A COLLECTION Of the Best English Poetry, BY Several HANDS. (Viz.)

  • Duke of Devon,
  • Lord Rochester,
  • Mr. Dryden,
  • Sir John Denham,
  • Lord Roscommon,
  • Earl of Mulgrave,
  • Sir Robert Howard,
  • Mr. Phillips,
  • Dr. South,
  • Bp. Spratt,
  • Mr. Waller,
  • Dr. Swift,
  • Mr. Addison,
  • Sir Richard Blackmore,
  • Mr. Milton,
  • Mr. Congreve,
  • Sir John Beaumont, &c.

In Two Vol's Octavo.

LONDON: Printed, and Sold by T. Warner, at the Black Boy in Pater-Noster-Row, 1717. (Price 10 s.)

The True-Born Engliſ …

The True-Born English-Man. A SATYR.

Statuimus Pacem, & Securitatem, & Concordiam Judicium & Justitiam inter Anglos & Norman­nos, Francos, & Britones Walliae & Cornubiae, Pictos & Scotos Albaniae, similiter inter Francos & Insulanos Provincias, & Patrìas, quae perti­nent ad Coronam nostram, & inter omnes nobis Subjectos, firmiter & inviolabiliter observari.

Charta Regis Willielmi Conquisitoris de Pacis Publica, Cap. 1.

Printed in the Year 1708.

(Price Three Pence.)


THE End of Satyr is Reformation: And the Author, tho' he doubts the Work of Conversion is at a gene­ral Stop, has put his Hand to the Plow.

I expect a Storm of Ill Language from the Fury of the Town, and especially from those whose English Talent it is to Rail: And without being taken for a Conjurer, I may ven­ [...]ure to foretel, That I shall be Cavil'd at about my Mean Stile, Rough Verse, and Incorrect Language; Things I might indeed have taken more Care in. But the Book is Printed; and tho' I see some Faults, 'tis too late to mend them: And this is all I think needful to say to them.

Possibly Somebody may take me for a Dutchman; in which [...]hey are mistaken: But I am one that would be glad to see Englishmen behave themselves better to Strangers, and to Governors also; that one might not be reproach'd in Foreign Countries, for belonging to a Nation that wants Manners.

I assure you, Gentlemen, Strangers use us better abroad; [...]nd we can give no reason but our Ill Nature for the contra­ [...]y here.

Methinks an Englishman, who is so proud of being call'd [...] Goodfellow, shou'd be civil: And it cannot be denied but [...]e are in many Cases, and particularly to Strangers, the hurlishest People alive.

As to Vices, who can dispute our Intemperance, while an Honest Drunken Fellow is a Character in a Man's Praise? [...]ll our Reformations are Banters, and will be so, till our Magistrates and Gentry Reform themselves by way of Exam­ple; [Page 4] then, and not till then, they may be expected to punish others without blushing.

As to our Ingratitude, I desire to be understood of that particular People, who pretending to be Protestants, have all along endeavour'd to reduce the Liberties and Religion of this Nation into the Hands of King James and his Popish Powers: Together with such who enjoy the Peace and Protection of the present Government, and yet abuse and affront the King who procur'd it, and openly profess their Uneasiness under him: These, by whatsoever Names or Titles they are dignified or distinguish'd, are the People aim'd at: Nor do I disown, but that it is so much the Temper of an Englishman to abuse his Benefactor, that I could be glad to see it rectified.

They who think I have been guilty of any Error, in expo­sing the Crimes of my own Countrymen to themselves, may among many honest Instances of the like nature, find the same thing in Mr. Cowly, in his Imitation of the second Olympick Ode of Pindar: His Words are these;

But in this Thankless World the Givers
Are envi'd even by th' Receivers:
'Tis now the Cheap and Frugal Fashion,
Rather to hide than pay an Obligation.
Nay, 'tis much worse than so;
It now an Artifice doth grow,
Wrongs and Outrages to do,
Lest Men should think we Owe.


SPeak, Satyr, for there's none can tell like thee,
Whether 'tis Folly, Pride, or Knavery,
That makes this discontented Land appear
Less happy now in Times of Peace, than War:
Why Civil Feuds disturb the Nation more
Than all our Bloody Wars have done before.
Fools out of Favour grudge at Knaves in Place,
And Men are always honest in Disgrace:
The Court-Preferments make Men Knaves in course:
But they which wou'd be in them wou'd be worse.
Tis not at Foreigners that we repine,
Wou'd Foreigners their Perquisites resign:
The Grand Contention's plainly to be seen,
To get some Men put out, and some put in.
[...]or this our S—rs make long Harangues,
[...]nd florid M—rs whet their polish'd Tongues.
[...]tatesmen are always sick of one Disease;
[...]nd a good Pension gives them present Ease.
[...]hat's the Specifick makes them all content
[...]ith any King, and any Government▪
[...]ood Patriots at Court-Abuses rail,
[...]nd all the Nation's Grievances bewail:
[...]t when the Sovereign Balsam's once appli'd,
[...]he Zealot never fails to change his Side.
[...]nd when he must the Golden Key resign,
[...]e Railing Spirit comes about again.
[Page 6]Who shall this Bubbl'd Nation disabuse;
While they their own Felicities refuse?
Who at the Wars have made such mighty Pother,
And now are falling out with one another:
With needless Fears the Jealous Nation fill,
And always have been sav'd against their Will:
Who Fifty Millions Sterling have disburs'd,
To be with Peace and too much Plenty curs'd.
Who their Old Monarch eagerly undo,
And yet uneasily obey the New.
Search, Satyr, search, a deep Incision make;
The Poyson's strong, the Antidote's too weak.
'Tis pointed Truth must manage this Dispute,
And down-right English Englishmen confute.
Whet thy just Anger at the Nation's Pride;
And with keen Phrase repel the vicious Tide.
To Englishmen their own beginning show,
And ask them why they slight their Neighbours so.
Go back to Elder Times, and Ages past,
And Nations into long Oblivion cast;
To Old Britannia's Youthful Days retire,
And there for True-Born Englishmen enquire.
Britannia freely will disown the Name,
And hardly knows her self from whence they came:
Wonders that They of all Men should pretend
To Birth and Blood, and for a Name contend.
Go back to Causes where our Follies dwell,
And fetch the dark Original from Hell:
Speak, Satyr, for there's none like thee can tell.

The True-Born English-Man. PART I.

WHere-ever God erects a House of Prayer,
The Devil always builds a Chapel there:
And 'twill be found upon Examination,
The latter has the largest Congregation:
For ever since he first debauch'd the Mind,
He made a perfect Conquest of Mankind.
With Uniformity of Service, he
Reigns with a general Aristocracy.
No Nonconforming Sects disturb his Reign,
For of his Yoak there's very few complain.
He knows the Genius and the Inclination,
And matches proper Sins for ev'ry Nation.
He needs no Standing-Army Government;
He always rules us by our own Consent:
His Laws are easy, and his gentle Sway
Makes it exceeding pleasant to obey.
The List of his Vicegerents and Commanders,
Outdoes your Caesars, or your Alexanders.
They never fail of his infernal Aid,
And he's as certain ne'er to be betray'd.
[Page 8]Through all the World they spread his vast Command,
And Death's Eternal Empire's maintain'd.
They rule so politickly and so well,
As if they were L— J— of Hell.
Duly divided to debauch Mankind,
And plant Infernal Dictates in his Mind.
Pride, the first Peer, and President of Hell,
To his share Spain, the largest Province, fell.
The subtile Prince thought fittest to bestow
On these the Golden Mines of Mexico;
With all the Silver Mountains of Peru;
Wealth which would in wise hands the World undo:
Because he knew their Genius was such;
Too Lazy and too Haughty to be Rich.
So proud a People, so above their Fate,
That if reduc'd to beg, they'll beg in State.
Lavish of Money, to be counted Brave,
And proudly starve, because they scorn to save.
Never was Nation in the World before,
So very Rich, and yet so very Poor.
Lust chose the Torrid Zone of Italy,
Where Blood ferments in Rapes and Sodomy:
Where swelling Veins o'erflow with livid Streams,
With Heat impregnate from Vesuvian Flames:
Whose flowing Sulphur forms Infernal Lakes,
And human Body of the Soil partakes.
There Nature ever burns with hot Desires,
Fann'd with Luxuriant Air from Subterranean Fires▪
Here undisturb'd in Floods of scalding Lust,
Th' Infernal King reigns with Infernal Gust.
Drunk'ness, the Darling Favourite of Hell,
Chose Germany to rule; and rules so well,
No Subjects more obsequiously obey,
None please so well, or are so pleas'd as they.
The cunning Artist manages so well,
He lets them Bow to Heav'n, and Drink to Hell.
[Page 9]If but to Wine and him they Homage pay,
He cares not to what Deity they pray,
What God they worship most, or in what way.
Whether by Luther, Calvin, or by Rome,
They sail for Heav'n, by Wine he steers them home.
Ungovern'd Passion settled first in France,
Where Mankind lives in haste, and thrives by Chance.
A Dancing Nation, Fickle and Untrue:
Have oft undone themselves, and others too:
Prompt the Infernal Dictates to obey,
And in Hell's Favour none more great than they.
The Pagan World he blindly leads away,
And Personally rules with Arbitrary Sway:
The Mask thrown off, Plain Devil his Title stands;
And what elsewhere he Tempts, he there Commands.
There with full Gust th' Ambition of his Mind
Governs, as he of old in Heav'n design'd.
Worshipp'd as God, his Painim Altars smoke,
Embru'd with Blood of those that him Invoke.
The rest by Deputies he rules as well.
And plants the distant Colonies of Hell.
By them his secret Power he maintains,
And binds the World in his Infernal Chains.
By Zeal the Irish; and the Rush by Folly:
Fury the Dane: The Swede by Melancholly:
By stupid Ignorance, the Muscovite:
The Chinese by a Child of Hell, call'd Wit:
Wealth makes the Persian too Effeminate:
And Poverty the Tartars Desperate:
The Turks and Moors by Mah'met he subdues:
And God has giv'n him leave to rule the Jews:
Rage rules the Portuguese; and Fraud the Scotch:
Revenge the Pole; and Avarice the Dutch.
Satyr be kind and draw a silent Veil,
Thy Native England's Vices to conceal:
Or if that Task's impossible to do,
At least be just, and show her Vertues too;
Too great the first, Alas! the last too Few.
[Page 10] England unknown as yet, unpeopled lay;
Happy, had she remain'd so to this Day,
And not to ev'ry Nation been a Prey.
Her Open Harbours, and her Fertile Plains,
The Merchants Glory these, and those the Swains,
To ev'ry Barbarous Nation have betray'd her,
Who conquer her as oft as they Invade her.
So Beauty guarded but by Innocence,
That ruins her which should be her Defence.
Ingratitude, a Devil of Black Renown,
Possess'd her very early for his own.
An Ugly, Surly, Sullen, Selfish Spirit,
Who Satan's worst Perfections does inherit:
Second to him in Malice and in Force,
All Devil without, and all within him Worse.
He made her First-born Race to be so rude,
And suffer'd her to be so oft subdu'd:
By sev'ral Crouds of Wandring Thieves o'er-run,
Often unpeopl'd, and as oft undone.
While ev'ry Nation that her Pow'rs reduc'd,
Their Languages and Manners introduc'd.
From whose mix'd Relicks our compounded Breed,
By Spurious Generation does succeed;
Making a Race uncertain and unev'n,
Deriv'd from all the Nations under Heav'n.
The Romans first with Julius Caesar came,
Including all the Nations of that Name,
Gauls, Greeks, and Lombards; and by Computation,
Auxiliaries or Slaves of ev'ry Nation.
With Hengist, Saxons; Danes with Sueno came,
In search of Plunder, not in search of Fame.
Scots, Picts, and Irish from th' Hibernian Shore:
And Conqu'ring William brought the Normans o'er.
All these their Barb'rous Offspring left behind,
The Dregs of Armies, they of all Mankind;
Blended with Britains who before were here,
Of whom the Welsh ha' blest the Character.
[Page 11]From this Amphibious Ill-born Mob began
That vain ill-natur'd thing, an Englishman.
The Customs, Sirnames, Languages, and Manners,
Of all these Nations are their own Explainers:
Whose Relicks are so lasting and so strong,
They ha' left a Shiboleth upon our Tongue;
[...]y which with easy search you may distinguish
Your Roman-Saxon-Danish-Norman English.
The great Invading * Norman let us know
What Conquerors in After-Times might do.
To ev'ry Musqueteer he brought to Town,
He gave the Lands which never were his own.
When first the English Crown he did obtain,
He did not send his Dutchmen home again.
No Reassumptions in his Reign were known,
D'avenant might there ha' let his Book alone.
No Parliament his Army cou'd disband;
He rais'd no Money, for he paid in Land.
He gave his Legions their Eternal Station,
And made them all Freeholders of the Nation.
He canton'd out the Country to his Men,
And ev'ry Soldier was a Denizen.
The Rascals thus enrich'd, he call'd them Lords,
To please their Upstart Pride with new-made Words;
And Doomsday-Book his Tyranny records.
And here begins the Ancient Pedigree
That so exalts our Poor Nobility:
'Tis that from some French Trooper they derive,
Who with the Norman Bastard did arrive:
The Trophies of the Families appear;
Some show the Sword, the Bow, and some the Spear,
Which their Great Ancestor, forsooth, did wear.
These in the Heralds Register remain,
Their Noble mean Extraction to explain.
Yet who the Hero was, no Man can tell,
Whether a Drummer or a Colonel:
[Page 12]The silent Record blushes to reveal
Their Undescended Dark Original.
But grant the best, How came the Change to pass;
A True-Born Englishman of Norman Race?
A Turkish Horse can show more History,
To prove his Well-descended Family.
Conquest, as by the 3 Moderns 'tis exprest,
May give a Title to the Lands possest:
But that the longest Sword shou'd be so Civil,
To make a Frenchman English, that's the Devil.
These are the Heroes that despise the Dutch;
And rail at new come Foreigners so much;
Forgetting that themselves are all deriv'd
From the most Scoundrel Race that ever liv'd.
A horrid Croud of Rambling Thieves and Drones,
Who ransack'd Kingdoms, and dispeopl'd Towns.
The Pict and Painted Britain, Treach'rous Scot,
By Hunger, Theft, and Rapine, hither brought.
Norwegian Pirates, Buccaneering Danes,
Whose Red-hair'd Offspring ev'ry where remains.
Who join'd with Norman-French, compound the Breed
From whence your True-Born Englishmen proceed.
And lest by Length of Time it be pretended,
The Climate may this Modern Breed ha' mended,
Wise Providence, to keep us where we are,
Mixes us daily with exceeding Care:
We have been Europe's Sink, the Iakes where she
Voids all her Offal Out-cast Progeny.
From our Fifth Henry's time, the Strolling Bands
Of banish'd Fugitives from Neighb'ring Lands,
Have here a certain Sanctuary found:
The Eternal Refuge of the Vagabond.
Wherein but half a common Age of Time,
Borr'wing new Blood and Manners from the Clime,
Proudly they learn all Mankind to contemn,
And all their Race are True-Born Englishmen.
[Page 13] Dutch, Walloons, Flemmings, Irishmen, and Scots,
Vaudois and Valtolins, and Hugonots,
[...]n good Queen Bess's Charitable Reign,
Suppli'd us with Three hundred thousand Men.
Religion, God we thank thee, sent them hither,
Priests, Protestants, the Devil and all together:
Of all Professions, and of ev'ry Trade,
[...]ll that were persecuted or afraid;
Whether for Debt or other Crimes they fled,
David at Hackelah was still their Head.
The Offspring of this Miscellaneous Croud,
[...]ad not their new Plantations long enjoy'd,
[...]ut they grew Englishmen, and rais'd their Votes
[...]t Foreign Shoals of Interloping Scots.
The * Royal Branch from Pict-land did succeed,
With Troops of Scots and Scabs from North-by-Tweed.
The Seven first Years of his Pacifick Reign,
Made him and half his Nation Englishmen.
Scots from the Northern Frozen Banks of Tay,
With Packs and Plods came Whigging all away:
[...]hick as the Locusts which in Egypt swarm'd,
With Pride and hungry Hopes compleatly arm'd:
With Native Truth, Diseases, and No Money,
[...]under'd our Canaan of the Milk and Honey.
[...]ere they grew quickly Lords and Gentlemen,
[...]nd all their Race are True-Born Englishmen.
The Civil Wars, the common Purgative,
Which always use to make the Nation thrive,
[...]ade way for all that strolling Congregation,
[...]hich throng'd in Pious Ch—s's Restoration.
[...]e Royal Refugee our Breed restores,
[...]ith Foreign Courtiers, and with Foreign Whores:
[...]nd carefully repeopled us again,
[...]hroughout his Lazy, Long, Lascivious Reign.
[...]ith such a blest and True-born Englsh Fry,
[...] much Illustrates our Nobility.
[Page 14]A Gratitude which will so black appear,
As future Ages must abhor to hear:
When they look back on all that Crimson Flood,
Which stream'd in Lindsey's, and Caernarvon's Blood:
Bold Stafford, Cambridge, Capel, Lucas, Lisle,
Who crown'd in Death his Father's Fun'ral Pile.
The Loss of whom, in order to supply
With True-Born English N—ty,
Six Bastard Dukes survive his Luscious Reign,
The Labours of Italian C—n,
French P—h, Tabby S—t, and Cambrian.
Besides the Num'rous Bright and Virgin Throng,
Whose Female Glories shade them from my Song.
This Offspring, if one Age they multiply,
May half the House with English Peers supply:
There with true English Pride they may contemn
S—g and P—d, new-made Noblemen.
French Cooks, Scotch Pedlars, and Italian Whores,
Were all made L—ds, or L—ds Progenitors.
Beggars and Bastards by his new Creation,
Much multipli'd the P—ge of the Nation;
Who will be all, e'er one short Age runs o'er,
As True-Born L—ds as those we had before.
Then to recruit the Commons he prepares,
And heal the latent Breaches of the Wars:
The pious Purpose better to advance,
H' invites the banish'd Protestants of France:
Hither for God's sake and their own they fled,
Some for Religion came, and some for Bread:
Two hundred thousand Pair of Wooden Shooes,
Who, God be thank'd, had nothing left to lose;
To Heav'n's great Praise did for Religion fly,
To make us starve our Poor in Charity.
In ev'ry Port they plant their fruitful Train,
To get a Race of True-Born Englishmen:
Whose Children will, when riper Years they see,
Be as Ill-natur'd, and as Proud as we:
[Page 15]Call themselves English, Foreigners despise,
Be Surly like us all, and just as Wise.
Thus from a Mixture of all Klnds began,
That Het'rogeneous Thing, An Englishman:
[...]n eager Rapes, and furious Lust begot,
[...]etwixt a Painted Britton and a Scot:
Whose gend'ring Offspring quickly learnt to bow,
[...]nd yoke their He [...]fers to the Roman Plough:
[...]rom whence a Mongrel half-bred Race there came,
[...]ith neither Name nor Nation, Speech or Fame.
[...] whose hot Veins new Mixtures quickly ran,
[...]fus'd betwixt a Saxon and a Dane.
[...]hile their Rank Daughters, to their Parents just,
[...]eceiv'd all Nations with Promiscuous Lust.
[...]his Nauseous Brood directly did contain
[...]he well-extracted Blood of Englishmen.
Which Medly canton'd in a Heptarchy,
Rhapsody of Nations to supply,
[...]mong themselves maintain'd eternal Wars,
[...]nd still the Ladies lov'd the Conquerors.
The Western Angles all the rest subdu'd;
[...] bloody Nation, barbarous and rude:
[...]ho by the Tenure of the Sword possest
[...]ne part of Britain, and subdu'd the rest.
[...]nd as great things denominate the small,
[...]he Conqu'ring Part gave Title to the Whole.
[...]he Scot, Pict, Britain, Roman, Dane submit,
[...]nd with the English-Saxon all unite:
[...]nd these the Mixture have so close pursu'd,
[...]he very Name and Memory's subdu'd:
[...] Roman now, no Britain does remain;
[...]les strove to separate, but strove in vain:
[...]he silent Nations undistinguish'd fall,
[...]d Englishman's the common Name for all.
[...]te jumbl'd them together, God knows how;
[...]hat e'er they were, they're True-Born English now.
The Wonder which remains is at our Pride,
[...] value that which all wise Men deride.
[Page 16]For Englishmen to boast of Generation,
Cancels their Knowledge, and lampoons the Nation.
A True-Born Englishman's a Contradiction,
In Speech an Irony, in Fact a Fiction.
A Banter made to be a Test of Fools,
Which those that use it justly ridicules.
A Metaphor invented to express
A Man a-kin to all the Universe.
For as the Scots, as Learned Men ha' said,
Throughout the World their Wandring Seed ha' spread;
So open-handed England, 'tis believ'd,
Has all the Gleanings of the World receiv'd.
Some think of England 'twas our Saviour meant,
The Gospel should to all the World be sent:
Since when the blessed Sound did hither reach,
They to all Nations might be said to Preach.
'Tis well that Virtue gives Nobility,
Else God knows where we had our Gentry;
Since scarce one Family is left alive,
Which does not from some Foreigner derive.
Of Sixty thousand English Gentlemen,
Whose Names and Arms in Registers remain,
We challenge all our Heralds to declare
Ten Families which English-Saxons are.
France justly boasts the Ancient Noble Line
Of Bourbon, Mommorency, and Lorrain.
The Germans too their House of Austria show,
And Holland their Invincible Nassau.
Lines which in Heraldry were Ancient grown,
Before the Name of Englishman was known.
Even Scotland too her Elder Glory shows,
Her Gourdons, Hamiltons, and her Monroes;
Dowglas, Mackays, and Grahams, Names well known,
Long before Ancient England knew her own.
But England, Modern to the last degree,
Borrows or makes her own Nobility,
And yet she boldly boasts of Pedigree:
[Page 17] [...]epines that Foreigners are put upon her,
[...]nd talks of her Antiquity and Honour:
[...]er S—lls, S—ls, C—ls, De — M—rs,
[...]—ns and M—ues, D—s, and V—rs,
[...]ot one have English Names, yet all are English Peers.
[...]our H—ns, P—llons, and L—liers,
[...]ss now for True-Born English Knights and Squires,
[...]nd make good Senate-Members, or Lord-Mayors.
[...]ealth, howsoever got, in England makes
[...]ords of Mechanicks, Gentlemen of Rakes
[...]ntiquity and Birth are needless here;
[...]is Impudence and Money makes a P—r.
[...] Innumerable City-Knights we know,
[...]om Bluecoat Hospitals and Bridewell flow:
[...]raymen and Porters fill the City Chair,
[...]nd Footboys Magisterial Purple wear.
[...]ate has but very small Distinction set
[...]etwixt the Counter and the Coronet.
[...]arpaulin L—ds, Pages of high Renown,
[...]ise up by Poor Mens Valour, not their own.
[...]reat Families of Yesterday we show,
[...]nd Lords, whose Parents were the Lord knows who.

The True-Born English-Man. PART II.

THE Breed's describ'd: Now, Satyr, if you can,
Their Temper show, for Manners make the Man▪
Fierce as the Britain, as the Roman Brave;
And less inclin'd to Conquer than to Save:
Eager to fight, and lavish of their Blood;
And equally of Fear and Forecast void.
The Pict has made 'em Sowre, the Dane Morose;
False from the Scot, and from the Norman worse.
What Honesty they have, the Norman gave them,
And That, now they grow old, begins to leave them▪
The Climate makes them Terrible and Bold;
And English Beef their Courage does uphold:
No Danger can their Daring Spirit pall,
Always provided that their Belly's full.
In close Intriegues their Faculty's but weak,
For gen'rally whate'er they know, they speak:
And often their own Councils undermine
By their Infirmity, and not Design.
From whence the Learned say it does proceed,
That English Treasons never can succeed:
[Page 19] [...]or they're so open-hearted, you may know
Their own most secret Thoughts, and others too.
The Lab'ring Poor, in spight of Double Pay,
[...]re Sawcy, Mutinous, and Beggarly:
[...]o lavish of their Money and their Time,
[...]hat want of Forecast is the Nation's Crime.
[...]ood Drunken Company is their Delight;
[...]nd what they get by Day, they spend by Night▪
[...]ull Thinking seldom does their Heads engage,
But Drink their Youth away, and hurry on Old Age.
Empty of all good Husbandry and Sense;
[...]nd void of Manners most, when void of Pence.
[...]heir strong Aversion to Behaviour's such,
[...]hey always talk too little or too much.
[...] dull, they never take the pains to think;
[...]nd seldom are good-natur'd, but in Drink.
In English Ale their dear Enjoyment lies,
[...]or which they'll starve themselves and Families.
[...]n Englishman will fairly drink as much
[...]s will maintain Two Families of Dutch:
[...]ubjecting all their Labours to the Pots;
[...]he greatest Artists are the greatest Sots.
The Country Poor do by Example live;
[...]he Gentry lead them, and the Clergy drive!
[...]hat may we not from such Examples hope?
[...]he Landlord is their God, the Priest their Pope
Drunken Clergy, and a Swearing Bench,
[...]as giv'n the Reformation such a Drench,
[...] wise Men think there is some cause to doubt,
[...]ill purge Good Manners and Religion out.
Nor do the Poor alone their Liquor prize,
[...]he Sages join in this great Sacrifice.
[...]he Learned Men who study Aristotle,
[...]orrect him with an Explanation Bottle;
[...]aise Epicurus rather than Lysander,
[...]d * Aristippus more than Alexander.
[Page 20]The Doctors too their Galen here resign,
And gen'rally prescribe Specifick Wine.
The Graduates Study's grown an easier Task,
While for the Urinal they toss the Flask.
The Surgeons Art grows plainer ev'ry Hour,
And Wine's the Balm which into Wounds they pour.
Poets long since Parnassus have forsaken,
And say the Ancient Bards were all mistaken.
Apollo's lately abdicate and fled,
And good King Bacchus governs in his stead;
He does the Chaos of the Head refine,
And Atom-Thoughts jump into Words by Wine:
The Inspiration's of a finer Nature;
As Wine must needs excel Parnassus Water;
Statesmen their weighty Politicks refine,
As Soldiers raise their Courages by Wine.
Caecilia gives her Choristers their Choice,
And lets them all drink Wine to clear the Voice.
Some think the Clergy first found out the way,
And Wine's the only Spirit by which they pray.
But others less prophane than so, agree,
It clears the Lungs, and helps the Memory:
And therefore all of them Divinely think,
Instead of Study, 'tis as well to drink.
And here I wou'd be very glad to know,
Whether our Asgilites may drink or no.
Th' Enlightning Fumes of Wine would certainly
Assist them much when they begin to fly:
Or if a Fiery Chariot shou'd appear,
Inflam'd by Wine, they'd ha' the less to fear.
Even the Gods themselves, as Mortals say,
Were they on Earth, wou'd be as drunk as they:
Nectar would be no more Celestial Drink,
They'd all take Wine, to teach them how to Think.
But English Drunkards, Gods and Men out-do,
Drink their Estates away, and Senses too.
Colon's in Debt, and if his Friends should fail
To help him out, must dye at last in Gaol:
[Page 21]His Wealthy Uncle sent a Hundred Nobles,
To pay his Trifles off, and rid him of his Troubles:
[...]ut Colon, like a True-Born Englishman,
[...]rank all the Money out in bright Champaign;
[...]nd Colon does in Custody remain.
[...]runk'ness has been the Darling of the Realm,
[...]er since a Drunken Pilot had the Helm.
In their Religion they are so unev'n,
That each Man goes his own By-way to Heav'n.
Tenacious of Mistakes to that degree,
[...]hat ev'ry Man pursues it sep'rately,
[...]nd fancies none can find the Way but he:
[...] shy of one another they are grown,
[...]s if they strove to get to Heav'n alone.
[...]igid and Zealous, Positive and Grave,
[...]nd ev'ry Grace, but Charity, they have:
[...]his makes them so Ill-natur'd and Uncivil,
[...]hat all Men think an Englishman the Devil.
Surly to Strangers, Froward to their Friend;
[...]ubmit to Love with a reluctant Mind;
[...]esolv'd to be ungrateful and unkind.
[...] by Necessity reduc'd to ask,
[...]he Giver has the difficultest Task:
[...]or what's bestow'd they aukwardly receive,
[...]nd always Take less freely than they Give.
[...]he Obligation is their highest Grief;
[...]nd never love, where they accept Relief.
[...] sullen in their Sorrows, that 'tis known,
[...]hey'll rather dye than their Afflictions own:
[...]nd if reliev'd, it is too often true,
[...]hat they'll abuse their Benefactors too:
[...]or in Distress their Haughty Stomach's such,
[...]hey hate to see themselves oblig'd too much.
[...]ldom contented, often in the wrong;
[...]ard to be pleas'd at all, and never long.
If your Mistakes their Ill Opinion gain,
[...]o Merit can their Favour reobtain:
[Page 22]And if they're not Vindictive in their Fury,
'Tis their unconstant Temper does secure ye:
Their Brain's so cool, their Passion seldom burns:
For all's condens'd before the Flame returns:
The Fermentation's of so weak a Matter,
The Humid damps the Fume, and runs it all to Water.
So tho' the Inclination may be strong,
They're pleas'd by Fits, and never angry long.
Then if Good Nature shows some slender Proof,
They never think they have Reward enough:
But like our Modern Quakers of the Town,
Expect your Manners, and return you none.
Friendship, th' abstracted Union of the Mind,
Which all Men seek, but very few can find:
Of all the Nations in the Universe,
None talk on't more, or understand it less:
For if it does the Property annoy,
Their Properry their Friendship will destroy.
As you discourse them, you shall hear them tell
All things in which they think they do excel:
No Panegyrick needs their Praise record;
An Englishman ne'er wants his own good Word.
His Long Discourses gen'rally appear
Prologu'd with his own wondrous Character:
But First to illustrate his own good Name,
He never fails his Neighbour to defame:
And yet he really designs no wrong;
His Malice goes no further than his Tongue.
But pleas'd to Tattle, he delights to Rail,
To satisfy the Lech'ry of a Tale.
His own dear Praises close the ample Speech,
Tells you how Wise he is; that is, how Rich:
For Wealth is Wisdom; he that's Rich is wise▪
And all Men Learned Poverty despise.
His Generosity comes next, and then
Concludes that he's a True-Born Englishman;
And they 'tis known, are Generous and Free,
Forgetting, and Forgiving Injury:
[Page 23]Which may be true, thus rightly understood,
[...]orgiving Ill Turns, and Forgetting Good.
Chearful in Labour when they've undertook it;
[...]ut out of Humour, when they're out of Pocket.
[...]ut if their Belly and their Pocket's full.
They may be Phlegmatick, but never Dull:
And if a Bottle does their Brains refine,
[...] makes their Wit as sparkling as their Wine.
As for the general Vices which we find
They're guilty of in common with Mankind,
[...]atyr, forbear, and silently endure;
[...]e must conceal the Crimes we cannot cure.
[...]or shall my Verse the brighter Sex defame;
[...]or English Beauty will preserve her Name.
[...]eyond dispute, Agreeable and Fair;
And Modester than other Nations are:
[...]or where the Vice prevails, the great Temptation
[...]s want of Money, more than Inclination.
[...]n general, this only is allow'd,
They're something Noisy, and a little Proud.
An Englishman is gentlest in Command,
Obedience is a Stranger in the Land:
Hardly subjected to the Magistrate;
[...]or Englishmen do all Subjection hate.
Humblest when Rich, but peevish when they're Poor;
[...]nd think whate'er they have, they merit more.
The meanest English Plowman studies Law,
And keeps thereby the Magistrates in Awe:
Will boldly tell them what they ought to do,
And sometimes punish their Omissions too.
Their Liberty and Property's so dear,
They scorn their Laws or Governours to fear:
[...]o bugbear'd with the Name of Slavery,
They can't submit to their own Liberty.
[...]estraint from Ill is Freedom to the Wise;
[...]ut Englishmen do all Restraint despise.
[...]laves to the Liquor, Drudges to the Pots,
The Mob are Statesmen, and their Statesman Sots.
[Page 24]Their Governours they count such dangerous things,
That 'tis their Custom to affront their Kings:
So jealous of the Power their Kings possess'd,
They suffer neither Power nor Kings to rest.
The Bad with Force they eagerly subdue;
The Good with constant Clamours they pursue:
And did King Jesus reign they'd murmur too.
A discontented Nation, and by far
Harder to rule in Times of Peace than War:
Easily set together by the Ears,
And full of causeless Jealousies and Fears:
Apt to revolt, and willing to rebel,
And never are contented when they're well.
No Government cou'd ever please them long,
Cou'd tye their Hands, or rectify their Tongue.
In this to Ancient Israel well compar'd,
Eternal Murmurs are among them heard.
It was but lately that they were opprest,
Their Rights invaded, and their Laws supprest:
When nicely tender of their Liberty,
Lord! what a Noise they made of Slavery.
In daily Tumults show'd their Discontent;
Lampoon'd their King, and mock'd his Government.
And if in Arms they did not first appear,
'Twas want of Force, and not for want of Fear.
In humbler Tone than English us'd to do,
At Foreign Hands for Foreign Aid they sue.
William the Great Successor of Nassau,
Their Prayers heard, and their Oppressions saw:
He saw and sav'd them: God and Him they prais'd;
To This their Thanks, to That their Trophies rais'd.
But glutted with their own Felicities,
They soon their New Deliverer despise;
Say all their Prayers back, their Joy disown,
Unsing their Thanks, and pull their Trophies down▪
Their Harps of Praise are on the Willows hung;
For Englishmen are ne'er contented long.
[Page 25]The Rev'rend Clergy too! and who'd ha' thought,
That they who had such Non-Resistance taught,
Should e'er to Arms against their Prince be brought?
Who up to Heaven did Regal Pow'r advance;
Subjecting English Laws to Modes of France.
Twisting Religion so with Loyalty,
[...]s one cou'd never live, and t'other dye.
And yet no sooner did their Prince design
Their Glebes and Perquisites to undermine,
[...]ut all their Passive Doctrines laid aside;
The Clergy their own Principles deny'd:
[...]npreach'd their Non-resisting Cant, and pray'd
To Heav'n for Help, and to the Dutch for Aid.
The Church chym'd all her Doctrines back again,
[...]nd Pulpit-Champions did the Cause maintain;
[...]lew in the Face of all their former Zeal,
[...]nd Non-Resistance did at once repeal.
The Rabbies say it would be too prolix,
To tye Religion up to Politicks:
The Church's Safety is Suprema Lex.
[...]nd so by a new Figure of their own,
Their former Doctrines all at once disown.
[...]s Laws Post Facto in the Parliament,
[...] urgent Cases have obtain'd Assent;
[...]ut are as dangerous Presidents laid by;
Made Lawful only by Necessity.
The Rev'rend Fathers then in Arms appear,
[...]nd Men of God became the Men of War.
[...]he Nation, fir'd by them, to Arms apply;
[...]ssault their Antichristian Monarchy;
To their due Channel all our Laws restore,
[...]nd made things what they shou'd ha' been before.
[...]ut when they came to fill the Vacant Throne,
[...]nd the Pale Priests look'd back on what they'd done;
[...]ow English Liberty began to thrive,
[...]nd Church of England Loyalty out-live:
[...]ow all their persecuting Days were done,
[...]d their Deliv'rer plac'd upon the Throne▪
[Page 26]The Priests, as Priests are wont to do, turn'd Tail;
They're Englishmen, and Nature will prevail.
Now they deplore the Ruins they ha' made,
And murmur for the Master they betray'd.
Excuse those Crimes they cou'd not make him mend;
And suffer for the Cause they can't defend.
Pretend they'd not ha' carry'd things so high;
And Proto-Martyrs make for Popery.
Had the Prince done as they design'd the thing,
Ha' set the Clergy up to rule the King;
Taken a Donative for coming hither,
And so ha' left their King and them together,
We had, say they, been now a happy Nation.
No doubt we had seen a Blessed Reformation:
For Wise Men say 't's as dangerous a thing,
A Ruling Priest-hood, as a Priest-rid King.
And of all Plagues with which Mankind are curst,
Ecclesiastick Tyranny's the worst.
If all our former Grievances were feign'd,
King James has been abus'd, and we trepann'd;
Bugbear'd with Popery and Power Despotick,
Tyrannick Government, and Leagues Exotick:
The Revolution's a Phanatick Plot,
W— a Tyrant, S— a Sot:
A Factious Army and a Poyson'd Nation,
Unjustly forc'd King James's Abdication.
But if he did the Subjects Rights invade,
Then he was punish'd only, not betray'd;
And punishing of Kings is no such Crime,
But Englishmen ha' done it many a Time.
When Kings the Sword of Justice first lay down,
They are no Kings, though they possess the Crown.
Titles are Shadows, Crowns are empty things,
The Good of Subjects is the End of Kings;
To guide in War, and to protect in Peace;
Where Tyrants once commence, the Kings do cease:
For Arbitrary Power's so strange a thing,
It makes the Tyrant, and unmakes the King.
[Page 27]If Kings by Foreign Priests and Armies reign,
[...]nd Lawless Power against their Oaths maintain,
[...]hen Subjects must ha' reason to complain.
If Oaths must bind us when our Kings do ill;
[...]o call in Foreign Aid is to rebel.
[...]y force to circumscribe our Lawful Prince,
[...] wilful Treason in the largest Sense:
[...]nd they who once rebel, most certainly
[...]heir God, and King, and former Oaths defy.
[...] we allow no Male-Administration
[...]ould cancel the Allegiance of the Nation;
[...]et all our Learned Sons of Levi try,
[...]his Eccles'astick Riddle to unty:
[...]ow they could make a Step to call the Prince,
[...]nd yet pretend to Oaths and Innocence.
By th' first Address they made beyond the Seas,
[...]hey're perjur'd in the most intense Degrees;
[...]nd without Scruple for the time to come,
May swear to all the Kings in Christendom.
And truly did our Kings consider all,
[...]hey'd never let the Clergy swear at all:
[...]heir Politick Allegiance they'd refuse;
[...]or Whores and Priests will never want excuse.
But if the Mutual Contract was dissolv'd,
The Doubtss explain'd, the Difficulty solv'd:
That Kings, when they descend to Tyranny,
Dissolve the Bond, and leave the Subject free.
The Government's ungirt when Justice dies,
And Constitutions are Non-Entities.
The Nations all a Mob, there's no such thing
As Lords or Commons, Parliament or King.
A great promiscuous Croud the Hydra lies,
Till Laws revive, and mutual Contract ties:
A Chaos free to chuse for their own share,
What Case of Government they please to wear:
[...]f to a King they do the Reins commit,
All Men are bound in Conscience to submit:
[Page 28]But then that King must by his Oath assent
To Postulata's of the Government;
Which if he breaks, he cuts off the Entail,
And Power retreats to its Qriginal.
This Doctrine has the Sanction of Assent,
From Nature's Universal Parliament.
The Voice of Nations, and the Course of Things,
Allow that Laws superiour are to Kings.
None but Delinquents would have Justice cease,
Knaves rail at Laws as Soldiers rail at Peace:
For Justice is the End of Government,
As Reason is the Test of Argument.
No Man was ever yet so void of Sense,
As to debate the Right of Self-Defence;
A Principle so grafted in the Mind,
With Nature born, and does like Nature bind:
Twisted with Reason, and with Nature too;
As neither one nor t'other can undo.
Nor can this Right be less when National;
Reason which governs one, should govern all.
Whate'er the Dialect of Courts may tell,
He that his Right demands, can ne'er rebel.
Which Right, if 'tis by Governours deny'd,
May be procur'd by Force, or Foreign Aid.
For Tyranny's a Nation's Term for Grief;
As Folks cry Fire, to hasten in Relief.
And when the hated Word is heard about,
All Men shou'd come to help the People out.
Thus England groan'd, Britannia's Voice was heard;
And Great Nassau to rescue her appear'd:
Call'd by the Universal Voice of Fate;
God and the Peoples Legal Magistrate.
Ye Heav'ns regard! Almighty Jove look down,
And view thy Injur'd Monarch on the Throne.
On their Ungrateful Heads due Vengeance take,
Who sought his Aid, and then his part forsake.
Witness, ye Powers! it was our Call alone,
Which now our Pride makes us asham'd to own.
[Page 29] [...]ritannia's Troubles fetch'd him from afar,
[...]o court the dreadful Casualties of War:
[...]ut where Requital never can be made,
[...]cknowledgment's a Tribute seldom paid.
He dwelt in Bright Maria's Circling Arms,
[...]efended by the Magick of her Charms,
[...]om Foreign Fears, and from Domestick Harms.
[...]bition found no Fuel for her Fire,
[...]e had what God cou'd give, or Man desire.
[...]ll Pity rous'd him from his soft Repose,
[...]s Life to unseen Hazards to expose:
[...]ll Pity mov'd him in our Cause t' appear;
[...]ty! that Word which now we hate to hear.
[...]t English Gratitude is always such,
[...]o hate the Hand which does oblige too much.
Britannia's Cries gave Birth to his Intent,
[...]d hardly gain'd his unforeseen Assent:
[...]s boding Thoughts foretold him he should find
[...]he People Fickle, Selfish and Unkind.
Which Thought did to his Royal Heart appear
[...]ore dreadful than the Dangers of the War:
[...]or nothing grates a generous Mind so soon,
[...]s base Returns for hearty Service done.
Satyr, be silent, awfully prepare
[...]ritannia's Song, and William's Praise to hear.
[...]and by, and let her chearfully rehearse
[...]er Grateful Vows in her Immortal Verse.
[...]oud Fame's Eternal Trumpet let her sound;
[...]sten ye distant Poles, and endless Round.
[...]ay the strong Blast the welcome News convey
[...]s far as Sound can reach, or Spirit fly.
[...]o Neighb'ring Worlds, if such there be, relate
[...]r Hero's Fame, for theirs to imitate.
[...]o distant Worlds of Spirits let her rehearse:
[...]or Spirits without the helps of Voice converse.
[...]ay Angels hear the gladsome News on high,
[...]ix'd with their everlasting Symphony.
[Page 30]And Hell it self stand in Suspence to know
Whether it be the Fatal Blast, or no.


The Fame of Virtue 'tis for which I sound,
And Heroes with Immortal Triumphs crown'd.
Fame built on solid Virtue swifter flies,
Than Morning-Light can spread my Eastern Skies.
The gath'ring Air returns the doubling Sound,
And loud repeating Thunders force it round:
Ecchoes return from Caverns of the Deep:
Old Chaos dreams on't in Eternal Sleep.
Time hands it forward to its latest Urn,
From whence it never, never shall return,
Nothing is heard so far, or lasts so long;
'Tis heard by ev'ry Ear, and spoke by ev'ry Tongue.
My Hero with the Sails of Honour furl'd,
Rises like the great Genius of the World.
By Fate and Fame wisely prepar'd to be
The Soul of War, and Life of Victory.
He spreads the Wings of Virtue on the Throne,
And ev'ry Wind of Glory fans them on.
Immortal Trophies dwell upon his Brow,
Fresh as the Garlands he has won but now.
By different Steps the high Ascent he gains,
And differently that high Ascent maintains.
Princes for Pride and Lust of Rule make War,
And struggle for the Name of Conqueror.
Some fight for Fame, and some for Victory:
He Fights to Save, and Conquers to set Free.
Then seek no Phrase his Titles to conceal,
And hide with Words what Actions must reveal.
No Parallel from Hebrew Stories take,
Of God-like Kings my Similies to make:
No borrow'd Names conceal my living Theam;
But Names and Things directly I proclaim.
[Page 31] [...]is honest Merit does his Glory raise;
[...]hom that exalts, let no Man fear to praise,
[...]f such a Subject no Man need be shy;
[...]irtue's above the Reach of Flattery.
[...]e needs no Character, but his own Fame,
[...]or any flattering Titles, but his Name.
William's the Name that's spoke by ev'ry Tongue:
[...]illiam's the darling Subject of my Song.
[...]sten ye Virgins to the Charming Sound,
[...]d in Eternal Dances hand it round:
[...]ur early Offerings to this Altar bring;
[...]ake him at once a Lover and a King.
[...]ay he submit to none but to your Arms;
[...]or ever be subdu'd, but by your Charms.
[...]ay your soft Thoughts for him be all sublime;
[...]d ev'ry tender Vow be made for him.
[...]ay he be first in ev'ry Morning-Thought,
[...]nd Heav'n ne'er hear a Pray'r where he's left out.
[...]ay ev'ry Omen, ev'ry boding Dream,
[...]e Fortunate by mentioning his Name.
[...]ay this one Charm Infernal Powers affright,
[...]nd guard you from the Terrors of the Night.
[...]ay every chearful Glass as it goes down
[...]o William's Health, be Cordials to your own.
[...]et ev'ry Song be Chorust with his Name,
[...]nd Musick pay her Tribute to his Fame▪
[...]et ev'ry Poet tune his Artful Verse,
[...]nd in Immortal Strains his Deeds rehearse.
[...]nd may Apollo never more inspire
[...]he Disobedient Bard with his Seraphick Fire▪
[...]ay all my Sons their grateful Homage pay;
[...]is Praises sing, and for his Safety pray.
Satyr, return to our Unthankful Isle,
[...]cur'd by Heaven's Regard, and William's Toil.
[...]o both Ungrateful, and to both Untrue;
[...]ebels to God, and to Good Nature too.
If e'er this Nation be distress'd again,
[...]o whomsoe'er they cry, they'll cry in vain.
[Page 32]To Heav'n they cannot have the Face to look;
Or if they should, it would but Heav'n provoke.
To hope for Help from Man would be too much;
Mankind would always tell 'em of the Dutch:
How they came here our Freedoms to maintain,
Were Paid, and Curs'd, and Hurry'd home again.
How by their Aid we first dissolv'd our Fears,
And then our Helpers damn'd for Foreigners.
'Tis not our English Temper to do better;
For Englishmen think ev'ry Man their Debtor.
'Tis worth observing, that we ne'er complain'd
Of Foreigners, nor of the Wealth they gain'd,
Till all their Services were at an end.
Wise Men affirm it is the English way,
Never to Grumble till they come to pay;
And then they always think their Temper such,
The Work too little, and the Pay too much.
As frighted Patients, when they want a Cure,
Bid any Price, and any Pain endure:
But when the Doctor's Remedies appear,
The Cure's too Easie, and the Price too Dear.
Great Portland ne'er was banter'd when he strove
For Us his Master's kindest Thoughts to move.
We ne'er lampoon'd his Conduct, when employ'd
King James's Secret Councils to divide:
Then we caress'd him as the only Man,
Which could the doubtful Oracle explain:
The only Hushai able to repel
The dark Designs of our Achitophel.
Compar'd his Master's Courage to his Sense;
The Ablest Statesman, and the Bravest Prince.
On his wise Conduct we depended much,
And lik'd him ne'er the worse for being Dutch.
Nor was he valu'd more than he deserv'd;
Freely he ventur'd, faithfully he serv'd.
In all King William's Dangers he has shar'd;
In England's Quarrels always he appear'd:
[Page 33]The Revolution first, and then the Boyne;
[...] both his Counsels and his Conduct shine.
[...]is Martial Valour Flanders will confess;
[...]nd France Regrets his Managing the Peace.
[...]aithful to England's Interest and her King:
[...]he greatest Reason of our murmuring.
[...]en Years in English Service he appear'd,
[...]nd gain'd his Master's and the World's Regard:
[...]t 'tis not England's Custom to Reward.
[...]he Wars are over, England needs him not;
[...]ow he's a Dutchman, and the Lord knows what.
[...] Schonbergh, the Ablest Soldier of his Age,
With Great Nassau did in our Cause engage:
[...]oth join'd for England's Rescue and Defence,
The Greatest Captain, and the Greatest Prince.
With what Applause his Stories did we tell?
[...]ories which Europe's Volumes largely swell.
We counted him an Army in our Aid:
Where he commanded, no Man was afraid.
[...]is Actions with a constant Conquest shine,
[...]rom Villa-Vitiosa to the Rhine.
[...]rance, Flanders, Germany, his Fame confess;
[...]nd all the World was fond of him, but Us.
[...]ur Turn first serv'd, we grudg'd him the Command▪
[...]itness the Grateful Temper of the Land.
We blame the K— that he relies too much
[...]n Strangers, Germans, Hugonots, and Dutch;
[...]nd seldom does his great Affairs of State,
[...]o English Counsellors communicate.
[...]he Fact might very well be answer'd thus▪
[...]e has so often been betray'd by us,
[...]e must have been a Madman to rely
[...]n English G—ns Fidelity.
[...]or laying other Arguments aside,
[...]his thought might mortifie our English Pride,
[...]hat Foreigners have faithfully obey'd him,
[...]nd none but Englishmen have e'er betray'd him.
[Page 34]They have our Ships and Merchants bought and sold,
And barter'd English Blood for Foreign Gold.
First to the French they sold our Turky-Fleet,
And Injur'd Talmarsh next at Camaret.
The King himself is shelter'd from their Snares,
Not by his Merit, but the Crown he wears.
Experience tells us 'tis the English way,
Their Benefactors always to betray.
And lest Examples shou'd be too remote,
A Modern Magistrate of Famous Note,
Shall give you his own History by Rote.
I'll make it out, deny it he that can,
His Worship is a True-born Englishman,
In all the Latitude that empty Word
By Modern Acceptation's understood.
The Parish-Books his Great Descent record,
And now he hopes e'er long to be a Lord.
And truly as things go, it wou'd be pity
But such as he shou'd represent the City:
While Robb'ry for Burnt-Offering he brings,
And gives to God what he has stole from Kings.
Great Monuments of Charity he raises,
And good St. Magnus whistles out his Praises.
To City-Goals he grants a Jubilee,
And hires Huzza's from his own Mobilee.
Lately he wore the Golden Chain and Gown,
With which Equipp'd he thus harangu'd the Town.

His Fine Speech, &c.

