THE MUSES FIRE-WORKS Upon the Fifth of November: OR, The Protestants Remembrancer OF THE Bloody Designs of the Papists in the Never-to-be-forgotten Powder-Plot, &c.

HAil happy hour, wherein that Hellish Plot
Was found, Which, had it prosper'd, might have shot
At the Celestial Throne; at whose dread stroke
Atlas had reel'd, and both the Poles had shoke:
And Tellus (sympathizing in the woe)
Had felt an Ague and a Fever too:
Hell-gates had been set ope, to make men say,
S. Peter's Vicar hath mistook his Key.
Methinks I see a dismal gloomy Cell,
The Lobby-Porch and Wicket unto Hell,
The Devil's Shop, where great had been his Prize,
Had he prevail'd to make his Wares to Rise.
Say, gentle Drawer, were they Ca'ks of Beer?
Or was old Bacchus tunn'd and firkin'd there?
Nay, then the Pope's turn'd Vintner: Friends, behold
What mortal Liquour's at the Mitre fold!
Fire-spewing Aetna with good cause may fear
That her Distemper springs from too much Beer:
And old Enceladus may well confess
That all his Belching's caus'd by Drunkenness.
Had wretched Dives begg'd a Drop of this,
To allay his heat, the Fool had ask'd amiss:
His hapless Rhet'rick might have done him wrong,
'Twould have tormented, not have coold his Tongue.
Had Heber's Wife but known this Trick of thine,
She'd spar'd her Milk, and given the Captain Wine.
Strange, sure, had been th' Effects; it would have sped
Our lawful King and left the Pope instead.
Right Drunkenness indeed, which, for a space,
Steals Man away and leaves a Beast in's place.
'T had caus'd a general intoxication,
The stag'ring, nay, the downfal of the Nation.
Oh murth'rous Plot! Posterity shall say,
His Holiness oreshoots Caligula.
The Pope by this and such Designs ('tis plain)
Out-Babels Nimrod and out-butchers Cain.
About this time the brave M [...]unteagle, whose
Firm love to his Religion rather chose
To break the Roman Yoke, than see the Reign
Of deceas'd Mary wheel about again,
Receiv'd a Letter in a dubious sence,
It seem'd a piece of Stygian Eloquence:
The Characters look'd just like conj'ring Spells;
For this bout Hell here spoke in Parables.
The Pope's and Devil's Signets were set to't,
The cloven Mitre and the cloven Foot.
But shall our State by an unlook'd-for Blow
Receive a mortal Wound, and yet not know
The hand that smote her? shall she sigh and cry,
Like Polyphemus, Out is quench'd mine Eye?
Is England by the angry Fates sad Doom
Condemn'd to play at Hot-cockles with Rome:
No, Man of Myst'ries, no, we understand
Thy Gibb'rish, though thou art confounded, and
Have found thy meaning; Heav'n can read thy hand.
Thus were our Senate like to be betraid
By a strange Egg which Peter's Cock had laid:
For had the Serpent hatch'd it, the Device
Had prov'd to us a baneful Cockatrice.
Now like proud Haman being stretch'd upon
The heightned Pegs of vain Ambition,
Above Pride's highest Ela, how he took
Poor Mordechal's advancement, and could brook
Hanging in stead of Honouring; that Curse
Which made him set the Cart before the Horse:
Just such was Faux, his baffled hopes bequeath
No comforts now, but thoughts of sudden Death.
Like Haman's fate, he only could aspire
To be advanced fifty Cubits higher.
What Phoebus said to th' Laurel, that sure he
Said to the Gallows, Thou shalt be my Tree.
But didst thou think, thou mitred Man of Rome,
Who bellowest threatnings and thy dreadful Doom,
And like Perillus roarest in thy Bull
Curses and Blasphemies a Nation full,
At one sad stroke to massacree a Land,
And make them fall whom heav'n ordain'd to stand.
No, though thy head was fire and thou could turn
Thy ten branch'd Antler to a Powder horn;
Still we are safe, till our trangaessions merit
A Reformation from such a Spirit
As comes from thence: our Nation need not fear
Dark Lanterns, whilst God's Candlestick is here.
The Purple Whore may lay her Mantle by,
Until our Sins are of a Scarlet-dye.
Those Horns alone can sound our overthrow,
And blow us up, which blew down Jericho,
Christ bless this Kingdom from intestine quarrels;
From Schism in Tubs, and Popery in Barrels.

LONDON, Printed for William Miller at the Gilded Acorn in St. Paul's Church-yard, near the little North Door.

At which Place you may be furnished with most sorts of bound or stitched Books, as Acts of Parliament, Proclamations, Speeches, Declarati­ons, Letters, Orders, Commmissions, Articles; as also Books of Divinity, Church-Government, Sermons, and most sorts of Histories, Poe­try, Plays, and such like; &c. As also Tickets for Funerals ready fitted.

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