A SCOURGE for the LIBELLER OR A sober Vindication of DOCTOR WILD, AND The Memory of Mr. CARYL, from the Rude Aspersions of a Scandalous Sheet Intituled, The MOCK-ELOGIE, &c.
‘Memoria Justi in AEternum.’
BLess thee ! Heav'ns Thunder rather dread
Darted on thy Impious Head,
Who dar'st wih black unhallowed Tongue
These Reverend Asbes basely wrong;
In vain thou Leavy'st Dunghil Verse,
To Sully Caryls gracefull Herse;
Whose pretious name like spices bruis'd,
More fragrant smells being thus abus'd;
So pure Chrystal without disgrace,
Dashes back Filth ith' Flingers face.
Profane Screerh-Owl! thy croakings cease
Hee's Anchor'd in Eternal peace;
From whence with pitty he beholds
The state of such malicious souls,
On Earth he did this Precept Live,
His causeless Foes still to forgive;
Knowing his Masters blessings there
Where we all false Reproaches bear;
But tell us Libeller? what bribe
Did the Ranting Atheist Tribe,
Bestow on thee for that lend paper,
Those belchings of a Hellish vapour
A thing so vain, and dully writ
Equally void of Grace and wit;
Scandal to Ballading, and shame,
Of all that e're wore Pamphlets name;
Each man of sense disdain'd to buy't.
The very Hawkers blusht to cry't;
The noble Art of Printing (found
No sooner, but it Rome did wound;
And ever since with nimble Ray,
Spreads Knowledge to a perfect day)
With indignation swel'd to see
It self Drudge to such Trumperee;
Has not the grave Learned J. O.
Already fought with Beasts enow
At Ephesus, but you must come
Yelping to add unto the summ?
Speak Kiffin low—He may be Sheriffe
And thou tis like may'st want repreive;
Sad Age! when ev'ry paltry Penn
Dares Scandalize such worthy men;
But in the name of wonder, how
Comes Wild and's Gout engaged now?
Can no Fatherless sheet be thrown
Abroad, but He the Brat must own?
Must he answer for all your pranks
Your Panegyriques; and your Thanks?
Have Tales as many, and as silly;
Impos'd upon him, as on Lilly;
No sooner forth is Rhymer wincht
But streight poor Boreale's pincht,
That Boreale which shall last
In spight of Envies threatning blast;
Longer than all Romes Books of Mass
Or Heathen Pyramids of Brass;
What though perhaps it may be true,
When whilome fatal Bartholmew;
Refreshing Parsonage withdrew,
Sometimes the old unbusied Swain
On Oaten Reed might pipe a strain
Yet since Indulgence now decrees
Him Flock again, (though not the Fleece)
He hopes better to spend his Tyme
Than in vain Frolliqueings of Rhyme;
Not but he willingly would come
A Mourner unto Caryls Tomb
Wishing he could but tune a Verse
Worthy of so blest a Herse
Whose soul now bears a part in those
Ravishing Notes Angels compose;
Let scoffers mock on whilst we bless
Heav'n for this Symptome of our peace
That several Sects did mix their cries
Bewailing of his obsequies;
In Sions Road diverse paths ly,
But all Centre in Charity,
Heav'n seems it self t'admit degrees
Angels have their Hierarchies;
Why then should we so Rigid prove
To let Opinions strangle Love?
LONDON Printed in the Year 1672.