WITH Clouted Iron Shooes and Sheep-skin Breech
More Rags than Manners, and more Dirt than Rich
From driving Cows and Calves to Layton-Market,
While of my Greatness there appear'd no Spark yet,
Behold I come▪ to let you see the Pride
With which Exalted Beggars always ride.
[Page 35]Born to the Needful Labours of the Plow,
[...]he Cart-Whip grac'd me as the Chain does now▪
[...]ature and Fate in doubt what course to take,
Whether I shou'd a Lord or Plough Boy make;
[...]indly at last resolv'd they wou'd promote me,
[...]nd first a Knave, and then a Knight they vote me.
[...]hat Fate appointed, Nature did prepare,
[...]nd furnish'd me with an exceeding Care.
[...]o [...]it me for what they design'd to have me;
[...]nd ev'ry Gift but Honesty they gave me.
And thus Equipt, to this proud Town I came,
[...] quest of Bread, and not in quest of Fame.
[...]ind to my future Fate, an humble Boy,
[...]ree from the Guilt and Glory I enjoy.
The Hopes which my Ambition entertain'd,
[...]ere in the Name of Foot-Boy all contain'd.
The Greatest Heights from Small Beginnings rise;
The Gods were Great on Earth, before they reach'd the Skies.
B.—well, the Generous Temper of whose Mind,
[...]as always to be bountiful inclin'd:
[...]hether by his ill Fate or Fancy led,
[...]irst took me up, and furnish'd me with Bread.
The little Services he put me to,
[...]eem'd Labours rather than were truly so▪
[...]ut always my Advancement be design'd;
[...]or 'twas his very Nature to be kind.
[...]arge was his Soul, his Temper ever free;
The best of Masters and of Men to me.
[...]nd I who was before decreed by Fate,
[...]o be made Infamous as well as Great,
With an obsequious Diligence obey'd him,
[...]ill trusted with his All, and then betray'd him.
All his past Kindnesses I trampled on,
[...]uin'd his Fortunes to erect my own.
[...]o Vipers in the Bosom bred, begin
To hiss at that Hand first which took them in.
With eager Treach'ry I his Fall pursu'd,
And my first Trophies were Ingratitude.
[Page 36]Ingratitude's the worst of Humane Guilt,
The basest Action Mankind can commit;
Which like the Sin against the Holy Ghost▪
Has least of Honour, and of Guilt the most,
Distinguish'd from other Crimes by this,
That 'tis a Crime which no Man will confess.
That Sin alone, which shou'd not be forgiv'n
On Earth, altho' perhaps it may in Heav'n.
Thus my first Benefactor I o'erthrew;
And how shou'd be to a second true?
The Publick Trust came next into my Care,
And I to use them scurvily prepare:
My Needy Sov'reign Lord I play'd upon,
And lent him many a Thousand of his own;
For which, great Int'rests I took care to charge,
And so my Ill-got Wealth became so large.
My Predecessor Judas was a Fool,
Fitter to ha' been whipt, and sent to School,
Than sell a Saviour: Had I been at hand,
His Master had not been so cheap trepann'd;
I would ha' made the eager Jews ha' found,
For Thirty Pieces, Thirty Thousand Pound▪
My Cousin Ziba, of Immortal Fame,
(Ziba and I shall never want a Name:)
First-born of Treason, nobly did advance
His Master's Fall, for his Inheritance.
By whose keen Arts old David first began
To break his Sacred Oath to Jonathan:
The Good Old King, 'tis thought, was very loth
To break his Word, and therefore br—ke his Oath—
Ziba's a Traytor of some Quality,
Yet Ziba might ha' been inform'd by me:
Had I been there, he ne'er had been content
With half th' Estate, nor half the Government.
In our late Revolution 'twas thought strange,
That I of all Mankind shou'd like the Change,
But they who wonder'd at it, never knew,
That in it I did my old Game pursue▪
[Page 37] [...]or had they heard of Twenty thousand Pound,
[...]hich ne'er was lost, nor never yet was found.
Thus all things in their turn to Sale I bring,
[...]od and my Master first, and then the King:
[...]ill by successful Villainies made bold,
thought to turn the Nation into Gold;
[...]nd so to Forg—ry my Hand I bent,
[...]ot doubting I could gull the Government;
[...]ut there was ruffl'd by the Parliament▪
[...]nd if I scap'd th' Unhappy Tree to climb,
Twas want of Law, and not for want of Crime.
But my * Old Friend, who printed in my Face
[...] needful Competence of English Brass,
[...]aving more Business yet for me to do,
[...]nd loth to lose his trusty Servant so,
Manag'd the Matter with such Art and Skill,
[...]s sav'd his Hero, and threw out the B—l.
And now I'm grac'd with unexpected Honours,
[...]or which I'll certainly abuse the Donors:
[...]ighted, and made a Tribune of the People,
Whose Laws and Properties I'm like to keep well:
[...]he Custos Rotulorum of the City,
[...]nd Captain of the Guards of their Banditti.
[...]rrounded by my Catchpoles, I declare
[...]gainst the Needy Debtor open War.
[...]hang poor Thieves for stealing of your Pelf,
[...]nd suffer none to rob you, but my self.
The King commanded me to help Reform ye,
[...]nd how I'll do't, Miss M—n, shall inform ye.
[...] keep the best Seraglio in the Nation,
[...]nd hope in time to bring it into Fashion.
[...]o Brimstone Whore need fear the Lash from me,
[...]hat part I'll leave to Brother Jeffery.
[...]ur Gallants need not go abroad to Rome.
I keep a Whoring Jubilee at Home.
[Page 38]Whoring's the Darling of my Inclination;
A'n't I a Magistrate for Reformation?
For this my Praise is sung by ev'ry Bard,
For which Bridewell wou'd be a just Reward.
In Print my Panegyricks fill the Street,
And hir'd Gaol-Birds their Huzza's repeat.
Some Charities contriv'd to make a show,
Have taught the Needy Rabble to do so:
Whose empty Noise is a Mechanick Fame,
Since for Sir Belzebub they'd do the same.


THEN let us boast of Ancestors no more,
Or Deeds of Heroes done in Days of Yore,
In latent Records of the Ages past,
Behind the Rear of Time, in long Oblivion plac'd.
For if our Virtues must in Lines descend,
The Merit with the Families would end:
And Intermixtures would most fatal grow;
For Vice would be Hereditary too;
The tainted Blood wou'd of Necessity,
Involuntary Wickedness convey.
Vice, like Ill Nature, for an Age or two,
May seem a Generation to pursue:
But Virtue seldom does regard the Breed;
Fools do the Wise, and Wise Men Fools succeed.
What is't to us, what Ancestors we had?
If Good, what better? or what worse, if Bad?
[Page 39] [...]amples are for Imitation set,
[...]et all Men follow Virtue with Regret.
Cou'd but our Ancestors retrieve their Fate,
[...]nd see their Offspring thus degenerate;
[...]ow we contend for Birth and Names unknown,
[...]nd build on their past Actions, not our own;
[...]hey'd cancel Records, and their Tombs deface,
[...]nd openly disown the vile degenerate Race:
[...]or Fame of Families is all a Cheat,
'Tis Personal Virtue only makes us great.

A Catalogue of Poems, &c. Printed and Sold by H. Hill in Black-Fryars, near the Water-side; where seven more may be had that are not here Inserted.

  • A Congratulatory Poem on Prince George of Denmark, &c. on the Success at Sea.
  • Marlborough Still Conquers.
  • The Flight of the Pretender.
  • Honesty in Distress, a Tragedy.
  • The Kit-Cats a Poem, &c.
  • Wine, a Poem, &c.
  • Cyder, a Poem, in 2 Books, with the Splendid Shilling, &c.
  • The Pleasures of a Single Life, &c.
  • Faction Display'd.
  • Moderation Display'd.
  • The Duel of the Stags. &c.
  • Coopers-Hill, by Sir J. Denham.
  • An Essay on Poetry, by the Earl of Murlgrave.
  • Absalom and Achitophel.
  • The Plague of Athens.
  • A Satyr against Man and Woman.
  • The Forgiving Husband.
  • Instructions to Vanderbank.
  • The Temple of Death.
  • An Essay on Translated Verse, by the Earl of Roscomon.
  • Horace: Or the Art of Poetry.
  • The History of Insipids.
  • The Swan-Trip-Club.
  • Lucretius on Death, &c.
  • The Medal against Sedition.
  • Bellizarius a great Commander.
  • Daphnis, or a Pastoral Elegy, &c.
  • A Poem on the Countess of Abing­don.
  • Nundinae Sturbrigiences.
  • Tunbrigialia.
  • An Ode on the Incarnation, &c.
  • Hoglandiae Descriptio.
  • Milton's, Sublimity on Cyder.
  • Bosworth-feild, a Poem, by Sir John Beaumount Bar.
  • Milton's Sublimity asserted, in a [...]swer to Cyder, a Poem.
  • Canary Birds Naturaliz'd.
  • Baucis and Philemon, &c.
  • Circus, a Satyr: Or the Ring Hide Park.
  • St. James's Park, a Satyr.
  • The Spleen, a Pindarique Ode, [...] Philips's, Pastorals.
  • A Letter from Italy, to my Lo [...] Halifax, with other Poems.
  • Blenheim, a Poem, by Phillips
  • Mac-Flecknoe, by J. Dryden; [...] Spencer's Ghost, by J. Oldham
  • The Female Reign, an Ode, Sam. Cobb.
  • The Upstart, a Satyr.
  • A Poem on the Taking St. Mar [...]
  • Windsor Castle, a Poem.
  • The Servitor, a Poem.
  • The Pulpit War.
  • The Campaign, a Poem, by [...] Addison.
  • The Counter-Scuffle, a Poem.
  • Don Francisco Sutorioso.
  • Consolation to Mira mourning▪
  • A Panegyrick on Oliver Cromw [...] with three Poems on his Deat [...]
  • A Poem in Defence of the Chur [...] of England.
  • The Apparition, a Poem.
  • The Hind and Panther Transve [...] to the Story of the Coun [...] Mouse and City Mouse.
  • Dr. Gath's Dispensary.
  • The Memoirs on the Right V [...] ­lainous John Hall, the late Fam [...] and Notorious Robber, &c.
  • Mr Shaftoe's Narrative giving Account of the Birth of the P [...]tended Prince of Wales, &c.


By the AUTHOR of the HYMN to the PILLORY.

LONDON: Printed in the Year 1708.


THO' these Sheets have been Wrote several Months, and in a time that seem'd to make them something more suitable than now: Yet the Occasion renewing it self every day, who can refrain from speaking?

Had the scribling World been pleas'd to leave me where they found me, I had left them and Newgate both together; and as I am metaphorically Dead, had been effectually so, as to Satyrs and Pamphlets.

'Tis really something hard, that after all the Mortification they think they have put upon a poor abdicated Author, in their scurrilous Street Ri­baldry, and Bear Garden Usage, some in Prose, and some in those terri­ble Lines they call Verse, they cannot yet be quiet, but whenever any thing comes out that does not please them, I come in for a share in the Answer, whatever I did in the Question, every thing they think an Au­thor deserves to be abus'd for, must be mine.

Several plentiful Showers of Railery I have quietly submitted to, an thought I had a Talent of Patience as large as might serve me in com­mon with my Neighbours, but there is a time when a Man can bear n [...] longer, and if the Man is in a little Passion, he thinks he ought to b [...] born with.

I tried Retirement, and banish'd my self from the Town: I thought as the Boys us'd to say, 'twas but fair they should let me alone, while did not meddle with them.

But neither a Country Recess, any more than a Stone Doublet, on secure a Man from the Clamour of the Pen.

In the following Sheets I endeavour to state the Case in order to Truce; for shame, Gentlemen, let him alone, why the Man's Dead: 't [...] a Cowardly Trick to beat a Man when he's down, but to fight a Dea [...] Man is the Devil.

And with Submission, Gentlemen, the Allegory is just: for if bei [...] tied under Sureties and Penalties not to write, at least not to write wh [...] some People may not like, be not equivalent to being Dead, as to the P [...] I know not what is.

But how do these People treat Mankind, that they pretend to Indict [...] Man for every thing they please, as if they had Power to Read his Cou [...] tenance in Letters, and swear to a Stile as they would to his Face?

'Tis easie to prove the Authors of Books, and no Man can be conceal [...] in such Cases; but for a Man to be charged with other Mens Faults, w [...] has too many of his own, is a method newly practis'd, and more up [...] me than any Body; and yet the Grief of this Usage does not stick so [...] upon me, but that I may tell my Antagonists, if any think themselv [...] deserving that Name, that they are very welcome to go on their own w [...] and use me as they please, I shall always be ready to reply, or by my [...] lence let them see I do not think it worth my while.

An ELEGY on the Author of the True-Born English-Man.

SATYR sing Lachrime, thou'rt dead in Law,
Thy fatal Hour draws on,
The Lines of thine own Exit draw,
And tell how thou'rt undone.
[...]end for the Priest, and ask Advice,
Reflect upon thy Time mispent;
When Wit upon its Death-B [...]d lies,
'Tis high time to repent.
What canst thou say old Pluto to appease?
[...]hy Hymns in that dark World will never please:
[...]ilence, eternal S [...]lence is thy Lot,
[...]nd all thy Rhymes and all thy Hymns forgot:
[...]ury'd in dark Oblivion, there thou'lt lie
[...]or seven long Years, a Wit's Eternity.
Little thou thought'st in Verses past,
[...]hose Songs of thine would be thy last:
'Tis hard thy vigorous Muse should lie,
[...] all her Strength of Thought, condemn'd to dye:
Tis hard to have her perish in her Prime,
[...]nd most Men think she dy'd before her time.
With Patience, Satyr, to thy Fate submit,
[...]nd show thy Courage can out-do thy Wit;
With Calmness meet the Sentence of thy Death,
[...]nd yield with Temper thy Poetick Breath.
[...]hat tho' to Silence they condemn thy Rhymes,
[...]en that Silence shall condemn the Times.
The World shall blush when e'er they Read,
[...]nd thou be still a Satyr, tho' thou'rt Dead.
When Malefactors come to dye,
They claim uncommon Liberty:
Freedom of Speech gives no distaste,
[...]hey let them talk at large, because they talk their last;
'Tis hard thy dying Words should give Offence,
And neither please in Language nor in Sense;
He that must never open more,
Dearly attones for what he said before.
[Page 4] Departed Satyr! let thy Ghost appear,
To keep the vicious Town in fear;
Verses shall from thy injur'd Ashes rise,
And Satyrs always pointed at their Vice:
No Man shall sin in peace,
And Virtue only shall thy Shade appease.
But since, dear Satyr▪ 'tis thy Lot
Thus to dye upon the spot,
In softest Notes sing thine own Elegy,
Be silent Dead, but never silent dye.


Circled in Newgate's cold Embrace,
And reconcil'd to Death by such a place,
I from the horrid Mansion fled,
And, as concerning Poetry, am dead:
To seven long Years of silence I betake,
Perhaps by then I may forget to speak:
And thus I dy'd, and yield Satyrick Breath,
For to be Dumb, in Poetry is Death.
If you demand a Reason of my Fate,
Whether it came too soon, or came too late;
Whether Wise Heaven did this permit,
For want of Manners, or else for want of Wit;
Whether I said too little or too much,
Or loaded any with too just Reproach,
If you would know the latent Cause,
Go search the hidden Secret in the Laws.
Let not my Verse my Verses Crimes debate,
Go ask the powerful Engines of the State.
Besides he must be void of Sense,
Who dare stand up in my Defence:
Behold that Power, which Men call Law,
Can keep even Innocence in awe.
Let it suffice this Elegy to read,
And tho' you see the Man,
All his Poetick Fancy's dead,
Nothing but Carcass can remain:
The Shadow of the Poet may appear,
No Substance can be there:
A walking Spectrum, with his Fancy fled,
And he that rais'd the Devil, the Devil has laid.
Yet I have Reason to complain,
I can not quiet in my Grave remain:
The World's disturb'd about my Memory,
They'll neither let me live, nor let me dye.
If an ill-natur'd Muse
Attempts the Nation to abuse,
[Page 5]If some unhappy Truths they tell,
[...]hich might have been conceal'd as well,
My Ghost's arraign'd, and I am said
[...]ready to be Risen from the Dead.
The Mob of wretched Writers stand
With Storms of Wit in every Hand,
[...]hey bait my Mem'ry in the Street,
[...]nd charge me with the Credit of their Wit;
I bear the scandal of their Crimes,
[...]y Name's the Hackney Title of the Times;
[...] some new Wit in Satyr lies conceal'd,
And lately in Lampoon reveal'd,
[...]y silent Ashes are disturb'd to know
Whether it's dated from below;
Whether it's mine or no.
[...] some in Pasquinades affront the State,
[...]d tempt their yet unpity'd Fate,
[...] willing to be cautious till too late,
[...]e subtil Mimicks to this Shadow fly,
Conceal their Guilt, and say 'tis I:
[...] Man can Satyrize a Man of Fame,
[...]t daily Curses rise against my Name.
[...]mn, Song, Lampoon, Ballad, and Pasquinade,
My recent Memory invade;
[...] Muse must be the Whore of Poetry,
[...]d all Apollo's Bastards laid to me.
If any Poet has but writ,
With an Exuberance of spight,
[...]s he the mighty Vices of the Age,
[...]d mighty Men too, brought upon the Stage;
As who can with his Pen forbear
[...] dress the S—s M—n in the Robes they're fond to wear?
[...]ey search the deep Recesses of my Grave,
[...]en to hear the sleeping Genius rave:
Such is the Folly of their hate,
[...]at Death cannot their Jealousies abate;
Such is the Force of Guilt, they see
[...]h Reason to expect Reproach from me,
Their Fancy harbours the Mistake,
[...]eam in Death, and send my Ghost to speak.
Yet undisturb'd I safely sleep,
And calm as Death my Silence keep;
[...]gh at all the Anger of Mankind,
[...] loth to bear the T—, my Pen confin'd:
[...] smile at Human Policy,
[...]o always stop that Mouth, whose words they can't deny:
[Page 6]Yet let them not their Crimes conceal,
New Satyrs will their Crimes reveal;
More Poets from my Monument shall rise,
Who shall like me their Power despise.
Who shall condemn a vicious Court,
And make the Nation's Knaves the Nation's sport.
Naked as Nature's first Original
Vice shall before the Bar of Truth appear,
Keen Satyrs shall to Judgment call,
And Power shall not protect them there;
Satyr shall mighty Crimes rehearse,
No Rogue's above the Quality of Verse.
Satyr shall keep those Knaves in awe,
Who are too cunning for the Law;
And shall at least expose the Cheat
Of those that think themselves too great.
Fleets shall not spend a Seventeen Months advance,
To take the Air upon the Coast of France;
No sham Descents shall e'er be made,
The Money spent, and Majesty betray'd,
But lasting Verse shall make the matter clear,
And what the Nation feels, the World shall hear.
Nor will there e'er be wanting to this Age,
Poets to spread their Errors on the Stage;
Oppression makes a Poet; Spleen Endites,
And makes Men write by force, as G—n fights.
Was e'er such broken Voyages made?
Was ever War so much a Trade?
If Fleets to Italy shall go,
And hardly tell the Foe
Whether they have been there or no:
Come back to let us know the Mony's spent,
And hardly knew for what they went;
The Nation ne'er can want a Poet long,
To turn such juggling into Song.
When Traytors creep into th' Affairs of State,
Poets will always prophesie their Fate;
When Villains serve the Queen by halves,
And fleece the Nation to enrich themselves;
Her Majesty may strive in vain,
Make Peace with Portugal, and War with Spain.
Fit Armies out, send Fleets to Sea,
The Mony's all but thrown away:
Unless the Heroes who command
Would learn to do as well as understand.
When the new Leagues with Portugal appear,
All honest Men rejoyce;
[Page 7] [...]ut had they been secur'd before the War,
'T had been at half the price:
Had not the Nation been betray'd,
[...]isbon had long ago embrac'd Madrid;
[...]he Bourbon Lawrels had abandon'd Spain,
And Anjou's Triumphs been in vain.
Were I alive again, and could but hear
[...]he hopes we have of this Algarvian War,
My Satyr could no more forbear
[...]o pay the due to William's Character;
[...]he early Measures of this War he laid,
But 'twas his Fate to be betray'd;
[...]e form'd the League the Queen has now retriev'd,
And had he been believ'd,
[...]he Queen had not been now embroil'd with Spain,
[...]nd forc'd to purchase Portugal again.
[...]ain had long since an Austrian Monarch known:
[...]d rightful Princes had possest their own.
If some bold Satyr does not soon revive,
[...] let them know that Poetry's alive;
[...] we must always be embrac'd by Knaves,
[...]nd all the Nation's Work be done by halves;
[...] every Year endeavouring to be poor,
[...] always mending what we marr'd before;
[...]ave always something to retrieve,
[...]nd always doing something to deceive;
Vast Navies fitted out to Fight
A Foe that's always out of fight;
[...]nd yet the French in flying Squadrons Reign,
[...]sult our Trade, and Bully all the Main,
[...]nd bravely dare our Ships to fight in vain:
If our Sea Captains when they run away,
Shall only forfeit three Months Pay;
If no new Genius rises up to show,
And let the injur'd Nation know
By whom they're thus betray'd, and how;
[...] fear, in spight of all that has been said,
[...]hall be forc'd to speak, altho' I'm Dead,
[...]ean while let Mercenary Poets strive
[...]o make their Malice my Decease out-live.
Let them reproach my Memory,
[...]nd write; for now they're sure of no Reply:
[...]et them their True-Born English Temper show,
[...]en in distress are always treated so:
[...]et them with wretched Satyrs glut the Town,
[...]xpose my Morals, and forget their own;
[Page 8]This shall my Quiet never discompose,
Contempt's a Cure which present help bestows;
Silence shall answer their Reproach,
For Silence is a Debt to such.
But if some Satyrs shall assault my Hearse,
And raise my frighted Ghost with their more frightful Verse,
Let such revengeful Wretches understand
I'll answer, when they'll satisfie my Bond:
If they my Pledges will defend,
I'll from this Grave arise,
I'll Reassume my Satyrs, and
Leave off those Elegies;
The World shall have their Errors plainly shown,
I'll blast their Vices, and Reform my own.
Of all the Men that ever dy'd before,
Mine's the severest Case,
The Grave till now was always taken for
A place of Peace:
But I, as if some secret Power I had,
Give Bond to be at quiet when I'm dead;
My Enemies are not content to kill,
But take Security that I'll lie still:
Jealous, it seems, my busie Head
Should make me talk when I am dead.
Here's all the Reason I can make them give,
That tho' the Poet's dead, the Man's alive.
To which, as gravely I have said,
That tho' the Man's alive, the Poet's dead.
He's bad indeed, who when he dies
Has none to mourn his Obsequies;
And of the Virtuous find me one,
But some rejoices when he's gone;
So I have Mourners who lament my Verse,
And some Triumph upon the Satyr's Hearse:
Some think I die without a Crime,
Some like my Fate, and think 'twas time.
But this Just Calculation I can make,
And there I think I can't mistake,
The Wise and Virtuous Sorrow's Tribute pay,
And Vice alone keeps Holy-day;
This does my Judgment satisfie,
For so would every wise Man die:
So let the Censure of my Works be past,
So let me die, when I must die my last;
Let wise Mens Sorrow be my Choice,
And let the Knaves and Fools rejoice.
[Page 9]'Tis true there is some Reason in the case,
Vice now has room to shew her Face;
[...]or now my walking Ghost is laid,
The Grand Contagion may the Nation spread;
Reproofs may cease,
And all Men be as wicked as they please.
Cities may Magistrates Elect,
That may the Crimes they practice, there protect;
That all their D—men may out-swear,
And with exalted Drunk'ness Grace the Chair.
No more departed Satyr can reproach,
No more the Crimes or Persons touch.
S—May blast the Root from whence he came,
[...]nd load his Family with Pride and Shame.
The high exalted wretch untouch'd may live,
[...]ide in his Coach, and make his Father drive:
[...]nd lest his Insolence shou'd ever fail,
[...]as laid his own Progenitor in Jail.
Let future Poets blame the Law,
That keeps less Villains more in awe:
[...]ut suffers such a Wretch to brave the State,
[...]nd sin above the reach of Magistrate:
My Satyr, Silenc'd by the Times,
[...]ill cease to Check the most unnatural Crimes.
Degenerate M— may now disown
[...]is Mother's Sense, in hopes to show his own.
[...]ut sure the Devil must be in the Chear,
[...]o tell him he could make it pass for Wit,
[...]nd make him prove with such excessive pains,
[...]is want of Manners by his want of Brains.
[...]he young unnatural Fop has strove too long,
[...]ith empty Head, and inconsistent Tongue.
[...]ature to make amends for want of Sense,
[...]as throng'd his Head with clear Impertinence.
[...]is Gay Out-side's a Satyr on the Fair,
[...]nd let us know what's most obliging there.
The Ladies who in Beaus delight,
[...]ake shift by Day, so they're but pleas'd at Night.
The Charms which please a vicious Bed,
Lie somewhere else than in the Head;
[...]nd if the suited Blockheads parts will hit,
They'll always bear with want of Wit.
[...]is own dear Jest he labours to enjoy,
[...]nd studies how to live and die a Boy.
[...]ature that left the unfinish'd Fop too soon▪
[...]st lent him Sense enough to be undone;
[Page 10]And now he keeps a mighty pother,
And for Hereditary Wit indicts his Mother:
Rails that he's of his Brains bereft,
And yet pretends that she has little left.
Bedlam some Title to him had,
But Fools, they say, are never Mad.
Were not my Satyr lately dead,
His juster Character should here be read;
Mean time would but his Mother take advice,
The vile unnatural Monster to despise:
Nature the viperous Wretch would soon discard,
And in his Vices show him his Reward.
G— may his weighty Sense prepare,
G—'s An Elbow of the City Chair.
He boasts himself the Churches chief support,
I think the Church her self should thank him for't:
Tho' most suppose his Notions were but wild,
To fetch the Jew to Gospellize his Child.
The Hebrew Rake from Synagogue dismist,
Came in to Circumcise the Feast,
And made the God-Father, but spoil'd the Jest.
Some say 'twas look'd upon as a Reproach,
And interloping on the Church:
But others say the Jew was rathet
A better Christian than the D— Father,
And all agree
The Babe well Taught may be the best of all the three.
Let the uncircumcis'd alone,
The Israelite and he are much at one;
Both their Religions now they shew,
The Hebrew Christian, and the Christian Jew,
Some say my former Satyrs show,
The Ebb of vicious Characters run low;
But if they'll please to think agen,
They'll find I never Tyth'd the Men,
Nor never throng'd my Verse with one in Ten.
Why else should S. and T. escape,
This for his Parricide, that his Incestuous Rape,
How came prodigious D— to be un-nam'd,
For Crimes unheard of lately fam'd.
Of all the Beaus and Brutes that croud the Town,
My modest Satyr chose but one,
And he to all Men but himself unknown.
I never touch'd great M
Whose Follies have not been a few;
Nor told the World of half the Crimes,
Which a fine House can harbour from the Times.
[Page 11] L— and W—t in spight of me,
[...]ave been as Lewd as R— and D
I spar'd them for their Modesty:
Because their Vice was something new,
[...]nd made one Whore between them serve the two.
Old lying B— ne'er met with my Reproof,
Tho' he gave always room enough.
My Satyr strove to whet her Pen
Against the Crimes, and spar'd the Men:
But now the Fashion of the Times,
Makes Poets Damn the Men without the Crimes.
If I have been too backward here,
To make the Vices of the Times appear,
If e'er I come to rise again,
I'll make ye all amends, and name the Men.
Young S—t shall not the House of God debauch▪
And meet with neither Censure nor Reproach.
If e'er my Satyr should revive,
They shall reform, or be asham'd to live.
But now my sleeping Satyr quits the Stage,
And leaves untouch'd the vicious Age.
The eager Rakes may unreprov'd sin on,
There's time enough to be undone.
No more my Satyr shall those Follies touch,
No more the Crimes, no more the Men reproach.
M— may hug the Shortest Way,
And for its Execution pray:
Next to the Sacred Books he plac'd the Scheme,
And lov'd the Practice better than the Theme.
He always for his Sovereign pray'd,
But 'twas to have her be a Tyrant made;
To have her dip her hands in Blood,
And ruin all the Nation for their good.
But when the Hair-brain'd Zealot found
The Plot lay deeper under ground;
When he first felt the Satyr bite,
And found 'twas writ t' expose, and not excite,
He chang'd his Ecclesiastick Look,
And damn'd the Author, tho' he lov'd the Book.
My Satyr has the hardest Fate,
Her Book's the Contradiction of the State.
Riddle Aenigma double Speech,
Dark Answers, doubtful Scriptures, which
Puzzle the Poor, and pose the Rich:
Are plain Explicite things to these,
Who punish Authors, when the Subjects please.
[Page 12]Nothing but this can such dark Steps explain;
They like the Doctrine, but they hate the Man▪
Grave Authors now may write Essays,
That with one Face look several ways,
Of Peace at home, and War abroad,
And damn the Subject which they wou'd applaud.
Banter the Queen with Dedications,
And call that Peace which will embroil three Nations.
S— may new Harangues endite,
To set Conformity in clearer Light:
Learned Quotations bring by Rote,
Wise as the Nations he thought fit to Quote,
Whose Laws he knew, but had their Names forgot.
'Twas his strong Fore-cast which foresaw,
To damn Dissenting by a Law,
Would make our fatal Quarrel cease,
And bring the Nations all to Peace.
Ye Sons of Vice advance your Wit,
'Tis now your turn to reign;
Satyr's subdu'd, and must submit,
And never like to raise again:
My Fate will dictate to the rest,
In me, they know how they shall be opprest
My Doom will learn 'em to be wise,
And ne'er attempt Impossibilities.
The Magistrate may now be lewd,
The saucy Satyr shall no more intrude:
A Vicious Clergy may the Church supply,
Debauch the Gown, and give their Text the Lye▪
Smother their Morals in the Vine,
And prove the Bottle's Origine Divine.
Religion may be in a Blanket tost,
From Hand to Hand, 'till 'tis as good as lost▪
'Till Fate restore some Justice to the Times,
Satyr shall leave 'em to grow Old in Crimes.
Atheists may, unmolested, now Blaspheme,
Slight Human Power, and banter the Supreme:
Allmighty Drunkenness bear Imperial Sway,
And Mankind be debauch'd th' Shortest Way.
The Poor, alone, find in their Crimes their Fate▪
And mock the Duty of the Magistrate;
They suffer for the Crimes the Rich commit,
For want of Mony, not for want of Wit.
Guilt may in splendor thro' the City ride,
With all the Court of Elders by her side;
Those true Reformers need not fear,
A silent Satyr can do nothing here.
[Page 13]Their sham of Reformation they may Print,
With much of Canting Nonsense in't;
Cajole the People to believe they care
What Lewder Scenes are drawn in Smithfield Fair.
For having damn'd Prophaneness first,
Then they proclaim the Fair, and bid them do their worst.
In grand Procession to the place they go,
Was ever God Almighty banter'd so?
Let 'em go on, absurdly act,
First Vice condemn, then Vice protect;
My bury'd Satyr can no more reprove,
Leave them to Justice from above;
Refer them to their Orders for the Fair,
Prophaneness sinks beneath the City Chair;
But rais'd by Proclamation lives again,
And every Booth's a Libel on the Men.
Yet let young Poets Reverence the Chair,
[...]or God's Vicegerent's Deputy sits there:
With Annual Pomp, and Majesty Enthron'd,
But how does Vice conniv'd his Seat surround!
What tho' no personal Crimes there could appear.
To soil the Brightness of his Character:
His weak pursuit of Vice the Law defeats,
For Negatives are Crimes in Magistrates.
Yet from my Ghost take this Prophetick Curse,
The next the City chuses shall be worse.
Let 'em expect those days to come.
When Vice shall be embrac'd, and Satyr dumb.
My Verse beneath this Tomb contented lies,
[...]eproof's a Blessing none but Fools despise,
And they that hate it, never will be wise.
Ye Men of Might and muckle Power,
Who Rule Mankind, and all Mankind devour;
[...]f you would have my quiet Ghost remain,
Lock'd in the Laws too mighty Chain,
Obey the Nation's Interest and your own,
Learn to protect, and not betray the Throne.
Witness ye Powers! I promise now,
For ever Sacred be the Vow!
As long as Magistrates forbear,
In Crimes they punish to appear.
While Parsons cease to Drink and Whore,
P—s to be Proud, Debauch'd, and Poor▪
While Lawyers cease to talk Mankind to Death▪
[...]nd Murther Men with mercenary Breath.
While C—rs Promises regard,
And Princes Men of Faith reward.
[Page 14]My Satyr shall in quiet sleep,
Her Sentenc'd silence keep;
With-hold her Rage,
No more disturb the Age;
No more the mighty Vices of the mighty Men engage.
When Soldiers hasten to dispatch the War,
Their Country's Service to their Pay prefer;
Cease to give thanks for Victory when they fly,
And give Almighty Truth the Lye.
As long as Navies, Fleets, and Men,
Come shatter'd home, and hasten out again:
While they protect our Trade, defend our Coast,
And bravely fight, what e'er it cost.
While Actions good or ill have due regard,
The Coward Punishment, the Brave Reward.
While all our Publicans are just,
And faithfully discharge the People's Trust;
Receivers due Accounts give in,
And duly pay it out again.
While needful Charges are defraid,
The Navy Mann'd as well as paid.
And no Commission Officers presume,
To take the Nation's Pay and stay at home.
When e'er these happy Articles appear,
There'll be no business for a Satyr here.
I may lie still without Security,
There can be no occasion then for me;
I shall have nothing left to say,
For this would stop my Mouth the Shortest Way.
I was in hopes with this Poetick Death.
Slander would die, and let me take some Breath:
But Envy never sleeps, Report begins
To charge my Memory with my Neighbours sins,
As if they had not known
I have too many of my own:
They tell me how the Party did combine
To bear my Charges, and to pay my Fine.
Malice is always Retrograde to Sense,
And judges things without their Consequence;
Willing her mischievous Intent to show,
She always goes too fast, or else too slow.
They that this empty Notion rais'd,
Not me, but all the Party Satyriz'd.
Since all Men that know how to judge by Rules,
Know that the Men they mean were never Fools.
And their worst Enemies would never try,
To brand them with the blame of Generosity.
[Page 15]But to remove this modern Doubt,
[...]'ll give five hundred Pound they'll make it out.
Thus like Old Strephen's Virtuous Miss,
Who, foolishly too coy,
Dy'd with the scandal of a Whore,
And never knew the Joy.
So I, by Whigs abandon'd, bear
The Satyr's unjust Lash,
Dye with the Scandal of their help,
But never saw their Cash.
No Man of Crime that suffer'd Death
Was ever us'd like me,
[...]n Thefts and Treasons, Rapes and Blood,
All Men have leave to die.
No Sentence sure was half so hard as mine,
That could not die till I had paid my Fine.
Methinks to make me poor had been enough,
For when they had my Pelf,
Perhaps if they had given me Time
I might ha' hang'd my self:
But this, and I should think they needs must know it,
[...]s not The Shortest Way to kill a Poet.
In vain they spend their Time and Breath
To make me starve, and die a Poet's Death:
Butler's Garret I shall ne'er appear,
Neither his Merit nor his Fate I fear.
Heavens keep me but from Bullet, Sword and Gun,
I'm not afraid of being undone;
[...]'m satisfy'd it never shall be said,
But he that gave me Brains, will give me Bread.
Some People ask if I was fairly stain?
Tho' I think not, I shan't complain
Till I ha' slept my Time, and rise again.
But they that are concern'd at this
Are freely left to guess
Why I am doom'd to write no more,
[...]f something wan't too true I wrote before.
Why should they thus deny
To let me write my Truer History?
Why seven long Years of Silence now impose,
[...]f I had nothing to disclose,
Nothing to make appear,
Nothing to say they cannot bear to hear.
But 'tis enough I lost my Life by Law,
And still by Rules am kept in Awe.
The Manner all Exact and Regular.
Whate'er the Consequences are,
[Page 16]Never demand if it were Just,
For if the Forms are right, the Matter must.
Law is a great Machine of State
With Hooks and Screws to make it Operate;
Which as they are wound up by Art,
With ease perform the Fatal Part;
Exactly answer to the Workman's Skill,
This way 'twill work to save, or that to kill.
Crime in this Management has no Concern,
No Man can Right from Wrong discern.
The Movement is so subtle, and so sure,
And does such certain Fate procure.
The Mathematicks are in vain,
Defensive Study useless must remain.
This Monster, whom it pleases will devour,
For Law is but a Heathen Word for Power;
A Metaphor, invented to confess
The Methods by which Men Oppress;
By which with Safety they destroy Mankind,
While Justice stands before, and Fraud behind.
Thousands of little Wheels, and unseen Parts
Of perjur'd Promises, and wheedling Arts,
This mighty Thing compose,
And no Man half its crooked Turnings knows.
The wild Meanders none can Trace,
Nor no Man knows it by its Face.
It learns to change with every Turn of Times,
And rings the Tune 'tis set to, like the Chimes.
'Tis by this Engine I thought fit to die,
And so has many a wiser Man than I;
And by their broken Promises betray'd,
Satyr is thus upon its Death-Bed laid.
If e'er I come to Life again,
Coleman for that; I'll put no Faith in Man:
I that did on fair Quarter yield,
Laid down my Arms, and left the Field,
Did from my own Defence withdraw,
Thinking that Honesty was Law,
Have lost my Rhiming Life by this Deceit,
And I deserve it for my want of Wit.
Had I remembred Days of Yore,
When we complain'd of Arbitrary Power,
When Lawyers were the Tools of State,
And hurried Men to hasty Fate.
When the great Engine was screw'd up too high,
And Men were hang'd they knew not why;
[Page 17]Had I remember'd Scrogg's Fame,
And known that Lawyers are in ev'ry Reign the same,
I ne'er had ventur'd to believe
Men, whose Profession's to deceive.
Memento Mori here I stand
With Silent Lips, but Speaking Hand;
A walking Shadow of a Poet,
But bound to hold my Tongue, and never show it:
A Monument of Injury,
A Sacrifice to Legal T—y.
I beckon to Mankind to have a Care,
And pointing, tell how I was lost, and where;
I show the dangerous Shore,
Where I have suffer'd Shipwrack just before.
If among Poets there remains a Fool,
That scorns to take this Notice for a Rule,
But ventures the Fidelity
Of those whose Trade and Custom 'tis to L—,
Let Men no Pity to him show;
Let him to Bedlam, not to Newgate, go.


I'M told, for we have News among the Dead,
Heaven lately spoke, but few knew what it said;
The Voice, in loudest Tempests spoke,
[...]nd Storms, which Nature's strong Foundation shook,
felt it hither, and I'd have you know
[...]eard the Voice, and knew the Language too.
Think it not strange I heard it here,
[...] Place is so remote, but when he speaks, they hear.
Besides, tho' I am dead in Fame,
I never told you where I am.
Tho' I have lost Poetick Breath,
I'm not in perfect State of Death:
[...]m whence this Popish Consequence I draw,
I'm in the Limbus of the Law.
[...] me be where I will I heard the Storm,
[...]m every Blast it eccho'd thus, REFORM;
[...]t the mighty Shock, and saw the Night,
[...]hen Guilt look'd pale, and own'd he Fright;
And every time the Raging Element
[...]ok London's lofty Towers, at every Rent
[...]e falling Timbers gave, they cry'd, REPENT.
[Page 18]I saw, when all the stormy Crew,
Newly commission'd from on high,
Newly instructed what to do,
In Lowring, Cloudy, Troops drew nigh:
They hover'd o'er the guilty Land,
As if they had been backward to obey;
As if they wondred at the sad Command,
And pity'd those those they shou'd destroy.
But Heaven, that long had gentler Methods tried.
And saw those gentler Methods all defied,
Had now resolv'd to be obey'd.
The Queen, an Emblem of the soft, still, Voice,
Had told the Nation how to make their Choice;
Told them the only way to Happiness
Was by the Blessed Door of Peace.
But the unhappy Genius of the Land,
Deaf to the Blessing, as to the Command,
Scorn to the high Caution; and contemn the News,
And all the blessed Thoughts of Peace refuse.
Since Storms are then the Nation's Choice,
Be Storms their Portion, said the Heavenly Voice:
He said, and I could hear no more,
So soon th' obedient Troops began to roar:
So soon the blackning Clouds drew near,
And fill'd with loudest Storms the trembling Air:
I thought I felt the World's Foundation shake,
And lookt when all the wondrous Frame would break.
I trembl'd as the Winds grew high,
And so did many a braver Man than I:
For he whose Valour scorns his Sence,
Has chang'd his Courage into Impudence.
Man may to Man his Valour show,
And 'tis his Vertue to do so.
But if he's of his Maker nor afraid,
He's not courageous then, but mad.
Soon as I heard the horrid Blast,
And understood how long 'twould last,
View'd all the Fury of the Element,
Consider'd well by whom 'twas sent,
And unto whom for Punishment:
It brought my Hero to my Mind,
William, the Glorious, Great, and Good, and Kind.
Short Epithets to his Just Memory;
The first he was to all the World, the last to me.
The mighty Genius to my Thought appear'd,
Just in the same Concern he us'd to show,
When private Tempests us'd to blow,
Storms which the Monarch more than Death or Battel fear'd.
[Page 19] [...]hen Party Fury shook his Throne,
[...]d made their mighty Malice known,
I have heard the sighing Monarch say,
The Publick Peace so near him lay,
It took the Pleasure of his Crown away.
It fill'd with Cares his Royal Breast;
[...]ten he has those Cares Prophetickly exprest,
That when he should the Reins let go,
[...]aven would some Token of its Anger show,
To let the thankless Nation see
[...]w they despis'd their own Felicity▪
This robb'd the Hero of his Rest,
[...]sturb'd the Calm of his serener Breast.
When to the Queen his Scepter he resign'd,
With a resolv'd and steady Mind,
[...]o' he rejoic'd to lay the Trifle down,
[...] pity'd Her to whom he left the Crown:
Foreseeing long and vig'rous Wars,
[...]reseeing endless, private, Party Jarrs,
Would always interrupt Her Rest,
[...]d fill with Anxious Cares Her Royal Breast.
For Storms of Court Ambition rage as high
Almost as Tempests in the Sky.
Could I my hasty Doom retrieve,
[...]d once more in the Land of Poets live,
I'd now the Men of Flags and Fortune greet,
And write an Elegy upon the Fleet.
[...]st, those that on the Shore were idly found,
[...]hom other Fate protects, while better Men were drown'd,
[...]ey may thank God for being Knaves on Shore,
[...]t sure the Q— will never trust them more.
They who rid out the Storm, and liv'd,
[...]t saw not whence it was deriv'd,
[...]sless of Danger, or the mighty Hand,
[...]at could to cease, as well as blow, command,
Let such unthinking Creatures have a Care,
For some worse End prepare.
Let them look out for some such Day,
[...]hen what the Sea would not, the Gallows may.
[...]ose that in former Dangers shunn'd the Fight,
[...] met their Ends in this Disast'rous Night,
Have left this Caution, tho' too late,
That all Events are known to Fate.
[...]wards avoid no Danger when they run,
[...]d Cowards scapes the Death it would not shun;
T [...]e Nonsence from our Fate to fly,
Men must once have Heart enough to die.
[Page 20]Those Sons of Plunder are below my Pen,
Because they are below the Names of Men;
Who from the Shores presenting to their Eyes
The Fatal Goodwin, where the Wreck of Navies lyes,
A Thousand dying Saylors talking to the Skies.
From the sad Shores they saw the Wretches walk,
By Signals of Distress they talk;
There with one Tide of Life they're vext,
For all were sure to die the next.
The Barbarous Shores with Men and Boats abound,
The Men more Barbarous than the Shores are found;
Off to the shatter'd Ships they go,
And for the Floating Purchase Row.
They spare no Hazard, or no Pain,
But 'tis to save the Goods and not the Men.
Within the sinking Supplaints Reach appear,
As if they'd mock their dying Fear.
Then for some Trifle all their Hopes supplant,
W [...]th Cruelty would make a Turk relent.
If I had any Satyr left to write,
Cou'd I with suited Spleen Indite,
My V [...]rse should blast that Fatal Town,
And Drowned Saylors Widows pull it down;
No Footsteps of it should appear,
And Ships no more cast Anchor there.
The Barbarous Hated Name of Deal shou'd die,
Or be a Term of Infamy;
And till that's done, the Town will stand
A just Reproach to all the Land.
The Ships come next to be my Theme,
The Men's the Loss, I'm not concern'd for them;
For had they perish'd e'er they went,
Where to no Purpose they were sent,
The Ships might ha' been built again,
And we had sav'd the Money and the Men.
There the Mighty Wrecks appear,
Hic Jacent, Useless things of War.
Graves of Men, and Tools of State,
There you lye too soon, there you lye too late.
But O ye Mighty Ships of War!
What in Winter did you there?
Wild November should our Ships restore
To Chatham, Portsmouth, and the Nore,
So it was always heretofore,
For Heaven it self is not unkind,
If Winter Storms he'll sometimes send,
Since 'tis suppos'd the Men of War
Are all laid up, and left secure.
[Page 21]Nor did our Navy feel alone,
The dreadful Desolation;
It shook the Walls of Flesh as well as Stone,
And ruffl'd all the Nation.
The Universal Fright
Made Guilty H— expect his Fatal Night;
His harden'd Soul began to doubt,
And Storms grew high within, as they grew high without.
Flaming Meteors fill'd the Air,
But Asgil miss'd his Fiery Chariot there;
Recall'd his black blaspheming Breath,
And trembling paid his Homage unto Death,
Terror appear'd in every Face,
Even Vile Blackbourn felt some Shocks of Grace;
Began to feel the Hated Truth appear,
Began to fear,
After he had Burlesqu'd a God so long,
He should at last be in the wrong.
Some Power he plainly saw,
(And seeing, felt a strange unusual Awe;)
Some secret Hand he plainly found,
Was bringing some strange thing to pass,
And he that neither God nor Devil own'd,
Must needs be at a loss to guess.
Fain he would not ha' guest the worst,
But Guilt will always be with Terror Curst.
Hell shook, for Devils dread Almighty Power,
At every Shock they fear'd the Fatal Hour,
The Adamantine Pillars mov'd,
And Satan's Pandemonium trembl'd too;
The tottering Seraphs wildly rov'd,
Doubtful what the Almighty meant to do;
For in the darkest of the black Abode,
There's not a Devil but believes a God.
Old Lucifer has sometimes try'd
To have himself be Deify'd;
But Devil nor Men the Being of God deny'd,
Till Men of late found out New Ways to sin,
And turn'd the Devil out to let the Atheist in.
But when the mighty Element began,
And Storms the weighty Truth explain,
Almighty Power upon the Whirlwind Rode,
And every Blast proclaim'd aloud
There is, there is, there is, a God.
Plague, Famine, Pestilence, and War,
Are in their Causes seen,
The true Originals appear
Before the Effects begin:
[Page 22]But Storms and Tempests are above our Rules,
Here our Philosophers are Fools.
The Stagyrite himself could never show,
From whence, nor how they blow.
'Tis all Sublime, 'tis all a Mystery,
They see no manner how, nor Reason why;
All Sovereign Being is the amazing Theme,
'Tis all resolv'd to Power Supreme;
From this first Cause our Tempest came,
And let the Atheists spight of Sense Blaspheme,
They can no room for Banter find,
Till they produce another Father for the Wind.
Satyr, thy Sense of Sovereign Being declare,
He made the Mighty Prince o'th' Air,
And Devils recognize him by their Fear.
Ancient as Time, and Elder than the Light,
E'er the first Day, or antecedent Night,
E'er Matter into settl'd Form became,
And long before Existence had a Name;
Before th' Expance of indigested Space,
While the vast No where fill'd the Room of Place.
Liv'd the First Cause The First Great Where and Why,
Existing to and from Eternity,
Of His Great Self, and of Necessity.
This I call God, that One great Word of Fear,
At whose great Sound,
When from his Mighty Breath 'tis ecchos'd round,
Nature pays Homage with a trembling bow,
And Conscious Men would faintly disallow;
The Secret Trepidation racks the Soul,
And while he says, no God, replies, thou Fool.
But call it what we will,
First Being it had, does Space and Substance fill.
Eternal Self-existing Power enjoy'd,
And whatsoe'er is so, That same is God.
If then it should fall out, as who can tell,
But that there is a Heaven and Hell,
Mankind had best consider well for fear
'T should be too late when their Mistakes appear;
Such may in vain Reform,
Unless they do't before another Storm.
They tell us Scotland scap'd the Blast;
No Nation else have been without a Taste:
All Europe sure have felt the Mighty Shock,
'T has been a Universal Stroke.
But Heaven has other Ways to plague the Scots,
As Poverty and Plots.
[Page 23]Her Majesty confirms it, what She said,
I plainly heard it, tho' I'm dead.
The dangerous So and has rais'd me from my Sleep,
I can no longer Silence keep,
Here Satyr's thy Deliverance,
A Plot in Scotland, Hatch'd in France,
And Liberty the Old Pretence.
Prelatick Power with Popish join,
The Queen's just Government to undermine;
This is enough to wake the Dead,
The Call's too loud, it never shall be said
The lazy Satyr slept too long,
When all the Nations Danger claim'd his Song.
Rise Satyr from thy Sleep of Legal Death,
And reassume Satyrick Breath;
What tho' to Seven Years Sleep thou art confin'd,
Thou well may'st wake with such a Wind.
Such Blasts as these can seldom blow,
But they're both form'd above and heard below.
Then wake and warn us now the Storms are past,
Lest Heaven return with a severer Blast.
Wake and inform Mankind
Of Storms that still remain behind.
If from this Grave thou lift thy Head,
They'll surely mind one risen from the Dead.
Tho' Moses and the Prophets can't prevail,
A Speaking Satyr cannot fail.
Tell 'em while secret Discontents appear,
There'll ne'er be Peace and Union here.
They that for Trifles so contend,
Have something farther in their End▪
But let those hasty People know,
The Storms above reprove the Storms below,
And 'tis too often known,
That Storms below do Storms above Forerun;
They say this was a High-Church Storm,
Sent out the Nation to Reform;
But th' Emblem left the Moral in the Lurch,
For't blew the Steeple down upon the Church.
From whence we now inform the People,
The Danger of the Church is from the Steeple.
And we've had many a bitter stroke,
From Pinacle and Weather-Cock,
From whence the Learned do relate,
That to secure the Church and State,
The Time will come when all the Town
To save the Church, will pull the Steeple down.
[Page 24]Two Tempests are blown over, now prepare
For Storm of Treason and Intestine War.
The High-Church Fury to the North extends,
In haste to ruine all their Friends.
Occasional Conforming led the Way,
And now Occasional Rebellion comes in Play,
To let the Wond'ring Nation know,
That High-Church Honesty's an Empty Show,
A Phantosm of Delusive Air,
That as Occasion serves can disappear,
And Loyalty's a sensless Phrase,
An Empty Nothing which our Interest sways,
And as that suffers this decays.
Who dare the Dangerous Secret tell,
That Church-men can Rebel.
Faction we thought was by the Whigs Engross'd,
And Forty One was banter'd till the Jest was lost.
Bothwel and Pentland-Hills were fam'd,
And Gilly-Cranky hardly nam'd.
If Living Poets dare not speak,
We that are Dead must Silence break;
And boldly let them know the Time's at Hand,
When Ecclesiastick Tempests shake the Land.
Prelatick Treason from the Crown divides,
And now Rebellion changes sides.
Their Volumes with their Loyalty may swell,
But in their Turns too they Rebel;
Can Plot, Contrive, Assassinate,
And spight of Passive Laws disturb the State.
Let fair Pretences fill the Mouths of Men,
No fair Pretence shall blind my Pen,
They that in such a Reign as this Rebel
Must needs be in Confederacy with Hell.
Oppressions Tyranny and Pride,
May give some Reason to Divide;
But where the Laws with open Justice Rule,
He that Rebels Must be both Knave and Fool.
May Heaven the growing Mischief soon prevent,
And Traytors meet Reward in Punishment.


LONDON: Printed in the Year 1708.


