hopefull Sonne with an Expresse,

Answer'd with so much Candor to the Chaire,

As if Himself of it did stand in feare.

The Match broak off with Spaine, our Noble BOY

Is yet to seek, and must finde out a way

By Poyson still, how that (O monstrous!) Hee

More home may strike at Sacred Majestie,

Great Brittains KING, and Europs chiefest glory,

K. James his death.

Scarce parallel'd in any English Story,

Must with White Powder given him in his drinke,

Cry out on him that made his Carcasse sinke.

O for a Bishop now, Come Little Land,

Canterbury ushers in popery.

And usher in the Babylonish Baud,

This made him Metropolitan, when hee

Did move the Duke to goe toth' Ile of Ree,

The Ile of Rue voyage.

Poore Rochell Ru'd it, where by more then Chance,

England was made the scorne of conquer'd France:

But heaven by Felton's hand had so decreed,

He that shed all this blood, himself should bleed.

Now Bishops, Coaps, Caps, Surplices and Crosses,

Must needs Religion-o're these fattall Losses:

GODS Day must be Profan'd with Sports profane,

The Declaration for Sports on the Sabbath-day.

Laud, White, and Wren, like Tyrant-Kings must Reign:

Monopolies impos'd, and none goe free,

But those that lou'd the Masse, and Popery.

Now Tips of Ears, and burning fiery scarres,

Mr. Burton, Mr. Prynne, and Dr. Bastwick.

VVere all sad Symptoms of insuing VVarres!

That Masse-Book unto Scotland now must trace,

Scotlands piety.

Or else a Bloody Sword supplies the place.

Now doth that sur-Reverend Piece of Lust,

Queen mother.

That Madam Pole cat, that was never just,

Contrive and Plot, and wrack her whoary scull,

Urging her Daughter to make mischief full.

[Page]

Now Strafford's on the dismall Stage: 'tis hee

Must Act chief part in this red Tragedie:

Traytors, and papists, Whe [...]ps of the same litter.

Now Harry Jemin, Bristoll, Digby, Cott.—

Must all to work, and see what they can Plot:

Now Bleeding Ireland hath by Commission,

Brought th' Prot'stants to a sad condition:

Two hundred thousand of them lately slaine,

The Protestant Religion to maintaine.

'Tis time the King now leave his Parliament,

Let Digby weare his Crown, and give consent

To raise an Army Traytors to protect,

And his Great Counsell utterly reject.

The Dogs Master.

Now Prince of Robbers, Duke of Plunderland,

This Dogs great Master, hath receiv'd command

To kill, burne, steale, Ravish, nay, any thing,

And in the end to make himself a King.

Newcastle next, Capell the Cow stealer,

These and Irish Rebells, his Maiesties best Subjects.

And Hastings alias Rob-Carrier,

Hopton, Hurry, Lunsford, that all doe Fight

For the true Gospel, and the Subjects Right.

On Ashton, Legge, and such as these doe stand

The Priviledge of Parliament and Land!

And the Known Laws, that should good men protect,

Upheld by Rebells, that good men reiect,

O durum hoc! —Mine eyes burst out to thinke

How blinde he is, that can at these things winke.

To tell you all the pranks this Dogge hath wrought,

That lov'd his Master, and him Bullets brought,

VVould but make laughter, in these times of woe,

Or how this Curr came by his fatall blow,

Look on the Title page, and there behold,

The Emblem will all this to you unfold.

MORRALL.

The VVorld's the VVitch, the Dogge, is the Devill,

And men th' Actors, that have wrought this evill.

EPILOGUE.

He that can't get a peny me to buy,

May want a Pound, and a Malignant die.

FINIS.

§

§

[Page]

A DOGS ELEGY, OR RVPERTS TEARS, For the late Defeat given him at Marstonmoore, neer York, by the Three Renowned Generalls; Alexander Earl of Leven, Generall of the Scottish Forces, Fardinando Lord Fairefax, and the Earle of Manchester Generalls of the English Forces in the North.

Where his beloved Dog, named BOY, was killed by a Valliant Souldier, who had skill in Necromancy.

Likewise the strange breed of this Shagg'd Cavalier, whelp'd of a Malignant Water-witch; With all his Tricks, and Feats.

[figure]

Sad Cavaliers, Rupert invites you all

That doe survive, to his Dogs Funerall.

Close-mourners are the Witch, Pope, & devill,

That much lament yo'r late befallen evill.

Printed at London, for G. B. July 27. 1644.

Information about this book

Title statement

A dog's elegy, or, Rvpert's tears, for the late defeat given him at Marstonmoore, neer York, by the three renowned generalls; Alexander Earl of Leven, general of the Scottish forces, Fardinando, Lord Fairefax, and the Earle of Manchester generalls of the English Forces in the North. Where his beloved dog, named Boy, was killed by a valiant souldier, who had skill in necromancy. Likewise the strange breed of this shagg'd cavalier, whelp'd of a malignant water-witch; with all his tricks, and feats. Sad Cavaliers, Rupert invites you all that does survive, to his dogs funerall. Close-mourners are the witch, Pope, & devill, that much lament ye'r late befallen evill.

Edition statement

1644

Publication

Publisher

Text Creation Partnership,

Place of publication

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Date

2009-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).

ID [DLPS]

A81604

ID [STC]

Wing D1830

ID [STC]

Thomason E3_17

ID [STC]

ESTC R3732

ID [EEBO-CITATION]

99872477

ID [PROQUEST]

99872477

ID [VID]

154679

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(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A81604)

Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 154679)

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Source

— A dog's elegy, or, Rvpert's tears, for the late defeat given him at Marstonmoore, neer York, by the three renowned generalls; Alexander Earl of Leven, general of the Scottish forces, Fardinando, Lord Fairefax, and the Earle of Manchester generalls of the English Forces in the North. Where his beloved dog, named Boy, was killed by a valiant souldier, who had skill in necromancy. Likewise the strange breed of this shagg'd cavalier, whelp'd of a malignant water-witch; with all his tricks, and feats. Sad Cavaliers, Rupert invites you all that does survive, to his dogs funerall. Close-mourners are the witch, Pope, & devill, that much lament ye'r late befallen evill., Taylor, John, 1580-1653..

Extent

[8] p.

for G. B.,. Printed at London, :: July 27. 1644.. (Perhaps by John Taylor, the water poet. cf. NUC pre-1956.) (Reproduction of the original in the British Library.) (In verse.)

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