HAIL Hi'roglyphick State Machin,
Contriv'd to punish Fancy in:
[...]n that are Men, in thee can feel no Pain,
[...]d all thy Insignificants Disdain.
Contempt, that false New Word for shame,
Is without Crime an empty Name,
A Shadow to Amuse Mankind,
never frights the Wise or Well-fix'd Mind▪
Vertue despises Human Scorn,
And Scandals Innocence adorn.
Exalted on thy Stool of State,
at Prospect do I see of Sov'reign Fate;
How th' Inscrutables of Providence,
Differ from our contracted Sense;
Hereby the Errors of the Town,
The Fools look out and Knaves look on.
[Page 4]Persons or Crimes find here the same respect,
And Vice does Vertue oft Correct,
The undistinguish'd Fury of the Street,
Which Mob and Malice Mankind Greet:
No Byass can the Rable draw,
But Dirt throws Dirt without respect to Merit, or to Law.
Sometimes the Air of Scandal to maintain,
Villains look from thy Lofty Loops in Vain:
But who can judge of Crimes by Punishment,
Where Parties Rule, and L—s Subservient.
Justice with Change of Interest Learns to bow,
And what was Merit once, is Murther now:
Actions receive their Tincture from the Times,
And as they change are Vertues made or Crimes.
Thou art the State-Trap of the Law,
But neither can keep Knaves, nor Honest Men in Awe▪
These are too hard'nd in Offence,
And those upheld by Innocence.
How have thy opening Vacancys receiv'd,
In every Age the Criminals of State?
And how has Mankind been deceiv'd,
When they distinguish Crimes by Fate?
Tell us, Great Engine, how to understand,
Or reconcile the Justice of the Land;
How Bastwick, Pryn, Hunt, Holingsby and Pye,
Men of unspotted Honesty;
Men that had Learning, Wit and Sense▪
And more than most Men have had since,
Could equal Title to thee claim,
With Oats and Fuller, Men of lat [...] Fame:
Even the Learned Selden saw,
A Prospect of thee, thro' the Law:
He had thy Lofty Pinnacles in view,
Bur so much Honour never was thy due:
Had the Great Selden Triumph'd on thy Stage,
Selden the Honour of this Age;
[Page 5]No Man wou'd ever shun thee more,
Or grudge to stand where Selden stood before.
Thou art no shame to Truth and Honesty,
[...]or is the Character of such defac'd by thee,
Who suffer by Oppressed Injury.
Shame, like the Exhalations of the Sun,
Falls back where first the motion was begun:
[...]nd they who for no Crime shall on thy Brows appear,
[...]ar less Reproach than they who plac'd 'em there.
[...]t if Contempt is on thy Face entail'd,
Disgrace it self shall be asham'd;
[...]andal shall blush that it has not prevail'd,
To blast the Man it has defam'd.
[...]et all that merit equal Punishment,
[...]nd there with him, and we are all Content.
There would the Fam'd S — ll stand
[...]ith Trumpet of Sedition in his Hand,
[...]unding the first Crusado in the Land.
He from a Church of England Pulpit first
All his Dissenting Brethren Curst;
Doom'd them to Satan for a Prey,
And first found out the shortest way;
[...]ith him the Wise Vice-Chancellor o'th' Press,
[...]ho tho' our Printers Licences defy,
Willing to show his forwardness,
Bless'd it with his Authority;
[...] gave the Churche's Sanction to the Work,
[...] Popes bless Colours for Troops which fight the Turk.
Doctors in scandal these are grown,
[...] Red-hot Zeal and Furious Learning known:
[...]fessors in Reproach and highly fit,
[...] Juno's Academy, Billingsgate.
Thou like a True born English Tool,
Hast from their Composition stole,
[...]d now art like to smart for being a Fool:
[Page 6]And as of English Men, 'twas always meant,
They'r better to Improve than to Invent;
Upon their Model thou hast made,
A Monster makes the World afraid.
With them let all the States-men stand,
Who Guide us with unsteady hand:
Who Armies, Fleet, and Men betray,
And Ruin all the shortest way,
Let all those Souldiers stand in sight,
Who're Willing to be paid and not to fight.
Agents, and Colonels, who false Musters bring,
To Cheat your Country first, and then your King:
Bring all your Coward Captains of the Fleet;
Lord! what a Crowd will there be when they meet?
They who let Pointi 'scape to Brest,
With all the Gods of Carthagena Blest.
Those who betray'd our Turkey Fleet;
Or Injur'd Talmash Sold at Camaret.
Who miss'd the Squadron from Thouloon,
And always came too late or else too soon;
All these are Heroes whose great Actions Claim,
Immortal Honour to their Dying Fame;
And ought not to have been Denyed.
On thy great Counterscarp, to have their Valour try'd.
Why have not these upon thy swelling Stage,
Tasted the keener Justice of the Age;
If 'tis because their Crimes are too remote,
Whom leaden-footed Justice has forgot?
Let's view the modern Scenes of Fame,
If Men and Management are not the same;
When Fleets go out with Money, and with Men,
Just time enough to venture home again?
Navyes prepar'd to guard th' insulted Coast,
And Convoy's settl'd when Our Ships are lost.
Some Heroes lately come from Sea,
If they were paid their Due, should stand with thee;
[Page 7]Papers too should their Deeds relate,
To prove the Justice of their Fate:
Their Deeds of War at Port Saint Mary's done,
And see the Trophy's by them, which they won:
Let Or—d's Declaration there appear,
He'd certainly be pleas'd to see 'em there.
Let some good Limner represent,
The ravish'd Nuns, the plunder'd Town,
The English Honour how mispent;
The shameful coming back, and little done.
The Vigo Men should next appear,
To Triumph on thy Theater;
They, who on board the Great Galoons had been,
Who rob'd the Spaniards first, and then the Queen▪
Set up their praises to their Valour due,
How Eighty Sail, had beaten Twenty two,
Two Troopers so, and one Dragoon,
Conquer'd a Spanish Boy, a Pampalone.
Yet let them Or—d's Conduct own,
Who beat them first on Shore, or little had been done▪
What unknown spoils from thence are come,
How much was brought away, How little home,
[...] all the Thieves should on thy Scaffold stand
Who rob'd their Masters in Command:
The Multitude would soon outdo,
The City Crouds of Lord Mayors show.
Upon thy Penitential stools,
Some People should be plac'd for Fools:
As some for Instance who while they look on;
[...]ee others plunder all, and they got none.
Next the Lieutenant General,
To get the Devil, lost the De'll and all;
And he some little badge should bear,
Who ought in justice to have hang'd 'em there:
This had his Honour more maintain'd,
Than all the Spoils at Vigo gain'd.
[Page 8]Then Clap thy wooden Wings for joy,
And greet the Men of Great Employ;
The Authors of the Nations discontent,
And Scandal of a Christian Government.
Jobbers, and Brokers of the City Stocks,
With forty Thousand Tallies at their Backs;
Who make our Banks and Companies obey,
Or sink 'em all the shortest way.
The Intrinsick Value of our Stocks,
Is stated in our Calculating Books;
Th' Imaginary Prizes rise and fall,
As they Command who toss the Ball;
Let 'em upon thy lofty Turrets stand,
With Bear-skins on the back, Debentures in the hand,
And write in Capital upon the Post,
That here they should remain,
Till this Aenigma they explain,
How stocks should Fall, when Sales surmount the Coast,
And rise again when Ships are lost.
Great Monster of the Law, Exalt thy Head;
Appear no more in Masquerade,
In Homely Phrase Express thy Discontent,
And move it in th' Approaching Parliament:
Tell 'em how Papers were instead of Coin,
With Int'rest eight per Cent. and Discount Nine.
Of Irish Transport Debt unpaid,
Bills false Endors'd, and long Accounts unmade.
And tell them all the Nation hopes to see,
They'll send the Guilty down to thee:
Rather than those who write their History.
Then bring those Justices upon thy Bench,
Who vilely break the Laws they should defend;
And upon Equity Intrench,
By Punishing the Crimes they will not Mend.
Let every vicious Magistrate,
Upon thy sumptuous Chariot of the State;
[Page 9]There let 'em all in Triumph ride,
[...]heir Purple and their Scarlet laid aside.
[...]et no such Bride-well Justices Protect,
[...] first debauch the Whores which they Correct:
Such who with Oaths and Drunk'ness si [...],
[...]nd Punish far less Crimes than they Commit:
These certainly deserve to stand,
[...]ith Trophies of Authority in Each Hand.
[...]oon thy Pulpit, see the Drunken Priest,
[...]ho turns the Gospel to a daily Jest;
[...]et the Fraternity Degrade him there,
Lest they like him appear:
[...]here let him, his Memento Mori Preach,
[...]nd by Example, not by Doctrine, Teach.
Next bring the Lewder Clergy there,
Who Preach those Sins down, which they can't forbear;
[...]hose Sons of God who every day Go in,
[...]oth to the Daughters and the Wifes of Men;
[...]here Let 'em stand to be the Nation's Jest,
[...]nd save the Reputation of the rest.
[...]—ll who for the Gospel left the Law,
[...]nd deep within the Cleft of Darkness saw;
Let him be an Example made,
Who durst the Parsons Province so Invade;
To his new Ecclesiastick Rules,
We owe the Knowledge that we all are Fools:
Old Charon shall no more dark Souls convey,
A—ll has found the shortest way:
Vain is your funeral Pomp and Bells,
Your Grave-stones, Monuments and Knells;
Vain are the Trophyes of the Grave,
A—ll shall all that Foppery save;
And to the Clergy's great Reproach.
[...]hall change the Hearse into a Fiery Coach:
What Man the Learned Riddle can receive,
Which none can Answer, and yet none Believe;
[Page 10]Let him Recorded, on the List remain,
Till he shall Heav'n by his own Rules obtain.
If a Poor Author has Embrac'd thy Wood,
Only because he has not understood,
They Punish Mankind but by halves,
Till they stand there,
Who against their own Principles appear:
And cannot understand themselves.
Those Nimshites, who with furious Zeal drive on.
And build up Rome to pull down Babylon;
The real Author of the shortest way,
Who for Destruction, not Conversion pray▪
There let those Sons of Strife remain,
Till this Church Riddle they Explain;
How at Dissenters they can raise a Storm,
But would not have them all Conform;
For there their certain Ruin would come in,
And Moderation, which they hate, begin.
Next bring some Lawyers to thy Bar,
By Inuendo they might all stand there;
There let them Expiate that Guilt,
And pay for all that Blood their Tongues ha' spilt;
These are the Mountebanks of State,
Who by the slight of Tongues can Crimes create,
And dress up Trifles in the Robes of Fate.
The Mastives of a Government,
To worry and run down the Innocent;
There Sat a Man of Mighty Fame,
Whose Actions speak him plainer than his Name;
In vain he struggl'd, he harangu'd in vain,
To bring in Whipping Sentences again:
And to debauch a Milder Government;
With Abdicated kinds of Punishment.
No wonder he should Law despise,
Who Jesus Christ himself denies;
His Actions only now direct,
That we when he is made a Judge, expect:
[Page 11]Let L—ll next to his Disgrace,
With Whitney's Horses staring in his Face;
There let his Cup of Pennance be kept full,
Till he's less Noisy, Insolent and Dull.
When all these Heroes have past once thy Stage,
And thou hast been the Satyr of the Age;
Wait then a while for all those Sons of Fame,
Whom present Pow'r has made too great a name:
Fenc'd from thy hands, they keep our Verse in Awe,
Too great for Satyr, and too great for Law▪
As they their Commands lay down,
They all shall pay their Homage to thy Cloudy Throne:
And till within thy reach they be,
Exalt them in Effigie.
The Martyr of the by-past Reign,
For whom new Oaths have been prepar'd in vain;
She—k's Disciple first by him trepan'd,
He for a K —and they for F—s should stand.
Tho' some affirm he ought to be Excus'd,
Since to this Day he had refus'd;
And this was all the Frailty of his Life,
He Damn'd his Conscience, to oblige his Wife.
But spare that Priest, whose tottering Conscience knew
That if he took but one, he'd Perjure two:
Bluntly resolv'd he wou'd not break 'em both,
And Swore by G—d he'd never take the Oath;
Hang him, he can't be fit for thee,
For his unusual Honesty,
Thou Speaking Trumpet of Mens Fame,
Enter in every Court thy Claim;
Demand 'em all, for they are all thy own,
Who swear to Three Kings, but are true to none▪
Turn-Coats of all sides are thy due,
And he who once is false, is never true:
[Page 12]To Day can Swear, to Morrow can Abjure,
For Treachery's a Crime no Man can Cure:
Such without scruple, for the time to come,
May Swear to all the Kings in Christendom;
But he's a Mad Man will rely
Upon their lost Fidelity.
They that in vast Employments rob the State,
See them in thy Embraces meet their Fate;
Let not the Millions they by Fraud obtain,
Protect 'em from the Scandal, or the Pain:
They who from Mean Beginnings grow
To vast Estates, but God knows how;
Who carry untold Sums away,
From little Places, with but little Pay:
Who Costly Palaces Erect,
The Thieves that built them to protect;
The Gardens, Grotto's, Fountains Walks, and Groves
Where Vice Triumphs in Pride, and Lawless Loves:
Where mighty Luxury and Drunk'ness Reign'd,
Profusely Spend what they Prophanely Gain'd:
Tell 'em there's Mene Tekel's on the Wall▪
Tell 'em the Nations Money paid for all:
Advance by double Front and show,
And let us both the Crimes and Persons know:
Place them aloft upon thy Throne,
Who slight the Nation's Business for their own;
Neglect their Posts, in spight of Double Pay,
And run us all in Debt the shortest way.
Great Pageant, Change thy Dirty Scene,
For on thy Steps some Ladies may be seen;
When Beauty stoops upon thy Stage to show
She laughs at all the Humble Fools below.
Set Sapho there, whose Husband paid for Clothes
Two Hundred Pound a Week in Furbulo's:
There in her Silks and Scarlets let her shine,
She's Beauteous all without, all Whore within.
[Page 13]Next let Gay URANIA Ride,
Her Coach and Six attending by her side:
Long has she waited, but in vain,
The City Homage to obtain:
The Sumptuous Harlot long'd to Insult the Chair,
And Triumph o'er our City Beauties there.
Here let her Haughty Thoughts be Gratifi'd,
In Triumph let her Ride;
Let DIADORA next appear,
And all that want to know her, see her there.
What tho' she's not a True-Born English Who—re?
French Harlots have been here before;
Let not the Pomp nor Grandeur of her State
Prevent the Justice of her Fate,
But let her an Example now be made
To Foreign Wh—s who spoil the English Trade.
Claim 'em, thou Herald of Reproach,
Who with uncommon Lewdness will Debauch;
Let C—upon thy Borders spend his Life,
Till he Recants the Bargain with his Wife:
And till this Riddle both Explain,
How neither can themselves Contain;
How Nature can on both sides run so high,
As neither side can neither side supply:
And so in Charity agree,
He keeps two Brace of Whores, two Stallions she.
What need of Satyr to Reform the Town?
Or Laws to keep our Vices down?
Let 'em to Thee due Homage pay,
This will Reform us all the Shortest Way.
Let 'em to thee bring all the Knaves and Fools,
Vertue will guide the rest by Rules;
They'll need no Treacherous Friends, no breach of Faith,
No Hir'd Evidence with their Infecting Breath;
No Servants Masters to Betray,
Or Knight o'th' Post, who Swear for Pay;
[Page 14]No injur'd Author'l on thy Steps appear,
Nor such as wou'd be Rogues, but such as are.
The first Intent of Laws
Was to Correct th' Effect, and check the Cause;
And all the Ends of Punishment,
Were only Future Mischiefs to prevent.
But Justice is Inverted when
Those Engines of the Law,
Instead of pinching Vicious Men,
Keep Honest ones in awe;
Thy Business is, as all Men know,
To Punish Villains, not to make Men so.
When ever then thou art prepar'd,
To prompt that Vice thou should'st Reward,
And by the Terrors of thy Grisly Face,
Make Men turn Rogues to shun Disgrace;
The End of thy Creation is destroy'd,
Justice expires of Course, and Law's made void.
What are thy Terrors? that for fear of thee,
Mankind should dare to sink their Honesty;
He's Bold to Impudence, that dare turn Knave,
The Scandal of thy Company to save:
He that will Crimes he never knew confess,
Does more than if he knew those Crimes transgress:
And he that fears thee more than to be base,
May want a Heart, but does not want a Face.
Thou like the Devil dost appear
Blacker than really thou art by far:
A wild Chimerick Notion of Reproach,
Too little for a Crime, for none too much:
Let none th' Indignity resent,
For Crime is all the shame of Punishment.
Thou Bug-bear of the Law stand up and speak,
Thy long Misconstru'd Silence break,
[Page 15] [...]ll us who 'tis upon thy Ridge stands there,
So full of Fault, and yet so void of Fear;
And from the Paper in his Hat,
Let all Mankind be told for what:
All them it was because he was too bold,
[...]d told those Truths, which shou [...]d not ha' been told.
Extol the Justice o [...] the Land,
[...]o Punish what they will not understand.
Tell them he stands Exalted there,
For speaking what we wou'd not hear;
And yet he might ha' been secure,
[...]d he said less, or wou'd he ha' said more.
Tell them that this is his Reward,
And worse is yet for him prepar'd,
[...]ause his Foolish Vertue was so nice
[...] not to sell his Friends, according to his Friends Advice;
And thus he's an Example made,
To make Men of their Honesty afraid,
That for the time to come they may,
More willingly their Friends betray;
Tell 'em the Men that plac'd him here,
[...]re Friends unto the Times,
But at a loss to find his Guile,
They can't commit his Crimes.

A Catalogue of Poems, &c. Printed and Sold by H. Hill in Black-Fryars, near the Water-side; where seven more may be had that are not here Inserted.

  • A Congratulatory Poem on Prince George of Denmark, &c. on the Success at Sea.
  • Marlborough Still Conquers.
  • The Flight of the Pretender.
  • Honesty in Distress, a Tragedy.
  • The Kit-Cats a Poem, &c.
  • Wine, a Poem, &c.
  • Cyder, a Poem, in 2 Books, with the Splendid Shilling, &c.
  • The Pleasures of a Single Life, &c.
  • Faction Display'd.
  • Moderation Display'd.
  • The Duel of the Stags, &c.
  • Coopers-Hill, by Sir J. Denham.
  • An Essay on Poetry, by the Earl of Murlgrave.
  • Absalom and Achitophel.
  • The Plague of Athens.
  • A Satyr against Man and Woman.
  • The Forgiving Husband.
  • Instructions to Vanderbank.
  • The Temple of Death.
  • An Essay on Translated Verse, by the Earl of Roscomon.
  • Horace: Or the Art of Poetry.
  • The History of Insipids.
  • The Swan-Trip-Club.
  • Lucretius on Death, &c.
  • The Medal against Sedition.
  • Bellizarius a great Commander.
  • Daphnis, or a Pastoral Elegy, &c.
  • A Poem on the Countess of Abing­don.
  • Nundinae Sturbrigiences.
  • Tunbrigialia.
  • An Ode on the Incarnation, &c.
  • Hoglandiae Descriptio.
  • Milton's Sublimity on Cyder.
  • Bosworth-feild, a Poem, by Sir John Beaumount Bar.
  • Canary Birds Natural [...]z'd.
  • Poems on the Death of the [...] Queen Mary.
  • Baucis and Philemon, &c.
  • Circus, a Satyr: Or the Ring Hide Park.
  • St. James's Park, a Satyr.
  • The Spleen, a Pindarique Ode, [...] Philips's Pastorals.
  • A Letter from Italy, to my Lo [...] Halifax, with other Poems.
  • Blenheim, a Poem, by Phillip [...]
  • Mac-Flecknoe, by J. Dryden; [...] Spencer's Ghost, by J. Oldham
  • The Female Reign, an Ode, Sam. Cobb.
  • The Upstart, a Satyr.
  • A Poem on the Taking St. M [...]
  • Windsor Castle, a Poem.
  • The Servitor, a Poem.
  • The Pulpit War.
  • The Campaign, a Poem, by Addison.
  • The Counter-Scuffle, a Poem
  • Don Francisco Sutorioso.
  • Consolation to Mira mourning
  • A Panegyrick on Oliver Crom [...] with three Poems on his De [...]
  • A Poem in Defence of the Ch [...] of England.
  • The Apparition, a Poem.
  • The Hind and Panther Trans [...] to the Story of the Cou [...] Mouse and City Mouse.
  • Dr. Gath's Dispensary.
  • Memoirs on John Hall, the F [...] Robber, &c.
  • Mr Shaftoe's Narrative giving [...] Account of the Birth of the tended Prince of Wales, &c.
  • The True-Born Englishman.
  • The Husband, a Poem.
  • The Commoner, a Poem.


—Si Propriùs stes
Te Capiet Magis—

LONDON: [...]rinted and Sold by H. Hills, in Black-fryars, near the Water-side, For the Benefit of the Poor. 1708.


'TIS not my intention to make an Apology for my Poem: Some [...] think it needs no Excuse; and others will receive none. The [...] sign, I am sure, is honest: but he who draws his Pen for one Party, [...] expect to make Enemies of the other. For, Wit and Fool, are Con­quences of Whig and Troy: And every man is a Knave or an Ass [...] contrary side. There's a Treasury of Merits in the Phanatick Churc [...] as well as in the Papist; and a Pennyworth to be had of Saintship, H [...] sty and Poetry, for the Leud, the Factions, and the Blockheads: But [...] longest Chapter in Deutoromy, has not Curses enough for an Anti-Bi [...] mingham. My Comfort is, their manifest Prejudice to my Cause, [...] render their Judgment of less Authority against me. Yet if a Poem h [...] a Genius, it will force its own reception in the World. For there's a sw [...] ness in good Verse, which Tickles even while it Hurts: And no man [...] be heartily angry with him, who pleases him against his will. The Co [...] mendation of Adversaries, is the greatest Triumph of a Writer; b [...] it never comes unless Extorted. But I can be satisfied on more easie term If I happen to please the more Moderate sort I shall be sure of an h [...] Party; and, in all probability, of the best Judges: for the least C [...] cern'd, are commonly the least Corrupt. And, I confess, I have laid for those, by relating the Satyr (where Justice would allow it) from ca [...]rying too sharp an Edge. They, who can Criticize so weakly, as to im [...]gine I have done my worst, may be convinc'd, at their own Cost, that can write Severely, with more ease, than I can Gently. I have but laugh at some mens Follies. when I could have declaim'd against their Vice and, other mens Vertues I have commended, as freely as I have tax'd the Crimes. And now, if you are a Malicious Reader, I expect you should turn upon me, that I affect to be thought more Impartial than I am. B [...] if men are not to be judg'd by their Professions, God forgive you Comm [...] wealths-men, for Professing so plausible for the Government. You ca [...] be so Unconscionable, as to charge me for not Subscribing of my Name; [...] that would reflect too grosly upon your own Party, who never dare; then they have the advantage of a Jury to secure them. If you like not Poem, the fault may, possibly, by in my Writing: (though 'tis hard an Author to judge against himself;) But more probably 'tis in y [...] Morals, which cannot bear the truth of it. The Violent, on both si [...] will condemn the Character of Absalom, as either too favourably, or [Page 3] [...]ardly drawn. But they are not the Violent, whom I desire to please. [...]he fault, on the right hand, is to Extenuate; Palliate and Indulge, [...]d, to confess freely. I have endeavoured to commit it. Besides the res­ [...]ct which I owe his Birth, I have a greater for his Heroick Virtues: [...]d, David himself, could not be more tender of the Young man's Life, [...]an I would be of his Reputation. But, since the most excellent natures [...]e almost the most easie; and, as being such. are the soonest perverted [...] ill Counsels, especially when baited with Fame and Glory; 'tis no [...]ore a wonder that he withstood not the temptations of Achitophel, than was for Adam, not to have resisted the two Devils, the Serpent and the [...]oman: The Conclusion of the Story, I purposely forbore to prosecute: [...]cause, I could not obtain from my self, to shew Absalom Unfortunate. [...]e Frame of it was cut out, but for a Picture to the Waste; and, if [...] Draught be so far true, 'tis as much as I design'd.

Were I the Inventor, who am only the Historian, I should certainly [...]nclude the Piece, with the Reconcilement of Absalom to David. And, [...]ho knows but this may come to pass? Things were not brought to an [...]xtremity where I left the Story; There seems, yet, to be room left for a [...]mposure; hereafter, there may be only be for Pity. I have not so [...]ch as an uncharitable wish against Achitophel; but, am content to be [...]cus'd of a good natur'd Error; and to hope with Origen, that the [...]vil himself may, at last, be sav'd. For which reason, in this Poem, [...] is neither brought to set his House in order, nor to dispose of his Person [...]terwards, as he in Wisdom shall think fit. God is infinitely merciful: [...]d his Vicegerent is only not so, because he is not Infinite.

The true end of Satyr, is the amendment of Vices by correction. And [...] who writes Honestly, is no more an Enemy to the Offender, than the [...]hysician to the Patient, when he prescribes harsh Remedies to an inve­rate Disease: for those, are only in order to prevent the Chyrurgeon's [...]rk of an Ense rescindendum, which I wish not to my very Enemies. To [...]nclude all; If the Body Politique have any Analogy to the Natural, [...] my weak judgment, an Act of Oblivion were as necessary in a Hot, [...]istemper'd State, as an Opiate would be in a Raging Fever.

King Charles II.
D. Monmouth,
Dutchess of Monmouth.
Earl of Shaftsbury,
L. Gray.
Sheriff Bethel.
Stephen College.
D. Porthsmouth, or any other Concubine.

Absalom and Achitophel.

IN pious Times, e'er Priest-craft did begin,
Before Polygamy was made a Sin;
When Man on many, multiply'd his kind,
E'er one to one was, cursedly, confin'd:
When Nature prompted, and no Law deny'd
Promiscuous use of Concubine and Bride;
Then, Israel's Monarch, after Heavens own heart,
His vigorous warmth did variously, impart.
To Wives and Slaves: and, wide as his Command,
Scatter'd his Makers Image through the Land.
Michal, of Royal Blood, the Crown did wear;
A Soil ungrateful to the Tiller's care:
Not so the rest; for several Mothers bore
To God-like David, several Sons before.
But, since like Slaves his Bed they did ascend,
No true Succession cou'd their Seed attend.
Of all the numerous Progeny was none
So Beautiful, so Brave as Absalom.
Whether, inspir'd by some diviner Lust,
His Father got him with a greater Gust;
Or that his conscious Destiny made way,
By manly Beauty to Imperial Sway.
Early in foreign Fields be won Renown,
With Kings and States Ally'd to Israel's Crown:
In Peace the thoughts of War he cou'd remove,
And seem'd as he were only born for Love.
What e'er he did, was done with so much ease,
In him alone, 'twas Natural to please:
His motions all accompany'd with grace:
And Paradise was open'd in his Face.
With secret Joy, indulgent David view'd
His Youthful Image in his Son renew'd:
To all his wishes nothing he deny'd;
And made the Charming Annabel his Bride.
What faults he had (for who from faults is free?)
His father cou'd not, or he wou'd not see▪
Some warm excesses, which the Law forbore,
Were constin'd Youth that purg'd by boiling o'er:
And Amnon's Mother by a specious Name,
Was call'd, a just Revenge for injur'd Fame.
Thus prais'd, and lov'd, the noble Youth remain'd,
While David, undisturb'd in Sion reign'd.
But Life can never be sincerely blest:
Heav'n punishes the bad, and proves the best.
[Page 5] [...]he Jews, a Head-strong, Moody Murm'ring race,
[...]s ever try'd th' extent and stretch of grace;
[...]od's pamper'd People whom, debauch'd with ease,
[...]o King cou'd govern, nor no God cou'd please;
Gods they had try'd of every shape and size,
[...]hat God-smiths cou'd produce, or Priests devise:)
[...]hese Adam-wits, too fortunately free,
[...]gan to dream they wanted Liberty,
[...]nd when no rule, no president was found,
[...]f men, by Laws less circumscrib'd and bound;
They led their wild desires to Woods and Caves;
And thought that all but Savages were Slaves.
They who, when Saul was dead, without a blow,
[...]ade foolish Ishbosheth the Crown forego;
[...]ho banisht David did from Hebron bring,
[...]d, with a General shout, proclaim'd him King:
[...]hose very Jews, who, at their very best,
[...]heir Humour more than Loyalty exprest,
[...]ow, wondred why, so long, they had obey'd
[...]nd Idol-Monarch which their hands had made:
[...]hought they might ruin him they cou'd create;
[...] melt him to that Golden Calf, a State.
[...]t these were random bolts: No form'd Design,
[...]or Interest made the Factious Crou'd to joyn:
[...]he sober part of Israel, free from stain,
[...]ell knew the value of a peaceful Reign;
[...]nd, looking backward with a wise affright,
[...] seams of wounds, dishonest to the sight:
[...] contemplation of whose ugly Scars,
[...]hey curst the memory of Civil Wars.
[...]he moderate sort of Men, thus qualifi'd,
[...]clin'd the Ballance to the better side:
[...]nd, David's mildness manag'd it so well▪
[...]e bad found no occasion to Rebell.
[...]t, when to Sin our byast Nature leans,
[...]e careful Devil is still at hand with means;
[...]d providently Pimps for ill desires;
[...]e Good Old Cause reviv'd, a Plot requires.
[...]ots, true or false, are necessary things▪
[...] raise up Common-wealths, and ruin Kings.
Th' Inhabitants of Old Jerusalem
[...]ere Jebusites: the Town so call'd from them;
[...]d their's the Native right—
[...]t when the chosen People grew more strong,
[...]e rightful Cause at lenght became the wrong:
[...]d every loss the men of Jebus bore,
[...]ey still were tought God's Enemies the more.
[...]us, worn and weaken'd, well or ill content,
[...]mit they must to David's Government:
[Page 6]Impoverisht and depriv'd of all Command,
Their Taxes doubled as they lost their Land;
And, what was harder yet to flesh and blood,
Their Gods disgrac'd, and burnt like common Wood.
This set the Heathen Priesthood in a flame;
For Priests of all Religions are the same:
Of whatso'er descent their Godhead be,
Stock, Stone, or other homely Pedigree,
In his Defence his Servants are as bold,
As if he had been born of beaten Gold.
The Jewish Rabbins, though their Enemies,
In this conclude them honest men and wise:
For 'twas their Duty, all the Learned think,
T'espouse his Cause by whom they eat and drink.
From hence began that Plot, the Nation's Curse,
Bad in it self, but represented worse.
Rais'd in extreams, and in extreams decry'd;
With Oaths affirm'd, with dying Vows deny'd.
Not weigh'd, or winnow'd by the Multitude;
But swallow'd in the Mass, unchew'd and crude.
Some truth there was, but dasht and brew'd with Lies,
To please the Fools, and puzzle all the Wise.
Succeeding Times did equal Folly call,
Believing nothing, or believing all.
Th' Aegyptian Rites the Jebusites embrac'd;
Where Gods were recommended by their Taste.
Such sav'ry Deities must needs be good,
As serv'd at once for Worship and for Food.
By force they could not introduce these Gods;
For Ten to One, in former days was odds.
So Fraud was us'd, (the Sacrificer's Trade,)
Fools are more hard to conquer than perswade.
Their busie Teachers mingled with the Jews;
And rak'd for Converts, even the Court and Stews,
Which Hebrew Priests the more unkindly took,
Because the Fleece accompanies the Flock.
Some thought they God's Anointed meant to slay
By Guns, invented since full many a day:
Our Author swears it not; but who can know
How far the Devil and Jebusites may go?
This Plot, which fail'd for want of common Sense,
Had yet a deep and dangerous Consequence:
For as when raging Fevers boil the Blood,
The standing Lakes soon floats into a Flood;
And ev'ry hostile Humour; which before
Slept quiet in its Chanels, bubbles o're:
So, several factions from this first Ferment,
Work up to Foam, and threat the Government.
[Page 7] [...]ome by their Friends, more by themselves thought wise,
[...]ppos'd the Pow'r, to which they could not rise.
[...]ome had in Courts been great, and thrown from thence,
[...]ike Fiends, were harden'd in Impenitence.
[...]ome, by their Monarch's fatal mercy grown
[...]rom pardon'd Rebels, Kinsmen to the Throne;
[...]ere rais'd in Pow'r and publick Office high:
[...]rong Bands, if Bands ungrateful men cou'd tye.
[...]f these the false Achitophel was first:
[...] Name to all succeeding Ages curst.
[...]or close Designs, and crooked Counsels fit;
[...]igacious, Bold, and Turbulent of Wit:
[...]estless, unfixt in Principles and Place;
[...] Pow'r unpleas'd, impatient of Disgrace.
[...] fiery Soul, which working out its way,
[...]retted the Pigmy-Body to decay;
[...]nd o're inform'd the Tenement of Clay.
[...] daring Pilot in Extremity;
[...]eas'd with the Danger, when the Waves went high
[...]e sought the Storme: but for a Calm unfit,
[...]ould steer too nigh the Sands, to boast his wit.
[...]reat Wits are sure to Madness near ally'd;
[...]nd thin Partitions do their Bounds divide;
[...]se, why should he, with Wealth and Honour blest,
[...]efuse his Age the needful hours of Rest?
[...]unish a Body which he cou'd not please;
[...]ankrupt of Life, yet Prodigal of ease?
[...]nd all to leave, what with his Toil he won,
[...]o that unfeather'd, too legg'd thing, a Son:
[...]ot, while his Soul did huddl'd Notions try;
[...]nd born a shapeless Lump, like Anarchy.
[...] Fr'endship false, implacable in Hate:
[...]esolv'd to Ruin or to Rule the State.
[...]o compass this, the Triple Bond he broke;
The Pillars of the Publick Safety shook:
[...]nd fitted Israel for a Foreign Yoke.
[...]hen seiz'd with Fear, yet still affecting Fame,
[...]surp'd a Patriot's All-attoning Name.
[...]o easie still it proves in Factious Times,
[...]ith publick Zeal to cancel private Crimes:
[...]ow safe is Treason, and how sacred Ill,
Where none can sin against the Peoples Will?
Where Crouds can wink; and no offence be known,
[...]nce in another's guilt they find their own.
[...]et, Fame deserv'd, no Enemy can grudge;
The Statesman we abhor, but praise the Judge.
[...] Israel's Courts ne'er sat an Abbethdin
With more discerning Eyes, or Hands more clean;
[Page 8]Unbrib'd, unsought, the Wretched to redress;
Swift of Dispatch, and easie of Access.
Oh, had he been content to serve the Crown,
With Virtues only proper to the Gown;
Or, had the rankness of the Soil been freed
From Cockle, that opprest the Noble Seed:
David, for him his tuneful Harp had strung,
And Heav'n had wanted one Immortal Song.
But wild Ambition loves to slide, not stand;
And Fortunes Ice prefers to Virtues Land:
Achitophel, grown weary to possess
A lawful Fame, and lazy Happiness;
Disdain'd the golden Fruit to gather free,
And lent the Croud his Arm to shake the Tree.
Now, manifest of Crimes, contriv'd long since,
He stood at bold Defiance with his Prince:
Held up the Buckler of the Peoples Cause,
Against the Crown; and sculk'd behind the Laws.
The wish'd occasion of the Plot he takes;
Some Circumstances finds, but more he makes.
By buzzing Emissaries, fills the ears
Of listning Crouds, with Jealousies and Fears
Of Arbitrary Counsels brought to light,
And proves the King himself a Jebusite.
Weak Arguments! which yet he knew full well,
Were strong with People easie to Rebell.
For, govern'd by the Moon, the giddy Jews
Tread the same Track when she the Prime renews:
And once in twenty years, their Scribes Record,
By natural Instinct they change their Lord.
Achitophel still wants a Chief, and none
Was found so fit as War-like Absalom:
Not, that he wish'd his Greatness to create,
(For Polititians neither love nor hate:)
But, for he knew, his Title not allow'd,
Would keep him still depending on the Croud:
That Kingly pow'r, thus ebbing out, might be
Drawn to the Dregs of a Democracy.
Him he attempts, with studied Arts to please,
And sheds his Venom, in such words as these.
Auspicious Prince, at whose Nativity
Some Royal Planet rul'd the Southern Sky;
Thy longing Countries Darling and Desire;
Their cloudy Pillar, and their guardian Fire:
Their second Moses, whose extended Wand
Divides the Seas, and shews the promis'd Land:
Whose dawning Day, in every distant Age,
His exercis'd the Sacred Prophet's rage:
[Page 9]The Peopl's Pray'r, the glad Diviner's Theme,
[...]he Young mens Vision, and the Old mens Dream!
[...]hee, Saviour, Thee, the Nations Vows confess;
[...]nd, never satisfi'd with seeing, bless:
[...]wift, unbespoken Pomps, thy steps proclaim,
[...]nd stammering Babes are taught to lisp thy Name.
[...]ow long wilt thou the general Joy detain;
[...]arve, and defraud the People of thy Reign?
[...]ontent ingloriously to pass thy days
[...]ke one of Virtue's Fools that feeds on Praise;
[...]ll thy fresh Glories, which now shine so bright,
[...]row Stale and Tarnish with our dayly sight.
[...]elieve me, Royal Youth, thy Fruit must be,
[...] gather'd Ripe, or rot upon the Tree.
[...]eav'n has to all allotted, soon or late,
[...]me lucky Revolution of their Fate:
[...]hose Motions, if we watch and guide with Skill,
For humane Good depends on humane Will,)
[...]ur Fortune rolls as from a smooth Descent,
[...]nd, from the first Impression, takes the Bent:
[...]t, if unseiz'd, she glides away like wind;
[...]nd leaves repenting Folly far behind.
[...]ow, now she meets you with a glorious prize,
[...]d spreads her Locks before her as she flies.
[...]d thus Old David, from whose Loins you Spring,
[...]t dar'd, when Fortune call'd him, to be King,
[...] Gath an Exile he might still remain;
[...]d Heav'ns Anointing Oyl had been in vain.
[...]t his succesful Youth your hopes engage;
[...]t shun th' example of Declining Age:
[...]hold him setting in his Western Skies,
[...]e shadows lengthning as the Vapours rise.
[...] is not now, as when on Jordan's Sand
[...]e joyful People throng'd to see him Land,
[...]'ring the Beech, and blackning all the Strand:
[...]t, like the Prince of Angels from his height,
[...]omes tumbling downward with diminish'd light:
[...]tray'd by one poor Plot to publick Scorn:
Our only blessing since his curst Return:)
[...]hose heaps of People which one Sheaf did bind,
[...]own off, and scatter'd by a puff of Wind.
[...]hat strength can he to your Designs oppose,
[...]ked of Friends, and round beset with Foes?
Pharaoh's doubtful Succour he should use,
Foreign Aid wou'd more incense the Jews:
[...]oud Aegypt wou'd dissembled Friendship bring;
[...]ment the War, but not support the King:
[Page 10]Nor wou'd the Royal Party e'er unite
With Pharaoh's Arms, t'assist the Jebusite;
Or if they shou'd, their Interest soon wou'd break.
And, with such odious Aid, make David week.
All sorts of men, by my successful Arts,
Abhorring Kings, estrange their alter'd Hearts
From David's Rule: And 'tis their general Cry,
Religion, Common-wealth, and Liberty.
If you, as Champion of the Publick Good,
Add to their Arms a Chief of Royal Blood;
What may not Israel hope, and what Applause
Might such a General gain by such a Cause?
Not barren Praise alone, that Gaudy Flow'r,
Fair only to the sight, but solid Pow'r:
And Nobler is a limited Command,
Giv'n by the Love of all your Native Land,
Than a successive Title, Long and Dark,
Drawn from the Mouldy Rolls of Noah's Ark.
What cannot Praise effect in Mighty Minds,
When Flattery Sooths, and when Ambition Blinds!
Desire of Pow'r, on Earth a Vitious Weed,
Yet, sprung from High, is of Coelestial Seed:
In God 'tis Glory: And when Men Aspire,
'Tis but a Spark too much of Heavenly Fire.
Th' Ambitious Youth, too Covetous of Fame,
Too full of Angels Metal in his Frame;
Unwarily was led from Virtues ways;
Made Drunk with Honour, and debauch'd with Praise.
Half loath, and half consenting to the Ill,
(For Royal Blood within him struggled still)
He thus reply'ed.—And what Pretence have I
To take up Arms for Publick Liberty?
My Father Governs with unquestion'd Right:
The Faith's Defender, and Mankind's Delight:
Good, Gracious, Just, Observant of the Laws;
And Heav'n by Wonders has espous'd his Cause.
Whom has he wrong'd in all his Peaceful Reign?
Who sues for Justice to his Throne in vain?
What Millions has he pardon'd of his Foes,
Whom Just Revenge did to his Wrath expose?
Mild, Easie, Humble, Studious of our Good;
Enclin'd to Mercy, and averse from Blood.
If Mildness ill with Stubborn Israel Suit,
His Crime is God's beloved Attribute.
What could he gain, his People to Betray,
Or change his Right, for Arbitrary Sway?
Let haughty Pharaoh Curse with such a Reign,
His Fruitful Nile, and Yoak a Servile Train.
[Page 11] David's Rule Jerusalem Displease,
[...]e Dog-star heats their Brains to this Disease.
[...]hy then should I, encouraging the Bad,
[...]rn Rebel, and run Popularly Made?
[...]ere he a Tyrant who, by Lauless Might,
[...]pprest the Jews, and rais [...]d the Jesubite,
[...]ell might I mourn; but Natures holy Bands
[...]u'd Curb my Spirits, and restrain my Hands:
[...]he People might assert their Liberty;
[...]t what was Right in them, were Crime in me.
[...]s Favour leaves me nothing to require;
[...]events my Wishes, and out-runs Desire;
[...]hat more can I expect while David Lives?
[...]l but his Kingly Diadem he gives▪
[...]nd that: But there he paus'd; then Sighing, said,
Justly destin [...]d for a Worthier Head.
[...]r when my Father from his Toyls shall Rest,
[...]nd late Augment the Number of the Blest:
[...]is Lawful Issue shall the Throne ascend;
[...] the Collat'ral Line where that shall end.
[...]is Brother, though Opprest with Vulgar Spight,
[...]et Dauntless and Secure of Native Right,
[...]f every Royal Virtue stands possest;
[...]ill dear to all the Bravest, and the Best.
[...]is Courage Foes, his Friends his Truth Proclaim,
[...]is Loyalty the King, the World his Fame.
[...]s Mercy ev'n th' Offending Croud will find;
[...]or sure he comes of a Forgiving Kind.
[...]hy should I then Repine at Heavens Decree;
[...]hich gives me no pretence to Royalty?
[...]et oh that Fate, Propitiously Inclin'd,
[...]ad rais'd my Birth, or had debas'd my Mind,
[...]o my large Soul, not all her Treasure lent,
[...]nd then betray'd it to a mean Descent.
[...] find, I find my mounting Spirits Bold,
[...]nd David's Part disdains my Mothers Mold.
Why am I scanted by a Niggard Birth?
[...]y Soul disclaims the Kindred of her Earth;
[...]nd, made for Empire, Whispers me within;
[...]esire of Greatness is a God like Sin.
Him Staggering so when Hells dire Agent found,
While fainting Virtue scarce maintain'd her Ground,
[...]e pours fresh Forces in, and thus Replies:
[...]h' Eternal God, Supremely Good and Wise,
[...]parts not these Prodigious Gifts in vain;
[...]hat Wonders are Reserv'd to bless your Reign?
[...]gainst your will your Arguments have shown,
[...]ch Virtue's only given to guide a Throne.
[Page 12]Not that your Father's Mildness I contemn;
But manly Force becomes the Diadem.
'Tis true he grants the People all they crave;
And more perhaps than Subjects ought to have:
For lavish grants suppose a Monarch tame,
And more his Goodness than his Wit proclaim.
But when should People strive their Bonds to break,
If not when Kings are Negligent or Weak?
Let him give on till he can give no more,
The Thrifty Sanhedrin shall keep him poor:
And every Sheckle which he can receive,
Shall cost a Limb of his Prerogative.
To ply him with new Plots, shall be my care;
Or plunge him deep in some Expensive War;
Which when his Treasure can no more supply,
He must, with the Remains of Kingship, buy:
His faithful Friends, our Jealousies and Fears,
Call Jebusites; and Pharaoh's Pensioners:
Whom, when our Fury from his Aid has torn,
He shall be naked left to publick Scorn.
The next Successor, whom I fear and hate,
My Arts have made obnoxious to the State;
Turn'd all his Virtues to his Overthrow,
And gain'd our Elders to pronunce a Foe.
His Right, for Sums of necessary Gold,
Shall first be Pawn'd, and afterwards be Sold:
Till time shall Ever-wanting David draw▪
To pass your doubtful Title into Law:
If not the People have a Right Supreme
To make their Kings; for Kings are made for them.
All Empire is no more than Pow'r in Trust:
Which when resum'd, can be no longer Just.
Succession, for the general Good design'd,
In its own wrong a Nation cannot bind:
If altering that, the People can relieve,
Better one suffer than a Nation grieve.
The Jews well knew their pow'r▪ e'er Saul they chose,
God was their King, and God they durst Depose.
Urge now your Piety, your Filial Name,
A Father's Right, and Fear of future Fame.
The Publick Good, that Universal Call,
To which even Heav'n submitted, answers all.
Nor let his Love Enchont your generous Mind;
'Tis Nature's trick to propagate her Kind.
Our fond Begetters, who would never die,
Love but themselves in their Posterity.
Or let his Kindness by th' Effects be try'd,
Or let him lay his vain Pretence aside▪
[Page 13] [...]d said he lov'd your Father; could he bring
better Proof, than to Anoint him King?
[...]surely shew'd he lov'd the Shepherd well,
[...]ho gave so fair a Flock as Israel.
[...]ould David have you thought his Darling Son?
[...]hat means he then, to Alienate the Crown?
[...]e name of Godly he may blush to bear:
[...]s after God's own heart to Cheat his Heir.
[...] to his Brother gives Supreme Command;
[...] you a Legacy of Barren Land.
[...]haps th' old Harp on which he thrums his Lays;
[...] some dull Hebrew Ballad in your Praise.
[...]en the next Heir, a Prince, Severe and Wise,
[...]ready looks on you with Jealous Eyes;
[...]es through the thin Disguises of your Arts,
[...]d marks the Progress in the Peoples Hearts.
[...]ough now his mighty Soul its Grief contains;
[...] meditates Revenge who least complains.
[...]d like a Lion, Slumbring in the way,
[...] Sleep dissembling, while he waits his Prey,
[...]s fearless Foes within his Distance draws;
[...]nstrains his Roaring, and contracts his Paws:
[...]ll at the last, his time for Fury found,
[...] shoots with sudden Vengeance from the Ground:
[...]e Prostrate Vulgar, passes o'er, and Spares,
[...]it with a Lordly Rage, his Hunters tears.
[...]our Case no tame Expedients will afford:
[...]solve on Death, or Conquest by the Sword,
[...]hich for no less a Stake than L [...]fe, you Draw;
[...]d Self-defence is Nature's Eldest Law.
[...]ave the warm People no Considering time:
[...] then Rebellion may be thought a Crime.
[...]evail your self of what Occasion gives,
[...]t try your Title while your Father lives:
[...]nd, that your Arms may have a fair Pretence,
[...]oclaim, you take them in the King's Defence:
[...]hose Sacred Life each minute would Expose,
[...] Plots, from seeming Friends, and secret Foes.
[...]d who can sound the depth of David's Soul?
[...]rhaps his fear, his kindness may Controll.
[...] fears his Brother, though he loves his Son,
[...]r plighted Vows too late to be undone.
[...]so, by Force he wishes to be gain'd:
[...]ke Womens Leachery, to seem Constrain'd:
[...]ubt not: but, when he most affects the Frown.
[...]mmit a pleasing Rape upon the Crown.
[...]cure his Person to secure your Cause;
[...]ey who possess the Prince, possess the Laws.
[Page 14]He said, And this Advice above the rest,
With Absalom's Mild Nature suited best;
Unblam'd of Life, (Ambition set aside)
Not stain'd with Cruelty, nor post with Pride.
How happy had he been, if Destiny
Had higher plac'd his Birth, or not so high!
His Kingly Virtues might have claim'd a Throne;
And blest all other Countries but his own.
But charming Greatness, since so few refuse;
'Tis Juster to Lament him, than Accuse.
Strong were his hopes a Rival to remove,
With Blandishments to gain the publick Love;
To head the Faction while their Zeal was hot,
And Popularly prosecute the Plot.
To further this Achitophel Unites
The Male-contents of all the Israelites:
Whose differing Parties he could wisely Joyn,
For several Ends, to serve the same Design.
The Best, and of the Princes some were such,
Who thought the pow'r of Monarchy too much:
Mistaken Men, and Patriots in their Hearts;
Not Wicked, but seduc'd by Impious Arts.
By these the Springs of Property were bent,
And wound so high, they Crack't the Government.
The next for Int'rest sought t' embroil the State,
To sell their Duty at a dearer rate;
And make their Jewish Markets of the Throne;
Pretending Publick Good, to serve their own.
Others thought Kings and useless heavy Load,
Who cost too much, and did too little Good.
These were for laying Honest David by,
On Principles of pure good Husbandry.
With them joyn'd all the Haranguers of the Throng,
That thought to get Preferment by the Tongue.
Who follow next, a double danger bring,
Not only hating David, but the King;
The Solymaean Rout; well Vers'd of old,
In Godly Faction, and in Treason bold;
Cowring and Quaking at a Conqu'ror's Sword,
But Lofty to a Lawful Prince Restor'd;
Saw with Disdain an Ethnick Plot begun,
And Scorn'd by Jebusites to be Out-done.
Hot Levites Headed these; who pull'd before
From th' Ark, which in the Judges days they bore,
Resum'd their Cant, and with a Zealous Cry,
Pursu'd their old belov'd Theocracy.
Where Sanhedrin and Priest enslav'd the Nation,
And justifi'd their Spoils by Inspiration:
[Page 15]For who so fit for Reign as Aaron's Race.
If once Dominion they could found in Grace?
These led the Pack; though not of surest scent,
Yet deepest mouth'd against the Government.
A numerous Host of dreaming Saints succeed;
Of the true old Enthusiastick Breed:
'Gainst Form and Order they their Pow'r employ:
Nothing to Build, and all things to Destroy.
But far more numerous was the Herd of such,
Who think too little, and who talk too much.
These out of more instinct, they knew not why,
Ador'd their Father's God, and Property:
And, by the same blind Benefit of Fate,
The Devil and the Jebusite did hate:
Born to be sav'd, even in their own despight;
Because they could not help believing right.
Such were the Tools; but a whole Hydra more
Remains, of sprouting heads too long to score.
Some of their Chiefs were Princes of the Land:
In the first Rank of these did Zimri stand:
A man so various, that he seem'd to be
Not one, but all Mankinds Epitome.
Stiff in Opinions, always in the wrong;
Was every thing by starts, and Nothihg long;
But, in the course of one revolving Moon,
Was Chymist, Fidler, States-man and Buffoon:
Then all for Women, Painting, Rhiming, Drinking:
Besides ten thousand Freaks that dy'd in thinking.
Blest Madman, who cou'd every hour employ,
With something New to wish, or to enjoy!
Railing and praising were his usual Themes;
And both (to shew his Judgment) in Extremes:
[...]o over Violent, or over Civil,
That every Man, with him, was God or Devil.
In squandering Wealth was his peculiar Art:
Nothing went unrewarded, but Desert.
[...]eggar'd by Fools, whom still he found too late:
[...]le had his Jest, and they had his Estate.
[...]e laugh'd himself from Court; then sought Relief;
[...]y forming Parties, but coul'd ne'er be Chief:
[...]or spight of him, the weight or Business fell
On Absalom, and wise Achitophel:
Thus, wicked but in Will, of Means bereft,
[...]e left not Faction, but of That was left.
[...] Titles and Names 'twere tedious to rehearse
Of Lords, below the dignity of Verse.
[...]its, Warriors, Common-wealths men, were the best:
[...]nd Husbands, and mere Nobles all the rest.
[Page 16]And therefore, in the name of Dulness, be
The well hung Balaam and cold Caleb free.
And Canting Nadab let Oblivion damn,
Who made new Porridge for the Paschal Lamb▪
Let Friendships holy Band some Names assure:
Some their own Worth, and some let Scorne secure.
Nor shall the Rascal Rabble here have Place,
Whom Kings no Titles gave, and God no Grace:
Not Bull-fac'd Jonas, we cou'd Statutes draw
To mean Rebellion, and make Treason Law.
But he, though bad, is follow'd by a worse,
The Wretch, whose Heav'ns Anointed dar'd to Curse,
Shimei, whose Youth did early Promise bring
Of Zeal to God, and Hatred to his King;
Did wisely from Expensive Sins refrain,
And never broke the Sabbath, but for Gain:
Nor ever was he known an Oath to vent,
Or Curse, unless against the Government.
Thus, heaping Wealth, by the most ready way
Among the Jews, which was to Cheat and Pray;
The City, to reward his pious Hate
Against his Master, chose him Magistrate:
His Hand a Vare of Justice did uphold;
His Neck was loaded with a Chain of Gold.
During his Office, Treason was no Crime.
The Sons of Belial had a Glorious Time:
For Shimei, though not prodigal of Pelf,
Yet lov'd his wicked Neighbour as himself:
When two or three were gather'd to Declaim
Against the Monarch of Jerusalem,
Shimei was always in the midst of them.
And, if they Curst the King when he was by,
Would rather Curse, than break good Company.
If any durst his Factious Friends accuse,
He pact a Jury of dissenting Jews:
Whose fellow-feeling in the godly Cause,
Wou'd free the suff'ring Saint from Humane Laws.
For Laws are only made to punish those
Who serve the King, and to protect his Foes.
If any leisure time he had from Pow'r,
(Because 'tis Sin to mis-employ an hour:)
His Bus'ness was, by Writing to perswade,
That Kings were Useless, and a Clog to Trade:
And, that his noble Style he might refine,
No Rechabite more shun'd the fumes of Wine.
Chast were his Cellars; and his Shrieval Board
The Grossness of a City Feast abhor'd:
[Page 17] [...] Cooks, with long difuse, their Trade forgot;
[...]ol was his Kitchen, though his Brains were hot.
[...]ch frugal Virtue Malice may accuse;
[...]t sure 'twas necessary to the Jew:
[...] Towns once burnt, such Magistrates require
[...] dare not tempt God's Providence by Fire.
[...]ith Spiritual Food he fed his Servants well,
[...]t free from Flesh, that made the Jews rebel:
[...]d Moses's Laws he held in more account,
[...]r forty days of fasting in the Mount.
[...] speak the rest, who better are forgot,
[...]ould tire a well breath'd Witness of the Plot:
[...]t, Corah, thou shalt from Oblivion pass;
[...]ect thy self thou Monumental Brass:
[...]gh as the Serpent of thy Metal made,
[...]hile Nations stand secure beneath thy shade.
That though his birth were base, yet Comets rise
[...]om Earthly Vapours e're they shine in Skies.
[...]odigious Actions may as well be done
[...] Weaver's Issue, as by Prince's Son.
[...]is Arch-Attestor for the Publick Good,
[...] that one Deed Enobles all his Blood.
[...]ho ever ask'd the Witnesses high Race,
[...]hose Oath with Martyrdom did Stephen grace?
[...]urs was a Levite, and as times went then,
[...]s Tribe were God Almighty's Gentlemen.
[...]k were his Eyes, his Voice was harsh and loud,
[...]e signs he neither Cholerick was, nor Proud:
[...]is long Chin prov'd his Wit; his Saint-like Grace
[...] Church Vermillion, and a Moses's Face.
[...]s Memory miraculously great;
[...]ou'd Plots, exceeding Man's belief, repeat▪
[...]hich therefore cannot be accounted Lies,
[...]or Human Wit cou'd never such devise.
[...]ome future Truths are mingled in his Book;
[...]t where the Witness fail'd, the Prophet spoke:
[...]ome things like Visionary flights appear;
[...]he spirit caught him up the Lord knows where:
[...]nd gave him his Rabinical Degree,
Unknown to Foreign University.
[...] Judgment yet his Mem'ry did excell;
Which piec'd his wondrous Evidence so well:
[...]nd suited to the temper of the Times;
Then groaning under Jebusitick Crimes.
Let Israel's Foes suspect his Heav'nly call,
[...]nd rashly Judge his Writ Apocryphal:
[...]r Laws for such affronts have Forfeits made:
[...]e takes his Life, who takes away his Trade.
[Page 18]Were I my self in Witness Corah's place,
The Wretch who did me such a dire disgrace▪
Shou'd whet my memory, though once forgot,
To make him an Appendix of my Plot.
His Zeal to Heav'n, made him his Prince despise▪
And load his Person with indignities:
But Zeal peculiar privilege affords;
Indulging latitude to Deeds and Words.
And Corah might for Agag's Murther call:
In terms as course as Samuel us'd to Saul.
What others in his Evidence did join,
(The best that cou'd be had for love or coin,)
In Corah's own predicament will fall:
For Witness is a Common Name to all.
Surrounded thus with Friends of every sort,
Deluded Absalom, forsakes the Court:
Impatient of high hopes, urg'd with Renown,
And Fir'd with near Possession of a Crown:
Th' admiring Croud are dazled with surprize,
And on his Goodly Person feed their Eyes:
His joy conceal'd, he sets himself to show;
On each side bowing popularly low:
His looks, his gestures, and his words he frames,
And with familiar case repeats their Names.
Thus form'd by Nature, furnisht out with Arts,
He glides unfelt into their secret hearts.
Then, with a kind compassionating look,
And sighs, bespeaking pity e'er he spoke,
Few words he said; but easie those and fit,
More slow than Hybla-drops, and far more sweet.
I mourn, my Country-men, your lost Estate;
Though far unable to prevent your Fate:
Beholt a banisht Man, for your dear Cause
Expos'd a Prey to Arbitrary Laws!
Yet oh! that I alone cou'd be undone,
Cut off from Empire, and no mare a Son!
Now all your Liberties a Spoil are made;
Aegypt and Tyrus intercept your Trade,
And Jebusites your Sacred Rites invade.
My Father, whom with Reverence yet I name,
Charm'd into ease, is careless of his Fame:
And brib'd with petty sums of Foreign Gold,
Is grown in Bathsheba's Embraces old:
Exalts his Enemies, his Friends destroys:
And all his pow'r against himself employs.
He gives, and let him give my Right away:
But why should he his own, and yours betray?
[Page 19]He only, he can make the Nation bleed,
And he alone from my Revenge is freed.
Take then my Tears (with that he wip'd his Eyes)
Tis all the Aid my present pow'r supplies:
No Court-Informer can these Arms Accuse;
These Arms may Sons against their Fathers use;
And 'tis my wish the next Successor's Reign
May make no other Israelite complain.
Youth, Beauty, Graceful Action, seldom fail:
But Common Interest always will prevail:
And Pity never ceases to be shown,
To him, who makes the Peoples wrongs his own.
The Croud, (that still believe their Kings oppress,)
With lifted hands their young Messiah bless:
Who now begins his progress to ordain;
With Chariots, Horsemen, and a num'rous Train:
From East to West his Glories he displays:
And, like the Sun, the Promis'd Land surveys▪
[...]ame runs before him, as the Morning Star;
And shouts of Joy salute him from afar:
[...]ach house receives him as a Guardian God;
And Consecrates the Place of his abode:
But hospitable Treats did most commend
Wise Issachar, his wealthy Western Friend.
This moving Court, that caught the Peoples Eyes,
And seem'd but Pomp, did other Ends disguise:
Achitophel had form'd it, with intent
To sound the dephts, and fathom where it went,
The Peoples hearts; distinguish Friends from Foes;
And try their strength, before they came to Blows.
Yet all was colour'd with a smooth pretence
Of specious Love, and Duty to their Prince.
Religion, and Redress of Grievences,
Two names, that always cheat, and always pleases,
Are often urg'd; and good King David's life
Endanger'd by a Brother and a Wife.
Thus in a Pageant Show; a Plot is made;
And Peace it self is War in Mesquerade.
Oh foolish Israel! never warn'd by ill!
[...]ill the same bait, and circumvented still!
[...]d ever men forsake their present ease,
[...]o midst of Health imagine a Disease;
[...]ake pains Contingent mischiefs to foresee,
Take heirs for Monarchs, and for God decree?
What shall we think! Can People give away,
[...]uch for themselves and Sons, their native Sway?
[...]hen they are left defenceless to the Sword
[...]f each unbounded arbitrary Lord:
[Page 20]And Laws are vain, by which we Right enjoy,
If Kings unquestion'd can those Laws destroy.
Yet if the Croud be judge of fit and Just,
And Kings are only Officers in Trust,
Then this resuming Cov'nant was declar'd
When Kings were made, or is for ever bar'd:
If those who gave the Sceptre cou'd not tie
By their own deed their own Posterity,
How then cou'd Adam bind his future Race?
How cou'd his forfeit on Mankind take place?
Or how cou'd Heavenly Justice damn us all,
Who ne'er consented to our Father's Fall?
Then Kings are slaves to those whom they command,
And Tenants to their Peoples pleasure stand.
Add, that the Power for Property allow'd,
Is mischievously seated in the Croud:
For who can be secure of private Right,
If Sovereign Sway may be dissolv'd by Might?
Nor is the Peoples Judgment always true:
The most may err, as grosly as the Few.
And faultless Kings run down, by Common Cry,
For Vice, Oppression, and for Tyranny.
What Standard is there in a fickle Rout,
Which flowing to the Mark, runs faster out?
Nor only Crouds, but Sanhedrins may be
Infected with this Publick Lunacy:
And Share the madness of Rebellious Times,
To Murther Monarch's for Imagin'd Crimes.
If they may give and take whene'er they please,
Not Kings alone, (the God head Images,)
But Government it self at length must fall
To Nature's State, where all have Right to all.
Yet, grant our Lords the People Kings can make,
What prudent men a setled Throne wou'd shake?
For whatsoe'er their sufferings were before,
That Change they Covet makes them suffer more.
All 'others Errours but disturb a State;
But Innovation is the Blow of Fate.
If ancient Fabricks nod, and threat to fall,
To patch the Flaws, and Buttress of the Wall,
Thus far 'tis Duty; but here fix the Mark;
For all beyond it is to touch our Ark.
To change Foundations, cast the Frame anew,
Is work for Rebels who base ends pursue:
At once Divine and Humane Laws controul;
And mend the Parts by ruin of the Whole.
The tamp'ring World is subject to this Curse,
To Physick their Disease into a Worse.
[Page 21]Now what Relief can Righteous David bring?
[...]ow Fatal 'tis to be too good a King!
[...]iends he has few, so high the madness grows;
[...]ho dare be such, must be the Peoples Foes:
[...]et some there were, ev'n in the worst of days;
[...]me let me Name, and Naming is to Praise.
In this short File Barzillai first appears;
[...]rzillai crown'd with Honour and with Years;
[...]ong since, the rising Rebels he withstood
[...] regions Waste beyond the Jordan's Flood:
[...]nfortunately Brave to buoy the State;
[...]t sinking underneath his Master's Fate:
Exile with his God-like Prince he mourn'd:
[...]r him he Suffer'd, and with him Return'd.
[...]e Court he practis'd, not the Courtier's Art:
[...]rge was his Wealth, but larger was his Heart:
[...]hich, well the Noblest Objects knew to chuse,
[...]he Fighting Warriour, and Recording Muse.
[...]s Bed cou'd once a fruitful Issue boast;
[...]ow more than half a Father's Name is lost.
[...]s Eldest Hope, with every Grace adorn'd,
[...] me (so Heav'n will have it) always Mourn'd,
[...]d always honour'd, snatch'd in Manhoods prime
[...] unequal Fates, and Providences Crime:
[...]et not before the Goal of Honour own
[...]l Parts fulfill'd of Subject and of Son;
[...]ift was the Race, but short the Time to run.
[...] Narrow Circle, but of Pow'r Divine,
[...]anted in Space, but perfect in thy Line!
[...] Sea, by Land, thy matchless Worth was known;
[...]ms thy Delight, and War was all thy Own:
[...]hy force, infus'd, the fainting Tyrians prop'd:
[...]nd haughty Pharaoh found his Fortune stop'd.
[...] Ancient Honour, Oh unconquer'd Hand,
[...]hom Foes unpunish'd never cou'd withstand!
[...]t Israel was unworthy of his Name:
[...]ort is the date of all Immoderate Fame▪
[...] looks as Heav'n our Ruin had design'd,
[...]nd durst not trust thy Fortune and thy Mind,
[...]ow free from Earth, thy disencumbred Soul
[...]ounts up, and leaves behind the Clouds and Starry Pole:
[...]om thence thy kindred Legions may'st thou bring,
[...] aid the Guardian Angel of thy King.
[...]ere stop, my Muse, here cease thy painful flight;
[...] Pinions can pursue Immortal height:
[...]ll good Barzillai thou canst sing no more,
[...]d tell thy Soul he should have fled before;
[Page 22]Or fled she with his Life, and left this Verse
To hang on her departed Patron's Hearse?
Now take thy steepy flight from Heav'n, and see
If thou canst find on Earth another He;
Another He would be too hard to fin [...],
See then whom thou can see not far behind
Zadoc the Priest, whom shunning, Pow'r and Place,
His lowly mind advanc'd to David's Grace:
With him the Sagan of Jerusalem,
Of hospitable Soul, and noble S [...]em;
Him of the western dome, whose weighty sense
Flow in fit words and heavenly eloquence.
The Prophets Sons by such Example led,
To Learning and to Loyalty were bred:
For Colleges on bounteous Kings depend,
And never Rebel was o Arts a Friend.
To these succeed the Pillars of the Laws:
Who best cou'd plead, and best can judge a Cause.
Next them a train of Loyal Peers ascend,
Sharp judging Adriel, the Muses Friend.
Himself a Muse: —In Sanhedrins debate
True to his Prince; but not a Slave of State.
Whom David's Love with Honour did a­dorn,
That from his disobedient Son were torn.
Jotham of piercing Wit, and pregnant Thought.
Endu'd by Nature and by Learning taught
To move Assemblies, who but only try'd
The worse a-while, then chose the better side:
Nor chose alone, but turn'd the Balance too;
So much the weight of one Brave man can do.
Hushai the Friend of David in distress,
In publick storms of manly stedfastness;
By Foreign Treaties he inform'd his Youth;
And join'd Experience to his Native Truth.
His frugal care supply'd the wanting Throne
Frugal for that, but bounteous of his own:
'Tis easie Conduct when Exchequers flow:
But ha [...]e the task to manage well the low?
For Sovereign Pow'r is too deprest or high,
When Kings are forc'd to sell, or Crouds to buy▪
Indulge one labour more, my weary Muse?
For Amiel; who can Amiel's praise refuse
Of ancient Race by birth, but nobler yet
In his own worth, and without Title Great:
The Sanhedrin in long time as Chief he rul'd,
Their Reason guided, and their passion cool'd:
So dextrous was he in the Crown's defence,
So form'd to speak a Loyal Nation's Sense,
That as their Band was Israel's Tribessman
So fit was he to represent them all.
Now rasher Charioteers the Seat ascend,
Whose loose Careirs his steady Skill commend
They, like th' unequal Ruler of the Day▪
Mssguide the Seasons, and mistake the Way
While he withdrawn at their made Labo [...] smile
And safe enjoys the Sabbath of his Toil
These were the chief; a small but faithful Band
Of Worthies, in the Breach who dar'd to stand
And tempt th' united Fury of the Land.
With grief they view'd such powerful [...] g [...]nes b [...]
To batter down the Lawful Governme [...]
A numerous Faction with pretended [...]rig [...]
In Sanhedrins to plume the Regal Righ [...]
The true Successor from the Court remov [...]
The P [...]ot, by hireling Witnesses, improv [...]
These Ills they saw, and as their Duty B [...]
They shew'd the King the danger of [...] Wo [...]
That no Concessions from the Th [...] wou'd ple [...]
But Lenitives fomented the Disease:
That Absalom, ambitious of the Crown
Was made the Lure [...]o draw the P [...] d [...]
That false Achitophel's pernicious Hate,
Had turn'd the Plot to ruin Church [...] St [...]
The Council violent, the Rabble worse:
That Shimei taught Jerusalem to Curse.
With all these loads of Injuries op [...]
And long revolving in his careful Brea [...]
Th' event of things; at last, his Pati [...] t [...]
Thus, from his Royal Throne, by He [...] ins [...]
The God-like David spoke; with awful [...]
His Train their Maker in their Master h [...]
Thus long have I by Native Mercy sway
My wrongs dissembl'd, my Revenge [...] say
So willing to forgive th' Offending Age
So much the Father did the King Asswa [...]
But now so far my Clemency they sligh [...]
Th' Offenders question my Forgiv [...] Rig [...]
That one was made for many, they conte [...]
But 'tis to Rule, for that's a Monarch's E [...]
They call my tenderness of Blood, my Fe [...]
Though manly Tempers can the Long be [...]
[Page 23] [...]et, since they will divert my Native course,
Tis time to shew I am not good by Force.
[...]hose heap'd Affronts that haughty Subjects bring,
[...]re Burthens for a Camel, not a King:
[...]ings are the publick Pillars of the State,
[...]orn to sustain and prop the Nation's weight:
[...] my young Samson will pretend a Call
[...]o shake the Column, let him share the Fall:
[...]ut, oh, that yet he would repent and live!
[...]ow easie 'tis for Parents to forgive!
With how few Tears a Pardon might be won
[...]om Nature, pleading for a Darling Son!
[...]or, pitied Youth, by my Paternal care,
[...]ais'd up to all the height his Frame cou'd bear:
[...]ad God ordain'd his Fate for Empire Born,
[...]e wou'd have given his Soul another turn:
[...]ull'd with a Patriot's name, whose Modern sense
[...] one that wou'd by Law supplant his Prince:
[...]he Peoples Brave, the Politicians Tool;
[...]ever was Patriot yet, but was a Fool.
Whence comes it that Religion and the Laws,
[...]hould more be Absalom's than David's Cause?
[...]s old Instructor, e'er he lost his Place,
Was never thought indu'd with so much Grace.
[...]ood Heav'ns, how Faction can a Patriot Paint!
[...]y Rebel ever proves my Peoples Saint:
Wou'd They impose an Heir upon the Throne?
[...]et Sanhedrins be taught to give their Own.
[...] King's at least a part of Government;
[...]nd mine as requisite as their Consent:
Without my leave a future King to choose,
[...]fers a Right the Present to Depose:
[...]rue, they petition me t' approve their Choice:
[...]t Esau's Hands suit ill with Jacob's Voice.
[...]y pious Subjects for my Safety pray,
Which to secure, they take my Pow'r away;
[...]om Plots and Treasons Heav'n preserve my Years,
[...]t save me most from my Petitioners.
[...]satiate as the barren Womb or Grave;
[...]d cannot grant so much as they can crave.
[...]hat then is left, but with a jealous Eye
[...] guard the small Remains of Royalty?
[...]he Law shall still direct my peaceful Sway,
[...]nd the same Law teach Rebels to obey:
[...]tes shall no more Establish'd Pow'r control,
[...]h Votes as make a Part exceed the Whole:
[...] groundless Clamours shall my Friends remove,
[...]t Crouds have Pow'r to punish e'er they prove:
[Page 24]For Gods, and God-like Kings their Care express,
Still to defend their Servants in distress.
Oh, that my Pow'r to Saving were confin'd!
Why am I forc'd like Heav'n against my mind,
To make Examples of another Kind?
Must I at length the Sword of Justice draw?
Oh, curs'd Effects of necessary Law!
How ill my Fear they by my Mercy scan,
Beware the Fury of a Patient Man.
Law they require, let Law then shew her Face;
They could not be content to look on Grace
Her hinder Parts, but with a daring Eye
To tempt the Terrour of her Front, and Dy,
By their own Arts, 'tis Righteously decreed,
Those dire Artificers of Death shall bleed.
Against themselves their Witnesses will swear,
Till, Viper-like, their Mother Plot they tear:
And such for Nutriment that bloody Gore
Which was their Principle of Life before.
Their Belial with their Beelzebub will fight;
Thus on my Foes, my Foes shall do me right:
Nor doubt th' Event: for Factious Crouds engage
In their first Onset, all their Brutal Rage.
Then let 'em take an unresisted Course:
Retire and Traverse, and Delude their Force:
But when they stand all Breathless, urge the Fight,
And rise upon 'em with redoubled Might:
For lawful Pow'r is still Superiour found,
When long driv'n back, at length it stands the ground.
He said. Th' Almighty nodding gavent consent;
And Peals of Thunder shook the Firmament.
Henceforth a Series of new Time began,
The mighty Years in long Procession ran:
Once more the God-like David was restor'd,
And willing Nations knew their Lawful Lord.


TO prevent the Publicks being impos'd on; this is to give notice, to the Book lately Publish'd in 4to is very Imperfect and Uncert [...] in to much that above Thirty Lines are omitted in several Places, and ma [...] gross Errors committed, which pervert the Sence.



By the Right Honourable the Marquis of NORMANBY: A Translation out of French.

With an ODE in Memory of Her late Majesty Queen MARY.

By a Person of Quality.

Est Pictura loquens.

LONDON: [...]inted and Sold by H. Hills, in Black-Fryars, near the Water-side. 1709.


IN those cold Climates, where the Sun appears
Unwillingly, and hides his Face in Tears;
A dreadful Vale lies in a Desert Isle,
On which indulgent Heaven did never smile.
There a thick Grove of Aged Cypress Trees,
Which none without an awful horror sees,
Into its wither'd Arms, depriv'd of Leaves,
Whole Flocks of ill-presaging Birds receives:
Poisons are all the Plants the Soil will bear,
And Winter is the only Season there.
Millions of Graves cover the spacious Field,
And Springs of Blood a thousand Rivers yield;
Whose Streams opprest with Carcasses and Bones,
Instead of gentle Murmurs, pour forth Groans.
Within this Vale a famous Temple stands,
Old as the World it self, which it commands:
[Page 4]Round is its Figure, and four Iron Gates
Divide Mankind, by order of the Fates.
There come in Crouds, doom'd to one common Grave,
The Young, the old, the Monarch, and the Slave.
Old Age, and Pains, which Mankind most deplores,
Are faithful Keepers of those sacred Doors;
All clad in mournful Blacks, which also load
The sacred Walls of this obscure Abode;
And Tapers of a pitchy Substance made,
With Clouds of Smoak increase the dismal Shade.
A Monster, void of Reason and of Sight,
The Goddess is, who sways this Realm of Night.
Her Power extends o'er all Things that have Breath;
A cruel Tyrant, and her Name is Death.
The fairest Object of our wond'ring Eyes,
Was newly offer'd up her Sacrifice;
The adjoining Places where the Altar stood,
Yet blushing with the fair Almeria's Blood.
When griev'd Orontes, whose unhappy Flame
Is known to all that e'er converse with Fame;
His Mind possest by Fury and Despair,
Within the Sacred Temple made this Prayer:
Great Deity! Who in thy Hands do'st bear
That trusty Scepter, which poor Mortals fear;
Who wanting Eyes, thy self respectest none,
And neither spares the Laurel, nor the Crown!
Oh thou, whom all Mankind in vain withstands!
Each of whose Blood must one day stain thy Hands!
[Page 5]Oh thou, who every Eye which sees the Light,
Closest again in an Eternal Night!
Open thy Ears, and hearken to my Grief,
To which thy only Power can give Relief:
I come not hither to prolong my Fate,
But wish my wretched Life a shorter Date;
And that the Earth would in its Bowels hide
A Wretch, whom Heaven invades on every side:
That from the sight of Day I could remove,
And might have nothing left me but my Love.
Thou only Comforter of Minds opprest,
The Port, where wearied Spirits are at Rest;
Conductor to Elysium! take my Life;
My Breast I offer to thy Sacred Knife:
So just a Grace refuse not, nor despise
A willing, though a worthless Sacrifice.
Others their frail and mortal State forgot,
Before thy Altars are not to be brought
Without Constraint; the noise of dying Rage,
Heaps of the Slain of every Sex and Age,
The Blade all reeking in the Gore it shed,
With sever'd Arms confus'dly spread,
The Rapid Flames of a perpetual Fire,
The Groans of Wretches ready to expire:
This Tragick Scene makes them in Terror live,
Till that is forc'd which they should freely give,
Yielding unwillingly what Heaven will have,
Their Fears eclipse the Glory of their Grave.
Before thy Face they make undecent Moan,
And feel a hundred Deaths in fearing one;
[Page 6]The flame becomes unhallow'd in their Breast,
And he a Murtherer, who was a Priest;
His Hands profan'd in breaking Nature's Chain,
By which the Body does the Soul detain:
But against me thy strongest Forces call,
And on my Head let all the Tempest fall;
No shrinking back shall any weakness shew,
And calmly I'll expect the fatal blow;
My Limbs not trembling, in my mind no fear,
Plaints in my Mouth, nor in my Eyes a Tear.
Think not that time, our wonted sure relief,
That universal Cure for every grief,
Whose Aid so many Lovers oft have found,
With like success can ever heal my wound;
Too weak's the Power of Nature, or of Art;
Nothing but Death can ease a broken heart.
And that thou mayst behold my helpless state,
Learn the extreamest rigor of my Fate.
Amidst th' innumerable beauteous Train,
Paris the Queen of Cities, does contain,
The fairest Town, the largest, and the best,
So fair Almeria shin'd above the rest.
From her bright Eyes to feel a hopeless flame,
Was of our Youth the most ambitious aim;
Her Chains were marks of Honour to the brave,
She made a Prince whene'er she made a Slave.
Love under whose Tyrannick power I groan,
Shew'd me this Beauty e'er 'twas fully blown;
Her tim'rous charms, and her unpractis'd look,
Their first assurance from my Conquest took,
[Page 7]By wounding me, she learnt the fatal Art,
And the first sigh she had, was from my heart;
My Eyes with Tears moist'ning her snowy Arms,
Render'd the Tribute owing to her Charms:
But as I soonest of all Mortals paid
My Vows, and to her Beauty, Altars made;
So among all those Slaves that sigh'd in vain,
She thought me only worthy of my Chain.
Love's heavy Burthen, my Submissive Heart
Endur'd not long, before she bore her part;
My violent flame melted her frozen Breast,
And in soft Sighs her Pity she exprest;
Her gentle Voice allay'd my raging Pains,
And her fair hands sustain'd me in my Chains;
Even Tears of Pity waited on my moan,
And tender Looks were cast on me alone▪
My hopes and dangers were less mine, than hers,
Those fill'd her Soul with Joys, and these with Fears:
Our hearts united, had the same desires,
And both alike, burn'd in impatient Fires.
Too faithful Memory! I give thee Leave
Thy wretched Master kindly to deceive;
Make me not once Possessor of her Charms;
Let me not find her languish in my Arms;
Past Joys are now my Fancies mournful Theams;
Make all my happy Nights appear but Dreams:
Let not that Bliss before my Eyes be brought:
Oh! hide those Scenes from my tormenting Thought,
And in their place, disdainful Beauty shew,
If thou would'st not be cruel, make her so;
[Page 8]And something to abate my deep Despair,
Oh, let her seem less Gentle, or less Fair.
But I in vain, flatter my wounded Mind,
Never was Nymph so lovely or so Kind:
No cold Repulses, my Desires supprest,
I seldom sigh'd but on Almeria's Breast;
Of all the Passions which Mankind destroy,
I only felt Excess of Love and Joy:
Numberless Pleasures charm'd my Sense, and they
Were as my Love, without the least Allay.
As pure, alas, but not so sure to last,
For like a pleassing Dream, they all are past.
From Heav'n her Beauty like fierce Light'ning came,
Which breaks thro' Darkness with its glorious Flame:
A while it shines, a while our Sight it chears,
But soon the short-liv'd Comfort disappears;
And Thunder follows, whose resistless Rage,
None can withstand, and nothing can asswage.
So oft the Light which those bright Flashes gave,
Serves only to conduct us to our Grave.
When I had just begun Loves's Joys to taste,
(Those full Rewards for Fears and Dangers past)
A Fever seiz'd her, and to nothing brought
The richest Work that ever Nature wrought.
All Things below, alas, uncertain stand;
The firmest Rocks are fix'd upon the Sand:
Under this Law both Kings and Kingdoms bend,
And no Beginning is without an End.
[Page 9] [...] Sacrifice to Time, Fate dooms us all,
[...]nd at the Tyrant's Feet we daily fall:
[...]ime, whose bold Hand alike does bring to Dust
[...]ankind, and all those Powers in which they trust.
Her wasted Spirits now begin to faint,
[...]et Patience ties her Tongue from all Complaint;
[...]nd in her Heart, as in a Fort, remains,
[...]ut yields at last to her resistless Pains:
Thus while the Fever, am'rous of his Prey,
Through all her Veins makes his delightful Way;
[...]or Fate's, like Semile's, the Flames destroy
[...]hat Beauty they too eagerly enjoy.
[...]er charming Face is in its Spring decay'd,
[...]ale grow the Roses, and the Lillies fade;
[...]er Skin has lost that Lustre which surpast
The Sun's, and did deserve as long to last;
[...]er Eyes, which us'd to pierce the firmest Hearts,
[...]re now disarm'd of all their Flames and Darts;
Those Stars now heavily and slowly move,
[...]nd Sickness triumphs in the Throne of Love.
The Fever every moment more prevails;
[...]s Rage her Body feels, and Tongue bewails;
[...]he, whose Disdain so many Lovers prove,
[...]ighs now for Torment, as they sigh for Love,
And with loud Cries will rend the neighb'ring Air,
Wounds my sad Heart, and wakens my Despair.
[...]oth Gods and Men I charge now with my Loss,
And wild with Grief, my Thoughts each other cross;
[Page 10]My Heart and Tongue labour in both extreams,
That sends up slighted Prayers, while this blasphem
I ask their help, whose malice I defy,
And mingle Sacrilege with Piety:
But that which does yet more perplex my mind,
To love her truly, I must seem unkind:
So unconcern'd a Face my Sorrow wears,
I must restrain unruly floods of Tears.
My Eyes and Tongue put on dissembling forms,
I shew a calmness in the midst of Storms,
I seem to hope, when all my hopes are gone,
And almost dead, with Grief, discover none.
But who can long deceive a loving Eye,
Or with dry Eyes behold his Mistress die;
When Passion had with all his Terrors brought
Th'approaching danger nearer to my thought,
Off on a sudden fell the forc'd disguise.
And shew'd a sighing heart in weeping Eyes,
My apprehensions now no more confin'd,
Expos'd my Sorrows, and betray'd my mind.
The fair afflicted, Soon perceive my Tears,
Explains my Sighs, and thence concludes my Fears
With sad Presages of her hopeless Case,
She reads her Fate in my dejected Face;
Then, feels my torment, and neglects her own,
While I am sensible of hers alone;
Each does the others burden kindly bear,
I fear her Death, and she bewails my Fear;
Though we thus suffer under Fortune's Darts,
'Tis only those of Love which reach our hearts.
[Page 11] [...]ean-while the Fever mocks at all our Fears,
[...]ows by our Sighs, and rages at our Tears:
[...]ose vain effects of our as vain desire,
[...]ke Wind and Oyl increase the fatal fire.
Almeria, then, feeling the Destinies
[...]out to shut her Lips, and close her Eyes,
[...]eeping, in mine fix'd her fair trembling hand,
[...]d with these words, I scarce could understand;
[...]er Passion in a dying Voice express'd
[...]alf, and her Sighs alas, made out the rest.
[...]is past; this pang, Nature gives o'er the strife;
[...]hou must thy Mistress lose, and I my Life;
[...]dye, but dying thine, the Fates may prove
Their Conquest over me, but not my Love;
Thy Memory, my Glory, and my Pain,
[...] spight of death it self, shall still remain:
[...]h! Dear Orentes, my hard Fate denies
That hope is the last thing which in us dies:
[...]rom my griev'd Breast all those soft thoughts are fled,
[...]nd Love survives, although my hope is dead;
[...]yield my Life, but keep my Passion yet,
[...]nd can all thoughts but of Orontes quit;
[...]y flame increases as my strength decays,
[...]eath, which puts out the Light, the heat does raise;
That still remains, though I from hence remove,
[...]lose my Lover, but I keep my Love.
The Sigh, which sent forth that last tender Word,
[...]p towards the Heaven's like a bright Meteor soar'd,
[Page 12]And the kind Nymph bereft of all her Charms,
Fell cold and breathless in her Lover's Arms;
Which shews, since Death could deny him Relief,
That 'tis in vain we hope to die with Grief.
Goddess, who now my Fate has understood,
Spare but my Tears, and freely take my Blood;
Here let me end the Story of my Cares,
My dismal Grief enough the rest declares.
Judge thou by all this Misery display'd,
Whether I ought not to implore thy Aid:
Thus to survive, reproaches on me draws,
And my sad Wishes have too just a Cause.
Come, then, my only Hope; in every Place
Thou visitest, Men tremble at thy Face,
And fear thy Name; once let thy fatal Hand
Fall on a Swain, that does the Blow demand.
Vouchsafe thy Dart: I need not one of those,
With which thou dost unwilling Kings depose;
Thy weakest, my desir'd Release can bring,
And free my Soul already on her Wing.
But since all Prayers and Tears are vain, I'll try,
If, spight of thee, 'tis possible to die.

AN ODE in Memory of Her MAJESTY Queen MARY.

LONG our divided State
Hung in the Ballance of a doubtful Fate,
[...]hen one bright Nymph the gath'ring Clouds dis­pell'd
[...]d all the Griefs of Albion heal'd.
[...]r the united Land obey'd,
[...]o more to Jealousies inclin'd,
[...]or fearing Pow'r with so much Virtue join'd.
[...]e knew her Task, and nicely understood
[...]o what intentions Kings are made,
[...]ot for their own, but for their Peoples good:
[...]was that prevailing Argument alone,
[...]etermin'd Her to fill the vacant Throne.
[...]nd yet with Sadness she beheld
[...] Crown devolving on her Head,
[...]y the Excesses of a Prince misled)
[...]hen by her Koyal Birth compell'd
[Page 14]To what her God, and what her Country claim'd
(Tho' by a Servile Faction blam'd)
How graceful were the Tears she shed!
When waiting only for a Wind,
Against our Isle the Pow'r of France was arm'd:
Here ruling Arts in all their Lustre shin'd,
The Winds themselves were by her Influence charm' [...]
Whilst her Authority and Care supply'd,
That Safety which the want of Troops deny'd.
Secure and undisturb'd the Scene
Of Albion seem'd, and like her Eyes, Serene:
Vain was th' Invader's Force, Revenge and Pride;
Maria Reign'd, and Heav'n was on our Side.
The Sceptre by her self unsought,
Gave double Proofs of her Heroick Mind;
With Skill she sway'd it, and with Ease resign'd:
So the Dictator, from Retirement brought,
Repell'd the Danger that did Rome alarm,
And then return'd contented to his Farm.
Fatal to the Fair and Young,
Accurst Disease, how long
Have wretched Mothers mourn'd thy Rage,
Rob'd of the Hopes and Comfort of their Age?
From the unhappy Lover's side,
How often hast thou torn the blooming Bride!
Now like a Tyrant rising by degrees
To worse Extreams, and blacker Villanies.
[Page 15] [...]ctis'd in Ruin for some * Ages past,
[...]ou hast brought forth a gen'ral one at last!
[...]mmon Disasters, Sorrow raise,
[...] Heav'ns severest Frowns amaze!
[...]e QUEEN—a Word, a Sound,
[...] Nations once the Hope, and firm Support;
[...]ealth of the Needy, Guard of the Opprest,
[...]e Joy of all, the wisest and the best;
Name that Ecchoes did rebound
[...]ith loud Applause from Neighb'ring Shores,
[...]heir Admiration, the Delight of ours)
[...]comes unutterable now!
[...]he Crowds in that defected Court
[...]here languishing MARIA lay,
[...]ant Power to ask the News they came to know;
[...]ent, their drooping Heads they bow:
[...]ence it self proclaims the approaching Woe.
[...]'en He (MARIA's latest Care)
[...]hom Winter-Seasons nor contending Jove,
[...]or watchful Fleets, could from his glorious Purpose move,
[...]trepid in the Storms of War,
[...]nd in the midst of flying Deaths sedate,
[...]ow Trembles, now he sinks beneath the mighty Weight,
[...]he Hero to the Man gives way.
Unhappy Isle, for half an Age a Prey
[...]o fierce Dissention, or Despotick Sway.
[Page 16]Redeem'd from Anarchy to be undone
By the mistaken Measures of the Throne;
Thy Monarchs meditating dark Designs,
Or boldly throwing off the Masque,
(Fond of the Pow'r unequal to the Task)
Thy self without the least remaining Sings
Of ancient Virtue so deprav'd
As even they wish'd to be enslav'd:
What more than Humane Aid
Could raise thee from a State so low,
Protect thee from thy self, thy greatest Foe?
Something Celestial, sure a Heroine
Of matchless Form, and a majestick Mein;
By all respected, fear'd, but more belov'd,
More than her Laws, her great Example mov'd:
The Bounds that in her God-like Mind,
Were to her Possions set, severely shin'd,
But that of doing Good was unconfin'd.
So Just, that absolute Command,
Destructive in another Hand;
In hers had chang'd its Nature, had been useful made.
Oh! had she longer staid!
Less swiftly to her Native Heav'n retir'd,
For her the Harps of Albion had been strung:
Th' Harmonious Nine could never have aspir'd
To a more lofty and immortal Song.
A Congratulatory POE …

A Congratulatory POEM To His Royal Highness Prince GEORGE OF DENMARK, Lord High Admiral of Great Britain, UPON THE Glorious Successes at Sea.

By N. TATE Esq Poet-Laureat to Her Majesty.

To which is added Happy Memorable SONG, on the Fight near Audenarde, between the Duke of Marlborough and Vendome, &c.

LONDON: [...]inted by Henry Hills, in Black-fryars, near the Wa­ter-side. 1708.

To His Royal Highness The Most Illustrious Prince GEORGE of Denmark

BLess'd Prince! in Whom the Graces seem combi [...]
To raise the sinking Glories of Mankind;
Our Iron Age with Vertues to Adorn,
Like th'infant World's, e'er Guilt and Grief were bo [...]
How dares a Rural Muse approach your Court,
From Vales, where home-bred Nymphs and Swains s [...]
There let her entertain the pensive Hours
With sympathizing Songs, in shady Bow'rs;
There let her act her Shepherdess's Part,
Where Innocence is Wit, and Nature Art.
To Villagers, in that forlorn Retreat,
Her Serious Antiquated Streins repeat,
And leave gay Rivals to caress the Great.
Pretending Poet, (the griev'd Muse replies)
With uncommission'd Boldness you advise:
Without Offence I pay Attendance here,
When 'tis on Duty's Summons I appear;
[Page 3]For, tho' retir'd to solitary Groves,
The Palace still my Sylvan Song approves:
ANNA and GEORGE indulge the gen'rous Lays
I sing (Unrival'd) in poor Virtue's Praise.
I love the Shades; but, from Elysian Bow'rs
When Winter wreaths his hoary Head with Flow'rs;
When starting Spring forestalls the Bloom of May,
And Summer's Sweets, to crown the * Royal Day;
Or when I hear our British Ocean roar
His GEORGE's Conquest to the shouting Shoar,
Must only I in shady Silence rest,
And hear my Prince by all but me addrest?
No, Shepherd; since such charming Themes invite,
And I (tho' Rural) have a Muse's Right;
Since sure Disgrace attends upon Despair,
And nobly they may Do, who nobly Dare:
Mounted on Rapture, and Devotion's Wing,
[...]ll sally, and my Prince's Triumph sing.
When vying Arts their proud Memorials raise,
[...]anes, Arches, Trophies, Pyramids of Praise,
[...]hat Time may in His doating Days repeat
[...]vading Gallia's scandalous Defeat,
[...]er Bold Pretender, and his Base Retreat:
[...]l fix my Pillar too, not wreath'd with Gold,
[...]ut such a dazling Verse, so justly bold,
[...]s in the Front of Fame's Records shall place
[...]EORGE's Renown, and Lewi [...]'s Disgrace;
[Page 4]His Babel-Project in Confusion hurl'd,
And from Ambition's giddy Chariot, whirl'd
The Phaeton he rais'd to fright and fire the World.
Then think how graceful, how almost divine,
The gen'rous Guardian's Character will shine!
Therefore on Rapture, and Devotion's Wing,
I'll sally, and the Best of Princes sing.
What's that? The Best of Princes did you say?
See how your rustick Breeding you betray:
That an Encomium for a Muse to pay?
Give Him the Title to his Station due,
The Best of Kings; yes, and of Emp'rors too;
Supream without the Pageantries of State,
Crowns, Scepters, that on vulgar Monarchs wait;
For Heaven does to this Favourite impart
The Noblest Empire,—That of ANNA's Heart;
That Vertue's sacred Provinces contains;
Where all the Bliss of Paradice remains,
And of that Eden He sole Monarch Reigns.
Therefore proclaim Him (Muse) from Pole to Pole,
Far as his Fleets can Sail, or Ocean rowl:
Tell Eastern Courts, for Grandeur so renown'd,
Great Britain's GEORGE with ANNA's Love is Crown'd
Hail! Royal PAIR, (thus Hymen's heard to say;)
Hail! happy PAIR, that keep my Garland gay
And flourishing, as on the Nuptial-Day.
[Page 5]Fresh Glories spring with each advancing Hour;
Peace, Amity, and ev'ry gentle Pow'r,
For ever Smile, and Bless the Royal Bow'r.
Great Britain's Tutelary GEORGE proclaim,
Successor to Her Sacred Champion's Name,
And more than a Successor to his Fame.
The First did Error's creeping Serpent quell;
Discord's wing'd Dragon by the Second fell:
The First prevail'd by Truth's refulgent Arms,
The next by Truth's and Moderation's Charms;
Charms, that with ANNA's Sov'reign Influence join'd,
[...] Like Dew in some Coelestial Sphere refin'd)
Distilling from the Balmy Wings of Peace,
Made our Domestick Conflagrations cease.
O! Fame, no longer boast your Graecian Pow'rs,
And mournful Fall of Priam's stately Tow'rs.
Must Mischief a Maeonion Muse employ?
Then what should Piety, that quench'd our flaming Troy?
This Triumph for his riper Years Remain'd,
Whose Youth, in Field, the foremost Lawrels gain'd
But 'tis not for a Past'ral Muse to sing
The rescu'd Brother, and protected King.
O Courage! that Bellona's Self amaz'd,
And startl'd Mars upon the Wonder gaz'd;
Applauding Europe Bless'd her Northern Star,
The Phospher to Her Just and Glorious War;
[Page 6]The Leading Light, that fir'd Her Sons of Fame;
From Hence Marlburian, and Eugenian Flame.
In Camps let those Illustrious Chiefs persue
Their Glorious Game, with Conquests still in View;
Storm Hostile Forts, Confed'rate Cities shield,
But, Britain, to your GEORGE's Conduct yield
Your Floating Castles, and the Wat'ry Field.
Enamour'd Thetis courts Him with Success,
And Victory, in ev'ry Change of Dress;
Sometimes She meets Him in Her Purple Pride,
Her Azure Waves in Crimson Slaughter Dy'd:
Sometimes with Bloodless, Smiling Lawrels crown'd▪
Like Those our Caledonian * Coast renown'd.
With prouder Pomp Old Oceon never swell'd,
Than when the British Squadron He beheld;
No, not when Venus, with the Wat'ry Pow'rs,
Sprang from the Cristal Cells, and Coral Bow'rs;
Whilst Glist'ring Gems did such a Luster dart
As dazl'd Day, and made to Sun the start,
But when He sends his awful Summons round,
Europe and Africk tremble at the Sound.
Fame's Pillars shake on Her Atlantick Shoar,
To hear Our GEORGE's Naval Thunder roar
In fresh Exploits, where Hercules gave o'er.
The Sea, that Barrier to Alcides Toils,
Opens Her Guardian GEORGE, a new vast World of Spoils.
Yes, Muse, with such delightful Terror Blaz'd
Our Furnish'd Fleet, and in an Instant Rais'd;
Nor sooner the bold Leopard did Advance,
But Her first Broadside, from their flatt'ring Trance,
Scar'd into shameful Flight the Threat'ning Fiends of France.
When Tyrant-Courts plot some enormous Crime,
The Prodigy must be the Work of Time.
Law, Justice, Reason, Conscience, Honour, All
Sad Victims to the Rising Moloch fall.
But pious Princes, from Above are Taught
To give their Just Efforts the Speed of Thought,
And Miracles are in a * Moment wrought.
Such Wonders wait on his Electing Skill
Of Council and Commanders, to fulfill,
With Faith and Fame, their Great Director's Will.
And You (replies the Muse) would here Retreat?
No, Swain; your Garland is but half Compleat:
Arrears of Tribute you have yet to raise,
Will riffle all your Flow'ry Fields of Praise:
Your Elogy, to perfect this Essay,
Must, with the Prince, the Glorious Man display.
Besides Prerogatives of Pow'r and Birth,
Vast Provinces of Independant Worth,
[Page 8]Inherent Charms, that on His Person wait,
With Genuine Grandeur, and Pacifick State.
His Frame a graceful Palace, and design'd
The Mansion of a Truly Royal Mind;
Where Reason reigns, and Passions never move,
But by adjusted Orders from above.
Hence inward Peace the pious Prince enjoys,
And with Success Abroad, His Thoughts employs;
Taught by Superior Judgment to Advance
Beyond the boasted Progresses of France:
Yet Policy, to Truth's streight Course confines,
By Honour's Compass steers his vast Designs;
Shunning those Rocks, where shifting Statesmen split,
With double Wreck of Honesty and Wit.
While He, with fav'ring Gales of Fortune drives,
And Prosp'rously at the wish'd Port arrives.
A close Spectator of the World's great Stage,
Yet ne'er Transported with its Mirth or Rage;
But from its Failures, Observation draws
To act a Part that wins the World's Applause;
Does Precedents to ev'ry Station give,
How Monarchs ought to Reign, and Subjects Live;
How Clemency can Princely Port maintain,
And Sov'reignty, by Condescending, gain:
In Court, more Morals has to Practice brought,
Than Cynick Schools and Cloysters ever Taught.
Only the Vertue's and the Grace's Train,
Into His Favour can Admittance gain,
While Syren-Pleasures Sing, and Smile, in Vain.
[Page 9]Where Pride Controuls, Duty at distance stands,
But a close Waiter on his just Commands;
Pleas'd with his Mandates, to her Post she moves,
Like Zephyrs, order'd to the Myrtle Groves
On this lov'd Theme I could for ever dwell,
Might I but here, as at my Rural Cell;
Far from my Prince's Ear, in bold Essays
Launch out on the wide Ocean of his Praise;
While Philomel forgets her Savage Wrong,
And widow'd Turtles listen to my Song;)
But modest Merit, charm'd with just Applause,
When paid to others, from its own withdraws.
Well; I desist; but my Devoted Heart
Insists on Priviledge, and will not part;
She crys, 'tis Luke-warm Passion, that will press
No longer than encourag'd to Address.
But Raving Love will all Occasions seize,
And sometimes bravely venture to displease:
At least the Gen'rous Queen will intercede,
And for a fond Offender's Pardon plead:
ANNA, the Gracious ANNA, will forgive,
And kindly bid his poor Admirer live.
Why should he with extensive Lustre Shine,
And think our Admiration to Confine?
Whose Presence, like the Sun, Our Grief beguiles,
And sullen Care at his Appearance smiles:
The Pride of Nature, and the World's delight,
Admir'd Vespatian a less Charming Sight.
As Citizens Besieg'd to Turrets throng,
To see their succ'ring Champion march along;
[Page 10]When he approaches, our rouz'd Spirits rise,
And wait him at the watch-tow'rs of our Eyes.
The Stars, that with auspicious Aspect Blaze,
Look down, and with delightful wonder gaze
On Hours, might be in Royal Ease enjoy'd,
So Gen'rously in publick cares employ'd!
Yet as we see the vast Machine above
Of Spheres and Stars, in tuneful order move,
He works his Orb of Bus'ness in a Course
Of charming movement, and harmonious force.
Such is my Prince, mild as a Morning Ray,
As Ev'ning Calm, yet Active as the Day:
In publick, for Majestick Grace Admir'd;
But more; oh! more than Mortal when retir'd.
Might I his Closet's bless'd recess display,
New Scenes of dazling Wonders you'd survey!
O Swain! that Sanctu'ry unveil'd would show
Descended Seraphs, and a Heav'n below.
There Europe's Patron her just Cause supports,
By Correspondence with Celestial Courts.
'Tis there the prosp'rous Schemes—
—Rash Muse, forbear;
'Tis Hallow'd Ground, and you approach too near.
I know't:—Yet Zeal, fond Zeal, would still aspire;
But Awful Rev'rence warns us to Retire,
And at just Distance silently Admire.


THE same Zeal and Veneration, that put the Muse on this Essay of his Royal Highness's Character, made her timerous of publishing her Performance, tho' [...]ensible that a pourtraict of so Incomparable a Prince may be very short of the Original, yet anagreeable Picture.

And altho' 'twas impossible to come up to the Graces [...]f the Life, she has set the most distinguishing Features [...] the foremost Light, and particularly His Patronnizing [...]f Piety and Publick Welfare.

For, when we have Summ'd up the Atchievements [...]f Heroes Renown'd by Antiquity, We shall find their [...]ffusive Praise All Centre in These Sovereign Vertues.

'Twas to These they Rais'd Statues and Temples; and [...]ot satisfy'd with those mouldring Monuments of Fame, [...]erpetuated their Memory by ever-living Histories, Pa­ [...]egyricks, and Poems.

To which Honour nothing can be added, But that which transcends them all; that they are persuant to [...]e principle and practice of the Best of Queens, Her Ma­ [...]sty of Great Britain.

Therefore, under so National a Happiness, 'tis the [...]oper province of Poets to present the people with the [...]est Memorials they can raise, to excite them to a thank­ [...]l Remembrance of such Blessings, That being one [...]rely means of having them long continu'd.

[Page 12]And if on the present occasion, the delightfulness of the Subject has transported me beyond my usual Reser­vedness, I shall only repeat my plea already made for pardon from the worthy Dr. Gibbons. Person, to whole Learning and Judgment I am most oblig'd, and therefore most accountable, in any matter of the Muses.

Forgive me, great Director of my Song;
Long may you live, that others may live long;
Whose Skilful Search of Learning's Secret Store,
Furnish'd my Favour'd Muse, and taught her more
Than Horace and Roscommon had before.
Forgive, if now the Classic Road she quit,
For Precipices of Advent'rous Wit:
If Fancy has a Daring Flight Aspir'd,
'Tis what the Theme, the Glorious Theme, requir'd.

To Celebrate the Worthies of her own Age and Na­tion, is certainly one of the usefullest Methods in which a Muse can employ her Talent; because it is doing Ju­stice to living Merit, and Transmitting its Glorious Example to Posterity.

Mine, I confess, has but too much Reason to drea [...] the difficulty of such Attempts; yet in this Effort o [...] Duty and Respect to his Royal Highness, she can justl [...] challenge that Ancient Priviledge for a Favourable Reception, viz. In Magnis Rebus vel Conatus Laudari debe [...]

Claudian has mention'd the two principal Pillars o [...] Panegyric, which he thought singly sufficient to support [...] his Prince's Encomium—Ingenium Autoris vel Stilico [...] nis Amor. And however I may have fail'd in the former, I am assur'd, that no Person can surpass me i [...] the latter.

[Page 13]In a Season of continu'd Sun-shine, 'tis Natural for Ha­ [...]ycons to exert their Harmony; and in so bright a train of Naval Successes, as have, so early in the Year, Oc­ [...]asion'd a * double disappointment of the common Enemies Designs, together with a fresh and signal Vi­ [...]tory by the Conduct and Bravery of his Grace the Duke of Marlborough; in these prosperous and promi­ [...]ng Circumstances of speedily seeing the pious Endea­ [...]ours, of our most Gracious Queen and Prince com­ [...]leated in a happy Restauration of the Peace and Liber [...]y of Europe, 'Tis no wonder to hear the Congratulating Muses sing—.

Thro' Field and Flood our Royal pair maintain
[...]acifick Empire, just as here they Reign;
[...]ake Foreign Courts by their decisive Doom,
[...]ractice the Justice which they act at home.
[...]ence all with Joy their rising Glories see,
[...]uch Strength entrusted with such Piety;
While from their well-plac'd pow'r Protection flows,
And with their Grandeur the World's Welfare grows.

A Happy Memorable Ballad, On the Fight near Audenarde, between the Duke o [...] Marlborough, of Great-Britain, and the Duke o [...] Vendome, of France. As also the strange an [...] wonderful manner how the Princes of the Blood Royal of France were found in a Wood. In allusion to the Unhappy Memorable Song common [...] call'd Chevy-Chace.

GOD prosper long our gracious Queen,
Our Lives and Safeties all,
A woful Fight of late there did
Near Andenard befal.
To drive the French with Sword and Gun,
Brave Marlborough took his way,
Ah! wo the time that France beheld
The Fighting of that day.
The Valiant Duke to Heaven had swore
Vendome should pay full dear,
For Ghent and Bruges, e're his Fame
Should reach his master's Ear.
And now with Eighty Thousand bold,
And chosen men of might,
He with the French began to wage
A sharp and bloody fight.
The Gallant Britains swiftly ran
The French away to chase,
On Wednesday they began to fight,
When Day-light did decrease.
And long before high-Night, they had
Ten thousand Frenchmen slain,
And all the Rivers Crimson flow'd,
As they were dy'd in grain.
[Page 15]The Britains thro' the Woods pursu'd,
The nimble French to take,
And with their Cries the Hills and Dales,
And every Tree did shake.
The Duke then to the Wood did come,
In hopes Vendome to meet,
When lo! the Prince of Carignan
Fell at his Grace's Feet:
Oh! gentle Duke forbear, forbear,
Into that Wood to shoot;
If ever pity mov'd your Grace,
But turn your Eyes and look;
See where the Royal Line of France,
Great Lewis's Heirs do lie;
And sure a Sight more piteous was
Ne're seen by mortal Eye.
What Heart of Flint but must relent,
Like Wax before the Sun,
To see their Glory at an end.
E're yet it was begun.
When as our General found your Grace
Wou'd needs begin to fight,
As thinking it wou'd please the Boys,
To see so fine a Sight,
He straitway sent them to the top
Of yonder Church's Spire,
Where they might see, and yet be safe
From Swords, and Guns, and Fire.
But first he took them by the Hand,
And kiss'd them e're they went,
Whilst Tears stood in their little Eyes,
As if they knew the Event.
Then said, he would with speed return,
Soon as the Fight was done,
But when he saw his men give ground,
Away he basely run,
[Page 16]And left these Children all alone,
As Babes wanting Relief,
And long they wandred up and down,
No hopes to chear their grief.
Thus hand in hand they walked, till
At last this Wood they spy'd,
And when they say the Night grow dark,
They here lay down and cry'd.
At this the Duke was inly mov'd,
His Breast soft pity beat,
And so he streightway ordered
His men for to retreat.
And now but that my Pen is blunt,
I might with ease relate,
How Fifteen Thousand French were took,
Besides what found their Fate.
Nor shou'd the Prince of Hanover
In Silence be forgot,
Who like a Lyon fought on foot,
After his Horse was shot.
And what strange Chance likewise befel,
Unto these Children dear,
But that your Patience is too much
Already tir'd I fear.
And so God bless the Queen and Duke,
And send a lasting Peace,
That Wars and foul Debate henceforth
In all the World may cease.


WHEREAS the Printer hereof did receive two Letters by the General Post from an unknown Hand; the last dated July the 1st, 1708. If the Gentleman that sent them shall be pleased to communicate any such Copies as there mentioned, they shall be justly and faithfully Printed and Published, and the Favour most thankfully acknow­ledged, by

H. H.


[...]nscrib'd to the Immortal Ho­nour of our most Gracious Soveraign, ANNE, Queen of Great Britain, France, and Ireland.

To which is added, BRITAIN's JUBILEE; A New Congratulatory SONG, &c.

—Majora Canamus.

LONDON, [...]nted and Sold by H. Hills, in the Black-fryars, near Water-side, For the Benefit of the Poor. 1708.


AFTER Great Nassaw taught this Nation Wa [...]
And led them out with conduct, and with ca [...]
Britain's ungrateful Sons forgot the Hand
That had preserv'd them by his wise Command:
When haughty French-men press'd his Troops in va [...]
'Till Landen's Plains were cover'd with the Slain;
While thro' their fiercest and conqu'ring Cohorts, [...]
Made his bold Passage, like a Diety.
No Terrors could his fiery Passion cool;
His Armour was the Courage of his Soul:
Nor will the Pow'r from whom this Hero fought,
Permit his Mem'ry to be e're forgot;
For'midst the eternal Monuments of Fame,
None will exceed Immortal William's Name.
He liv'd in foreign Camps, for Arms renown'd,
And dy'd with never-fading Lawrels crown'd.
While Europe did in Sorrow bathe their Eyes,
And Clouds with mourning Sables deck'd the Skies,
Till ANNA like another Sun did rise.
[Page 3]ANNA, whose pious Name tunes ev'ry Lyre,
And does my Muse with boundless Thoughts inspire,
From Royal Race her sacred Breath she drew,
And Britain well her Great Forefathers knew.
Divinely bright her glorious Actions shine,
[...]uch as descended from her ancient Line.
Upon her Brow a thousand Graces meet,
Where they in Thrones of spotless Goodness sit.
[...]o ev'ry Heart with Pleasure she commands;
No Heart, no Soul, her Lordly Pow'r withstands.
Of Royal George she lives the Vertuous Wife,
[...]ree from the Jars of Matrimonial Strife.
Heav'n such a Bride-groom never yet descry'd;
Nor ever Earth so good and chast a Bride.
Their Hearts, like rowling Spheres, still constant move,
[...]wimming in Waves of Joy and mutual Love;
While all the Soldiers round their Marlbro' throng,
[...]o bring him home with Triumph and a Song.
Near where of Old Isis and Tame abode,
[...]ecurely tended by their Guardian God;
[...]here sands a lofty Pile, which looking high, [Windsor Castle]
[...]ears up its stately head to meet the Sky.
[...]he beauteous Frame with curious Art is wrought,
With Stone from Portland, and Roch-Abbey brought:
With tallest Oaks, that do the Forests shade,
Whereof the Beams and Rafters all are made.
[...]ch wondrous Architrave the Structure shows,
[...]s must the happy Architect disclose.
One tow'ring Oak of huge Gigantick Size,
That did on Windsor's shady Forest rise,
Does, by its Native Strength alone support
The ascending Ladder of this spacious Court.
A hundred Paces to the Floor you mount,
And twice two Hundred afterwards may count.
The Ceiling of stupend'ous Height does seem,
Shewing no Crack, or Flaw, or artless Beam.
But in the noblest Paintings, there divine,
Does all the glorious Acts of Europe shine.
Nor are the wond'rous Deeds of VVilliam here forgot,
And all the mighty Battels which he bravely fought.
A Lordly Dome raises its Antique Head, S.
George Ha [...]
Which o'er the Centre of the Buildings spread;
Two Hundred Cubits 'bove the Roof does rise,
And the same Number spans the bulky Size;
VVith pond'rous Lead the Pile is cover'd o'er.
And Tuscan Marble paves the inner Floor.
There Verrio's Skill in lasting Colours lives;
And there Immortal VVilliam still survives:
There you may see the great Desighner dress
Art, as 't exceed ev'en Nature in Distress:
There Colours do by bold Expressions, tell
How the great Hero stood, when Schomberg fell:
How the firce Boyn could never stem the Tide
Of VVillam's Fire; he thro' the Flood would ride,
And force the Waves stand still on either Side.
Beneath the Glories of this painted Sky,
Statues of lasting Fame stand mounting high,
At whose proud Feet numberless Trophies lie.
There Edward with his Garter-Knights is shown
In daring Forms, that does their Boldness crown.
Their Images appear of Giants Size;
Grim are their Looks, and Soldier like their Eyes.
No smiling Aspects do the Heroes grace,
But grizly Death stares wildly in each Face.
Under these huge Colossus's you may see
Twelve spacious Arches for the Hierarchy:
[...]ence, by ascending Steps you mount a Throne
[...]ut-shines the Chariot of the blazing Sun.
[...]ix'd o'er it's set a high Imperial Crown,
Which nought but Tyranny can tumble down.
There hangs on high a Canopy of State,
Where Anna like a pow'rful Monarch sate.
Beneath this Palace flows fair Thames's Streams.
Where spreading Elms shade from the Sun's hot Beams;
Where beauteous Sea-Nymphs on the Waters sport,
[...]nd bulky Tritons grace the splendid Court.
Here Ships from Indai safe at Anchor ride;
[...]ere Men of War bear out the foaming Tide,
While wanton Skiffs at Pleasure o'er it glide.
[...]ere season'd Ashes makes the Sailors Oars,
And Oaks and Firs the Merchant hoards in Stores.
Experienc'd Work-men hew the Timber down,
And Naval Carpenters the Labour crown,
[...]am'd British Pilots steer her Ships to Land.
When in the Midst, Masts of tall Fir-Trees stand.
Up Thames resurging Flood, swift sailing come
Merchants from both the Indies, laden Home,
Coral and Agat they with Baubles buy,
And Guiny-Merchants trade in Ivory.
[...]or finest Wollen-Manufacture, they
[...]ring Gold and precious Stones from Raamah.
[...]weet Eastern Spices are exchang'd for Horn,
And for choice Rice and Coffee, barter Corn.
With Tin and Lead, Cornwall and Derby Trade,
And with fine Silver Home our Shipping lade.
[...]or Honey, wax, and Wheat of Minuith's Soil,
We bring back Olives, Cassia, Wine, and Oil.
Thus are Thames flowing Streams more fruitful far
Than either East or Western Oceans are:
[...]lenteous in all the Riches of the West,
And stor'd with fine Apparel from the East.
[Page 6]In rich Embroideries from Turky, shine,
And India's softer Linnen makes us fine.
Near hence the most delightful Prospect, lies
That with fresh Objects gratifies the Eyes.
Here well secur'd from Envy, Flatt'ry, Hate,
And Discontent, that oft on Great Men wait;
No clam'rous Laws can deafe the silent Ear,
Or noisy Tumults raise up enxious Fear.
Here lavish Nature, prodigal of Bliss,
Shew us what Pleasure in her Bosom lies;
What to the Earth her kindly Off spring bring,
And how her beauteous Blossoms freshly spring.
Here Nature triumphs, and Heaven's smiling Brow
Does all the Sweets of infant Beauty show.
The jovous Birds in little Songs conspire
To raise De [...]ight, and melt us to Desire.
All perfum'd Odours, that delight the Sense,
Are here pour'd out in lavish Affluence.
Not Ida's Fields, or Tempe's flow'ry Plain,
On which the streaming Floods of Heaven rain,
Or Hybla's Thyme, but must compare with thee in vain.
To all these, Nature did some Sweets bestow,
But in this 'Closure ev'ry Sweet does grow;
With various Mixtures ev'ry Bank she's dy'd,
And damask'd all the Field with od'rous Pride.
In this fair Plain, such Charms engage the Eye,
We scarce regard the Lustre of the Sky,
Here Evening Breezes freshly fan the Air,
Quench the hot Flame, and cool the Rage of Care.
But now the thoughtful Queen, by Heav'n inspir'd,
And with the publick Good divinely fir'd,
Fix'd in her mind, her People's Cares revolv'd,
At last her teeming Thouhts she thus resolv'd.
Th' insulting Gauls have long this Land perplex'd,
[...]nd long with treach'rous Arts have Europe vex'd.
[...]uis, their haughty Monarch, ev'ry where
[...]akes all then neighb'ring Countries, by Fear,
[...]y from his conqu'ring Troops with base Despair.
[...]hile all the Nations tremble at their flight,
[...]one dare resist the Fury of his Might:
[...]or like some monst'rous Tyger now o'er-grown,
[...]e lords it o'er the Forrest, having none
That dare oppose his Tyranny alone.
[...]ll must submit, or his Displeasure find
[...] Rancour suited to his savage Kind.
VVhen this was said, a Message soon she sent,
[...]o call Great Britain's Council to her Tent.
Mean time, her weary'd Soul, with Cares opprest,
Drew down the Curtains of her Eyes, to rest;
[...]xtended on a flow'ry Couch she lay,
[...]ntranc'd, as Death had wing'd her Soul away,
While thus the Royal Dame took her Repose,
A sudden Vision to her Fancy rose.
A Form appear'd, but so amazing bright,
[...]s Lustre flash'd intolerable Light:
Her Knees together knock'd, her upright Hair,
With trembling Heart, confess'd unusual Fear.
His Garments seem'd thin as the upper Air;
[...]weet was his Mein, his Face divinely Fair;
[...]oft as a Cloud, but more aetherial bright
His Image shone, like springing Tides of Light:
Down on his Shoulders with an easy Care,
A flaming Meteor flow'd like Silver Hair:
His Cheeks were blushing as the Morning Sun;
His Eyes more darting than his Rays at Noon:
His Voice like Zephirs, that on Violets play,
Refreshing Odours all the scorching Day.
Such Harmony his Numbers did inspire,
Her Soul was tun'd to her melodious Lyre;
VVhen thus the sacred Bard his Message told:
ANNA, thou favourite Friend of Heaven, rise,
Dispel all Fears, wipe Sorrow from thy Eyes;
The Great Jehovah, Founder of this State,
The God that did on your Fore-fathers wait,
Will still the wonders of his Mercy show,
And make proud superstitious Nations know,
There is a Pow'r to whom they do not bow.
By thee, best of thy Sex, and most divine,
By thee—
Thou shalt in all thy glorious works succeed:
Obey my Words, for they're by Heav'n decreed.
Heaven which makes ev'n Kings descend their Thrones,
Stript of their Purple, and their shining Crowns,
Who boast of Strength, and trust in that alone,
Are by the Breath of Heav'n soon tumbl'd down.
Mysterious Truths hid in the Veil of Night,
Are by his Pow'r produc'd to open Light.
In Plenty now the hap [...]y Nation lives,
And like a spreading Vine, the Country thrives▪
When sudden desolation, unforeseen,
Reduces all her Pride to want again.
'Tis prosp'rous Villany, that now bears Sway;
The Rich tho' bad, the Vulgar still obey.
The Robber fattens at the Land's Expence,
And thrives upon the Spoils of Providence;
Securely [...]ins, while Heav'n regardless smiles,
And seems to drive the Prey into his Toils.
The savage Kine, and those that wing the Air,
If thou wilt ask, the Secret can declare
Whence this proceeds. The Tenants of the Sea,
Or Earth it self, can shew the Mystery.
Without God's Leave, nothing e'er was, or is;
Or Good, or Bad, Unhappiness, or Bliss.
Fate is his Slave, and does the Nod obey,
And only acts as he prescribes the way.
[Page 9] [...]ll that have Life are in his pow'rful Hand,
[...]nd flourish or decay at his Command.
[...]s by the Organs of the Ear, we try
[...]nd judge of Discord, or of Harmony;
[...]s by the Palate we distinguish Food,
[...]hun what is Bab, and chuse whate'er is good;
[...]o by Old age, Experience does arise,
[...]nd Silver Hairs confirm the Owner wise.
The ancientest of Days, the God of all
[...] Wisdom's Self, its great Original.
[...] full perfection Wisdom there does shine:
And Pow'r and Judgment do with Wisdom join.
At his Command the Waters backward fly,
Their Fountains seek, and leave the Channel dry;
When at a sign, again their Torrents pour,
And roll their curling Heads above the Shore.
Houses and Flocks are by the Deluge drown'd,
And Desolation wastes the neighbouring Ground.
Thus spoke the Angel, and then thus went on:
Call Britain's great Assembly instant here,
And tell this Message in the People's Ear,
That ANNA's Sword shall curb the growing Pow'r
Of Proud aspiring France, that waits each Hour
The Liberties of Europe to devour.
Of British Race, Churchill's the Hero's Name,
[...]mmortal Queen! that shall exalt thy Fame,
And bring on Louis everlasting Shame.
[...]end for the Warrior, let the People know,
To Marl'brough's Genius, Burgundy must bow:
Consult your Council for the dreadful War,
With all the Strength of your Allies prepare:
For French and Spaniards are united Friends,
And hatred Nations join for Hated Ends.
Then haste to Arms, thou best of thy fair Race,
Let War thy Mind, while Smiles adorn thy Face:
Wake, glorious Princess, from thy rest, and see,
Thou for a Guardian hast a Deity.
Swift from her Eyes the Phantom made its way,
And nought remain'd to Sight, but lightsome day:
When all alone, she was surpriz'd to find,
Such strong Impressions on her feeble Mind.
No sooner were the Clouds of Sleep dispell'd,
And Morpheus loos'd the Fetters which he held,
But the great Council waited at her Tent,
To understand the Message she had sent.
A goodly Frame rais'd high of carved wood,
Leaning its lofty Head, on Pillars stood
Near an old venerable Pile—VVestminster.
Adorn'd with curious work of antique Hands.
There all the States in full Assembly met,
Where they in Princely Robes of Scarlet sit;
Shining in costly Gems, each takes his place,
And fills the Senate with Majestick Grace.
There hangs the Ballance of the weighty State,
And there Rewards and Punishments do wait
A rigorous, or an equitable Fate.
There arbitrary Laws are curb'd and chain'd,
And there the summit of all Justice gain'd.
Judges themselves, if Lawless, are not free
From this tribunal Seat of Equity.
Just Judgment there does without Brib'ry reign,
And wholsome Laws all Violence restrain.
Bless'd Liberty in Triumph sits her down,
Nor hurts the State, nor shakes the Imperial Crown.
All now were met, the Council fill'd a-pace,
And ev'ry Statesman took his wonted Place,
VVhen thus the Queen began—
My Lords, the Cause why you're assembl'd here,
'S to advise about the Business of the VVar.
Louis, you know, his Threatnings spreads around,
And Victory has sometime his Armies crown'd.
[Page 11]The slavish French deflow'r their Neighbours Fields,
Whilst tamely they to their Incursions yields:
And Japhet's Race, with heavy Burdens bent, The Spa­niards.
Submit to haughty Louis's Government.
The Might of this great Prince I need not tell,
Or all his vast Designs, you know too well,
Europe has felt the Fury of his Pow'r,
VVhen God like William rescu'd you before.
But now more potent by his Allies grown,
He triumphs e're the Battel is begun:
VVhile all his num'rous Squadrons do prepare
For dreadful mischief, and destructive VVar.
Whom shall I chuse among my mighty Men,
The Hazard of a Battel to sustain?
Who dare 'gainst Burgundy his Courage try,
To conquer bravely, or as bravely die?
Then a bold Britain answer'd thus, and said,
Churchill is only fit for such a Head;
Who has th'illustrious Chiefs of Europe led,
And often for his Country's Honour Bled.
Courage and Conduct both in him remains;
By wise designs, as well as Blood he gains.
For he that singly does to Battel go,
With Courage only beats but half his Foe.
Mature in Councils Generals ought to be,
Not fill'd with Fire so much as Policy;
For Life's of more Concern than Victory.
Then Marlbro' humbly spoke—
Great Princess, and you Lords of Britain, hear
Who make Europe's Concern your constant Care;
You may remember when her Armies fled,
And German Princes stood like Statues dead,
[...]hen Churchill propt that proud ungrateful Race,
That now in Britain Marlbro' would disgrace.
Oh' hear me Lords; spare your Reproaches now;
Did not all Europe to proud Louis bow?
Did not they cringe below the Tyrant's Feet,
And to the Laws his Arms prescribe, submite?
What then has Marlbro' done? Do British Peers
Despise the Man, that has dispell'd their Fears?
Not for my Self did I this Honour seek,
My Country's Danger 'twas that made me speak.
But since I find in faithless Britain, few,
When pressing Dangers call, that dare be true,
I shall my Courage, for the future spare:
Cowards can boast, when Dangers seem not near.
With that, a noble Peer, tho' young, yet wise,
Stood up, and thus in Council did advise:
Tho' grey Experience has not reach'd my Years,
Nor have I been alarm'd with foreign Fears,
Yet I am sensible all Europe's Fate
Does much on our wise Councils wait:
Great Britain's Safety in our Conduct lies,
And Strength is nothing, if we are not wise.
Therefore, my Lords, I must my Judgment give
For Marlbro' which I hope you'll all receive.
Then all the Council mov'd with willing Ears,
Attended to the Wisdom of his Years.
While thus the noble Youth continu'd on,
The brave Discourse he had so well begun:
I am amaz'd, from this wise Board, to hear
One Soul of ancient British Race appear
Gainst Marlbro': Did he not all Europe save?
Are not his Looks, his Words, his Actions, brave?
Don't we, by good Experience know, how great
He stood, at Great Ba [...]aria's last Defeat?
And what we by his prudent Councils gain,
Are like the Glories of a Monarch's Reign.
The pompous Luxury of Camps he flies,
While downy Rest their Rioting supplies,
Who're chain'd in Sleep, when Sleep forsakes his Eyes.
He said,—
And as the hollow Caverns of some Wood,
Send back, in Eccho's, the still Voice, aloud,
[Page 13] [...]o from the Silence of the Council rose,
[...]o all his Words, a general Applause.
[...]ut Malice in th' Assembly still remains,
Whilst Maroc's Blood fermented in his Veins:
Who thus with cloudy Aspect sowr'd, spake,—
O, Princess! and you Lords of Britain, hear
What rev'rend Age is able to declare.
Has not Great France's pow'rful Monarch seen
Britain divided; Anna made their Queen?
What then remains for us to seek, but Peace?
At these base Words, the Queen in Passion rose,
And with becoming Zeal did thus oppose;
Tho' she was with the softest Nature blest,
Like sleeping Doves, when on their downy Rest.
For Europe's Cause she was divinely fir'd,
And spoke these moving Words by Heav'n inspir'd.
Tho' War, of all our Evils, is the worst,
And brought on Man, when Man by Heav'n was curst;
Yet such the State of Britain is this day,
[...] sought your Aid, knowing no other Way.
For Anna was expedient to maintain.
The Glories was expected from my Reign.
But wond'ring now I gaze with much Surprise,
And scarcely can believe the Object of my Eyes.
Is not that Maroc, Prince of British Blood?
That once for Britain like a Bulwark stood?
And can his Courage dwindle into Fear,
Cause Louis threats, and Burgundy draws near?
Have we not oft their boasting Courage try'd?
And triumph'd o'er that sawcy Monarch's Pride?
What have I heard pronounc'd from Maroc's Tongue,
Of Peace, who always has of Battels sung?
What Peace from perjur'd Louis can we find?
Louis, the Monster of the Monarch-kind.
[Page 14]Has he not all his Ties of Friendship broke,
When he was fetter'd once with William's Yoke;
When he to Belgir's Lyon su'd for Peace,
But only kept it for his Soldiers Ease?
At this a general Murmur fill'd the Room,
Like whistling Winds, that from deep Caverns com
When strait, behold thro' all the secred Place,
Consent sate chearfully on ev'ry Face;
And ev'ry One now strove to loose his Tongue
To Anna, then to Marlbro' make their Song.
Who can forget, O Queen! the happy Day
Thou bless'd our Isarel with thy glorious Sway?
When Britain slept, thou sav'd us from our Foes,
And as our leading Star, at Midnight rose.
Heav'n did it self in bright Apparel dress,
And tuneful Angels sung soft Hymns of Peace
In dancing Airs, Stars from their Spheres were sent,
And springing Joy spread o'er your Royal Tent.
Why then should we ungratefully oppose
Our Royal Mistress? Why her Favours lofe,
Who such vast Bounties on her Land bestows?
Since Marlbro' is the Man by Heav'n decred,
Anna no more shall frown, or Marlbro' bleed;
For if nor Heav'n, nor yet the Queen had said,
Marlbro' should lead out Europe as their Head,
Is not his Courage and his Conduct known
To Britain, that we choose him for our own?

BRITAIN's Jubilee: A new Congratulary BALLAD, on the Glorious Victories obtain'd by the Duke of MARLBOROƲGH, over the French: Writ by the Famous Comedian, Mr. Escourt, and Sung by him to most of our Nobili­ty, with great Applause.

YOU Tell me Dick you've lately Read,
That we are beaten in Spain;
But prithee Boy hold up thy Head,
We'll beat 'em twice for it again:
With a fal la la la la la la la la la la la la, &c.
Is this the Courage you us'd to Boast,
Why thou art quite cast down;
You can reflect on what we've Lost;
But never think what we've Won.
With a fal, &c.
In War and Gaming it is the same,
According to the old saying;
Who's sure to Conquer every Game,
Quite loses the pleasure of Playing.
With a fal, &c.
Then prithee Boy hold up thy Head,
For if we are beaten in Spain;
As sure as Scarlet Colour is Red,
We'll beat 'em twice for it again.
With a fal, &c.
Thank God we have a Man of our own,
A Man if I may call him so;
For after those great Deeds he has done,
I may question if he's so or no.
With a fal, &c.
But there is a Man whose Name,
The beaten French have felt his Fame,
And so shall the Spaniard too.
With a fal, &c.
Tho' now Jack Spaniard pretends to Bounce,
He ne'er shall do so again:
We took last Year as many Towns,
As they now have taken Men.
With a fal, &c.
Since Justice now we cannot do,
To every Victory:
Our hearty Zeal in Wine let's shew,
To our General Family.
With a fal, &c.
For he has Eight Fair Daughters,
And each of them is a Charmer:
Lady Rialton, Bridgewater,
Fine Sunderland, Lady Mount-Hermer
With a fal, &c.
And as for the other Younger four,
They will with Raptures fill ye;
There's Lady Hochstet, Schellenburgh,
Bright Blenheim, and Lady Ramillie.
With a fal, &c.
These last are begotten so Fair and Strong▪
As ne'er in story was told;
The other four shall still be Young,
But these last shall not be Old.
With a fal, &c.
Now to make thy hopes more Strong,
And make thee look like a Man;
Remember all these do belong,
To the Queen of Great Britain.
With a fal, &c.


WHEREAS the Printer hereof did receive two Letters, by th [...] General Post from an unknown Hand; the last dated July th [...] 1st 1708. If the Gentleman that sent them shall be pleased [...] communicate any such Copies as there mentioned, they shall be justly a [...] faithfully Printed and Published, and the favour most thankfully ackno [...]ledged, by

H. H.
AN ESSAY ON Tranſlat …


—Fungar vice Cotis, acutum
[...]eddere quae ferrum valet Exsori ipsa secandi.
Hor. de Art. Poet.

Cape Dona Extrema Tuorum.

V. 3. AE.

LONDON: [...]nted and Sold by H. Hills, in Black-fryars, near the Water-side. 1709.

TO THE Earl of ROSCOMON, On his Excellent ESSAY ON Translated VERSE.

WHether the fruitful Nile or Tyrian Shore,
The seeds of Arts and Infant Science bore,
Tis sure the noble Plant translated first,
[...]dvanc'd its head in Grecian Gardens nurst.
The Grecians added Verse, their tuneful Tongue
Made Nature first, and Nature's God their Song.
Nor stopt Translation here: For conquering Rome
With Grecian Spoils, brought Grecian Numbers home;
[...]nrich'd by those Athenian Muses more,
Than all the vanquish'd World cou'd yield before.
Till barb'rous Nations and more barb'rous Times
[...]ebas'd the Majesty of Verse to Rhimes;
Those rude at first: kind of hobbling Prose:
That limp'd along, and tincl'd in the close:
[...]t Italy reviving from the Trance
[...]f Vandal, Goth, and Monkish ignorance,
With pauses, cadence, and well vowell'd words,
[...]nd all the Graces a good Ear affords,
[...]ade Rhyme and Art, and Dante's polish'd page
[...]estor'd a silver, not a golden Age:
[Page 4]Then Petarch follow'd, and in him we see,
What Rhyme improv'd in all its height can be;
At best a pleasing sound, and fair barbarity:
The French pursu'd their steps, and Britain, last
In Manly sweetness all the rest surpass'd.
The Wit of Greece, the Gravity of Rome
Appear exalted in the British Loome;
The Muses Empire is restor'd agen,
In Charles his Reign, and by Roscommon's Pen▪
Yet modestly he does his work survey,
And calls a finish'd Poem an ESSAY;
For all the needful Rules are scatter'd here;
Truth smoothly told, and pleasantly severe;
(So well is Art disguis'd, for Nature to appear)
Nor need those Rules to give Translation light;
His own Example is a Flame so bright;
That he, who but arrives to copy well,
Unguided will advance: unknowing will excel.
Scarce his own Horace cou'd such Rules ordain;
Or his own Virgil sing a nobler strain.
How much in him may rising Ireland boast,
How much in gaining him has Britain lost!
Their Island in revenge has ours reclaim'd,
The more instructed we, the more we still are sham'd,
'Tis well for us his generous Blood did flow
Deriv'd from British Channels long ago,
That here his Conquering Ancestors were nurst;
And Ireland but translated England first:
By this Reprisal we regain our right,
Else must the two contending Nations fight,
A nobler quarrel for his Native Earth,
Than what divided Greece for Homer's Birth.
To what perfection will our Tongue arrive,
How will Invention and Translation thrive
When Authors nobly born will bear their part,
And not disdain th' inglorious praise of Art!
Great Generals thus descending from Command,
With their own toil provoke the Soldiers hand.
[Page 5]How will sweet Ovid's Ghost be pleas'd to hear
His Fame augmented by an Engilsh Peer, *
How he embellishes his Helen's loves,
Out does his softness, and his sense improves?
When these translate, and teach Translators too,
Nor Firstling Kid, nor any vulgar vow
Should at Apollo's grateful Altar stand;
Roscomon writes, to that auspicious hand,
Muse feed the Bull that spurns the yellow sand.
Roscomon, whom both Court and Camps commend,
True to his Prince, and faithful to his Friend;
Rosscomon first in Fields of Honour known,
First in the peaceful Triumphs of the Gown;
Who both Minerva's justly makes his own.
Now let the few belov'd by Jove, and they,
Whom infus'd Titan form'd of better Clay,
On equal terms of ancient Wit ingage,
Nor mighty Homer fear, nor sacred Virgil's page:
Our English Palace opens wide in state;
And without stooping they may pass the Gate.
John Dryden.


HAppy that Author, whose correct Essay,
Repairs so well our old Horatian way;
And happy you, who by propitious Fate
On great Apollo's Sacred Standard wait.
And with first Discipline instructed right,
Have learnt to use your Arms before you fight.
But since the Press, the Pulpit and the Stage
Conspire to censure, and expose the Age;
Provok'd too far we resolutely must
To the few Virtues that we have be just.
For who have long'd, or who have labour'd more
To search the Treasures of the Roman Store,
Or dig in Graecian Mines for purer Oar?
The noblest Fruits transplanted in our Isle,
With early Hope, and Fragrant Blossoms smile.
Familiar Ovid tender Thoughts inspires,
And Nature seconds all his soft Desires;
Theocritus does now to us belong;
And Albion's Rocks repeat his rural Song.
Who hath not heard how Italy was blest,
Above the Mede, above the wealthy East?
Or Gallus Song, so tender and so true,
As ev'n Lycoris might with Pity view.
When mourning Nymphs attend their Daphnes's Herse
Who doth not weep, that reads the moving Verse.
But hear, O hear, in what exalted Strains
Scicilian Muse thro' these happy Plains,
Proclaim Saturnian Times, our own Apollo reigns?
[Page 7]When France had breath'd after intestine Broils,
And Peace and Conquest crown'd her Foreign Toils,
Their (cultivated by a Royal Hand)
Learning grew fast, and spread, and blest the Land;
The choicest Books that Rome and Greece have known,
Her excellent Translators made her own,
And Europe still considerably gains,
Both by their good Example and their Pains.
From hence our generous Emulation came,
We undertook, and we perform'd the same:
But now we shew the World a nobler way,
And in Translated Verse do more than they.
Serene and clear harmonious Horace flows,
With Sweetness not to be exprest in Prose.
Degrading Prose explains his meaning ill,
And shews the Stuff but not the Workman's Skill
[...] who have serv'd him more than Twenty years,
Scarce know my Master as he there appears,
Vain are our Neighbours hopes, and vain their Cares,
The fault is more the Languages than theirs.
[...]Tis courtly florid, and abounds in Words,
Of softer sound, than ours perhaps affords;
But who did ever in French Authors see
The comprehensive English Energy?
The weighty Bullion of one Sterling Line,
Drawn in French Wire would thro' whole Pages shine.
[...] speak my private but impartial Sence,
With Freedom, and I hope without Offence;
For I'll recant, when France can shew me Wit,
[...]s strong as ours, and as succinctly writ.
[...]Tis true Composing is the Noble Part,
But good Translating is no easiy Art:
For tho' Materials have long since been found,
Yet both your Fancy and your Heads are bound.
And by improving what was writ before,
[...]nvention labours less, but Judgment more.
The Soil intended for Pierian Seeds,
Must be well purg'd from rank Pedantick Weeds,
[Page 8] Apollo starts, and all Parnassus shakes,
At the rude rumbling Barulipton makes.
For none have been with Admiration read,
But who beside their Learning were well bred.
The first great work (A Task perform'd by few)
Is that your self may to your self be true:
No Masque, no Tricks, no Favour, no Reserve;
Dissect your Mind, examine ev'ry Nerve.
Whoever vainly on his Strength depends,
Begins like Virgil, but like Maevius ends.
That Wretch (in spite of his forgotten Rhymes)
Condemn'd to live in all succeeding times;
With pompous Nonsense, and a bellowing Sound,
Sung lofty Ilium, tumbling to the Ground.
And (if my Muse can thro' past Ages see)
That nauseous noisy, gaping Fool was he.
Exploded when with universal Scorn,
The Mountains labour'd, and a Mouse was born.
Learn, learn Gotona's brawny wrestler crys,
Audacious Mortals, and be timely wise!
'Tis I that call, remember Millo's end,
Wedg'd in that Timber which he strove to rend.
Each Poet with a different Talent writes,
One Praises, one Instructs, another bites.
Horace did ne'er aspire to Epick Bays,
Nor lofty Maro stoop to Lyrick Lays.
Examine how your Humour is inclin'd,
And which the Ruling Passion of your Mind;
Then, seek a Poet who your way do's bend,
And chuse an Author as you chuse a Friend.
United by this Sympathetick Bond,
You grow Familiar, Intimate and Fond;
Your thoughts, your Words, your Stiles, your Souls agree,
No longer his Interpreter but He.
With how much ease is a young Muse betray'd,
How nice the Reputation of the Maid!
Your early kind, paternal care appears,
By chaste Instruction of her Tender Years.
[Page 9]The first Impression in her Infant Breast
Will be the deepest, and should be the best.
[...]et no Austerity breed servile Fear,
[...]o wanton Sound offend her Virgin-Ear.
[...]ecure from foolish Pride's affected state,
[...]nd specious Flattery's more pernicious Bait,
[...]abitual Innocence adorns her Thoughts
[...]ut your neglect must answer for her Faults.
Immodest words admit of no defence;
[...]or want of Decency, is want of Sense.
What mod'rate Fop would rake the Park, or Stews,
Who among Troops of faultless Nymphs may chuse?
[...]ariety of such is to be found;
[...]ake then a Subject proper to expound:
[...]ut Moral, Great, and worth a Poet's Voice,
[...]or Men of sense despise a trivial Choice:
[...]nd such Applause it must expect to meet,
[...]s wou'd some Painter, busie in a Street,
[...]o Copy Bulls and Bears, and ev'ry Sign
[...]hat calls the staring Sots to nasty wine.
Yet 'tis not all to have a Subject Good,
[...] must delight us when 'tis understood.
[...]e that brings fulsome Objects to my view,
As many Old have done, and many New)
[...]ith nauseous Images my Fancy fills,
[...]nd all, goes down like Oxymel of Squils.
[...]struct the list'ning World how Maro sings
[...]f useful Subjects, and of lofty Things.
[...]hese will such true, such bright Idea's raise,
[...] merit Gratitude, as well as Praise.
[...]t foul Descriptions are offensive still,
[...]ther for being Like, or being Ill.
[...]r who, without a Qualm, hath ever lookt,
[...]n Holy Garbage, tho' by Homer Cookt?
[...]hose Rayling Heroes, and whose wounded Gods,
[...]ake some suspect, he Snores, as well as Nods.
[...]t I offend— Virgil begins to frown,
[...]d Horace looks with Indignation down:
[Page 10] My blushing Muse with Conscious fear retires,
And whom they like, Implicily Admires.
On sure Foundations let your Fabrick Rise,
And with attractive Majesty surprise,
Not by affected, meritorious Arts,
But strict harmonious Symetry of Parts.
Which through the whole, insensibly must pass,
With vital Heat to animate the Mass.
A Pure, an Active, an Auspicious Flame,
And bright as Heav'n, from the Blessing came;
But few, oh few, Souls, praeordain'd by Fate,
The Race of Gods, have reach'd that envy'd Height.
No Rebel Titans sacrilegious Crime,
By heaping Hills on Hills can thither climb.
The Greisly Ferry-man of Hell deny'd
Aeneas entrance till he knew his Guide;
How justly then will impious Mortals fall,
Whose Pride would soar to Heaven without a call?
Pride (of all others the most dangerous fault;)
Proceeds from want of Sence, or want of Thought.
The Men who labour and digest things most,
Will much apter to despond than boast.
For if your Author be profoundly good,
Will cost you dear before he's understood,
How many Ages since has Virgil writ;
How few are they who understood him yet?
Approach his Altars with Religious fear,
No vulgar Deity inhabits there;
Heav'n shakes not more at Jove's Imperial Nod,
Than Poets should before their Mantuan God.
Hail mighty Maro! may thy Sacred Name,
Kindle my Breast, with thy coelestial flame;
Sublime Ideas, and apt words infuse,
The Muse instruct my Voice, and thou inspire my Muse.
What I have instanc'd only in the best,
Is in Proportion true of all the rest.
Take Pains the genuine meaning to explore,
Their Sweat, there Strain, there lug the laborious Oar.
[Page 11] [...]earch ev'ry Comment that your Care can find,
[...]ome here, some there, may hit the Poet's Mind;
Yet be not blindly guided by the Throng;
The Multitude is always in the wrong.
When Things appear unnatural, and hard,
Consult your Author with himself compar'd;
Who knows what Blessing Phoebus may bestow,
[...]nd future Ages to that Labour owe?
[...]uch Secrets are not easily found out,
[...]ut once discover'd leave no room for Doubt,
Truth stamps Conviction in the ravisht Breast,
[...]nd Peace and Joy attend the glorious Guest.
Truth still is one, Truth is divinely bright,
No cloudy Doubts obscure her Native Light;
While in your Thoughts you find the least Debate,
You may confound, but never can Translate.
Your Stile will this thro' all Disguises shew,
[...]or none explain more clearly than they know.
[...]e only proves he understands a Text,
Whose Exposition leaves it unperplext,
They who too faithfully on Names insist,
[...]ather create, than dissipate the Mist;
[...]nd grow unjust by being over nice,
For Superstitious Virtue turns to Vice)
[...]et Crassus Ghost, and Labienus tell,
[...]ow twice in Parthian Plains their Legions fell,
[...]ince Rome hath been so jealous of her Fame,
[...]ew know Pacorus or Monaeses Name.
Words in one Language elegantly us'd,
Will hardly in another be excus'd:
[...]nd some that Rome admir'd in Caesar's time,
[...]ay neither suit our Genius, nor our Clime.
[...]he genuine Sense intelligibly told,
[...]hews a Translator both Discreet and Bold.
Excursions are inexpiably bad,
[...]nd 'tis much safer to leave out, than add.
[...]bstruce and Mystic Thoughts you must express,
[...]ith painful Care, and seeming Easiness,
[...]r Truth shines brightest thro' the plainest Dress, And
[Page 12]The Aenean Muse, when she prepares in state.
Makes all Jove Thunder on her Verses wait.
Yet writes sometimes as soft, and moving Things,
As Venus speaks, or Philomesa signs.
Your Author always will the best advice,
Fall when he falls, and When he rises rise.
Affected noise, is the most wretched Thing,
That to Comtempt, can empty Scriblers bring.
Vowels and Accents regularly plac'd,
On even Syllables, (and still the last.
Tho' gross innumerable Faults abound,
In spite of Nonscence never fail of Sound.
But this meant of even Verse alone,
As being most harmonious and most known.
For if you will unequal Numbers try,
Their Accents on odd Syllables must lie.
Whatever Sister of the Sacred Nine,
Does to your Suit a willing Ear incline,
Urge your Success, deserve a lasting Name,
She'll crown a grateful, and a constant Flame.
But if a wild Uncertainty prevail,
And turn your vearing Heart with ev'ry Gale,
You lose the Fruit of all your former Care,
For the sad Prospect of a sad Despair.
A Quack (too scandalously mean to Name)
Had by Man-midwifry got Wealth and Fame;
As if Lucina had forgot the Trade,
The lab'ring Wife invokes the surer Aid.
Well season'd Bowls, the Gossips Spirits raise,
Who while she guzzles, chats the Doctor's Praise.
And largely what she wants in Words, supplys.
With Maudling Eloquence of trickling Eyes.
But what a thoughtless Animal is Man,
(How very Active in his own Trepan!)
For greedy of Physicians frequent Fees,
From Female Mellow Praise he takes Degrees?
Struts in a new Unlicens'd Gown and then,
From saving Women falls to Killing Men.
[Page 13] [...]nother such had left the Nation Thin,
[...] spight of all the Children he brought in.
[...]is Pills, as thick as Hand Granadoes flew,
[...]nd where they fell, as certainly they slew.
[...]is Name struck ev'ry where as great a Damp
[...]s Archimedes through the Roman Camp.
[...]ith this, the Doctors Pride began to Cool,
[...]or Smarting soundly may convince a Fool.
[...]ut now Repentance came too late, for Grace;
[...]nd meager Famine star'd him in the Face.
[...]in would he to the Wives be reconcil'd,
[...]t found no Husband left to own a Child.
[...]he Friends, that got the Brats were poyson'd too;
[...] this sad case what could our Vermin do?
[...]orry'd with Debts and past all Hope of Bail,
[...]h' unpity'd wretch lies Rotting in a Jail.
[...]nd there with Basket-Alms, scarce kept alive,
[...]hews how Mistaken Talents ought to Thrive.
I pity, from my Soul, Unhappy Men,
[...]ompell'd by want to Prostitute their Pen;
Who must, like Lawyers either starve or plead,
[...]nd follow, right or wrong, where Guynny's lead;
[...]ut you, Pompilian, wealthy, pamper'd Heirs,
Who to your Country owe your Swords and Cares.
[...]et no vain hope your easie mind seduce,
[...]or Rich Ill Poets are without Excuse.
'Tis very Dangerous, Tampring with a Muse.
[...]he Profit's small, and you have much to lose;
[...]or, tho' true Wit adorns your Birth, or Place,
[...]egenerate lines degrade th' attainted Race,
[...]o Poet any Passion can Excite;
[...]ut what they feel trasport them when they write.
[...]ave you been led through Cumaean Cave.
[...]nd heard th' Impatient Maid Divinely Rave?
[...]hear her now; I see her Rowling Eyes;
[...]nd panting; Lo! the God, the God she cries;
[...]ith words, not Hers and more then humane sound,
[...]e makes th' obedient Ghosts peep trembling thro' the Ground,
[Page 14]But tho' we must obey when Heaven Commands,
And Man in vain the sacred Call withstands,
Beware what Spirit rages in your breast.
For ten inspir'd ten thousand are possest.
Thus make the proper use of each Extream,
And write with Fury, but correct with Phleam.
As when the Chearful hours too freely pass,
And sparkling Wine smiles in the tempting Glass.
Your Pulse advises, and begins to beat
Through every swelling Vein a loud retreat.
So when a Muse propitiously invites
Improve her favours, and Indulge her flights,
But when you find that vigorous heat abate,
Leave off, and for another Summons wait.
Before the Radiant Sun a Glimmering Lamp,
Adult'rate Metals to the Sterling Stamp,
Appear not meaner, than mere humane Lines,
Compar'd with those whose Inspiration shines;
These, Nervous, bold; those Languid, and remiss;
There, cold salutes, But here, a Lover's kiss,
Thus have I seen a Rapid, headlong tide,
With foaming Waves the Passive Soan divide
Whose Lazy Waters without motion lay,
While he, with eager force, urg'd his Impetuous way.
The Priviledge that ancient Poets claim
Now turn'd to License by too just a Name,
Belongs to none but an Establisht Fame,
Which scorns to take it—
Absurd Expressions, crude, Abortive Thoughts,
All the lewd Legion of exploded fau'ts,
Base Fugitives to that Asylum fly,
And sacred Laws with Insolence defy.
Not thus our Heroes of the former Days,
Deserv'd and Gain'd their never fading Bays:
For I mistake, or for the greatest part,
Of what some call Neglect was study'd Art.
When Virgil seems to Trifle in a Line,
'Tis like a Warning-piece, which gives the Sign.
[Page 15] [...]o Wake your Fancy, and prepare your Sight,
[...]o reach the noble Height of some unusual Flight.
[...]ose my Patience, when, with Saucy Pride,
[...]y untun'd Ears I hear his Numbers try'd.
[...]verse of Nature! shall such Copies, then
[...]rraign th' Originals of Maro's Pen!
[...]nd the rude Notions of Pedantick Schools,
[...]laspheme the sacred Founders of our Rules!
The Delicacy of the nicest Ear
[...]inds nothing harsh, or out of Order there.
[...]ublime or low, unbended or intense,
[...]he sound is still a Comment to the Sense.
A skilful Ear, in Numbers shou'd preside,
[...]nd all Disputes without Appeal decide.
[...]his Ancient Rome and Elder Athens found,
[...]efore mistaken stops debauch'd the sound.
When, by Impulse from Heaven, Tyrtaeus sung,
[...] drooping Souldiers a new Courage sprung.
[...]eviving Sparta now the fight maintain'd,
[...]nd what Two Gen'rals lost, a Poet gain'd.
[...]y secret influence of Indulgent Skyes,
[...]mpire, and Poesy together rise.
[...]rue Poets are the Guardians of State,
And when they fail, portend approaching Fate.
[...]or that which Rome to Conquest did inspire,
Was not the Vestal, but the Muses fire;
Heavens joyns the Blessings, no declining Age,
E'er felt the Raptures of Poetick Rage,
Of manv faults, Rhym is (perhaps) the Cause,
Too strict to Ryhme we slight more useful Laws.
For that, in Greece or Rome, was never known,
Till by Barbarian Deluges o'reflown;
[...]ubdu'd, Undone, They did at last, Obey,
And change their own for their Invaders way.
I grant that from some Mossie Idol Oak
[...]n Double Rhymes our Thor and Woden spoke;
And by succession of unlearned Times,
[...]s Bards began, so Monks rung on the Chimes.
[Page 15]But now that Phoebus and the sacred Nine,
With all their Beams on our blest Island shine,
Why should not We their ancient Rites restore
And be, what Rome or Athens were before?
Have we forgot how Raphaels Num'rous Prose
Led our exalted Souls through heavenly Camps,
* And mark'd the ground where proud Apostate Thrones,
Defy'd Jehovah! Here, 'twixt Host and Host,
(A narrow but a dreadful Interval)
Portentous sight! before the Cloudy Van,
Satan with vast and haughty strides advanc'd,
Came tow'ring arm'd in Adamant and Gold.
There bellowing Engines with their fiery Jubes
Dispers'd aetherial Forms, and down they fall,
By thousands, Angels, on Arch-angels rowl'd;
Recover'd, to the Hills they ran they flew,
Which (with their ponderous Load, Rocks, Waters, Woo [...]
From their firm Seals torn by their shaggy Tops
They bore, like Shields before them thro' the Air,
'Till more incens'd, they hurl'd them all their Fees.
All was Confusion, Heaven's Foundations shook,
Threatning no less then universal wrack.
For Michael's Arm main Promontorys flung,
And overprest their Legions weak with Sin;
Yet they blasphem'd, and struggled as they lay,
'Till the great Ensign of Massiah blaz'd,
And (arm'd with Fengeance) God's Victorious Son.
(Effulgence of Paternal Deity)
Grasping ten thousand Thunders in his hand.
Drove the old original Rebels headlong down,
And sent them flaming to the vast Abyss.
O may I live o hail the glorious day,
And sing loud Poems thro' the crowded way,
When in triumphant state the British Muse,
True to her self all barbarous Aid refuse.
And in the Roman Majesty appear,
Which none knew better, and none came so near:


Occasionally Writ [...]pon the many DIVORCES lately Granted by Parliament.

WITH THE CHOICE, OR, THE [...]leasures of a Country-LIFE,

Dedicated to the Beaus against the next Vacation.

[...]don: Printed and Sold by H. Hills, in Black-fryars, near the Water-side. 1709. Price One Penny.

THE Pleasures of a Single LIFE OR, The Miseries of Matrimony. Occasionally Writ upon the many DIVORCE [...] lately Granted by Parliament.

WEdlock, oh! Curs'd uncomfortable State,
Cause of my Woes, and Object of my hate,
How bless'd was I? Ah, once how happy me?
When I from those uneasie Bonds were free;
How calm my Joys? How peaceful was my Breast,
Till with thy fatal Cares too soon opprest,
The World seem'd Paradice, so bless'd the Soil
Wherein I liv'd, that Business was no Toil;
Life was a Comfort, which produc'd each day
New Joys, that still preserv'd me from decay,
Thus Heav'n first launch'd me into pacifick Seas,
Where free from Storms I mov'd with gentle Breeze
My Sails proportion'd, and my Vessel tite,
Coasting in Pleasures-Bay I steer'd aright,
Ballac'd with true Content, and fraighted with deligh [...]
Books my Companions were wherein I found
Needful Advice, without a noisey Sound,
But was with friendly pleasing silence taught,
Wisdom's best Rules, to fructify my Thought,
Rais'd up our Sage Fore-fathers from the dead,
And when I pleas'd invok'd them to my Aid,
Who at my Study-Bar without a Fee would plead:
Whilst I Chief-Justice sat, heard all their Sutes,
And gave my Judgment on their learn'd Disputes;
Strove to determine ev'ry Cause aright,
And for my Pains found Profit and Delight,
Free from Partiality; I fear'd no blame,
Desir'd no Brib'ry, and deserv'd no Shame,
[Page 3] [...]it like an upright Judge, grudg'd no Expence
[...] time, to fathom Truth with Diligence,
[...]ading by Day, Contemplating by Night,
[...]ll Conscience told me that I judg'd aright,
[...]en to my Paper-World I'd have recourse,
[...] by my Maps run o'er the Universe;
[...]ll round the Globe, and touch at every Port,
[...]vey those Shoars where Men untam'd resort,
[...]ew the old Regions where the Persian Lord
[...]ught Wooden Deities first to be Ador'd,
[...]snar'd at last to Sacrifice his life
[...] the base Pride of an Adult'rous Wife,
[...] where the Grecian Youth to Arms inur'd,
[...] hungry Soil with Persian Blood manur'd,
There bold Busephilus brutal Conduct show'd,
[...] force of monstrous Elephants withstood,
[...] with his Rider waded through a purple Flood.
Then would I next the Roman Field survey,
There brave Fabricius with his Army lay:
[...]m'd for his Valour, from Corruption free,
[...]de up of Courage and Humility.
[...]at when Encamp'd the good Man lowly bent,
[...]ok'd his own Cabbage in his homely Tent:
[...] when the Samnites sent a Golden Sum,
[...]tempt him to betray his Country Rome,
[...] Dross he scoffingly return'd untold,
[...] answer'd with a Look serenely bold,
[...]at Roman Sprouts would boil without their Grecian Gold:
[...]en eat his Cale-worts for his Meal design'd,
[...] beat the Grecian Army when he'd din'd.
Thus wou'd I range the World from Pole to Pole,
[...] encrease my Knowledge, and delight my Soul;
[...]vel all Nations, and inform my Sence;
[...]th ease and safety, at a small Expence:
Storms to plough, no Passengers Sums to pay,
Horse to hire, or Guide to show the way,
Alps to climb, no Desarts here to pass,
Ambuscades, no Thief to give me chase,
[Page 4]No Bear to dread, or rav'nous Wolf to fight,
No Flies to sting, no Rattle-Snakes to bite;
No Floods to ford, no Hurricans to fear;
No dreadful Thunder to surprize the Ear;
No Winds to freeze, no to Sun scorch or fry,
No Thirst, or Hunger, and Relief not nigh.
All these Fatigues and Mischiefs could I shun;
Rest when I pleas'd, and when I please Jog on,
And travel through both Inides in an Afternoon.
When the Day thus far pleasingly was spent,
And every Hour admin'stred Content,
Then would I range the Fields, and flow'ry Meads▪
Where Nature her exub'rant Bounty spreads,
In whose delightful Products does appear
Inimitable Beauty ev'ry where;
Contemplate on each Plant, and useful Weed,
And how its Form first lay involv'd in Seed,
How they're preserv'd by Providential Care,
For what design'd, and what their Virtues are.
Thus to my Mind by dint of Reason prove,
That all below is ow'd to Heaven above,
And that no Earthly Temporals can be,
But what must Center in Eternity.
Then gaze aloft, whence all things had their Birth
And mount my prying Soul 'twixt Heaven and Ear [...]
Thus the sweet Harmony o'th' whole admire,
And by due Search new Learning still acquire,
So nearer ev'ry day to Truths Divine aspire.
When tir'd with thought, then from my Pocket pl [...]
Some friendly dear Companion of a Book,
Whose homely Calves-skin fences did contain
The Verbal Treasure of some Old good Man:
Made by long study and experience wise,
Whose piercing thoughts to Heavenly knowledge [...]
Amongst whose Pious Reliques I would find,
Rules for my Life, Rich Banquets for my mind,
Such pleasing Nectar, such Eternal Food,
That well digested, makes a Man a God;
[Page 5] [...]nd for his use at the same time prepares
[...] Earth a Heav'n in spight of worldly Cares,
[...]he day in these Enjoyments would I spend,
[...] chuse at Night my Bottle and my Friend,
[...]ok prudent care that neither were abus'd,
[...] with due Moderation both I us'd.
[...]nd in one sober Pint found more delight,
[...]han the insatiat Sot that swills all Night;
[...]e'er drown my Senses, or my Soul debase,
[...] drink beyond the relish of my blass
[...] in Excess good Heav'ns design is Croft,
[...] all Extreams the true Enjoyments lost,
[...]ine chears the Heart, and elevates the Soul,
[...]t if we surfeit with too large a Bowl,
[...]anting true Aim we th' happy Mark o'er Shoot,
[...] change the Heavenly Image to a Brute.
[...] the great Grecian who the World subdu'd,
[...]nd drown'd whole Nations in a Sea of Blood;
[...] last was Conquer'd by the Power of Wine,
[...]nd dy'd a Drunken Victim to the Vine.
[...]y Friend, and I, when o'er our Bottle sat,
[...]x'd with each Glass some inoffensive Chat,
[...]lk'd of the World's Affairs, but still kept free
[...]om Passion, Zeal, or Partiality;
[...]ith honest freedom did our thoughts dispense,
[...] judg'd of all things with indifference;
[...] time at last did our Delights invade,
[...] in due season separation made,
[...]en without Envy, Discord or Deceit,
[...] like true Friends as loving as we meet.
[...]e Tavern change to a domestick scene,
[...]at sweet Retirment, tho' it's ne'er so mean.
[...]us leave each other in a Cheerful Plight,
[...] enjoy the silent Pleasures of the Night,
[...]hen home return'd, my Thanks to Heaven pay,
[...] all the past kind Blessing of the Day;
[...] haughty Help-mate to my Peace molest,
[...] treacherous Snake to harbour in my Breast;
[Page 6]No fawning Mistress of the Female Art,
With Judas Kisses to betray my Heart;
No light tail'd Hypocrite to raise my Fears,
No vile Impert'nence to torment my Ears;
No molted Off-spring to disturb my Thought,
In Wedlock born but G—d knows where begot;
No lustful Massalina to require
Whole Troops of Men to feed her Brutal Fire?
No Family Cares my quiet to disturb;
No Head-strong Humours to asswage or Curb
No Jaring Servants, no Domestick strife,
No Jilt, no Termagent, no Faithless Wife,
With Vinegar or Gall, to sowre or bitter Life.
Thus freed from all that could my Mind annoy,
Alone my self, I did my self enjoy:
When Nature call'd, I laid me down to rest,
With a sound Body, and a peaceful Breast;
Hours of Repose with Constancy I kept,
And Guardian Angels watch'd me as I slept,
In lively Dreams reviving as I lay,
The Pleasures of the last precedent day,
Thus whilst I singly liv'd, did I possess
By Day and Night incessant Happiness,
Content enjoy'd awak'd, and sleeping found no less.
But the Curs'd Fiend from Hell's dire Regions sen [...]
Ranging the World to Man's Destruction bent,
Who with an Envious Pride beholding me,
Advanc'd by Virtue to Felicity,
Resolv'd his own Eternal wretched state,
Should be in part reveng'd by my sad Fate;
And so at once my happy Life betray
Flung Woman, Faithless Woman in my way:
Beauty she had, a seeming Modest Mein,
All Charms without, but Devil all within,
Which did not yet appear, but lurk'd, alas unseen.
A fair Complection far exceeding Paint,
Black sleepy Eyes that wou'd have Charm'd a Saint;
Her Lips so soft and sweet, that ev'ry Kiss,
Seem'd a short Tast of the Eternal Bliss;
[Page 7] [...]er set of Teeth so Regular and White,
[...]hey'd show their Lustre in the darkest Night;
[...]ound her Seraphick Face so fair and young,
[...]er Sable Hair in careless Dresses hung,
[...]hich added to her beauteous Features, show'd
[...]ike some fair Angel peeping through a Cloud?
[...]er Breasts, her Hands, and every Charm so bright,
[...]e seem'd a Sun by Day, a Moon by Night;
[...]er shape so ravishing, that every Part,
[...]roportion'd was to the nicest Rules of Art:
[...]o awful was her Carriage when she mov'd,
[...]one could behold her, but he feard and lov'd,
[...]he danc'd well, sung well, finely plaid the Lute,
Was always witty in her Words, or Mute;
[...]bliging, not reserv'd, nor yet too free,
[...]ut as a Maid divinely bless'd should be;
Not vainly gay, but decent in Attire,
[...]he seem'd so good, she could no more acquire
Of Heaven, than what she had, & Man no more desire:
[...]ortune, like God and Nature too was kind,
And to these Gifts a copious Sum had joyn'd.
Who could the power of such Temptations shun,
What frozen Synick from her Charms could run.
What Cloister'd Monk could see a Face so bright,
But quit his Beads and follow Beauty's Light,
And Its Lustre hope to shun Eternal Night.
[...] so bewitch'd, and poyson'd with her Charms,
Believ'd the utmost Heaven was in her Arms,
Methoughts the Goodness, in her Eyes I see,
Spoke her the Off-spring of some Deity.
Now Books and Walks, would no content afford,
She was the only Good to be Ador'd
In her fair Looks alone delight I found,
Love's raging Storms all other Joys had drown'd.
By Beauty's Ignus fatuus led astray,
Bound for Content, I lost my happy way
Of Reason's faithful Pilot now bereft,
Was amongst Rocks and Shelves in danger left,
[Page 8]There must have perish'd, as I fondly thought,
Lest her kind Usage my Salvation wrought;
Her happy Aid I labour'd to obtain,
Hop'd for Success, yet fear'd her sad Disdain,
Tortur'd like dying Convicts whilst they live,
'Twixt fear of Death, and hopes of a Reprieve.
First for her smallest Favours did I sue,
Crept, Fawn'd and Cring'd, as Lovers us'd to do?
Sigh'd e'er I spoke, and when I spoke look'd [...]
In words confus'd disclos'd my mournful T [...]le?
Unpractised and Amour's fine Speeches co [...]d,
But could not utter what I well design [...]d.
Warm'd by her Charms against Bash [...] strove,
And trembling sat, and stammer'd out my Love;
Told her how greatly I admir'd and fear [...]d,
Which she 'twixt Coyness and Compassion hear'd,
Grutch'd no Expence of Money, or of Time,
And thought that not to adore her was a Crime;
The more each Visit I acquainted grew,
Yet every time found something in her new.
Who was above her Sex so fortunate,
She had a Charm for Man in every State;
Beauty for the Youthful Prudence for the Old,
Scripture for the Godly, for the Miser Gold;
Wit for the Ingenious, silence for the Grave,
Flatt'ry for the Fool, and Cunning for the Knave:
Compounded thus of such Varieties,
She had a knack to every Temper please.
And as her self thought fit was every one of these.
I lov'd, I sigh'd and vow'd, talk'd, whin'd, and pray'd
And at her Feet my panting Heart I lay'd;
She smil'd, then frown'd, was now reserv'd, then fre [...]
And as she play'd her part, oft chang'd her Key;
Not through Fantastick Humour but Design,
To try me throughly e'er she should be mine,
Because she wanted in one Man to have,
A Husband, Lover, Cuckold, and a Slave.
So Travellers, before a Horse they buy,
His Speed, his Paces, and his Temper try,
[Page 9]Whether h'ell answer Whip and Spur, thence Judge,
If the poor Beast will prove a patient Drudge:
When she by wiles had heightned my Desire,
And fain'd Lov's sparkles to a raging Fire;
Made now for Wedlock, or for Bedlam fit,
Thus Passion gain'd the upper-hand of Wit,
The Dame by pity, or by Interest mov'd,
Or else by Lust, pretended now she lov'd;
After long sufferings, her Consent I got,
To make me happy, as I hop'd and thought,
But oh, the wretched hour I ty'd the Gordian Knot.
Thus through mistake I rashly plung'd my Life
Into that Gulph of Miseries a Wife.
With joyful Arms I thus embrac'd my Fate,
Believ'd too soon, was undeceiv'd too late;
So hair-brain'd Fools to Indian Climates rove,
With a vain hope their Fortunes to improve;
There spend their slender Cargoes, then become
Worse Slaves abroad than e'er they were at home.
When a few Weeks were wasted I compar'd,
With all due moderation and regard,
My former freedom, with my new restraint,
Judging which State afforded most content,
But found a single Life as calm and gay,
As the delightful Month of blooming May,
Not chil'd with Cold, or scorch'd with too much heat.
Not plagu'd with flying Dust, nor drown'd with wet,
But pleasing to the Eyes, and to the Nostrils sweet.
But Wedlock's like the blustring Month of March,
That does the Body's Maims and Bruises search,
Brings by cold nipping Storms unwelcom Pains,
And finds, or breeds Distempers in our Veins;
Renews old Sores, and hastens on Decay,
And seldom does affords one pleasant Day.
But Clouds dissolve, or raging Tempest blow,
And untile Houses, like the wrangling Shrow;
Thus March and Marriage justly may be said,
To be alike, then sure the Man is Mad,
That loves such changling Weather where the best is bad.
[Page 10]Though I once happy in a single Life,
Yet Shipwrack'd all upon that Rock a Wife.
By Gold and Beauties Powerful Charms betray'd,
To the dull drudgery of a Marriage-Bed;
That Paradise for Fools, a Sport for Boys,
Tiresom its Chains, and brutal are its Joys,
Thou nauseous Priestcraft that too soon appear'd,
Not as I hop'd, but worse than what I fear'd,
All her soft Charms which I believ'd divine,
Marriage I thought had made them only mine;
Vain hope, alas for I too early found,
My Brows were with the Throne of Wedlock crown'd,
Jealousies, first from Reason rais'd a doubt,
And Fatal Chance th' unhappy Truth brought out;
Made it so plain from all Pretences free'd.
That wicked Woman no Excuse could plead;
And if she wants device to hide her Shame,
Hell can no Umbrage for Adult'ry frame.
I thought it prudence the Disgrace to hide,
Tho' rav'd and Storm'd, she Pardon beg'd and Cry'd.
Yet with false Protestations strove to Charm:
The Cuckold to believe she'd done no harm,
Tho' taken by surprize (O curse the Day)
Where all the Marks of past Enjoyment lay,
And she disorder'd by her lustful freeks
Had Shame and Horrour strugling in her Cheeks:
Yet, made Essays to cleer her Innocence,
And hide her guilt with Lyes and Impudence;
For lustful Women like a vicious State,
Oft stifle Ills by others full as great,
But I convinc'd too plainly of her Guilt,
All her false Oaths and quick inventions spoilt,
Which when she'd used in vain she blush'd and cry'd,
And own'd her fault she found she could not hide.
This I forgave, she promis'd to reclaim,
Vow'd future truth if I'd conceal the shame;
But what Strange Adamantine Chain can bind,
Woman corrupted to be just or kind:
[Page 11]Or how can Man to an adultress shew
That Love, which to a faithful Wife is due,
I strugled hard, and all my Passions checkt,
And chang'd Revenge into a mild Respect,
That Good for Ill return'd might touch her near,
And Gratitude might bind her more than fear;
My former Love I every day renew'd;
And all the Signals of Oblivion shew'd;
Wink'd at small Faults, wou'd no such Trifles mind,
As accidental Failings not designed.
I all things to her Temper easie made,
Scorn'd to reflect, and hated to upbraid;
She chose (and rich it was) her own Attire,
Nay, had what a proud Woman could desire.
Thus the new Covenant I strictly kept,
And oft in private for her Failings wept,
Yet bore with seeming Cheerfulness those Cares,
That bring a Man too soon to grisled Hairs.
But all this kindness I dispens'd in vain,
Where Lust and base Ingratitude remain.
Lust, which if once in Female fancy fix'd,
Burns like Salt Petre, with dry Touchwood mix'd:
And tho' cold Fear for time may stop its force,
'Twill soon like Fire confin'd, break out the worse,
Or like a Tide obstructed, re-assume its course.
No Art cou'd e'er presume the stincking Stote,
Or change the lecherous Nature of the Goat.
No skilful Whitster ever found the slight,
To wash or bleach an Ethiopian White.
No gentle Usage truly will Asswage,
A Tyger's fierceness, or a Lyon's rage,
Stripes and severe Correction is the way,
When once they're thro'ly Conquer'd, they'll obey,
'Tis Whip and Spur, Commanding Reign and Bit,
That makes the unruly head-strong Horse submit,
So stubborn faithless Woman must be us'd,
Or Man by Woman basely be abus'd.
For after all the Endearments I should show,
At last she turn'd both Libertine and Shrow,
[Page 12]From my Submission grew perverse and proud,
Crabbed as Varges, and as Thunder loud;
Did what she pleas'd, would no Obedience own,
And ridicul'd the Patience I had shown.
Fear'd no sharp threatnings, valued no disgrace,
But flung the wrongs she'd done me in my Face;
Grew still more head-strong, turbulent and Lewd,
Filling my Mansion with a spurious brood.
Thus Brutal Lust her humane Reason drown'd,
And her loose Tail oblig'd the Country round;
Advice, Reproof, Pray'rs, Tears, were flung away,
For still she grew more wicked ev'ry day;
Till by her equals scorn'd, my Servants fed,
The Brutal Rage of her adultrous bed.
Nay, in my absence trucled to my Groom,
And hug'd the servile Traytor in my Room;
When these strange Tydings, Thunder struck my Ear,
And such Inhumane Wrongs were made appear,
On these just Grounds for a Divorce I su'd,
At last that head-strong Tyrant Wife subdu'd,
Cancel'd the marriage-bonds, and bastardiz'd her brood
Woman, thou worst of all Church-plagues, farewel;
Bad at the best, but at the worst a Hell;
Thou truss of wormwood, bitter Teaz of Life,
Thou Nursery of humane cares a wife.
Thou Apple-Eating Trayt'riss who began
The Wrath of Heav'n, and Miseries of Man,
And hast with never-failing diligence,
Improv'd the Curse to humane Race e'er since.
Farewel Church-juggle that enslav'd my Life,
But bless that Power that rid me of my Wife.
And now the Laws once more have set me free,
If Woman can again prevail with me,
My Flesh and Bones shall make my Wedding-Feast,
And none shall be Invited as my Guest,
T' attend my Bride, but th' Devil and a Priest.

THE CHOICE, OR, THE Pleasures of a Country-LIFE, &c.

IF Heav'n the grateful Liberty wou'd give,
That I might chuse my Method how to live:
And all those Hours propitious Fate shou'd lend,
In blisful Ease and Satisfaction spend.
Near some fair Town I'd have a private Seat,
Built Uniform, not little, nor too great:
Better if on a rising Ground it stood,
Fields on this side, on that a Neighb'ring Wood.
It shou'd within no other things contain,
But what are Useful, Necessary, Plain:
Methinks 'tis Nauseous, and I'd ne'er endure
The needful pomp of gaudy Furniture:
A little Garden, grateful to the Eye,
And a cool Rivulet run murmuring by:
On whose delicious Banks a stately Row,
Of shady Limes, or Sicamores, shou'd grow.
At th' end of which a silent Study plac'd,
Shou'd with the Noblest Authors there be grac'd.
Horace and Virgil, in whose mighty Lines,
Immortal Wit, and solid Learning shines.
Sharp Juvenal, and am'rous Ovid too,
Who all the turns of Loves soft passion knew:
He, that with Judgment reads his Charming Lines,
In which strong Art, with stronger Nature joins,
Must grant▪ his Fancy does the best excel:
His thoughts so tender, and exprest so well;
With all those Moderns, Men of steady Sense,
Esteem'd for Learning, and for Eloquence:
[Page 14]In some of these, as Fancy shou'd advise,
I'd always take my Morning Exercise.
For sure, no Minutes bring us more Content,
Than those in pleasing useful Studies Spent.
I'd have a clear and competent Estate,
That I might live Genteely, but not Great.
As much as I cou'd moderately spend,
A little more sometimes t' oblige a Friend.
Nor shou'd the Sons of Poverty Repine
Too much at Fortune, they shou'd taste of mine,
And all that Objects of true Pity were,
Shou'd be reliev'd with what my Wants cou'd spare;
For what our Maker has too largely giv'n,
Shou'd be return'd in gratitude to Heav'n.
A frugal Plenty shou'd my Table spread,
With healthful, not luxurious Dishes fed:
Enough to satisfy, and something more
To feed the Stranger, and th' Neighb'ring Poor▪
Strong Meat indulges Vice, and pampering Food
Creates Diseases; and inflames the Blood.
But what's sufficient to make Nature Strong,
And the bright Lamp of Life continue long,
I'd freely take, and as I did possess.
The bounteous Author of my Plenty bless.
I'd have a little Cellar, Cool and Neat,
With Humming Ale, and Virgin Wine Repleat.
Wine whets the Wit, improves its Native Force,
And gives a pleasant Flavour to Discourse;
By making all our Spirits Debonar,
Throws off the Lees, the Sedement of Care.
But as the greatest Blessing Heaven lends
May be debauch'd, and serve ignoble Ends;
So, but too oft, the Grapes refreshing Juice,
Does many mischievous Effects produce,
My House, shou'd no such rude Disorders know,
As from high Drinking consequently flow,
Nor wou'd I use what was so kindly giv'n,
To the Dishonour of Indulgent Heav'n.
If any Neighbour came he shou'd be free,
Us'd with Respect, and not uneasy be,
In my Retreat, or to himself or me.
What Freedom, Prudence, and Right Reason give,
All Men may with impunity receive;
But the least swerving from their Rules too much,
For what's forbidden us, 'tis Death to touch.
That Life might be more comfortable yet,
And all my Joys refin'd, sincere and great,
[Page 15] [...] chuse too Friends, whose Company wou'd be
[...] great Advance to my Felicity.
Well born, of Humours suited to my own;
[...]iscreet, and Men as well as Books have known.
[...]rave, Gen'rous, Witty, and exactly free
[...]rom loose Behaviour or Formality,
[...]iry, and Prudent, Merry, but not Light,
Quick in discerning, and in Judging Right;
[...]ecret they shou'd, be faithful to their Trust,
[...] Reasoning Cool, Strong, Temperate and just.
[...]bliging, Open, without Huffing. Brave;
[...]risk in gay talking, and in sober Grave.
Close in dispute, but not tenacious, try'd
[...]y solid Reason, and let that decide;
Not prone to Lust, Revenge, or envious Hate;
Nor busy Medlers with Intrigues of State.
Strangers to Slander, and sworn Foes to spight,
Not Quarrelsom, but Stout enough to Fight:
Loyal and Pious, Friends to Caesar true
As dying Martyrs to their Maker too.
[...]n their Society I cou'd not miss,
A permanent, sincere, substantial Bliss,
Wou'd bounteous Heaven once more indulge, I'd chuse;
For, who wou'd so much satisfaction lose,
As witty Nymphs in Conversation give)
Near some obliging modest-fair to live;
For there's that sweetness in a female Mind.
Which in a Man's we cannot find;
That by a secret, but a pow'rful Art,
Wind up the Spring of Life, and do's impart
Fresh Vital Heat to the transported Heart.
I'd have her Reason, and her Passions sway,
Easy in Company, in private Gay.
Coy to a Fop, to the deserving free,
Still Constant to her self and Just to me.
A soul she shou'd have for great Actions fit,
Prudence, and Wisdom to direct her Wit,
Courage to look bold danger in the Face,
No Fear, but only to be Proud, or Base:
Quick to advise by an Emergence prest,
To give good Counsel, or to take the best.
I'd have th' Expression of her Thoughts be such,
She might not seem Reserv'd, nor talk too much;
That shows a want of Judgment, and of Sense;
More than enough is but Impertinence.
Her Conduct Regular, her Mirth refin'd,
Civil to Strangers, to her Neighbours kind.
[Page 16]Averse to Vanity, Revenge and Pride,
In all the Methods of Deceit untry'd:
So faithful to her Friend, and good to all,
No Censure might upon her Actions fall.
Then wou'd even Envy be compell'd to say,
She goes the least of Woman kind astray.
To this fair Creature I'd sometimes retire,
Her conversation wou'd new Joys inspire,
Give Life and Edge so keen no surly Care
Wou'd venture to assault my Soul, or dare
Near my Retreat to hide one secret Snare.
But so Divine, so Noble a Repast,
I'd seldom, and with Moderation taste.
For highest Cordials all their Virtue lose,
By a too frequent, and too bold an use;
And what would cheer the Spirits in distress▪
Ruins our Health when taken to Excess.
I'd be concern'd in no litigious Jarr,
Belov'd by all, not vainly popular:
Whate'er Assistance I had power to bring
T' oblige my Country, or to serve my King,
Whene'er they call'd, I'd readily afford,
My Tongue, My Pen, my Counsel, or my Sword.
Law-suits I'd shun with as much Studious Care;
As I wou'd Dens where hungry Lyons are;
And rather put up Injuries than be
A Plague to him, who'd be a plague to me.
I value Quiet at a Price too great,
To give for my Revenge so dear a Rate:
For what do we by all our bustle gain,
But counterfeit Delight for real Pain.
If Heav'n a date of many Years wou'd give,
Thus I'd in Pleasure, Ease and Plenty live.
And as I near approach'd the Verge of Life,
Some kind Relation (for I'd have no Wife.)
Should take upon him all my Worldly Care,
While I did for a better State prepare.
Then I'd not be with any Trouble vext,
Nor have the Evening of my Days perplext.
But by a silent, and a peaceful Death,
Without a sigh Resign my Aged Breath:
And when committed to the Dust, I'd have
Few Tears, but Frindly drop'd into my Grave.
Then wou'd my Exit so propitious be,
All Men wou'd wish to live and dye like me.

INSTRUCTIONS TO VANDER BANK, A Sequel to the Advice to the Poets: A POEM, Occasion'd by the Glorious Success of Her Majesty's ARMS, under the Command of the Duke of MARL­BOROƲGH, the last Year in Flanders.

LONDON: [...]nted and Sold by H. Hills, in Black-fryars, near the Water-side. 1709.

Instructions to Vander Bank, &c.

HAve all thy Bards, Britannia, spent their Vein?
Not one rich Genius left that can sustain
Th' expensive Task of Marlbro's last Campaign?
[...]uin'd by Conquests do they pray for Peace,
That the hard Taxes on the Muse may cease?
Then, Artist, who dost Nature's Face express
[...] Silk and Gold, and Scenes of Action dress;
[...]ost figur'd Arras animated leave,
[...]pin a bright Story, or a Passion weave;
By mingling Threads canst mingle Shade and Light,
Delineate Triumphs, or describe a Fight;
[...]o thou relate the Hero's Toil, record
The Train of new Events, that crown'd his hardy Sword.
Since Thou wilt some Illustrious Patron need,
[...]ANN propitious Smile, Thou must succeed:
Her High Command inspir'd with Martial Flame
The Warrior's Breast. She by her pow'rful Name
[...]repar'd half-beaten Foes to yield the Day,
And for advancing Vict'rys made the Way.
Belgiam attend; and from thy noble Loom
[...]et the Great Chief August in Triumph come:
[...]or Blenheim's lofty Walls the Work design,
[...]n every Piece let Art and Labour shine;
[...]et Glorious Deeds the Briton's Palace crown,
Not those of antient Heroes, but his own;
[...] the bright Series of his Story show
What Albion, what Mankind to Marlbro' owe.
I only rude Materials can suggest,
[...]ome by thy Art too hard to be exprest;
Chuse what is proper, and neglect the rest.
[...]f thou with Care, and that thy Genius may
[...]mprove these Hints, refine this crude Essay;
[Page 4]Thou may'st Illustrious lasting Scenes contrive,
At least the Work will by its Subject live.
Let the first Labour on this lofty Theme
Express the Chief on Scalda's wondring Stream:
From him that Flood immortal Fame derives,
Rivals the Danube, and with Dola strives.
Describe his Steed, not patient of the Rein,
Champing his Foam, and bounding on the Plain;
Arch his high Neck, and graceful spread his Mane.
Give ample Nostrils breathing inbred Fire,
Eyes that confess the generous Mare and Sire:
Such Life and Pride, as in the Race appear,
Which Great Arabian Lords, and Persian Monarchs bear.
But with their chief Delight our Eyes to feed,
Mount the brave Leader on his manag'd Steed.
Give him a noble Seat, a Martial Mein,
Scornful of Danger. and in Arms serene:
Let his Right Hand his Sword vindictive sway,
Grasp'd with vast Strength, and spreading dreadful Day,
By which the Tyrant Monsters are subdu'd,
Who surfeited with Spoil, and riotous in Blood,
Oppression's howling Wilderness defend,
And Desolation's empty Realms extend.
The Looks of Justice to the Warrior give,
Where Wrath and Mercy for Dominion strive.
Intrepide Ardour well to Gallia known,
A Courtier Hero's Grace the mighty Briton's own.
When you express the Leader's Face and Eyes,
Studious with daring Labour to surprize,
Cou'd you with inwrought Glory charm the Sight,
And interwoven Threads of labour'd Light,
You might succeed, and do the Conqueror Right.
Let Fame and Vict'ry, in inferior Sky,
Hover with balanc'd Wings, and smiling fly,
Above his Head, and on his Function wait,
Assiduous to pronounce Europa's Fate.
On adverse Banks of Scalda's Silver Tide,
Delineate Gallia's Military Pride;
[Page 5] [...]xpress the Cohorts cov'ring all the Plain,
[...]hick as the Waves that spread the troubled Main.
[...]how them advancing swift to Gaula's Walls,
Where Lesia's Current into Scalda falls:
[...]ill Marlbro's Marches did their Speed out do,
[...]nd stopt their Progress, to sustain the Foe.
[...] when a Stag, the Glory of the Wood,
[...]f beautous Limbs, and branching Antlets proud,
[...]ears the shrill Horn, and hallowing Huntsman's Crys,
[...]ing thro the Forest, and embroil the Skys;
[...]e in experienc'd airy Feet secure,
[...]stens and mocks the Foe's collected Pow'r.
[...]he Noise augments; then fleeter than the Wind
[...] flys, and leaves the clamorous Bland behind:
[...]ll spent, he stands at Bay, he turns his Face,
[...]nd to a Fight decrees to change the Chace;
[...]etermined he expects th' invading War,
[...]eluctant stays, and combates from Despair.
O Belgian, work a Piece by this Cartone,
[...]nd be this Picture by thy Art out done.
[...] confluent Nations spread a spacious Loom,
[...]nd give the mighty Host sufficient room;
[...]here more Brigades form each extended Wing,
[...]an Eastern Monarchs to the Combate bring:
[...]ow the wide Van, th' unmeasurable Rear,
[...]moderate Terror, and exuberant War.
[...]re let the Flow'r and Strength of Spain advance,
[...] there the Belgian Slaves that courted France.
[...] the Helvian Martial Yout compose
[...] threatning Front, fierce mercenary Foes
[...]ho trade in Blood and Rapine, let the Gaul
[...] to the Rear, a safer Station, fall.
[...]how bow the Chief sprung ardent to the Fight,
Arms refulgent, as Meridian Light;
[...], if the Loom this Labour will allow,
[...] Hero in distinct Compartments show,
[...]porting here his Friends, and breaking there the Foe.
[...] him in every Place surprize the Sight,
[...] dispers'd and multiply'd in Fight:
[Page 6]As if the Leader, watchful to protect
His Squadrons, did Ubiquity affect.
Here let him stand, intrepid and sedate,
Dispensing high Commands, the Messages of Fate:
There let his Arms his reeking Fauchion weild,
Triumph in Slaughter, and pollute the Field
With glorious Spoil, while like the fabled God
Of War, thro thick embattled Deaths he rode:
Let him the Vale with Rout and Ruin fill,
Lik Torrents rushing from an Alpine Hill;
Or a high Wind, that o'er the Desart sweeps,
Lays wast the Woods, and rolls the Sand in Heaps:
Where his destructive Sword the Foe pursu'd,
Express the Lanes the glittring Feller hew'd
Wide, as the Openings in a wasted Wood.
Let Streams of Blood the Victor's Wrath attest,
A Purple Vintage from the Slain exprest.
Show Warriors quiv'ring in the Pangs of Death,
Rolling their Eyes, and gasping out their Breath:
While scatter'd Arms, and Horse and Horsemen slain
And ignominious Medly spread the Plain.
Weave Desolation, let prodigious Wast,
And Tracks of Death mark where the Victor past,
As Conflagrations are by Ruins trac'd.
On a new Scene attentive Care bestow,
A Princely Youth in polish'd Armour show:
Let him advance, and as a Seraph bright,
Ravish at once, and terrify the Sight.
Place him conspicuous midst the hostile Troops,
Hanover's Pride, and Albion's distant Hopes:
Whose early Deeds and blossoming Renown;
To wondring Europe have the Hero shown;
With brave Impatience let him seek the Fight,
Eager of Fame, and trembling with Delight.
As when the Eaglet, whom the Parent trys,
Not us'd to soar, nor conscious of the Skys,
Against the brighest Radiance of the Sun
Mount bold, and makes the genuine Offspring know [...]
[Page 7] [...]o the you Hero's Eyes undazled bear
The Beams of Glory, and the Blaze of War.
Thro glittring Deaths, Storms of exploded Flame,
Ardent aspires to the bright Mark of Fame,
And makes his first Effort his high Descent proclaim.
[...]how how he flew intrepid on the Foe,
[...]lung'd deep amidst the Files, and forc'd hi Passage thro.
[...]ow the great Youth with Veteran Captains vy'd,
What Trophys crown'd a Sword till then untry'd:
[...]o a young Lyon, of his matchless Pow'r
Yet ignorant, but grown for Fight mature,
[...]f he by Chance a shaggy Bear descrys,
Determin'd to the Combate rapide flys;
Lashing his Sides he roars, and from afar,
Thro ecchoing Hills, denounces dreadful War.
An easy Conquest crown his first Campaign;
The Yellow Warrior, Master of the Plain,
Now in his vast discover'd Strength secure,
Wonders, and grieves he prov'd it not before.
Then let Germania's Angel, and his Own,
Each bearing high a Shield and Laurel Crown,
Fly watchful o'er his Head, with one to guard
His Life, with one his Valour to reward.
Artist record, how fair Britannia's Isle,
When first she heard th Youth's adventrous Foil,
Scarce pleas'd with Glory from too daring Fight,
Felt proffer'd Joy suspended by Affright:
While her tall Oaks shake on the Mountain's Brow,
And refluent Streams their Consternation show.
Work a new Piece, describe the Gallic Pow'rs
Quitting the Field to reach Gandava's Tow'rs;
Affright and Horror in their Looks express
Finish'd Confusion, and the last Distress.
Form pale Amazement's undissembled Air,
And the wild Features of extreme Despair:
[...]how how their Gen'rals, to restore the Fight,
Confirm their Legions, and prevent their Flight,
Asham'd, enrag'd and griev', did these upbraid,
Encourage those, some threaten, some persuade.
[Page 8]But how their fruitless Accents beat th Air?
What Words can charm inexorable Fears?
Can Terror listen? Can Distraction hear?
Show how the Gauls disorder'd Cohors fled,
Express their Anguish, an perplexing Dread;
While Horse and Foot strove each to have the Van,
And Chiefs, Companions of the private Man,
Promiscuous Shame, disregimented ran.
So, when incumbent tempests press the Deep,
And rouse the frighted Billows from their Sleep,
The liquid Legions crouding fly so fast,
And shove each other with such headlong hast,
That sometimes they are rid, and sometimes ride,
By turns exalt their Heads, by turns subside,
O'erwhelm each other, and distress the Tide.
The mighty General, whom the Gauls adore,
To Belgia's Plains call'd from Ausonia's Shore,
Gallia's declining Empire to restore,
To teach her Troops new Laurels to acquire,
And in their Breasts rekindle Martial Fire,
Reluctant fled, in adverse Fortune great,
Caught in the Eddy of his Monarch's Fate.
He blam'd the Stars, that on his Conduct frown'd,
And Marlbro, thy Superior Genius own'd.
So a fierce Boar, on Mauritania's Plain,
The Lion's Fury does a while sustain,
Till torn and sunk with vast Expence of Blood,
He quits the Field, and seeks the shelt'ring Wood;
He grinds his Teeth, impatient of Defeat,
Indignant foams, fain wou'd the War repeat,
Looks back and threatens in his four Retreat.
Then show the Conqueror in another Scene,
Protecting with his Arms the brave Eugene;
While he the matchless Strength of Lisle assail'd,
And o'er her haughty Towr'rs with loud applause pre­vail'd
Witness ye six times twenty thousands Gauls,
Who when advanc'd near Lilla's lofty Wals
To face the Foe, were honour'd with the Sight
Of the brave Cohorts, which you felt in Fight:
[Page 9]Witness ye Generals, and ye Princes, proud
Of Veins distended with Imperial Blood,
For your Spectators of the Action stood.
Next let the Chief advance to Scalda's Banks,
To drive th' unactive Gaul, whose warlike Ranks
Spread thick as Locusts, on the adverse Side,
Did in their Guardian Flood, and high-rais'd Works confide.
Tis done; for when their Outgaurds saw from far
The Briton's Arms, and cry'd, for Fight prepare;
The boastful Warrious Hearts inglorious melt,
And struck with his Approach, their well-known Passion felt.
Assur'd no more, while Marlbro's Sword invades,
By Rivers, Lines, and numberless Brigades;
As Terror dictates, they direct their Flight,
Spread all the Plain with Marks of wild Affright,
And ignominuous Rout, but none of Fight,
Let Churchill next his Conquering Cohorts lead,
To save Brussella, fair Brabantia's Head:
To break the united Arms of France and Spain,
And make the Threats of proud Bavaria vain.
Show how the Foe the Scheld's Contagion caught,
Gave cheap Renown, and left the Field unfought:
And how the Boian Prince, enrag'd to find
The Laurels blasted for his Brow design'd,
With troubled Pride, and Anguish in his Eyes,
Chac'd a third time before the Briton flys:
He cu [...]s'd the Victo who his Arms repel'd,
And cruel Fate, that still Success withheld,
But more the Coward and Guardians of the Scheld.
So when a rav'ning Wolf has long patrol'd,
And found at length a Placr to leap the Fold,
He seems already of his Prey possest,
And licks his Jaws preluding to the Feast:
If then the Master Shepherd with his Band
Arrives their brandish'd Weapons in their Hand,
The prowling Robber shuns unequal Fight,
And grins, and growls, and rages in his Flight.
While Gallia's canton'd Troops inglorious rest,
With constant Flights, and long unactive Toil opprest,
[Page 10]O Britain! thy Great Chief his Ease denys,
Patient of Labour and inclement Skys,
Still with new Ardour, to new Conquest flys.
Here fresh Materials for the Loom prepare,
And weave a cold white Winter-Piece of War.
Ev'n then a Bloom of spreading Glory show
And verdant Laurels forc'd from Beds of Snow.
Confed'rate Pow'rs of Flandria, Gallia, Spain,
A numerous Army destin'd to sustain
Th' Invading Foe, did Ganda's Walls maintain.
Much in their Lines, and in the River's Tide,
Much in their Chiefs and Numbers they confide,
But more they trusted to th' intemperate Air,
And growing Rigour of th' expiring Year:
They hop'd that Tempests, arm'd with Snow and Sleet,
Winds, that from Hyperborean Mountains beat
With furious Wings the bleak untrodden Plain,
And Chrystal Desarts of the frocen Main,
That all the embattled Meteors wou'd conspire
To charge and force the Briton to retire.
In vain — ev'n then the Hero undismay'd,
Advanc'd his Ensigns, and his wrath display'd:
Against perfidious Ghent his Batt'ry rear'd,
And Winter-Thunder for her Walls prepar'd,
The Gallic Generals saw, and Marlbro's Arms rever'd
To pay due Honour to their Royal Head
Burgundia's Lord, they in his Footsteps tread,
Of Gallic Blood Effusion to decline,
Yeild without Combate, and the Town resign.
How Marlbro's Deeds ring thro the Belgian Skys!
How swift their Terror propagated flys!
How soon it reach'd the listning Towns around!
How Bruges Turrots trembled at the Sound!
How frighted, how amaz'd her Warriors stood,
Their Sinews slacken'd, and congeal'd their Blood!
Show, Artist, how their Cohorts, wing'd with Fear,
Fled from the Foe, e'er yet he did appear.
Thus Churchill sends abroad a conquering Name,
And wounds at distance by his missive Fame.
[Page 11]So oft whem Storms from Barbary's Sun-burnt Soil,
Advance impetuous, and the Deep embroil,
The flying Waves th' Infection swift convey,
And with their pannic Dread distract Hesperia's Sea,
Which rolls and works beneath a Sky serene,
Disturb'd by VVinds unheard, and wrathful Clouds unseen.
Then show how Burga's Counsellers, of State,
And Lords deputed, on the Briton wait,
To make their low Submission, and implore
His Mercy to protect them from his Pow'r.
The Hero's Triumphs equal thus appear,
Crowning alike each Season of the Year;
Ev'n Winter's self, whose frozen hoary Head
Was ne'er before with Martial Honours spread,
For want of Deeds Illustrious can't complain,
Sharing the Glory of this Great Campaign.
An Arch of Triumph in another Piece,
Artist, contrive, like those of Rome or Greece.
VVhat Master-Sculptors from in Basse Relieve,
Do thou in bold expressive Figures weave.
Let Horsemen first in long Procession bear
Unnumber'd Ensigns, high display'd in Air,
The Glorious Trophys of successful VVar:
Bavaria's Standards, Emblems of the Fall
Of Neighbour Power's that aid the faithless Gaul;
False Flandria's Colours and Castilia's Pride,
And with thy VVarriors Blood, vain King, thy Lillys dy'd.
Next let the Train that bear the Spoils of France,
Augment the Triumph, and in Turn advance;
Describe them lab'ring with th' unweildy Prize,
Their tortur'd Sinews, and their starting Eyes:
Let them beneath their rich Oppression bow,
And seem to groan and stagger as they go.
Shew how the Throng with Hands upheld adore
Justice Divine, that has, by ANNA's Pow'r,
Compel'd the Gaul his Rapine to restore:
That has aveng'd the injur'd Realms around,
Restrain'd licentious Might, and proud Ambition bound.
[Page 12]In a high Car the laurel'd Victor place,
Drawn by the noblest steeds of Belgick Race:
Thro deep applauding Crowds on either side
Sublime, yet unelated, let him ride.
The seraph Chiefs such Moderation shew'd,
When to the Gates of Hell their Host pursu'd
The Rebel powers, and thro th' unlightsom way
Return'd in Triumph to the Coasts of day.
Of various Nations let a confluent Throng
Hang on his Wheels, as slow they roll along:
Let them, like crouding Waves, each other press,
And strain their eager Eyes to see and bless.
Add to the Martial Pomp an endless Train
Of Warrior Slaves that drag the Conqueror's Chain.
Let Lords and Chiefs, impatient of disgrace,
With haughty Grief and melancholy Pace,
With scornful, sullen shame their Fetters wear,
And pant amidst the Croud behind the Hero's Car.
Let high Augusta's Sons transported meet,
And with loud Joy th' advancing Victor greet;
And let her Speaker, for Superior Sense
Renown'd, as well as Charming Eloquence,
A while the Progress of the Triumph stay,
While he Augusta's Thanks does to the Conqu'ror pay.
Then let the Bards in humble manner stand,
With Distichs, Sonnets, Prologues in their Hand,
In Marlbro's Praise: 'Tis all, alas! we know
That from their duty exhausted Springs can flow.
Let all the Pomp of Decoration grace
The high Pillasters, and the Structure's Face;
Let curious Motto's, Hieroglyphic Art,
And mystic Emblems shine on every Part.
Here Liberty in all her Heav'nly Charms,
With her gay Offspring plenty in her Arms,
With humble Gesture, and a chearful Grace,
May Homage pay, and Marlbro's Feet embrace;
Who broke her Chains, restor'd her Rights Divine,
And in her native Beautys bid her shine.
[Page 13]There, to extend the Briton's just Renown,
Show dungeons open'd, prisons broken down,
Fetters and Chains in heaps neglected thrown:
Which late tormented Slaves and Captives wore,
But, O auspious Day! shall wear no more.
Let shouting Throngs of these late rescu'd Slaves,
Frequent as sailing Clouds, or rolling VVaves;
With Flow'rs and verdant Branches spread his Road,
And prostrate kiss the Ground their brave deliv'rer trod
Then raise in Piles the Gibbet, Rack and VVheel,
And all the Tortures wrought of Cord or steell;
Plenty of death, and Luxury of Pain,
VVhich Master Tyrants from their fertile Brain,
And curst Projectors of destruction find,
Curious in Torment to afflict Mankind.
Let these congested Engines, set on fire
By Marlbro's generous Hand, in Flames aspire:
Let them as Fires of publick Joy arise,
VVith their applauded ruin fill the Skys,
To heav'n and Liberty a grateful Sacrifice.
Attempt another noble work, and raise
A lofty Column to the Hero's Praise.
VVhat tho Augusta's Sons, who still reveal
In Liberty's defence an ardent Zeal,
Studious of Truth and Justice, ne'er adore
Thy Alters, Rome, nor, Gaul, thy lawless Pow'r,
Shou'd, as they ought, a stately Pillar rear,
That may the Victor's weight of Glory bear;
Be this allow'd, do thou thy Task pursue:
For shou'd not all the Arts conspire to shew
To the great Briton's Deeds the Honours due?
Then with the sculptor and the Architect,
Artist, contend, and the proud Pile erect.
VVith Marlbro's wondrous story fill the space
Between the Spires, which the high Column grace,
Ascending to the summit from the Base.
Be first his swit and glorious Course exprest,
VVhen he from Belgia's Regions to the East
[Page 14]Transfer'd the hardy War, did bold advance
To whelm the Danube o'ere the pride of France:
Thro distant Empires to extend the Fame
Of Albion's Arms, and ANNA's awful Name.
Immortal Deeds at Schelenbrug display;
The Miracles of Blenheim's Glorious day,
Down all the Ebb of Time to Men unborn convey.
Next shew the Hero on Ramillia's plain,
His deathless Laurels, and th' Illustrious Train
Of fam'd Events, which crown'd that Great Campaign.
The Wonders done at Oudenard repeat,
The Briton's Triumphs, and the Gaul's defeat;
The matchless Conduct and the hardy Toil,
That wrested from the Foe his darling Lisle;
The Honour won in passing Scalda's Flood,
Brussella sav'd, and Ganda's Tow'rs subdu'd.
The Angle of the Pedestal you'l grace
With Figures proper to adorn each place;
Chuse of the following which shall please you best,
If by the Loom all cannot be exprest,
Chain'd Tyranny expose, delineate well
The odious Features of this Fiend of Hell.
To form a Figure, horrible to Sight,
All Scythia's Terrors Lybia's plagues unite,
A dreadful Combination of Affright.
Give to her Eyes a red malignant Glare,
And let the Monster's threefold Head for Hair,
The Ornament of Fiends, long curling Vipers, wear.
Let them enrag'd their crested Necks erect,
And forked Deaths with cloven Tongues eject,
The Poets, who in Arms their Pallas drest,
Had in their Fiction greater Art exprest;
If in her fatal Schield they had display'd
Fierce Tyranny's, and not the Gorgon's Head.
Give her the surest VVeapons to destroy,
VVhich salvage Beasts, and rav'ning Birds imploy:
The dragon's Teeth, the Alligator's Jaws,
The Eagle's pounces, and the Lion's paws;
[Page 15]Distend her hedious Belly with a Load
Of Limbs devour'd, and Seas of guiltless Blood.
On the next Corner, with ingenious pains,
Show vanquish'd Envy bound with brazen Chains;
Let her lean Face infernal Features wear,
A spleenful Aspect, and a scornful Air:
With its last dregs let a black Jaundice taint
Her hateful Skin, and loathsom Visage paint.
Make her fietce Eyes, like livid Flames of Hell,
Burn bloodshot in their urns, and backward dwell,
Deep in their Caves, like Furys in their Cell.
Let her, with endless self-tormenting Care,
Gnaw her own Heart, and her own Bowels tear:
Show how her Jaws her meagre Limbs devour,
Green Floods of Hemlock, Gall and VVormwood pour
Down her wide Throat, to poison every Vein,
Inflame her Bosom, and distract her Brain.
Show with what Rage the Captive Fury views
The spreading Laurels on the Victor's Brows;
VVhile she, as pale and hideous as despair,
Gnashes her Teeth, and grasps her snaky Hair.
Next on the Base, dissimulation bind,
A mild and courteous, but an odious Fiend;
VVo labours most to win us to believe
Her Vows unfeign'd when most she wou'd deceive.
Give her a plain and unaffected Air,
VVell imitated Truth, and Eyes sincere,
[...]nd dropping here and there a faithless Tear.
Express her artful smiles, that hide the Art,
[...] Friendly manner that ensnares the Heart.
[...]n her Right Hand a Monarch's Scepter place,
And her long Robe of State with Lillys grace;
Torn Treatys interweave, and solemn Leagues
Broke, or eluded by refin'd Intrigues:
[...]he mocks the Faith that once did Princes bind,
As the base Vertue of a Vulgar Mind:
Masks with her sacred Vows deliberate Fraud,
And to attest her Guilt dares invocate her God.
[Page 16]Express Ambition next in Fetters bound,
Sunk from her tow'ring height, and grov'ling on the Ground [...]
Let thwarted pride sit sullen on her Brow,
And Indignation in her Eyeballs glow.
Let anxious Looks her inward Care atttest,
And prove that deep designs are lab'ring in her Breast;
That warring Passions strive within for vent,
Cruel Revenge, and haughty discontent:
Passions, that still the Fury wakeful keep,
As turbulent as VVinds, and restless as the deep.
In some fit place let pleas'd Spactators see
The Marks of blasted pomp, and ruin'd Dignity:
Rich purple Robes polluted, broken Crowns,
Fragments of Scepters, and subverted Thrones;
Sad VVrecks of Pow'r, which on th' Aspiring wait
In troubled Empires, and in Storms of State.
Her adverse Fate reluctant let her bear,
Her Fetters spurn, her Limbs in Anguish tear:
Shew how she raves to find her pomp depress'd,
Her Foes exalted, and her Frinds distress'd;
That she compel'd must Spoils immense restore,
Acquir'd by fraud, or grasp'd by greedy power;
Contract her Fronter, and her Slaves release,
And beg the Conqueror to prescribe a Peace.
DAPHNIS: OR, A Paſto …

DAPHNIS: OR, A Pastoral Elegy Upon the Unfortunate DEATH OF Mr. THOMAS CREECH. WITH A POEM ON The Despairing Lover, and The Despairing Shepherd.

LONDON: [...]rinted and Sold by H. Hills, in Black-Fryars, near the Water-side, 1709.

Daphnis, &c.

THE Rosie Morning with prevailing Light
Had now dispell'd the humid Shades of Night,
[...]nd smiling Phaebus spread his Thirsty Beams
[...]o drink the Dew, and tast the Silver Streams:
When on a rising Mountain's fragrant Side
[...] Flora deck'd in all her gawdy Pride;
[...]he mourning Shepherd, young Alexis lay,
[...]ck'ning at Light, and weary of the Day:
[...]n conscious Heav'n he fix'd his weeping Eyes,
[...] if he sought his Daphnis in the Skies.
[...]aphnis, who from the Earth was lately fled;
[...]aphnis, (he living) lov'd and mourn'd for Daphnis dead.
[...]hen Generous Fortune kindly brought that way
[...] Thyrsis to assist the pensive Boy,
[...]o be the kind Companion of his Woe;
[...]hat both their Tears might in one Current flow:
[...]hus then the Youth began a doleful Strain,
[...]nd thus bespoke the Sympathizing Swain.
Ah Thyrsis! hast thou heard the dismal Tale?
[...]ow Daphnis dy'd in yonder Gloomy Vale!
[...], could'st thou think that he, whose Verse could move
Rock to Pity, or a Stone to Love:
[...]ho could, like Ovid, tend'rest Thoughts instill
[...]ould fall a Victim to a Woman's Will?
[Page 4]
Yes, Shepherd, yes; the Story is too true!
Look, how the Groves have chang'd their verdant Hue!
The wither'd Leaves he scatter'd all around,
And blasted Flow'rs disgrace the Sacred Ground.
Yes, he is dead! the poor unhappy Swain,
Lov'd beauteous LALAGE, but lov'd in vain;
Fantastick, proud, and conscious of her Charms,
She scorn'd his Love, and fled his wishing Arms.
Nought cou'd prevail, tho' all Love's Arts he try'd:
She sacrific'd the Shepherd to her Pride.
Ungentle Nymph, to thee we owe his Death,
'Twas LALAGE that rob'd poor Daphnis of his Breath
Ah cruel Nymph! we've lost the learned'st Swa [...]
That ever sung on our Arcadia's Plain:
What sprightly Thoughts, what Joy did he inspire!
When with such Art he touch'd the Roman Lyre?
What tender Pity did our Souls invade,
When he bewail'd the Royal Grecian Maid?
How well his Muse the Fatal Story told,
When she the poor Lucretia's Fate condol'd?
When Daphnis Sung, how did our Groves rejoyce,
And Grotto's Eccho to his charming Voice?
How slow did silent Ousa roll along,
When Daphnis taught us great Lucretia's Song?
Where wand'ring Atoms in Confusion hurl'd,
Agreed by Chance, and so compos'd a World.
Whilst Nervous Numbers with harmonious Feet,
In such a soft, and tuneful Cadence meet;
As (to his lasting Honour) fully prove
Chance could not in such Beauteous Order move.
Then, Cruel Nymph, how could thy Pride refuse
So soft a Lover and so sweet a Muse?
Had'st thou but yielded to our Daphnis Love,
On every Green, in every blooming Grove,
The Nymphs and Swains had blest thy happy Name,
And LALAGE, and Daphnis fill'd the Mouth of Fam [...]
But now both Nymphs, and Swains unite their Breath,
To Curse thy Scorn, and mourn the Shepherd's Death:
[Page 5]Whose Shade now wand'ring in the pensive Grove,
[...]till, still complains of LALAGE, and Love.
Daphnis farewel, farewel unhappy Swain!
May'st thou in Lethe's Lake forget thy Pain,
[...]nd in Oblivion sleep, till thou no more
Remember what thou did'st, or what thou wert before.
See yonder Sheep, how ragged now and bare,
[...] happy Flock, whilst they were Daphnis Care,
[...]ut now they mope, and straggling o'er the Plain
Lament all Day, and mourn their absent Swain:
No more they Joy to crop the tender Buds,
Nor seek at Noon cool Springs, and shady Woods.
[...]n neither Sun, nor Shade, they now delight,
Nor dread the Foxes, or the Wolves by Night.
Here pin'd to Death, a harmless Lambkin lies,
[...]nd there for Grief his bleating Mother dies:
[...]s if she did with her departing Breath
[...]nvoke just Heaven t'avenge her Master's Death.
And Pan will sure revenge the Shepherd's Fate
[...]ltho' perhaps his Vengeance comes but late.
Last Night returning home, in yonder Grove,
Where we were us'd to sing and talk of Love,
[...] heard great Pan, and all the Sylvan Train
Of Daphnis Love, and Daphnis Death complain.
The weeping Heav'ns a Shower of Tears distill'd,
And all the Woods were with loud Sorrow fill'd.
Whilst mournful Ecchoes all their Sighs rebound,
Wishing they had been something more than Sound.
Pan most of all the Shepherd's Death deplor'd,
He Daphnis lov'd, and Daphnis him ador'd.
Oh (my dear Boy) he cry'd, why would'st thou dar [...]
To view a Face so tempting, and so Fair?
Why, why didst thou indulge the secret Fire?
Ah! why would'st thou admit the [...]ond Desire,
And hope th' imperious LALAGE to move?
Why didst thou die? (alas!) why didst thou Love?
But 'tis in vain to ask; 'twas so decreed,
So I coy Syrinx chas'd, and caught a trembling Reed.
[Page 6]Fair Fatal Sex! who can our Souls surprize
With tender Looks, and soft bewitching Eyes,
Were you but half as pitiful and kind,
The God of Love had not been counted blind.
On you we Gaze, and feel a pleasing Pain
Steal to our Hearts, and glide thro' every Vein.
Till drunk with Love our Weakness we betray;
And die, if you refuse to yield the Joy!
More had he spoke; but Words began to fail,
And breathless Ecchoes murmur'd in the Vale;
Convulsive Sorrow swell'd his throbbing Breast,
Adieu! adieu! he cry'd, and sigh'd the rest.
But say what Chance, what luckless Fortune die
The scornful Virgin to the Shepherd's View?
Where did his fatal Passion first begin?
Ah! Where was she by wretched Daphnis seen?
Beneath a Shade to shun the Heat of Day,
On Ousa's flow'ry Banks our Daphnis lay;
Whilst his glad Flocks around their Master feed,
Charm'd with the Musick of his Voice, and Reed:
Of Chaos first he sung, and boundless Space,
Before the Birth of Matter, Time, or Place:
Before Old Night had felt the piercing Ray
Of Light, and yielding to invading Day.
Then, how the wondrous Universe began,
What Order thro' the new-made Structure ran?
The Birth of Nature, and the Birth of Man.
Then chang'd his Subject, and in softer Strains
Discover'd Grecian Loves, to British Swains.
Whilst LALAGE from an adjacent Glade,
(Where trembling Boughs compos'd a moving Shade)
With Pleasure listen'd to his warbling Airs,
And drunk the pleasing Tales with greedy Ears:
Then o'er the Lawns she trips with nimble Feet
To know who 'twas sung so divinely Sweet;
And as she pass'd along, th' impatient Maid
With curious Eyes each secret Place survey'd,
[Page 7]Still following Eccho as a faithful Guide,
Till she at distance had the Shepherd spy'd:
Ah happy Swain!
Hadst thou but fled from that unhappy Place,
And never seen her fair enchanting Face,
Thou yet hadst been the Lord of all our Plains,
And we yet heard thy soft harmonious Strains.
But Daphnis to his Fate with Pleasure run,
He saw the Nymph, he lov'd, and was undone.
With haughty Looks, and a disdainful Mien
Apace she walk'd, and cross'd the shaded Green;
The Shepherd view'd her as she pass'd along,
Drop'd down his Reed, and strait forgot his Song,
With wishing Eyes he gaz'd upon her Charms,
And wou'd have dy'd t' have dy'd within her Arms;
Deep Draughts of Love he drunk, and strong Desire,
His Breast, like Aetna, glow'd with inward Fire;
Which when the Nymph perceiv'd, more proud and coy
She look'd, and smil'd with a malicious Joy.
Nor could he since the cruel Tyrant move
(Obdurate Maid) to Pity or to Love.
The sad, the direful Passion still increas'd,
Ten Thousand raging Thoughts distract his Breast.
His Flock and darling Muse no longer were
His dear Delight, his Pleasure, and his Care;
The Nymph, the Nymph, he thinks of nought but her.
But hapless Youth!—
The more he lov'd, the more she scorn'd his Flame,
And seem'd to hate both Love and Daphnis Name.
Then from our Groves to yonder Wood he flies,
(Strange Power of Love!) and there despairing dies.
The last time I the wretched Swain beheld,
Was on a Sunny Bank in Aegon's Field;
All Fire himself, he minded not to shun
The Heat of Day, or fly the scorching Sun,
Wildly he star'd, his Face look'd pale, and wan,
He sigh'd and languish'd like a dying Man.
[Page 8]When to him thus I spoke—
Uhappy Youth!—and can there be no Cure,
What Tortures dost thou feel, what Pains endure?
Whilst by a cruel unrelenting Maid,
Thou art to Misery, and Death betray'd.
Ah, canst thou not forget her fatal Charms,
And take some kinder Beauty to thy Arms?
Return, return to our abandon'd Grove;
And there thou may'st be happy in thy Love.
For thee in amorous Fires Lycoris burns,
For thee the lovely Galatea mourns.
Wer't thou from this inglorious Bondage free,
A Thousand Blessings wait to fall on thee.
The Jolly Troops that us'd to hear thy Lays,
And crown thy Brows with Wreaths of verdant Bays:
In Sighs and Tears of thy hard Fate complain,
Begging kind Heav'n to break the subtle Chain
Which holds thy Heart; and thy sweet Muse restore;
That thou may'st charm them as thou didst before.
Thy scatter'd Flocks too o'er the Forests roam,
Wanting their Shepherd to compel them home.
Rise then, dear Daphnis, give this Fondness o'er,
And think of cruel LALAGE no more.
Thus I—and thus reply'd the sighing Swain,
Ah Thyrsis, if thou would'st remove my Pain,
Give me my Love, so I may sooth my Grief,
Forget my Cares, and grow more fond of Life▪
For tho' so proud, disdainful, and unkind,
Without her I can hope no Peace to find;
My wand'ring Thoughts her Form do's still pursue,
And still my Soul has LALAGE in view.
Ah savage Fair! would'st thou this Bounty give,
(For since thou wilt not Love, I cannot Live)
Would'st thou but deign to close my trembling Eyes,
Or drop a Tear or two, as Daphnis dies:
With Joy, I'd meet the cold Embrace of Death,
And bless my Charmer with my latest Breath.
[Page 9]Didst thou but Rage with such a fierce Desire,
I'd rush thro' foaming Seas, and Storms of Fire,
[...]ttempt the greatest Dangers, and not grieve
To part with Life, so LALAGE might Live.
But thou malicious Fair one, with Disdain!
Laughs at my Grief, and smiling mock'st my Pain.
Be gone ye Quacks, your Arts no longer boast,
[...]n spight of all your Med'cines I am lost;
Be gone ye Cheats, who with vain Charms pretend
To make departed Shades again ascend:
Be gone ye Zealots, who at Altars bow;
The Gods are deaf, and cannot hear you now.
[...] rave, I rage, I burn, oh! let me fly
To some dark desart Place, and there I'll die.
Thus spoke the Swain, and acted as he said,
Raving to yonder gloomy Wood he fled.
Where, for a while, with piercing Sighs and Groans
He fills the Shades, and his dire Fate bemoans;
Repeating still the cruel Charmer's Name,
And on each Tree records his hapless Flame.
Till quite o'erwhelm'd with Woe and drown'd in Grief,
He thus gave up the sad remains of Life.
Farewel ye Swains! to Death's dark Courts I go
To mourn amongst the weeping Shades below.
Farewel ye Streams, and conscious Groves, he cry'd:
So did the dreadful Work of Fate, and dy'd.
Unhappy Youth! What could the Fates design
To bless the World with such a Muse as thine,
Yet suffer Death to ravish her away,
[...]'er she could half her smiling Charms display?
What Star, what baleful Planet rul'd thy Birth?
[...]hedding malignant Rays upon the Earth,
That thou should'st die amidst thy Vernal Bloom,
[...]efore thy Muse had brought her Harvest home!
But 'twas a dismal, sad, untimely Death
That robb'd so soon the Shepherd of his Breath.
Thus blooming Trees are nipt with killing Frost,
Thus budding Flow'rs harsh Mildews often blast.
[Page 10]Hadst thou surviv'd, what Wonders had we seen!
What list'ning Crouds had throng'd each Grove and Green
Upon thy Voice the Nymphs and Swains had hung,
As when before great Tyt'rus sweetly sung.
But Tytyrus is gone, and Daphnis fled,
And all our Hopes are with the Shepherds, dead.
Farewel dear Youth, so fast my Tears do flow,
That Words are wanting to express my Woe.
As Hebrus stop'd for Grief his golden Side,
When on its Banks the tuneful Orpheus dy'd;
So do our Groves, and Rivers seem to mourn,
In silent Sorrow, for their Swains return.
But thou can'st ne'er return—
For thou hast cross'd th' irreameable Lake,
And Chaeron's Boat comes always empty back.
Here did the Swains their mournful Theme give o'er,
Sighs stop'd their Words, and they could speak no more.

THE Despairing Lover.

WIth inauspicious Love a wretched Swain
Pursu'd the fairest Nymph of all the Plain;
Fairest indeed, but prouder far than fair,
[...]he plung'd him hopeless in a deep Despair:
Her Heavenly Form too haughtily she priz'd,
His Person hated, and his Gifts despis'd:
Nor knew the Force of Cupid's cruel Darts,
Nor fear'd his awful Pow'r on humane Hearts;
But either from her hopeless Lover fled,
Or with disdainful Glances shot him dead.
No Kiss, no Look, to cheer the drooping Boy:
No Word she spoke, she scorn'd ev'n to deny.
But as a hunted Panther casts about
Her glaring Eyes, and pricks her list'ning Ears to scour,
[...]o she, to shun his Toils, her Cares imploy'd,
And fiercely in her savage Freedom joy'd.
Her Mouth she writh'd, her Forehead taught to frown,
Her Eyes to sparkle fires to Love unknown:
Her sallow Cheeks her envious Mind did show,
[...]nd every Feature spoke aloud the Curstness of a Shrew.
Yet cou'd not he his obvious Fate escape,
His Love still dress'd her in a pleasing Shape:
[...]nd every sullen Frown, and bitter Scorn
But fann'd the Fuel that too fast did burn.
Long time, unequal to his mighty Pain,
He strove to curb it, but he strove in vain:
[Page 12]At last his Woes broke out, and begg'd Relief
With Tears, the dumb Petitioners of Grief.
With Tears so tender, as adorn'd his Love;
And any Heart, but only hers wou'd move:
Trembling before her bolted Doors he stood;
And there pour'd out th' uprofitable Flood:
Staring his Eyes, and haggard was his Look;
Then kissing first the Threshold, thus he spoke.
Ah Nymph! more cruel than of humane Race,
Thy Tygress Heart belies thy Angel Face:
Too well thou show'st thy Pedigree from Stone;
Thy Grandames was the first by Pyrrha thrown:
Wnworthy thou to be so long desir'd;
But so my Love, and so my Fate requir'd,
I beg not now (for 'tis in vain) to live;
But take this Gift, the last that I can give.
This friendly Cord shall soon decide the Strife,
Betwixt my ling'ring Love and loathsome Life;
This Moment puts an end to all my Pain;
I shall no more despair, nor thou disdain.
Farewel Ungrateful and Unkind, I go
Condemn'd by thee to those sad Shades below.
I go th' extreamest Remedy to prove,
To drink Oblivion, and to drench my Love.
There happily to lose my long Desires:
But ah, what Draught so deep to quench my Fires!
Farewel ye never opening Gates, ye Stones
And Threshold guilty of my Midnight Moans;
What I have suffer'd here you know too well;
What I shall do the Gods and I can tell.
The Rose is fragrant, but it fades in time,
The Violet sweet, but quickly past the Prime;
White Lillies hang their Heads and soon decay,
And whiter Snow in Minutes melts away:
Such is your blooming Youth, and withering so;
The time will come, it will, when you shall know
[Page 13]The Rage of Love; your haughty Heart shall burn
In Flames like mine, and meet a like return.
Obdurate as you are, oh, hear at least
My dying Prayers, and grant my last Request!
When first you ope your Doors, and passing by
The sad ill Omend Object meets your Eye,
Think it not lost, a Moment if you stay;
The breathless Wretch, so made by you, survey:
Some cruel Pleasure will from thence arise,
To view the mighty ravage of your Eyes.
I wish, (but Oh! my Wish is vain, I fear,)
The kind Oblation of a falling Tear:
Then loose the Knot, and take me from the place,
And spread your Mantle o'er my grizly Face;
Upon my livid Lips bestow a Kiss:
O envy not the dead, they feel not Bliss!
Nor fear your Kisses can restore my Breath;
Even you are not more pitiless than Death.
Then for my Corps a homely Grave provide,
Which Love and me from publick Scorn may hide.
Thrice call upon my Name, thrice beat your Breast,
And hail me thrice to everlasting Rest:
Last let my Tomb this sad Inscription bear,
A Wretch whom Love has kill'd lies buried here;
Oh, Passengers, Aminta's Eye's beware.
Thus having said, and furious with his Love;
He heav'd with more than humane Force, to m [...]e
A weighty Stone, (the Labour of a Team,)
And rais'd from thence he reach'd the Neighbouring Beam▪
Around its Bulk a sliding Knot he throws;
And fitted to his Neck the fatal Noose:
Then spurning backward took a Swing, till Death
Crept up, and stopt the passage of his Breath.
The Bounce burst ope the Door; the Scornful Fair
Relentless lookt, and saw him beat his quivering Feet in Air.
Nor wept his Fate, nor cast a pitying Eye,
Nor took him down, but brusht regardless by:
[Page 14]And as she pass'd, her Chance or Fate was such,
Her Garments touch'd the Dead, polluted by the touch.
Next to the Dance, thence to the Bath did move;
The Bath was sacred to the God of Love:
Whose injur'd Image, with a wrathful Eye,
Stood threat'ning from a Pedestal on high:
Nodding a while; and watching of his Blow,
He fell; and falling crush'd th' ungrateful Nymph below:
Her gushing Blood the Pavement all besmear'd;
And this her last expiring Voice was heard;
Lovers farewel, Revenge has reach'd my Scorn;
Thus warn'd, be wise, and Love for Love return.

THE Despairing Shepherd.

ALEXIS shun'd his Fellow Swains,
Their rural Sports, and jocund Strains.
(Heav'n guard us all from Cupid's Bow,)
He lost his Crook, he left his Flocks,
And wand'ring thro' the lonely Rocks,
He nourish'd endless Woe.
The Nymphs and Shepherds round him came,
His Grief some pity, others blame,
The fatal Cause all kindly seek;
He mingled his Concern with theirs,
He gave 'em back their friendly Tears,
He sigh'd, but wou'd not speak.
Clorinda came among the rest,
And she too kind Concern exprest,
And ask'd the Reason of his Woe;
She ask'd but with an Air and Mein
That made it easily foreseen,
She fear'd too much to know.
The Shepherd rais'd his mournful Head,
And will You pardon me, he said,
Wh [...]e I the cruel Truth reveal?
Which nothing from my Breast shou'd tear,
Which never shou'd offend your Ear,
But that You bid me tell.
'Tis thus I rove, 'tis thus complain,
Since You appear'd upon the Plain,
You are the Cause of all my Care;
Your Eyes ten thousand Dangers dart,
Ten thousand Torments vex my Heart,
I love and I despair.
Too much, Alexis, I have heard,
'Tis what I thought, 'tis what I fear'd:
And yet I pardon you, she cry'd;
But you shall promise ne'er again
To breath your Vows, or speak your Pain:
He bow'd, obey'd, and dy'd.

[...]USICA INCANTANS, SIVE POEMA EXPRIMENS Musicae Vires, Juvenem in Insaniam adigentis, ET MƲSICI inde PERICƲLƲM.

[...]thore ROBERTO SOUTH, Art. Bac. nunc S. T. P. & Aedis Christi Canonico.

LONDINI: [...]pis & Impensis H. Hills, in Black-Fryars, propè Thamesin. Pretium 2 d.


Juvenis quidam audita, quam ipse enixe im­petrarat, Harmonia, in Isaniam actus est, & seipsum in Mare Praecipitavit: Citha­raedus Judicio sistitur, accusatur Homi­cidii; ex Musico, tum Orator factus, se­ipsum defendit, & absolvitur.

NON, Ego, Caesareas Acies; non Arma virum (que)
Sed Citharam, Plectrum (que) cano: nec inutile Numen
Invoco in auxilium: me vivus Anhelitus ille,
Quod solet inflari vocalis Tibia, pleno
Inspirat Genio: Sed quae depingere Vocem
Dextra potest, Oculis (que) Eccho signare Videndam?
In sua poscebant antiqui carmina Vates
Centum Ora & Linguas: nos Centum poscimus Aures,
Totque etiam Voces; quis enim laudare Choraulem.
Et Lyricam, poterit, nisi Centum vocibus, artem?
Doctus in Arcadicis vivehat Musicus oris,
Clarus circa urbes, & famae Voce Lyraeque;
Illum laetus Hymen, plausu, juvenumque Chorëis
Vicinâ quondam latè celebratus in urbe,
Cum Lyricis aliis, tanta ad Solennia traxit,
Spe pretii, pariterque dapis; pro more jugales
Ut caneret Ritus: nam quamvis nubere Musa
Ignoret, celebrare tamen Connubia gaudet:
[Page 4]Et si Musa silet, torpent epulaeque Venusque;
Bacchus & ipsa Ceres frigent sine Apolline: festa
Quis meliùs Lyrico celebret Convivia, qui cum
Voce suâ traxisse feras, Volucresque solebat,
Non tantùm Citharâ novit Celebrare, sed ipso
Instaurare etiam potuit Convivia Cantu?
At tandem urgente die, festoque peracto,
Nota reversurus cùm jam per prata rediret,
Elysiis spatians olim velut Orphëus agris,
Incidit in Juvenem, qui post transacta serenus
Tempora coenandi, vicina exibat in arva:
Cui Juvenis (quis enim sua non habet Obvia Fata?)
Inscius occurrit: Venientem agnoscit ab Ore,
Jamque Videre juvat, quia sic Audire placebat:
Heu Miser ignarus nim [...]ùm, quòd noster hic Orpheus
Non tam Saxa trahat Secum, quàm triste Sepulchrum!
At citò colloquio facto, dictâque salute,
Aggreditur Juvenis precibusque, & laude Choraulem,
Et Citharae Vocem, facundâ Voce precatur:
Sollicitè sua damna rogans: pretiumque petenti
Spondet, & oblato sua Fata pasciscitur Auro.
Tum Fidicen, sumptâ Citharâ, trepidantia tentat
Fila manu, plectroque p [...]ù [...] quàm pangere carmen
Incipit, immutat chordas, & in ordini fili
Explorat cujusque sonum, cernitque peritus
Concordare fides quamvis diversa sonantes;
Tam placida, & Concors fuit haec discordia fratrum.
Saepè levi digito dum stringit fila, feritque
Transiliente manu▪ minimè meditatus, & Ultro
Incidit in Cantus, & prodit Nescius artem.
Sic instruxit Ebur, suntque haec proludia cantûs
Artifices testata manus; dum nititur omnes
In Carmen citharae (que) suos (que) intendere Nervos.
Sic postquàm instituit chordas in carminis Usum
[Page 5] [...]ptatas; atque Arte Viam patefecit ad Artem:
[...]tiùs insonuit, vox Crescit & instar Alaudae,
[...]um canit, Exurgit. Digito Chelys icta loquaci
[...]c postquàm sonuit; levâ huic in parte mamillae
[...]or Salit, & peragit Citharâ modulante Choreas:
[...]on aliter, quàm si salienti pollicis ictu
[...]ercuteret Cordis Fibras, vis tanta (que) plectri est,
[...]t valeat Filo captivam ducere mentem.
[...]ùmque animo Juvenis Victo succumberet, uno
Concentu Vicit Fidicen, cecinitque Triumphum.
[...]extra facit cantum, sonus exit ab ungue, videri
Possit ut à digito fluxisse melodia; Vocem
[...]psa manus profert, arguta Vicaria linguae.
Non Aures solùm rapuit vis musica, totum
Sed Juvenem; membro (que) miser mutatur in omni:
Nunc rubuit Vultus, nunc palluit, ut (que) solebat
Vox variare sonos, sic hic Variare colores:
Pes saltar quidem potuit, sed victus abire
Non tulit: in Venis ipsum Saliisse cruorem
Plus solito aspiceres: ita demum quilibet artus,
Si non audire, at poterat Sentire canentem:
Den [...]que sic motus, sic toto est corpore raptus,
Ipso animata putes ut Corporis Organa Cantu.
Anxius intereà, Caeco se Verbere carpi
Miratur, Fidicenque Lyrae quos incutit ictus,
Se sentire putat Juvenis: sic Verbera sentit
Quae non ipse tulit; misera dum Vulnera plectrum
Dat Magico quodam Cantu, parterq, potenti
Ac Medea olim permulcet Carmine mentem.
Multa quidem cantat, quae vel Narrata placerent,
Scilicet imprimis Philomelae flebile fatum,
Et querulam historiam referunt modulantia Fila,
Quam Virgo narravit Acu, nunc furta deorum,
Innumerosque Jovis recinit lascivus amores:
Sed tamen haec Juvenis licèt audiat omnia, solo
[Page 6]Captus Amore lyrae est; & cum divina canuntur
Furta, rapi à Citharâ potius sua pectora credit,
Vimque sibi inferri: quoties hinc fila Choraules
Percutit; hic geminat, maestos (que) reciprocat ictus
Pectora percutiens: sic sensim in corda furorem
Incauta immittit fidicen, mentemque per aures Evocat.
At postq [...]àm citharae vim sic Cantando probâsset,
Ipse simul cantat, pleno & modulantior ore
Naturae pariter Vires conjungit, & Artis.
Vox,, fateor, diversa sonat lyrici (que) lyrae (que)
Sed sonat intereà Juvenis Vox una gementis.
Et quia Conjuncti Cantus Vis fortiùs urget,
Non tulit ulteriùs, sed dum canit ille cruentus,
Concentusque suos citharae Concentibus addit,
Prorumpit subitò rabies: & Musicus ipso
Enecat afflatu, mortemque effundit ab ore.
Ac tanquam in linguâ clausum cantantis inesset
Nescio quid, linguae soleat quod inesse Caninae,
Progignens rabiem, subiti mala causa furoris
Dementat Juvenem; rabiesque infusa per aurem
Invadit Cerebrum, gemini (que) potentia cantus
Obruit invalidas aures: hoc ergo furorem
Intulit, auditâ modulantis voce Choraulis,
Credibile est propriâ saltâsse è sede Cerebrum.
Prodit inassueto jam se dementia gestu,
Huc, illuc oculos rotat, ardet, & indice vultu
Attoniti dat signa animi, cerebro (que) soluto
Excurrunt profugi ruituro è Vertice Sensus.
Saepe caput quassat, tanquam Vestigia cantus,
Quae vel adhuc retinet, quae mente tenaciter haerent,
Ex animo Excuteret: saepe ore, & vertice coelos
Suspicit Erecto, jurans timerarius illuc
Se non venturum, quia dicitur aetheris axis
Circumagi Harmoniâ, & volvi concentibus orbes.
Sic loquitur rabies: celeri mox littora passu
Acer adit, totumque animo jam concipit aequor,
[Page 7] [...]rqüe furit pelagi, turbati & pectoris aestus.
[...]ec fervente freto plùs fluctus spumeus albet,
[...]uàm spuma, huic madido rabies quam fudit ab ore.
[...] jam ferales cùm pervenisset ad Undas,
[...]rtè fuit Refluxus aquae; solitoque relapsu
[...] tulit, & tanquam scelus hoc foret unda preosa,
[...]isa fuit regredi, timidioque recedere fluctu.
Constitit hic Amens, & tali Littora Vultu.
[...]ectat, quali Ajax olim Sigëia vidit.
[...]umq [...]e memor nimiùm, fixam tenet auribus Eccho,
[...]ethes optat Aquas, sed cum contingere Lethen
[...]on datur, aequoreis Oblivia quaerit in undis;
[...]iluat ex animo ut cantus, dentur (que) dolenti,
[...]ltem inter mutos sibi tuta silentia Pisces.
[...]um spectat fluctus, Rabiem, mentisque tumultum
[...]omparat Aequoreo; nunc lata per aequora Demens
[...]e cupit, Curasque animi committere Ventis.
[...]ulta quidem mala Pontus habet; tamen omnia spernit,
[...]um nullas videt hic Citharas: Crescente furore
[...]ox Amens ubi sit nescit; qualique Charybdis
[...] Gyrum rapitur; tali huic Vertigine fertur,
[...]orripiturque Caput, Cerebrumque Natare videtur,
Quamvis nondum ullas, nisi visu, tangeret undas
[...]aepe timet mortem. saepe optat, & Aequoris instar,
Nunc Animus Fluxus peragit, dubios (que) Reflexus.
Haec volvens subitò se mittit in aequora Saltu,
Et minùs insanis demens se mergit in undis.
Hinc praeter Scyllae Rabiem, furor additus alter,
[...]ccessi que mari Rabies, nova: fluctibus haustus
[...]rendet adhuc, ultroque licèt modò fata petebat,
[...]am tamen oppugnat, certatque obsistere morti.
Tandem Vorticibus raptus, victricibus undis
[...]ymphatus cessit: Citharaeque Lyraeque valete
[...]ixit, & acceptum bibulis trahit auribus aequor,
Occludit (que) Oculos verè hâc in morte Natantes.
Haud aliter. memini, facilem cùm durior Eccho
Narcissus fugeret, periturum immerserat Amens
Dilecti se fontis aquis; aequalia fata
Huic quòque contigerant, dulcem furiosior Eccho
Qui fugiens, pariter cecidit fatalibus undis:
Par hic morte fuit, par & novitate furoris,
Et dum prospiceret vitreum moriturus in aequor,
Vel sua Narcissum non plus referebat Imago
Quem sic lethiferis occidit musicus Odi [...],
Credo hujus dirum primis Natalibus omen
Non fauste Cecinistis Aves. In funera Musae
Conspirant; sic Fata Novem ferus armat in Unum.
Verè erat hic Siren, non tam quia Voce sonorus,
Et liquido aequoreos superans modulamine cantus,
Quàm quoniam Harmoniâ, Sirenum more, Furentos
In mare deducat, cantuque impellat in aequor
Alter hic Amphion, nam vites artis uterque
Edidit aequales, nisi quòd tamen ille Ferarum
Mulcebat Rabiem; dedit Hic Cantando Furorem.
Hei mihi! quòd tam dulce melos, plectrum (que) Canoru [...]
Non foret innocuum, nec Ternae sola sororis,
Sad Citharae fuerint etiam Fatalia fila!
Quà non Versatur Lachesis, levis ictus in aurem
Si sit lethalis, valeatque occidere cantus.
Et tenues jugulare soni, si vulneret Eccho!
Quin Arcus igitur, Lyricorum Antistes Apollo,
Projice, si Nervus plus ipso Vulneret Arcu.
Dum cantu occumbunt prostrati; credimus ipsas
Nunc bellare Tubas; nec jam res mira putetur,
Si gallus Superet, solùm cantando, Leonem.
O Vox saeva, necem peragens, & funeris Author!
Quâ non, Harmonici crudelior ipsa Neronis
[Page 9]Vox fuit, & quâ non sonat aptior ulla Tyranno:
Talis erit Fidicen saevus Nero, funebre cantans
Lethiferumque melos, & caede notabile carmen.
Hunc olim Empedocles, si plectro, & voce canentem
Audîsset quamvis jam tum properâsset ad Aetnam;
Fata, necisque modum mutâsset, & igne relicto,
Aetnaeis (que) rogis, ultro periisset in undis.
Si foret hic Pastor, placido (que) Armenta, gregesque
Carmine mulceret, cantuque per avia capras
Cogeret errantes, miri Vi carminis actus,
In freta grex rueret praeceps, pulures (que) videret
Per mare Phryxus Oves, pelagus (que) immane Natantes
Si post Stagnantem lethali gurgite mundum,
Tertius elapsus, communi è Strage superstes
Mansisset Fidicen, Tritonis numine Salvus;
Et tibi Deucalion simili lenire parâsset
Concentu Cutas, etiam ipse immersus in aequor
(Crede mihi,) irrueres, & Te quoque pontus haberet.
Ignis Apollinei qui Vi liquefactus in altos,
Icare, concideras fluctus; velociùs isses
In medium, Citharâ compulsus Apollinis, aequor.
Si Cithara occidat, si fila sonantia praestent
Officium gladii: cùm bella Pelasga reliquit
Sumeret & Lyricum projectâ cuspide plectrum,
Non arma abjecit, verùm Mutavit Achilles.
At jam Fama loquax, quae tam memorabile fatum
Et miras citharae voces, taciturna silere
Non poterat, subito tanquàm Vocalior Eccho
Auditos iterat Cantus: & ut omnia mendax
Aucta refert; sic & pariter cum cantibus auget
Cantantis Crimen; portat (que) ad Judicis aures.
Et jam Causidicus, miserandi in fata paratus
Fortiter Accusat, Vexat, certat (que) ruentem
Harmoniae causam, rauca Subvertere Voce.
Convertens igitur Vultus, ad triste Tribunal,
Concilium rigidum tail Sermone salutat.

Oratio Causidici Fidicinem Accusantis.

'DA veniam (Praeses Reverende) exponere paucis
'Hoc scelus; ante tuas quam Musicus occupat aures.
'Sistimus adductum huc, mirum Citharae (que) Necis (que)
'Artificem, cui non, hominem est Occidere major
'Quam Cantare, labor: sed enim non possumus ultra
'In Terris Sirena pati, monstrum Aequore majus.
'Dulce sonant Citharae, verum Sonat altius illis
'Caedes; nec pariter Cantatis Crimina possunt
'Cum levibus transire Sonis: Se Musicus ipse
'Voce suâ prodit, proprio condemnat & Ore.
'Si Citharae haec vis est; merito discerpitur Orpheus,
'Dignus & Amphion tantum Comes esse Ferarum.
'Quod si sic Volucres cantarent, quilibet esset
'Vultur; Voce sua, non Rostro pectora laedens.
'Sic struit insidias, mortemque Infernus hic Orpheus,
'Atque aufert Juveni mentem: qui protinus Amens
'Aequor amat, veluti quaedam Venus esset in illo,
'Deceptusque Sono, dulces putat aequoris undas.
'Quid faceret Juvenis, quem prensis fata tenebant
'Auribus? audito hoc Cantu, non Daedalus ipse
'Aequora fugisset, nisi Ceram aptâsset ad aures.
'Sic nec Terra satis Sceleri, simul adjicit aequor,
'Et juvenem mergens, ipsa quoque polluit undas
'Dum late Spatians crimen trans aequora currit.
'Sed non ulterius tantum durare sub undis
[Page 11]'Sustinuit facinus, surgit, lucet (que) per ipsas
'Crimen aquas: & justa diu quia poena Cruentum
'Non rapit, ipse fremit Nereus; quoniam (que) moratur
'Vindicta, iratis secum mare murmurat undis.
'Si tamen haec natura lyrae est, ut Musica mergat,
'Cur fuit in medio pelago tam tutus Arion?
'At Tu, si Juvenem misisti invitus in aequor,
'Saltem etiam poteras Cithara Delphina parasse.
'Nulla igitur sonti remanet defensio: Jura
'Exclamant, contra (que) reum juncta omnia Voce
'Justitiam resonant: at (que) haec est Musica Legum
Dixit: at hic tanquam damnato quisque timebat
Pro lyrico; neqne enim quisquam responsa daturum
Crediderat; verùm res haec miranda fuisset.
Musica si taceat, si nil respondeat Eccho
Nec mora, Clamosi Praeconis Voce citatus,
(Quamvis Harmoniam nullam Vox ista ferebat,)
Accedit Fidicen trepidans, timideque labanti
Voce loquens, (tanquam Termor hic quòque Musicus
Artis enim saepe est tremulas effingere Voces;)
Sic prodit, plectrumque humero lethale sinistro
Suspendens, Causam dicit; Vitamque disertus
Quam propè Cantando amisit, Dicendo tuetur.
Hiud secus ac Gracchus, qui cùm suggesta Patronus
Facundus premeret, citharâ post terga Sonanti
Composuit Vocem; plectroque docente, loquelam
Formavit Variam. Tandem ipsa silentia servat
Lex, & Jura tacent: Fidicen dum talia [...]atur

Oratio Fidicinis se defendentis.

DET Misero mihi Voce, precor, Sors mitis Eadem
Qua rapui alterius, propriam defendere Vitam.
At quia nulla unquam revocat Palinodia mortem,
Et pro Demerso lacrymas dare, jure Vocetur
In mare fundere aquas: nulla revocabilis arte
Sit mea Culpa licet, forsan tamen Arte tuenda est.
Et certe cantus morienti impendere, caedem
Non facere est, querula sed deplorare perempti
Exequias Cithara: Verum quia Carminis Author
Phaebus, & Inventor Citharae, pro more sub undis
Fertur, & Hesperium tuto descendit in aequor;
Crediderim quod aquas simili ratione faventes
Harmoniae Dominus, pariter (que) Auditor haberet.
Finge tamen nostro se projecisse Furentem
Impulsu in fluctus: haec Sola est Culpa? quis unquam
Navigat Anticyras, Cerebri medicamina quaerens,
Nec tamen intrat Aquas, nec se commiserit undis?
At, bene si memini, Vitae cum traditur ortus,
Harmoniam esse Animam, Veterum mihi dogmata suadent;
Caedem ergo fecisse Lyra, facilique cruentam
Cantu inferre necem, nimia est occidere Vita.
Esse tamen Lethale potest audire Canentem,
Cum neque nos unqam Mors ipsa Audita Necaret?
Sed quia Mersus erat, caedem Lustralibus aequor
Purgat aquis; mortisque genus mortem expiat ipsam,
Quae caedem fecitque eadem quoque diluit Unda.
At Vos ô fluctus, quoniam sic cuncta soletis
Mergere Crudeles, nostrum quoque mergite crimen.
Si tamen hoc moriar damnatus crimine quonam
Extinguar fato? num quae me Sylva secuta est,
Arboreum (que) nemus, tandem in suspendia cedant,
Inque Cruces abeant? & sic me Sylva sequatur,
Ut saepe a tergo sequitur Vindicta Nocentem?
Anne etiam terra obruerit? Lapidesque canenti
[Page 13]Qui fuerant Comites, fient mihi saxa sepulchra?
Si mihi causa Necis Lyra sit, tunc instar Oloris,
Et salutem hoc, videar dicendus, nomine, Cygnus,
Carmina quod cecini propriae praenuntia mortis.
Crimen Ego Audivi, superest audire probatum;
An quia Mersus obit Juvenis, nos mersimus? ipse
An feci, ut fureret, quia me cantate furebat?
Quod si dum canerem cecidisset Stella, quid ergo
Carmina de Coelo deducere Sydera credes?
Par certe furor est, in me transferre furorem
Alterius: Musas tam stultum est dicere mortis
Fortuitae causas; Artique ascribere casum.
Nullum ego Carnifice effudi unquam Vocem cruorem;
Vos soli Legum Domini, qui jura tenentis,
Vos soli miseros, occidere Voce potestis.
Sic fatus; Misero, Exclamat, nec fata merenti,
Parcite clementes: Et Parcite rettulit Eccho.
Dixit; & hanc, memini, facili candore jocosus
Imposuit Judex dicto pro crimine poenam,
Ut, quoniam Lyricum superaverat Orphea cantu,
Acceptâ citharâ Stygias inviseret oras,
Et simili arte canens, quem demisisset ad Umbras
Cantu, illum rursus Cantu revocaret ab Umbris.
Si quis fortè roget, mihi cur dementia versùs
Materiam dederit; Furor ille Poeticus, inquam,
Impulit: & prohibens Musarum in Fonte morari,
Proluere immenso me jussit in aequore Labra.
Adde, quòd excludit Sanos Helicone Poêta.
[...]nclyte Nervorum Rector, citharaeque magister,
Quis Te digna canat? regiones Musicus Orpheus
[...]bat ad infernas: Tu vertice Sydera tangis:
Et Lyricus Vates superas mea Carmina, solùm
Dircaei Cygni, Calamoque, & Voce sonandus.
Famae implere Tubam valet haec Vox Sola trahebat
[...]lla quidem Sylvas; Lauri te sponte sequuntur.
Dignus es ut vivas post funera, Memnonis instar,
[Page 14]Vocali insignis Statua; tibi ut ipse superstes
Te Solus recinas, tua ut ipse Epicedia cantes;
Qui, post Demersum hunc, monumenta perennia Vocis,
Et citharae laudes, ipsis inscripseris undis,
Cùm mea, per latum hoc Pelagus laudum (que) tuarum
Aequor, Vela feram, paene hic immergor & ipse.
Nam patet in laudes vastus tibi Campus Aquarum;
Sed praestat regredi, & motos componere fluctus.

A Catalogue of Poems, &. Printed and Sold by H. Hills, in Black-Fryars, near the Water-side; where several more may be had that are not here Inserted.

  • A Congratulatory Poem on Prince George of Denmark, &c. on the Success at Sea.
  • Marlborough Still Conquers.
  • The Flight of the Pretender.
  • Honesty in Distress, a Tragedy.
  • The Kit-Cars a Poem, &c.
  • Wine, a Poem &c.
  • Cyder, with the Splendid Shilling.
  • The Pleasures of a Single Life, &c.
  • Faction Display'd.
  • Moderation Display'd.
  • The Duel of the Stags. &c.
  • Coopers-Hill, by Sir J. Denham.
  • An Essay on Poetry, by the Earl of Murlgrave.
  • Absalom and Achitophel.
  • The Plague of Athens.
  • A Satyr against Man and Woman.
  • The Forgiving Husband.
  • Instructions to Vanderbank.
  • The Temple of Death.
  • An Essay on Translated Verse, by the Earl of Roscomon
  • Horace: Or the Art of Poetry.
  • The History of Insipids.
  • The Swan-Trip Club.
  • Lucretius on Death, &c.
  • The Medal against Sedition.
  • Bellizarius a great Commander.
  • Daphnis, or a Pastoral Elegy, &c.
  • A Poem on the Countess of Abing­don.
  • Nundinae Sturbrigiences.
  • Tunbrigialia.
  • An Ode on the Incarnation, &c.
  • Hoglandiae Descriptio.
  • Milton's Sublimity on Cyder.
  • Bosworth-feild, by Sir John Beau­mount, Bar.
  • Canary Birds Naturaliz'd.
  • Art of Poetry, by Boileau.
  • Poems on the Death of the late Queen Mary.
  • Baucis and Philemon, &c.
  • Circus, a Satyr: Or the Ring in Hide Park.
  • St. James's Park, a Satyr.
  • The Spleen, a Pindarique Ode, &c.
  • Philips's Pastorals.
  • A Letter from Italy, to my Lord Halifax, with other Poems.
  • Blenheim, a Poem, by Phillips.
  • Mac Flecknoe, by J. Dryden; &c.
  • The Female Reign, an Ode,
  • A Poem on the Taking St. Mary's.
  • Windsor Castle, a Poem.
  • The Servitor, a Poem.
  • The Campaign, by Mr. Addison.
  • The Counter-Scuffle, a Poem.
  • Don Francisco S [...]torioso.
  • Consolation to Mira mourning,
  • A Panegyrick on Oliver Cromwel, with three Poems on his Death.
  • A Poem in Defence of the Church of England.
  • The Apparition, a Poem.
  • The Hind and Panther Transvers'd to the Story of the Country Mouse and City Mouse.
  • Dr. Gath's Dispensary.
  • Memoirs on John Hall, the Famous Robber, &c.
  • Mr Shaftoe's Narrative giving an Account of the Birth of the Pre­tended Prince of Wales, &c.
  • The True-Born Englishman.
  • The Husband, a Poem.
  • The Commoner, a Poem.
  • A Hymn to the Pillory.
  • The Rambling Fudle-Caps.
  • D Foe ▪ on the Storm.
  • The Wife, a Poem.
  • The Long Vacation.

A Catalogue of Sermons Printed and Sold by H. Hills, in Black-fryars, near the Water-aside, where are several others too numerous to insert.

  • 12 JOhn Tillotson, late Archbishop of Canterbury.
  • 4 Sir William Daws, Bishop of Chester, 14 his Volume.
  • 11 Offspring Blackall Bishop of Ex­eter (8 Esq Boyl's Lectures.
  • 5 Wedding Sermons.
  • 1 William Wake, B. of Lincoln.
  • 10 John Sharp Archbish. of York.
  • 5 Robert Moss, D. D.
  • 5 Tho. Knaggs M. A.
  • 5 White Kennet, D D.
  • 4 Hen. Sacheverel M. A.
  • 1 Rob. Lightfoot, B. D.
  • 3 William Beveridge, D. D.
  • 3 George Stanhope, Dean of Cant.
  • 3 Rich. Willis Dean of Lincoln.
  • 2 Phill. Stubs, M. A.
  • 1 Mr. Robert Parsons, Earl of Ro­chester's Funeral Sermon.
  • 1 Ralph Lambert, D. D.
  • 1 William Savage, B. D.
  • 1 Symon Partrick, M. A.
  • 6 Fr. Atterbury, Dean of Carlisle with a Letter, and large Vindica­tion with a 2d Letter in Answer.
  • 3 George Smaldridg, D. D.
  • 1 John Haslewood, D. D.
  • 1 Dr. Moore, Bish. of Ely.
  • 1 Wll. Talbot. Bishop of Oxford.
  • 2 Will. Nicholson. Bp of Carlisle.
  • 3 W. Fleetwood, B of St. Asaph.
  • 1 Anth. Horneck, D. D.
  • 6 John Adams, D. D.
  • 1 P Downes, M. A.
  • 4 Benj. and J. Hoadly, M. A.
  • 3 Tho. Tennison, A.B. of Canterbury.
  • 4 S. Clark, M. A.
  • 1 Blackburn, Dean of Exeter.
  • 1 Rich. Jenks, M. A.
  • 1 Fran. Gastrell, D. D.
  • 1 Mr Cornwallis.
  • 1 John Stilsman, B. D.
  • 3 T. Manningham, D. D.
  • 1 call'd the Last Century.
  • 1 Robert Eyre, D. D.
  • 4 Th. Trimnal, D.D. now B. of Norw.
  • 1 S. Dunster A. M.
  • 1 J. Sharp, A. M.
  • 1 T. Sherlock, M. A.
  • 1 R. Nelson,
  • 2 Bisse, M. A. & D. D.
  • 1 J. Trap, M. A.
  • 1 J. King, M. A.
  • 1 W. Wotton, B. D.
  • 3 W. Tilly.
  • 1 Willett, M. A.
  • 1 H. Stephens.
  • 1 Character of a Virtuous Woman, Christianity in short.
  • 2 Sprat, B. Rochester.
  • 1 J. Rawson, D. D.
  • 1 T. Rennell, M. A.
  • 1 W. Whitfield.
  • 2 T. Bray, D. D.
  • 2 Ed. Stillingfleet, D. D.
  • 1 J. Pelling, D. D.
  • 1 Fr. Hare, A. M.
  • 3 S. Colby, M. A.
  • A Letter from the Pastors and Pro­fessors of Geneva to the King of Prussia, with the King's Answer.
  • 1 Wheatly's Passing-Bell.
  • 1 Jackson
  • 1 Nichols, D. D.
  • 1 The Virgin Mary.
  • 1 Loyd's 30. Jan.
  • 1 Peter's Pattern.
  • 1 Harrison.
  • 1 Lake, D. D.
  • 1 Nath. Wheyley, M. A.
  • 1 Sam. Hilliard, M. A.
  • 1 Hough Bp. of Lichfield.
  • 1 Smalbroke.
  • 1 Chishull.
  • 1 Buck's 30th. of Jan.
Moderation DISPLAY'D …

Moderation DISPLAY'D: A POEM.

— Ne (que) tempore in ullo
Esse queat duplici naturâ, & corpore bino
Ex alienigenis membris compacta potestas.
Lucret. lib. 5.

By the Author of Faction Display'd.

LONDON: [...]nted and Sold by H. Hills, in Black-fryars, near the Water-side. 1709.


AT a Time when we are Celebrating the Successes of our Arms Abro [...] and the Wisdom of our Councils at Home; when there seems to b [...] no room left for Complaints, and the Nation is only prepared to receiv [...] Panegyrick; I am sensible a Piece of this kind will be severely Censur' [...] For those, that are taken up with the present appearances of Thing [...] who are, by much the greatest part of the World, will be apt to say is Ʋnseasonable at least, if not False and Malicious. But, I hope, othe [...] who are not content with such superficial Views, (and to such only wou'd write) will see the Reason and Truth of what I have said, an [...] own that it could not be more Seasonably Ʋtter'd than at this [...] Juncture, when we are lull'd with too much Security, and by th [...] means may give Opportunity to a New Sett of Men to Ruin bo [...] Church and State with their New Politicks. But if this Poem ca [...] out with all the Advantages imaginable, I am not yet grown so Erra [...] an Author, as to think because the First Part met with a favourab [...] Reception, that I am now therefore Privileg'd to Dictate to the Re [...]der's Judgment, and to ascribe to my own Merit what was only [...]ing to his Candour, or perhaps Partiality. Be that the Business DEDICATING POETS. I have no Ambition of gai [...]ing the Reputation of one. 'Tis the last Thing I should desire.

My Aim is of another sort, and I am abundantly Rewarded, if have been able to Contribute any thing to the Publick Service, by D [...]tecting the Principles and Practices of this New Party, who ha [...] Assum'd to themselves a very Specious Name and Character, and wou [...] be thought the only Patriots of their Country. But False Friends a [...] the most Dangerous Enemies, and they are yet much more so, wh [...] they are Invested with Power, and the Ministration of Affairs who put into their Hands.

'Tis to be wish'd there were no Occasion for Invectives of this kin [...] that Great Men did always Execute their Trusts, and perform the Duty, and were only the Objects of our Esteem and Admiration. B [...] when the Case is quite otherwise, when they become Treacherous a [...] Betray the Authority Delegated to them; 'tis fit they shou'd hear their Faults, and the People be undeceiv'd, who are grosly impo [...] upon by the servile Flatteries of Hireling Scriblers. A Genera [...] [Page] [...]f Animals, that always Infest the Doors of Men in Power; and [...]ho' one wou'd think their Trash could never pass upon the Moderate, the Grave, and the Wife, yet they are sometimes thought worthy of Pensions, and Places of 1200 l. a Year.

It is indeed the just Prerogative of the Throne to be approach'd with Humility and Petitions, even where the Subjects have Grievances to Represent. But I know of no such Homage due to its Officers. Nor can I yet be convinced, that it is an Arrogant Presumption in private Persons (as some wou'd have it) to examine and censure the Actions of Publick Ministers, who (say they) being nearest the Helm, are consequently best able to judge of what ought, and ought not to be done; whereas Men in a Remote Sphere, and at a distance, cannot possibly [...]nter into the Councils of State, and must therefore determine rashly, and without knowledge. This is a Doctrine necessary to be Preach'd [...]p in Despotick and Arbitrary Governments, where all is Transacted in the Cabinet, where the Will and Choice of the Prince gives a San­ction to his Creatures, and cannot be controverted without Treason. But in a mixt and limited Monarchy, where the deepest Resorts of Policy and Turns of Government are in some measure known to Men [...]f Rank and Condition, and where a right of Impeachment is lodged in the House of Commons, it can never be maintained; for that it [...]rou'd destroy the Constitution, and render the Accusation of Great Of­ficers, tho' never so Guilty, Impracticable. But I would not here be suppos'd to countenance that Scandalous Principle of Appealing to the Mob. I leave such Maxims to the Relations and Friends of a certain Lawyer, who at the Observator's Tryal had the Impu­dence (as the Attorney-General very justly called it) to insinuate that the Crown was in the Disposal of the People. Nor wou'd I be thought in the least to detract from the Prerogative, which no Man living has in higher Veneration than my self. For I think it never violated but by a profligate abandon'd Nation, and I wish, for the Honour of the English Name, our Annals had Recorded no In­stances of that kind.

But after all this New-Moderation Policy is not more pernici­ous and tending to the Destruction of the Government, than it is Ab­sur'd and Ridiculous in it self. For how can Men of Ʋnderstanding pretend to look Two Ways at once, to blow Hot and Cold, and fancy that every Body does not see thro' the pitiful Disguise and Artifice? They call themselves True Sons of the Church, and yet make no scruple of opposing a Bill, which is absolutely necessary for its Preservation; because forsooth it is offered at an unseasonable time; as if it was not as seasonable to make wholesom Laws, as to engage in a just and [Page] Honourable War for the Security of our Constitution; Can they hope for a better Opportunity than the Reign we now enjoy? They would be thought great Favourers of the Church Party, when upon all Oc­casions they take care to Discountenance them, and Encourage only the Profest Enemies of Church and State, under a shallow Pretence, that they are a numerous and formidable Body of Men, and ought there­fore to be preferr'd to Places of Honour and Profit, that they may not grow Mutinous and complain of Persecution; which methinks should rather be a strong Argument for using all possible Means to suppress such Turbulent Aspiring Spirits. Nay, so Tender are they of their DIS­SENTING BRETHREN, that I am told it has lately been deliver'd as Law by a Great Man in W—————————r-Hall, that a Notorious Perjur'd Vagabond, with Two Wives at once, being possess'd of a Separate Congregation, tho' without any Li­cence, or Legal Qualification to Preach to them, shall for that Reason only be exempt from the late Act for listing Vagrants. I must confess I cannot imagine how they would define it, or what Mo­deration according to these Practices is. The Logicians have stated no Medium that I know of, between Truth and Falshood, nor the Moralists any between Virtue and Vice: Every Proposition and Prin­ciple must necessarily fall under one of these Heads.

There is no need of a Prophetick Spirit to foresee, That they will ren­der themselves Odious, and cannot Subsist long. I heartily Pity some young Gentlemen, who are unwarily drawn in; for they will fi [...] themselves Deceiv'd by their Crafty Leader, and cannot expect to be receiv'd by their old Friends again. 'Tis much to be Lamented that a late Great Character Stain'd the latter part of his Life.— but De Mortuis nil nisi bonum.

I hope some Paragraphs in the close of his Poem will at least prove that I have not writ with Partiality, but have equally commende [...] Merit whereever I found it, without any regard to a Party.

Moderation DISPLAY'D.

AGain, my Muse—Nor fear the steepy Flight,
Pursue the Fury thro' the Realms of Night;
Explore the Depth of Hell, the secret Cause,
Whence the New Scheme of Moderation rose.
Now Faction re-assum'd her Native Throne,
Which prostrate Fiends with awful Homage own.
A Crown of Eating Flame her Temples bound,
Darting a Blew Malignant Radiance round.
An Iron Scepter in her Hand she bore,
Emblem of Vengeance and Destructive Pow'r.
A bloody Canopy hung o're her Head,
Where the Four falling Empires are pourtray'd.
Monarchs Depos'd beneath her foot-stool lie,
And all around is Hell and Anarchy.
Whilst thus she tow'ring sat, the Subject Train
With Shouts proclaim'd the Triumphs of her Reign.
Then they the Chaos sung, and Nature's Jars,
How the first Atoms urg'd their Medley Wars,
How Civil Discord and Intestine Rage
Have boil'd in ev'ry Nation, ev'ry Age.
They sung Divided Albion's hapless State,
Her Clashing Senate's Feuds, her lab'ring Church's Fate:
[Page 6]And as her coming Ruin they exprest,
A sullen Rapture swell'd in ev'ry Breast.
For such the Bent of their Distorted Will,
Only to know Delight in Thoughts of ill.
But on a sudden, Lo! descending flew,
A Meagre Ghost, which soon the Fury knew,
Cethego newly Dead, her Darling Pride,
Whose Firm Unwav'ring Faith she long had try'd,
Long in her Secret Councils had retain'd,
By which her Empire o're our Isle she gain'd.
No sooner was arriv'd the Welcome Guest,
But him in soothing Terms, she thus addrest:
Hail best Belov'd of all my Sons, Receive
What Praise, what Joy these Gloomy Realms can give
For 'tis to thy Successful Arts I owe
My Reign Above, my Triumph here below.
This said, th' Unbodied Shade obsequious kneel'd,
Struck with Amazement, and with Rapture fill'd.
O Mighty Queen! permit me to Adore
Thy Awful Shrine, thy all Informing Pow'r,
Whose nearer Influence my Breast Inspires
With Glorious Rage, and Mischievous Desires.
'Twas in Thy Cause I sunk a mouldring Frame,
Unequal to the Hardy Task of Fame.
But still my Mind releas'd from Mortal pains,
Her innate Faculty of Ill retains.
More he had said, but the surrounding Throng,
Impatient of delay, pursu'd their Noisy Song.
Mean time the Fiend revolving in her Thought
The mighty Change Cethego's Death had wrought,
Resolv'd at length to Summon to her Aid
Each plotting Devil, each Seditious Shade.
She gave the Signal, and a Dreadful Sound
Ran Bellowing thro' all th' Abyss profound.
Then thus she eas'd her anxious Soul—
O dearest Friends! O faithful Ministers!
[Page 7]Ye mutual Partners of my Joys and Cares,
New Ways, new Means my restless Thoughts imploy,
How Albion to reduce, her Peace destroy.
Long have I labour'd, but alas! in vain,
For now Succeeds the Heav'nly Anna's Reign;
Who watchful Guards a Stubborn People's Good,
By Fears not stagger'd, nor by Force subdu'd.
Such are the Gifts of her Capacious Mind,
Where Justice, Mercy, Piety are joyn'd.
As Motion, Light and Heat, combin'd in one,
Make up the Glorious Essence of the Sun.
But still she Mortal is, nor will I cease.
Till my Revenge be Crown'd with wish'd Success.
First then, suppose we shou'd devest the Throne
Of Friends, whose Souls are kindred to her own,
Celsus Disgrac'd, Hortensio next appears,
Whose Vigilance still Baffles all my Cares;
To whom by Right of Ancestry belong
A Loyal Heart, and a perswasive Tongue.
Now Plots are form'd, and publick Tempests rowl,
He boasts a strong unshaken Strength of Soul.
Fearless against her Foes the Church sustains,
Alike their Friendship and their Hate disdains,
Disdains their Clamour and Seditious Noise,
Secure in the Applauding Senate's Voice.
Of Noble Stem, in whose Collat'ral Lines
Virtue with equal Force and Lustre shines.
when Suada pleads, Success attends the Cause,
Suada the Glory of the British Laws.
Not the Fam'd Orators of Old were heard
With more attentive Awe, more deep Regard,
When Thronging round them, their Charm'd Audience hung
On the attracting Musick of their Tongue.
Nor Hell to Laelio can her Praise refuse,
Whose Worth deserves his own recording Muse;
Who in Sophia's Court, with just Applause,
Maintain'd his Sov'raign Rights, his Country's Cause.
[Page 8]For 'tis in him, with Anguish that I find
All the Endowments of a Gen'rous Mind,
Whate're is Great and Brave, whate're Refin'd
For 'tis in him Fame doubly does Commend
An Active Patriot, and a Faithful Friend.
Then from his near Attendance be remov'd
Urbano, tho' by All Admir'd and Lov'd;
Tho' his sweet Temper and obliging Port,
Become his Office, and Adorn the Court
He seems by Nature form'd Mankind to please,
So Free, so Unconstrain'd in his Address,
Improv'd by ev'ry Vertue, ev'ry Grace.
Senato too, who Bravely does deride
Sempronia's little Arts, and Female Pride;
Whose Lofty Look, and whose Majestick Mein
Confess the towring God-like Soul within.
A Speaker of unparallel'd Renown,
Long in the Senate, long in Council known.
Ally'd to Celsus by the Noblest Claim,
By the same Principles, by Worth the same.
Old as he is, still Firm his Heart remains,
And dauntless his declining Frame sustains.
So, pois'd on its own Base, the Center bears
The Nodding Fabrick of the Universe.
Be these, and such as these, discharg'd from Court▪
The Better Genii that the Crown support.
Then in their stead, let Mod'rate Statesmen reign,
Practice their new pretended Golden Mean.
A Notion undefin'd in Virtue's Schools,
Unrecommended by her sacred Rules.
A Modern Coward Principle design'd
To stifle Justice, and unnerve the Mind.
A Trick by Knaves contriv'd, impos'd on Fools,
But Scorn'd by Patriot and Exalted Souls.
For Mod'rate Statesmen, like Camelions wear
A diff'rent Form in ev'ry diff'rent Air.
[Page 9] [...]hey stick at nothing to Secure their Ends,
[...]aress their Enemies, betray their Friends.
Their Medley Temper, their Amphibious Mind
[...] fraught with Principles of ev'ry kind,
Nor ever can from Stain and Error free,
Assert its Native Truth, and Energy;
As the four Elements so blended were
[...]n their first Chaos, so united there,
That since they ne're could fully be disjoyn'd,
Each retains something of each other's Kind.
Nor this is wholly Air, nor that pure Flame,
But still in both some Atoms are the same.
Let Jano, second of his Trimming Band,
Next to Volpone deck'd with Honours stand.
Like him for secret Policy Renown'd,
Like him with all the Gifts of Cunning crown'd.
None better can the Jarring Senate guide,
Or lure the Flying Camp to either side.
Of an invet'rate old Fanatick Race,
Or Canting Parents, sprung this Child of Grace.
In Show a Tory, but a Whig in Heart,
For Saints may safely act the Sinner's part.
Once he was ours, and will be ours again,
For Art to stifle Nature strives in vain,
For ev'ry thing, when from its Center born,
Still thither tends, still thither will return.
Let him with these Accomplishments supply
Hortensio's steddy Faith, and Loyalty.
B [...]u [...]bus, for he has Wealth to buy a Place,
Shall wear Urbano's Key, his Post disgrace.
A worthy Son, in whom collected shine
The Follies of his Mad and Ideot Line.
Lord of the woful Countenance, whose Skin
Seems fear'd without, and putrify'd within,
A Dapper Animal, whose Pigmy Size
Provokes the Ladies Scorn, and mocks their Eyes.
[Page 10]But Balls and Musick are his greatest Care,
So willing is the Wretch to please the Fair.
'Tis strange, that Men, what Nature has deny'd,
Should make their only Aim, their only Pride.
Let Britono, who from the Parent Moon
Derives his Welsh Descent directly down,
Succeed Senato in his High Command,
And bear the Staff of Honour in his Hand.
A flutt'ring empty Fop, that ev'ry Night,
Sits Laughing loud, and Jesting in the Pit,
Whilst a surrounding Croud of Whores and Bawds,
His sprightly Converse, and his Wit applauds.
An Atlas proper to sustain the Weight
Of an Incumber'd and declining State.
Let these, as Useful Tools, a while possess
The Court Preferments, and Indulge their Ease,
But they shall fly, like Mists, before the Sun,
When my Designs to full Perfection grown,
Exert their Pow'r, and make the ruin'd World my own.
When thus the Fury had her Scheme display'd,
Assenting Hell a low Obeisance paid.
Moloch, Protector of the Papal Chair,
Author of the Massacres and Christian War,
Was now Convinc'd that Sanguinary Laws
Could nere the Reformation's Growth oppose,
Could nere in Albion's Church advance his Cause.
He therefore, urg'd with his old constant Hate,
By Mod'rate Means consents to work her Fate.
He finds how soon by Toleration's Aid,
Her Pow'r is weaken'd, and her Rights Betray'd.
Nor doubts Occasional Conformity
Will by degrees her Essence quite destroy.
Then Satan, Prince of the Fanatick Train,
Who form'd the Conduct of their Glorious Reign.
Approve the Scheme, not hoping to Restore
His Subjects to their late unbounded Pow'r.
[Page 11] [...]or well he knew, their Avarice and Pride
[...]ad wean'd the Bankrupt Nation from their side.
[...]ut these Auspicious Moderation Times,
[...]y not Detecting, Sanctify their Crimes,
[...]y Baffling Justice, and eluding Law,
Make Vice insult, and Sin Triumphant grow.
Nay such th' Effects of Moderation are,
The Guilty to Reward, as well as Spare.
Hence Foes to Prelacy are Clad in Lawn,
Hence Rebels are the Fav'rites of the Throne.
What could they more desire, than thus to pass
The blest Remainder of their happy Days,
[...]atted with Plunder, and dissolv'd in Ease?
Nor Belial, th' Atheist's Patron could Complain,
[...]or Moderation would enlarge his Reign,
Where all unpunish'd Talk and live Profane.
Where Irreligion Providence denies,
Nor dreads the Laws of Earth, nor Thunder of the Skies.
Mammon, the Traders and the Courtier's God,
No sooner heard the Project but allow'd;
For hence his two Vot'ries uncontroul'd might live,
And endless Frauds commit, and endless Bribes receive.
But most Cethego the Design approves,
Who dead and Living in Maeander's moves.
He knew how he deluded hapless James,
By the same wily Arts, and subtle Schemes.
Proposes then, that he alone be sent,
To execute the Fury's New Intent.
When he had ended, thus she soon replies,
Blest be the Shade, that can so well advise,
On thee thy Goddess smiles, on thee relies.
Fly, nimbly to thy Native Soil repair,
Urge and Inforce the well form'd Council there.
Occasion favours, the Cabal is met
At thy own Mansion, thy belov'd Retreat,
The Muses Darling Theam, the Graces Seat.
[Page 12]There Clodio's and Sigillo's anxious Thoughts,
Are brooding o're Imaginary Plots:
Whilst Bibliopolo with his awkard Jests
Deserves his Dinner, and diverts the Guests.
Bathillo, in his own unborrow'd Strains,
Young Sacharissa's Angel Form profanes:
Whilst her dull Husband, sensless of her Charms,
Lies lumpish in her soft encircling Arms.
For he to Wisdom makes a Grave Pretence,
But wants alas! his Father's Depth of Sense.
Howere, supplying all Defects of Wit,
He shews a true Fanatick Zeal and Heat.
She spoke—the Spectre in a moment gains
Altropia's Balmy Air, and Flowry Plains.
At his approach the Dome's Foundation shook,
When 'midst their Revels rushing in he broke.
Involv'd in Wreaths of Smoak, awhile he stood,
Seeming at distance an unshapen Cloud.
But soon, the Cloud ascending to the Skies,
He manifest was seen before their Eyes.
Horror and Guilt shook ev'ry Conscious Breast,
But Bibliopolo most his Fears exprest,
Fainting he tumbled—Pass we ore the rest.
Clodio alone fixt and unmov'd appear'd,
And what the Phantom said undaunted heard.
Forbear, my Friends, your Hot pursuits restrain,
Behold your lov'd Cethego once again.
From Faction's dark unbottom'd Cell I come,
Fraught with Britannia's Fate, and final Doom.
For, Meditating Vengeance in her Mind,
At length a Finish'd Plan she has design'd.
Nor doubts by Mod'rate Methods to obtain,
What she by rougher Arts has sought in vain,
That Whigs should Triumph in a To [...]y Reign.
Thus he began, and then proceeds to tell
What Faction had before reveal'd in Hell.
Clodio was Raptur'd, and in Terms like these,
[...]is Joy and Approbation did express.
[...]nce thy Divided State permits, be thou
[...]s once a Friend, a Guardian Genius now.
[...]ive us to execute this Grand Design,
[...]hine be the Conduct, and the Glory thine.
[...]ttempts that often Baffle Human Care,
[...]y aiding Spirits soon effected are;
[...]heir Knowledge in immediate Intuition lies,
Nor does, like ours, from long Deduction rise.
Pleas'd with this Answer, the retiring Ghost
Condens'd the ambient Air, and in a Cloud was lost.
Here cease thy Satyr, Muse, and from thy Tongue
[...]o louder Numbers and Heroick Song:
Here Celebrate, unbyass'd as thou art,
The Triumphs of Sempronia's other Part,
Nor let her Stain the Hero's High Desert.
Now the Imperial Eagle hung her Head,
[...]rooping she Mourn'd her wonted Thunder fled,
Now was she fitted for a foreign Yoke,
Her Sceptre nodded, her Dominion shook.
Such was the tott'ring State of Ancient Rome,
When Conqu'ring Hannibal pronounc'd her Doom▪
When yet the fatal Capua was unknown,
That blasted all the Laurels Cannae won.
Where shall she Succour seek? Or whither fly?
Shall she for ever in Confusion lie?
Shall the first Kingdom of the Christian World
Be un-reliev'd in endless Ruine hurl'd?
Not so? her Aid Auspicious Anna brings,
Anna the Angel of unhappy Kings.
She sends Camillo with an English Force,
To stem the Ravaging Invader's Course.
France and Bavaria now in vain Combine,
In vain their Fierce unnumber'd Legions joyn,
[Page 14]In vain the Thunderbolts of War oppose:
Eugenio and Camillo are their Foes.
Like Caesar, both for Stratagems Renown'd▪
Like Alexander, both with Martial Fury crown'd.
At length the Great Decisive Day drew near,
On which alone depended all the War.
At length the Fight began, the Canon roar'd,
Nor knew the Empire yet her Sov'reign Lord.
But soon Camillo with resistless Arms,
With doubled Rage, the Hostile Troops alarms.
The Troops, that thought no Valour match'd their ow [...]
Till English Courage bore them headlong down.
Before his Conqu'ring Sword they Vanquish'd fly,
Or in the Field, or in the Danube die.
The Danube reeking ran a Purple Flood,
Swell'd and distain'd with Deluges of Blood.
O were I Poet equal to thy Theam!
The Future World should wond'ring read this Stream;
Where many Thousand Warriors more were slain,
Or than on Xanthus Banks, or the Pharsalian Plain:
Tho' these to all Exploits are far preferr'd,
One by the Grecian, one the Roman Bard.
Hence is the Empire to it self restor'd,
Revolting Nations Recognize the Lord.
Lewis no more shall God-like Titles Claim,
Nor Europe aw'd and Trembling dread his Name.
Hence a new Scene of Happiness appears,
A long Successive Train of Golden Years.
So sav'd Demetrius the Athenian State,
Oppress'd by Foes, and sunk with adverse Fate.
No sooner was the Bloody Battle won,
But all his Fame with Adoration own;
But on the mighty Victor they bestow'd,
The Sacred Stile and Honours of a God.
But tho' no Altars we profanely raise,
But tho' a less, we pay a juster Praise,
[Page 15]All but the Blind Idolatry intend,
Which ridicules the Glorious Worth it would com­mend.
When with his Eastern Spoils, returning home,
Augustus enter'd his applauding Rome,
[...]irgil and Horace waited on his Fame,
Glad to record the Muses Patron's Name;
And well could they in everliving Strains,
Describe his Triumphs, and Reward his Pains.
But Modern Heroes, tho' as truly Brave
As those of Old, not equal Poets have.
No Virgils now, nor Horaces to raise
Trophies proportion'd to their Deathless praise.
An Addison perhaps, or Tate may write;
[...]olp [...]ne pays them for their Venal Wit.
But since my Muse, warm'd with a Gen'rous Flame,
Unbrib'd would eternize Camillo's Name;
Let him accept such Homage as she brings,
Nor think that wholly uninspir'd she Sings.
But, Goddess, still one Labour more remains,
Still Nereo claims thy Tributary Strains;
Tune thy Harmonious Voice to Nereo's Praise,
A Subject pregnant with immortal Lays.
'Tis he extends the Hev'nly Anna's Reign,
High as the Stars, unbounded as the main.
[...]Tis he, whose Valour the Batavian Wars
[...]nur'd to Glory, from his greener Years.
'Tis he Le Hogue's opposing Ord'nance bore,
Nor fear'd the Lightnings blasts, nor Thunders roar.
'Tis He, with Scipio Darling of our Isle,
From vanquish'd Vigo forc'd the Indian Spoil.
'Tis He the Streights Defence so lately storm'd,
A Tow by Nature fortify'd and arm'd.
'Tis He, unequal far in force, o'recame
A Fleet secure of Conquest and of Fame,
A Flee by vast Expence for Fight prepar'd▪
At once the Spaniards Terror and their Guard.
[Page 16]For what can English Bravery withstand,
When Nereo or Camillo do Command?
It Vindicates the Sea, and Triumphs ore the Land.
'Tis He Detraction's Baleful Breath has born,
But with a Noble and Heroick Scorn.
For let his Foes this just Monition have,
Envy's the Coward's Homage to the Brave.
So Aristides long with Malice strove,
Nor could his Virtue win a Factious Peoples Love.

THE HIND AND THE PANTHER, TRANSVERS'D To the Story of the Country-Mouse and the City-Mouse.

[...]uch Malice mingled with a little Wit.

Hind. Pan.

Nec vult Panthera domari.

Quae Genus.

LONDON: [...]inted and Sold by H. Hills, in Black-fryars, near the Water-side. 1709. Price Three Pence.


THE Favourers of the Hind and Panther will be apt to say in its Defence, That the best things are [...]apable of being turn'd to Ridicule; that [...]omer has been Burlesque'd, and Virgil [...]ravested without suffering any thing in [...]heir Reputation from that Buffoonry; and [...]hat in like manner, the Hind and the Pan­ [...]er may be an exact Poem, tho' 'tis the Sub­ [...]ect of our Raillery: But there is this diffe­ [...]ence, that those Authors are wrested from [...]heir true Sense, and this naturally falls in­ [...] Ridicule; there is nothing Represented [...]ere as monstrous and unnatural, which is [...]ot equally so in the Original. First as to [...]he General Design Is it not as easie to ima­ [...]ine two Mice bilking Coachmen, and sup­ [...]ing at the Devil; as to suppose a Hind [...]tertaining the Panther at a Hermit's Cell, [...]iscussing the greatest Mysteries of Religion, [...]d telling you her Son Rodriguez writ very [...]od Spanish? What can be more improbable [Page] and contradictory to the Rules and Example [...] of all Fables, and to the very Design an [...] Ʋse of them? They were first begun and rai­sed to the highest Perfection in the Easter [...] Countries; where they wrote in Signs an [...] spoke in Parables, and delivered the mos [...] useful Precepts in delightful Stories; whic [...] for their Aptness were entertaining to th [...] most Judicious, and led the vulgar into Ʋn­derstanding by surprizing them with thei [...] Novelty, and fixing their Attention. A [...] their Fables carry a double meaning; th [...] Story is one and intire; the Characters th [...] same throughout, not broken or chang'd and always conformable to the Nature of th [...] Creatures they introduce. They never te [...] you that the Dog which snapt at a Shadow lost his Troop of Horse, that would be unin­telligible; a piece of Flesh is proper for hi [...] to drop, and the Reader will apply it t [...] Mankind; they would not say that the Da [...] who was so proud of her borrow'd Plume [...] lookt very ridiculous when Rodriguez cam [...] and took away all the Book but th [...] 17th, 24th, and 25th Chapters, which sh [...] stole from him: But this is his new way o [...] telling a Story, and confounding the Mora [...] and the Fable together.

Before the Word was written, said th [...] Hind,
Our Saviour Preach'd the Faith to a [...] Mankind.

[Page]What relation has the Hind to our Sa­viour? or what Notion have we of a Pan­ [...]her's Bible? If you say he means the Church, how does the Church feed on Lawns, or range in the Forest? Let it be always a Church, or always the cloven-footed Beast, [...]or we cannot bear his shifting the Scene every Line. If it is absurd in Comedies to [...]ake a Peasant talk in the Strain of a Hero, [...]r a Country Wench use the Language of the Court; how monstrous is it to make a Priest [...]f a Hind, and a Parson of a Panther? To bring 'em in disputing with all the For­ [...]alities and Terms of the School? Though [...]s to the Arguments themselves, those, we [...]onfess, are suited to the Capacity of the Beasts, and if we would suppose a Hind ex­ [...]ressing her self about these Matters, she [...]ould talk at that Rate.

As to the Absurdity of his Expressions, [...]here is nothing wrested to make 'em ridi­culous, the Terms are sometimes alter'd to make the Blunder more visible; Knowldge misunderstood is not at all better Sense [...]han Understanding misunderstood, though tis confest the Author can play with words [...]o well, that this and twenty such will pass off [...]t a slight reading.

There are other Mistakes which could not [...]e brought in, for they were too gross for [Page] Bayes himself to commit. 'Tis hard to con­ceive how any Man could censure the Turk [...] for Gluttony, a People that debauch in Coffee are voluptuous in a Mess of Rice, and keep the strictest Lent, without the Pleasures of a Carnival to encourage them. But 'tis al­most impossible to think that any Man, wh [...] had not renounced his Senses, should rea [...] Duncomb for Allen: He had been told that Mr. Allen had written a Discourse o [...] Humility;Difference betwixt a Protestant and Socini­an, p. 62. to which he wisely answers, Tha [...] that magnified Piece of Duncomb's was Tran­slated from the Spanish of Rodriguez, and to set it beyond dispute, makes the infallible Guide affirm the same thing. There are few Mistakes,Pag. 92. but one may imagine how a Ma [...] fell into them, and at least what he aim'd at; but what likeness is there betwee [...] Duncomb and Allen? do they so much as Rhime?

We may have this Comfort under the Se­verity of his Satyr, to see his Abilities e­qually lessen'd with his Opinion of us; and that he could not be a fit Champion against the Panther till he had laid aside all his Judgment. But we must applaud his Obe­dience to his new Mother Hind; she Disci­plin'd him severely,Pag. 90. she commanded him it seems, to Sacrifice his Darling Fame, and to do it effectually he publisht this learned Piece. This is the favourable Construction we would put on his Faults, tho' he takes [Page] care to inform us,Pref. that it was done from no Imposition, but out of a natural Propensity he has to Malice, and a particular Inclina­tion of doing Mischief. What else could pro­voke him to Libel the Court, Blaspheme Kings, abuse the whole Scotch Nation, Pag. 87. rail at the greatest Part of his own, and lay all the Indignities imaginable on the only esta­blish'd Religion? And we must now Congra­tulate him this Felicity, that there is no Sect or Denomination of Christians, whom he has not abused.

Thus far his Arms have with Success been crown'd.

Let Turks, Jews and Infidels look to themselves, he has already begun the War upon them. When once a Conqueror grows thus dreadful, 'tis the Interest of all his Neighbours to oppose him, for there is no Alliance to be made with one that will face about, and destroy his Friends, and like a second Almanzor, change Sides meerly to keep his hand in ure. This Heroick Tem­per of his, has created him some Enemies, that did by no means affect Hostility; and he may observe this Candor in the Manage­ment, that none of his Works are concern'd in these Papers, but his last Piece; and I believe he is sensible this is a Favour. I was not ambitious of Laughing at any Per­swasion, or making Religion the Subject of [Page] such a Trifle; so that no Man is here concern'd, but the Author himself, and nothing ridicul'd but his way of arguing.

But, Gentlemen, if you won't take it s [...] you must grant my Excuse is more reasonabl [...] than our Author's to the Dissenters.

THE HIND AND THE PANTHER, Transvers'd to the Story of the COUNTRY and the CITY-MOUSE.

Bayes, Johnson, Smith.

HAH! my Old Friend Mr. Bayes, What lucky Chance has thrown me upon you? Dear Rogue, [...]et me embrace thee.


Hold, at your Peril, Sir; stand off, and [...]ome not within my Sword's Poin [...] For if you [...]re not come over to the Royal Party, Pref. p. 1 [...] I expect nei­ [...]her fair War, nor fair Quarter from you


How, draw upon your Friend, as­sault your Old Acquaintance! O' my Conscience, [...]y Intentions were Honourable.


Conscience! Ay, ay, I know the Deceit of [...]hat Word well enough:Pref. ib. Let me have the Marks [...]f you Conscience before I trust it; for if it be not [Page 2] of the same Stamp with mine, Gad I may b [...] knock'd down for all your fair Promises.


Nay, prithee Bayes, what damn'd Villainy hast thou been about, that thou'rt under thes [...] Apprehensions? Upon my Honour I'm thy Friend yet thou lookest as sneaking and frighted as a Do [...] that has been worrying Sheep.


Pref. ib.Ay, Sir, The Nation is in too high a Fe [...] ment for me to expect any Mercy, or I'gad, to tru [...] any Body.


But why this to us, my Old Friend, wh [...] you know never trouble our Heads with Nationa [...] Concerns, till the third Botlle has taught us as muc [...] of Politicks as the next does of Religion?


Ah! Gentlemen, leave this Prophanenes [...] I am alter'd since you saw me, and cannot be [...] this loose Talk now. Mr. Johnson, you are [...] Man of Parts, let me desire you to read the Gui [...] of Controversy; and Mr. Smith, I would recommend to you the Considerations on the Council [...] Trent, Page 5. and so Gentlemen your humble Servant.— Good Life be now my Task.


Nay, Faith, we won't part so: Belie [...] us, we are both your Friends; let us step to th [...] Rose for one quarter of an Hour, and talk ov [...] old Stories.


I ever took you to be Men of Honou [...] and for your sakes I will transgress as far as o [...] Pint.


Well, Mr. Bayes, many a merry Bo [...] have we had in this House, and shall have again, hope: Come, what Wine are you for?


Gentlemen, do you as you please, for [...] part he shall bring me a single Pint of any thing.


How so, Mr. Bayes, have you lost yo [...] Pallat? you have been more curious.


True, I have so; but Senses must [...] starv'd, Page 21. that the Soul may be gratified. Men [...] [Page 3] [...]our Kidney make the Senses the supream Judge, [...]nd therefore bribe 'em high, but we have laid [...]o [...]h the Use and Pleasure of 'em aside.


What, is not there good Eating and Drinking on both sides? You make the Separation [...]reater than I thought it.


No, no, whenever you see a Fat Rosie- [...]olour'd Fellow, take it from me,Ibid. he is either a [...]rotestant or a Turk.


At that rate, Mr. Bayes, one might sus­ [...]ect your Conversion; methinks thou hast as much [...]e Face of an Heretick as ever I saw.


Such was I, such by Nature still I am. Pag. 5. [...]ut I hope e'er long I shall have drawn this pam­ [...]er'd Paunch fitter for the straight Gate.


Sure, Sir, you are in ill hands, your Confessor gives you more severe Rules than he [...]ractices; for not long ago a Fat Friar was [...]ought a true Character.


Things were misrepresented to me: I [...]onfess I have been unfortunate in some of my Writings: But since you have put me upon that [...]ubject, I'll show you a thing I have in my Pock­ [...] shall wipe off all that, or I am mistaken.


Come, now thou art like thy self again. [...]ere's the King's Health to thee—Communicate.


Well, Gentlemen, here it is, and I'll be [...]old to say, the exactest Piece the World ever saw, [...] Non Pareillo I'faith. But I must bespeak your [...]ardons if it reflects any thing upon your Perswa­ [...]on,


Use your Liberty, Sir, you know we are [...]o Bigots.


Why then you shall see me lay the Refor­ [...]ation on its Back, I'gad, and justifie our Religion [...]y way of Fable.


An apt Contrivance indeed! What do [...]ou make a Fable of your Religion?

[Page 4]

Ay, I'gad, and without Morals too; so [...] I tread in no Man's Steps; and to show you how far I can out-do any thing that ever was writ in thi [...] kind, I have taken Horace's Design, but I'gad, have so out-done him, you shall be asham'd fo [...] your Old Friend. You remember in him the Story of the Country-Mouse, and the City-Mouse; wha [...] a plain simple thing it is, it has no more Life an [...] Spi [...]it in it, I'gad, than a Hobby-horse; and hi [...] Mice talk so meanly, such common stuff, so lik [...] meer Mice, that I wonder it has pleas'd the Worl [...] so long. But now will I undeceive Mankind, and teach 'em to heighten, and elevate a Fable. I'l [...] bring you in the very same Mice disputing th [...] Depth of Philosophy, searching into the Fundamentals of Religion, quoting Texts, Fathers, Councils and all that, I 'gad, as you shall see either of 'e [...] could easily make an Ass of a Country Vicar. Now whereas Horace keeps to the dry naked History, [...] have more Copiousness than to do that, I'gad Here, I draw you general Characters, and describ [...] all the Beasts of the Creation; there, I lanch ou [...] into long Digressions, and leave my Mice for twen­ty Pages together; then I fall into Raptures, and make the finest Soliloquies, as would ravish you Won't this do, think you?


Faith, Sir, I don't well conceive you all this about two Mice?


Ay, why not? Is it not great and Heroical? But come, you'll understand it better whe [...] you hear it; and pray be as severe as you can, I'ga [...] I defie all Criticks. Thus it begins:

Pag. 1.
A Milk-white Mouse immortal and unchang'd,
Fed on soft Cheese, and o'er the Dairy rang'd;
Without, unspotted; innocent within,
She fear'd no danger, for she knew no Gin.
[Page 5]

Methinks, Mr. Bayes, soft Cheese is a lit­tle too coarse Diet for an immortal Mouse; were there any necessity for her eating, you should have consulted Homer for some Coelestial Provision.


Faith, Gentlemen, I did so; but indeed I have not the Latin one, which I have mark'd by me, and could not readily find it in the Original.

Yet had She oft been scar'd by bloody Claws
Pag. 1.
O [...] winged Owls, and stern Grimalkins Paws
Aim'd at her destin'd Head, which made her fly,
Pag. 2.
Tho' She was doom'd to Death, and fated not to dye.

How came She that fear'd no Danger in the Line before, to be scar'd in this, Mr. Bayes?


Why then you may have it chas'd if you will; for I hope a Man may run away without be­ing afraid, mayn't he?


But pray give me leave; how was She doom'd to Death, if She was fated not to die; are not Doom and Fate much the same thing?


Nay, Gentlemen, if you question my Skill [...]n the Language, I'm your humble Servant; the Rogues the Criticks, that will allow me nothing else, give me that; sure I that made the Word, [...]now best what I meant by it: I assure you, doom'd [...]nd fated, are quite different things.


Faith, Mr. Bayes, if you were doom'd to [...]e hang'd, whatever you were fated to, 'twould [...]ive you but small Comfort.


Never trouble your Head with that, Mr. Smith, mind the Business in hand.

Not so her young; their Linsy-woolsy Line,
Pag. [...].
Was Hero's make, half humane, half Divine.

Certainly these Hero's, half Humane, half Divine, have very little of the Mouse their Mother.


Gadsokers! Mr. Johnson, does your [...]riend think I mean nothing but a Mouse by all [Page 6] this? I tell thee, Man, I mean a Church, and these young Gentlemen her Sons, signifie Priests, Mar­tyrs and Confessors, that were hang'd in Oats's Plot. There's an excellent Latin Sentence, which I had a mind to bring in Sanguis Martyrum semen Eccle­siae, and I think I have not wrong'd it in the Translation.

Of these a slaughter'd Army lay in Blood,
Pag. 2.
Whose sanguine Seed encreas'd the sacred Brood;
She multiply'd by these, now rang'd alone,
Pag. 3.
And wander'd in the Kingdoms once her own.

Was She alone when the sacred Brood wa [...] encreased?


Why thy Head's running on the Mous [...] again; but I hope a Church may be alone, tho [...] the Members be encreased, mayn't it?


Certainly, Mr. Bayes, a Church which i [...] a diffusive Body of Men, can much less be said to be alone.


But are you really of that Opinion? Take it from me, Mr. Johnson, you are wrong; how­ever to oblige you, I'll clap in some Simile or other, about the Children of Israel, and it shall do.


Will you pardon me one Word more, Mr. Bayes? What could the Mouse (for I suppose you mean her now) do more than range in the Kingdoms, when they were her own?


Do! Why She reign'd; had a Diadem, Scepter and Ball, till they depos'd her.


Now her Sons are so encreas'd, She may try t'other pull for't.


I'gad, and so She may before I have don [...] with Her; it has cost me some pains to clear He [...] Title. Well, but Mum for that, Mr. Smith.

The Common Hunt, She timorously past by,
Pag. 5.
For they made tame, disdain'd Her Company;
[Page 7] They grin'd, She in a Fright tript o'er the Green,
For She was lov'd, where-ever She was seen.

Well said little Bayes, I'faith the Critick must have a great deal of leisure, that attacks those Verses.


I'gad, I'll warrant him, whoe'er he i [...], [...]ffendet solido; but I go on.

‘The Independent Beast.Pag. 3.—’

Who is that, Mr. Bayes?


Why a Bear: Pox, is not that obvious enough? ‘—In Groans Her hate exprest.’ Which, I'gad, is very natural to that Animal. Well! there's for the Independent: Now the Qua­ker; what do you think I call him?


Why, A Bull, for ought I know.


A Bull! O Lord! A Bull! No, no, a Hare, a quaking Hare.—Armarillis, because She wears Armour, 'tis the same Figure; and I am [...]roud to say it, Mr. Johnson, no Man knows how [...]o pun in Heroics but my self. Well, you shall [...]ear.

She thought, and reason good, the quaking Hare
Her cruel Foe, because She would not swear,
Pag. 3.
And had profess'd Neutrality.

A shrewd Reason that, Mr. Bayes; but what Wars were there?


Wars! why there had been bloody Wars, [...]ho' they were pretty well reconcil'd now. Yet to [...]ing in two or three such fine things as these, I [...]o'nt tell you the Lyon's Peace was proclaim'd till [...]fty Pages after, tho' 'twas really done before I [...]ad finish'd my Poem.

Next Her, the Buffoon Ape his Body bent,
Pag 3.
And paid at Church a Courtier's Complement.

[Page 8]That Gauls somewhere; I'gad I can't leave▪ off, tho' I were cudgel'd every Day for it.

Pag. 4. The brisl'd Baptist Boar, impure as he.


As who?


As the Courtier, let 'em e'en take it a [...] they will, I'gad, I seldom come amongst 'em.

Pag. 10.
Was whiten'd with the Foam of Sanctity.
The Wolf with Belly-gaunt his rough Crest rears,

And pricks up.—Now, in one Word, will abuse the whole Party most damnably—an [...] pricks up.—I'gad, I am sure you'll laugh—his predestinating Ears. Prethee, Mr. Johnso [...] remember little Bayes, when next you see a Presbyterian, and take notice if he has not Predestinatio [...] in the Shape of his Ear: I have studied Men [...] long. I'll undertake to know an Arminian, [...] the setting of his Wig.

His predestinating Ears. I'gad, there's ne'er Presbyterian shall dare to show his Head without Border: I'll put 'em to that Expence.


Pray, Mr. Bayes, if any of 'em shou [...] come over to the Royal Party, would their E [...] alter?


Would they? Ay, I'gad, they would sh [...] their Fanatical Lugs, and have just such we [...] turn'd Ears as I have; mind this Ear, this is a tr [...] Roman Ear, mine are much chang'd for the bett [...] within this two Years.


Then if ever the Party should chance fail, you might lose 'em, for what may change, m [...] fall.


Mind, mind—

Pag. 11.These fiery Zuinglius, meagre Calvin bred.’

Those, I suppose, are some Out-Lan [...] ish Beasts, Mr. Bayes?


Beasts; a good Mistake! Why they w [...] the chief Reformers, but here I put 'em in so b [...] Company because they were Enemies to my Mo [...] [Page 9] and anon when I am warm'd, I'gad you shall hear me call 'em Doctors, Captains, Pag. 39. Horses and Horse­men in the very same Breath. You shall hear how I go on now.

Or else reforming Corah spawn'd this Class,
When opening Earth made way for all to pass.
Pag. 11.

For all, Mr. Bayes?


Yes, They were all lost there, but some of 'em wre thrown up again at the Leman-Lake: As a Catholick Queen sunk at Charing-Cross, and [...]ose again at Queenhithe.

The Fox and he came shuffled in the dark,
Pag. 11.
If ever they were stow'd in Noah's Ark.

Here I put a Quaere, Whether there were any So­ [...]inians before the Flood, which I'm not very well satisfied in? I have been lately apt to believe that [...]he World was drown'd for that Heresy; which [...]mong Friends made me leave it.

Quickned with Fire below, these Monsters breed
In Fenny Holland, and in Fruitful Tweed.
Pag. 12

Now to write something new and out of the way, [...]o elevate and surprize, and all that, I fetch, you see, this Quickning Fire from the Bottom of Bogs and Rivers.


Why, Faith, that's as ingenious a Con­ [...]rivance as the Virtuoso's making a Burning-Glass [...]f Ice?


Why was there ever any such thing? Let [...]e perish if ever I heard of it. The Fancy was [...]eer new to me; and I thought no Man had re­ [...]oncil'd those Elements but my self. Well Gen­ [...]lemen! Thus far I have followed Antiquity, and [...]s Homer has numbred his Ships, so I have rang'd [...]y Beasts. Here is my Boar and my Bear, and [...]y Fox, and my Wolf, and the rest of 'em all [Page 10] against my poor Mouse. Now what do you think I do with all these?


Faith I don't know; I suppose you make 'em fight.


Fight! I'gad, I'd as soon make 'em Dance. No, I do no earthly thing with 'em, no­thing at all, I'gad: I think they have play'd their Parts sufficiently already; I have walk'd 'em out, show'd 'em to the Company, and rais'd your Ex­pectation. And now whilst you hope to see 'em bated, and are dreaming of Blood and Battels, they sculk off, and you hear no more of 'em.


Why, Faith, Mr. Bayes, now you have been at such Expence in setting forth their Chara­cters, it had been too much to have gone through with 'em.


I'gad so it had: And then I'll tell you another thing, 'tis not every one that reads a Poem through. And therefore I fill the first part with Flowers, Figures, fine Language, and all that and then I'gad sink by degrees, till at last I write but little better than other People. And wherea [...] most Authors creep servilely after the Old Fellows and strive to grow upon their Readers; I take another Course, I bring in all my Characters toge­ther, and let 'em see I could go on with 'em; bu [...] I'gad, I won't.


Could go on with 'em, Mr. Bayes! there' [...] no Body doubts that; You have a most particula [...] Genius that way.


Oh! Dear Sir, You are mighty obliging: But I must needs say at a Fable or an Emble [...] I think no Man comes near me, indeed I have studied it more than any Man. Did you ever tak [...] notice, Mr. Johnson, of a little thing that has taken mightily about Town, a Cat with a Top-knot?


Faith, Sir, 'tis mighty pretty, I saw [...] at the Coffee-House.

[Page 11]

'Tis a Trifle hardly worth owning; I was t'other Day at Will's throwing out something of [...]hat Nature; and I'gad, the hint was taken, and out came that Picture; indeed the poor Fellow was so civil to present me with a dozen of 'em for my Friends, I think I have one here in my Pocket; would you please to accept it, Mr. Johnson?


Really 'tis very ingenious.


Oh Lord! Nothing at all, I could design [...]wenty of 'em in an Hour, if I had but witty Fel­ [...]ows about me to draw 'em. I was proffer'd a Pen­sion to go into Holland, and contrive their Em­blems. But hang 'em, they are dull Rogues, and would spoil my Invention. But come, Gentle­men, let us return to our Business, and here I'll give you a delicate Description of a Man.


But how does that come in?


Come in? very naturally. I was talking of a Wolf and that supposes a Wood, and then I clap an Epithet to't, and call it a Celtic Wood: Now when I was there, I could not help thinking of the French Persecution, and I'gad from all these Thoughts I took occasion to rail at the French King, and show that he was not of the same

Make with other Men, which thus I prove.
The Divine Blacksmith in th' Abyss of Light,
Pag. 15.
Yawning and lolling with a careless beat,
Struck out the mute Creation at a Heat.
But he work'd hard to Hammer out our Souls,
He blew the Bellows, and stir'd up the Coals;
Long time he thought and could not on a sudden
Knead up with unskim'd Milk this Reas'ning Pud­ding:
P [...]ge 16.
Tender, and mild within its Bag it lay
Confessing still the softness of its Clay,
And kind as Milk-Maids on their Wedding-Day.
Till Pride of Empire, Lust, and hot Desire
Did over-boil him, like too great a Fire,
[Page 12]And understanding grown, misunderstood,
Burn'd Him to th' Pot, and sour'd his curdle [...] Blood.

But sure this is a little prophane, Mr. Baye [...]


Not at all: Do's not Virgil bring in hi [...] God Vulcan working at the Anvil?


Ay, Sir, but never thought his Hand the fittest to make a Pudding.


Why do you imagine Him an Earthly dirty Blacksmith? 'Gad you make it prophane in­deed. I'll tell you there's as much difference betwixt 'em, I'gad, as betwixt my Man and Milton' [...] But now, Gentlemen, the Plot thickens, he [...] comes my t'other Mouse, the City Mouse.

Page 19.
A spotted Mouse, the prettiest next the White,
Ah! were her Spots wash'd out, as pretty quite,
[...]ag. 23. Pag. 22.
With Phylacteries on her Forehead spread,
Crozi [...]r in Hand, and Mitre on her Head.
Pag. 84.
Three Steeples Argent on her Sable Shield,
Liv'd in the City, and disd [...]in'd the Field.

This is a glorious Mouse indeed! but, a [...] you have dress'd her, we don't know whether s [...] be J [...]w, Papist or Protestant.


Let me embrace you, Mr. Johnson, fo [...] that▪ you take it right. She is a meer Babel [...] Religions, and therefore she's a spotted Mouse her [...] and will be a Mule presently. But to go on.

‘This Princess—’

What Princess, Mr. Bayes?


Why this Mouse, for I forgot to tell yo [...] an Old Lyon made a Left Hand Marriage with h [...] Mother,Pag. 20. and begot on her Body Elizabeth Schis [...] who was married to Timothy Sacriledg, and ha [...] Issue Graceless Heresy. Who all give the sa [...] Coat with their Mother, Three Steeples Argent, [...] I told you before.

[Page 13]
This Princess tho' estrang'd from what was best,
Was least Deform'd, because Reform'd the least.
Pag. 23.
There's De and Re as good I'gad as ever was.
She in a Masquerade of Mirth and Love,
Pag. 22.
Mistook the Bliss of Heaven for Bacchinals above,
And grub'd the Thorns beneath our tender Feet,
To make the Paths of Paradise more sweet.

There's a Jolly Mouse for you, let me see any Body [...]lse that can shew you such another. Here now [...]ave I one damnable severe reflecting Line, but I [...]ant a Rhime to it, can you help me, Mr. Johnson.

Humbly content to be despis'd at Home,

Which is too narrow Infamy for some.


Sir, I thank you, now I can go on with it.

Whose Merits are diffus'd from Pole to Pole,
Pag. 63.
Where Winds can carry, and where Waves can rowl.

But does not this reflect upon some of our Friends, Mr. Bayes?


'Tis no matter for that, let me alone to [...]ring my self off. I'll tell you, lately I writ a [...]amn'd Libel on a whole Party, sheer Point and [...]atyr all through, I'gad: Call'd 'em Rogues, Dogs, [...]nd all the Names I could think of, but with an [...]xceeding deal of Wit; that I must needs say. [...]ow it happen'd before I could finish this Piece, [...]e Scheme of Affairs was altered, and those Peo­ [...]le were no longer Beasts: Here was a Plunge [...]ow: Should I lose my Labour, or Libel my [...]riend? [...]Tis not every Body's Talent to find a [...]alvo for this: But what do I but write a smooth [...]elicate Preface, wherein I tell them that the Satyr [...]as not intended to them, and this did the Business.


But if it was not intended to them against [...]hom it was writ, certainly it had no meaning [...] all.

[Page 14]

Poh! There's the Trick on't. Poor Fool [...] they took it, and were satisfied: And yet it maul' [...] 'em damnably, I'gad.


Why Faith, Mr. Bayes, there's this ver [...] Contrivance in the Preface to Dear Joys Jests.


What a Devil, do you think that l' steal from such an Author? Or ever read it?


I can't tell, but you sometimes read a bad, I have heard you quote Reynard the Fox.


Why there's it now; take it from me Mr. Smith, there is as good Morality, and as soun [...] Precepts, in the Delectable History of Reynard [...] Fox, as in any Book I know, except Seneca. Pra [...] tell me where in any other Author could I hav [...] found so pretty a Name for a Wolf as Isgrim? B [...] prithee, Mr. Smith, give me no more trouble, an [...] let me go on with my Mouse.

Pag. 29.
One Evening, when she went away from Court,
Levee's and Couchee's past without resort.

There's Court Language for you; nothing gives Verse so fine a turn as an Air of good Breeding.


But methinks the Levee's and Couchee of a Mouse are too great, especially when she walking from Court to the cooler Shades.


I'gad, now have you forgot what I tol [...] you that she was a Princess. But pray mind; he [...] the two Mice meet.

Pag. 16.
She met the Country Mouse, whose fearful Face
Beheld from far the common watering Place,
Nor durst approach—

Methinks, Mr. Bayes, this Mouse strangely alter'd, since she fear'd no Danger.


Godsokers! Why no more she does n [...] yet fear either Man or Beast: But, poor Creatur [...] she's afraid of the Water, for she could not swi [...] as you see by this.

[Page 15]
Nor durst approach, till with an awful Roar.
Pag. 30.
The Soveraign Lyon bad her fear no more.

[...]ut besides, 'tis above thirty Pages off that I told [...]u she fear'd no Danger; and I'gad if you will [...]ve no Variation of the Character, you must have [...]e same thing over and over again; 'tis the Beauty [...] Writing to strike you still with something new. Wee, but to proceed.

But when she had this sweetest Mouse in view,
Pag. 30.
Good Lord, how she admir'd her Heavenly Hiew!

[...]ere now to show you I am Master of all Stiles, I [...] my self down from the Majesty of Virgil, to the [...]weetness of Ovid. ‘Good Lord, how she admir'd her Heavenly Hiew!’ What more easie and familiar! I writ this Line for [...]e Ladies: The little Rogues weill be so fond of [...]e to find I can yet be so tender. I hate such a [...]ough unhewen Fellow as Milton, that a Man [...]ust sweat to read Him; I'gad, you may run over [...]is and be almost asleep.

Th' Immortal Mouse who saw the Viceroy come
So far to see Her, did invite her Home.

There's a pretty Name now for the Spotted Mouse, [...]e Viceroy!


But pray why d'e call her so?


Why! Because it sounds prettily:Pag. 55. I'll [...]all her the Crown-General presently if I've a mind [...]o it. Well.

—did invite her Home
To smoak a Pipe, and o'er a sober Pot
Discourse of Oates and Bedloe, and the Plot.
Pag. 31.
She made a Court'sy, like a Civil Dame,
And, being much a Gentlewoman, came.
Pag. 32.

Well, Gentlemen, here's my first part finish'd, and [...] think I have kept my Word with you, and given [...] the Majestick turn of Heroick Poesy. The rest being matter of Dispute, I had not such frequent oc­ [...]asion for the Magnificence of Verse, tho' I'gad they [Page 16] speak very well. And I have heard Men, and con­siderable Men too, talk the very same things, a great deal worse.


Nay, without doubt, Mr. Bayes, they have received no small advantage from the smoothness of your Numbers.


Ay, ay, I can do't, if I list: though you must not think I have been so dull as to mind thes [...] things my self, but 'tis the advantage of our Coffee house, that from their Talk one may write a ver [...] good Polemical Discourse, without ever troublin [...] one's Head with the Books of Controversie. For can take the slightest of their Arguments, and cl [...] 'em pertly into four Verses, which shall stare an [...] London Divine in the Face. Indeed your knou [...] Reasonings with a long Train of Majors and M [...] nors, and the Devil and all, are too barbarous f [...] my Stile; but I'gad, I can flourish better with on [...] of these twinkling Arguments, than the best of 'e [...] can fight with t'other. But we return to our Mous [...] and now I've brought 'em together, let 'em 'e [...] speak for themselves, which they will do extreamly well, or I'm mistaken: And pray observe, Gentlemen, if in one you don't find all the Delicacy [...] a luxurious City-Mouse, and in the other all th [...] plain Simplicity of a sober serious Matron.

Pag. 32.
said the Lady of the Spotted Muff,
Methinks your Tiff is sour, your Cates meer stuf [...]

There, did not I tell you she'd be nice?

Your Pipe's so foul, that I disdain to smoak;
And the Weed worse than e'er Tom. I—s took.

I did not hear she had a Spotted Muff before.


Why no more she has not now: but s [...] has a Skin that might make a Spotted Muff. There a pretty Figure now unknown to the Ancients.

[Page 17]
Leave, leave (
Poeta Loquitur.
she's earnest you see) this hoary Shed and lonely Hills.
And eat with me at Groleau's, smoak at Will's.
What Wretch would nibble on a Hanging-shelf,
When at Pontack's he may Regale himself?
Or to the House of cleanly Renish go;
Or that at Charing-Cross, or that in Channel-Row?

Do you mark me now? I would by this repre­sent the Vanity of a Town-Fop, who pretends to be acquainted at all those good Houses, though perhaps he ne'er was in 'em. But heark! she goes on.

Come, at a Crown a Head our selves we'll treat,
Champain our Liquor, and Ragousts our Meat.
Then hand in hand we'll go to Court, dear Cuz,
To visit Bishop Martin, and King Buz.
With Evening Wheels we'll drive about the Park,
Finish at Locket's, and reel home [...]'th' Dark.
Break clattering Windows, and demolish Doors
Of English Manufactures—Pimps, and Whores.
Pag. 63.

Methinks a Pimp or a Whore, is an odd sort of a Manufacture, Mr. Bayes.


I call 'em so, to give the Parliament a hint not to suffer so many of 'em to be exported, to the decay of Trade at home.

With these Allurements Spotted did invite
From Hermits Cell, the Female Proselyte.
Oh! with what ease we follow such a Guide,
Where Souls are starv'd, and Senses gratifi'd.

Now would not you think she's going? But I'gad, you're mistaken; you shall hear a long Argument [...]bout Infallibility, before she stirs yet.

[Page 18]
Page 69.
But here the White, by Observation wise
Who long on Heaven had fixt her prying Eyes.
With thoughtful Countenance, and grave Remark,
Said, or my Judgment fails me, or 'tis dark.
Lest therefore we should stray, and not go right,
Through the brown horrour of the Starless Night,
Pag. 37.
Hast thou Infallibility, that Wight?
Sternly the Savage grin'd, and thus reply'd:
That Mice may err, was never yet deny'd.
That I deny, said the Immortal Dame,
Pag. 37.
There is a Guide—Gad, I've forgot his Name.
Who lives in Heaven or Rome, the Lord know [...] where,
Spotted Mouse Lo­quitur.
Had we but him, Sweet-heart, we could not err.
But heark you, Sister, this is but a Whim;
For still we want a Guide to find out Him.

Here you see I don't trouble my self to keep on the Narration, but write white Speak [...] or dappl [...] Speaks by the side. But when I get any nobl [...] Thought which I envy a Mouse should say, I clap it down in my own Person with a Po [...]ta Loquitur;Page 69▪ which, take notice, is a surer sign of a fi [...]e thing in my Writings, than a Hand in the Magent any­where else. Well, now says White,

What need we find Him, we have certain proof
That he is somewhere, Dame, and that's enough:
For if there is a Guide that knows the way,
Although we know not him, we cannot stray.

That's true, I'gad: Well said White. You se [...] her Adversary has nothing to say for her self, and therefore to confirm the Victory, she shall make [...] Simile.


Why then I find Similes are as good after Victory, as after a Surprize.

[Page 19]

Every Jot, I'gad, or rather better. Well, she can do it two ways,Pag. 37. either about Emission or Reception of Light, or else about Epsom-waters, but I think the last is most familiar; therefore speak, my pretty one.

As though 'tis controverted in the School,
If Waters pass by Urine or by Stool.
Shall we who are Philosophers, thence gather
From this Dissention that they work by neither.

And I'gad, she's in the right on't; but mind now, she comes upon her swop!

‘All this I did, your Arguments to try.’

And I'gad, if they had been never so good, this next Line confutes 'em.

‘Hear, and be dumb, thou Wretch,Pag. 54. that Guide am I.

There's a Surprize for you now! How sneak­ingly t'other looks? Was not that pretty now, to make her ask for a Guide first, and then tell her she was one? Who could have thought that this little Mouse had the Pope and a whole General Council in her Belly? Now Dapple had nothing to say to this; and therefore you'll see she grows peevish.

Come leave your Cracking Tricks, and as they say,
Use not, that Barber that trims time, delay
Which I'gad is new, and my own.
I've Eyes as well as you to find the way.
Pag. 101.
Then on they jogg'd, and since an Hour of Talk
Might cut a Banter on the tedious Walk;
[Page 20]As I remember, said the sober Mouse,
I've heard mu [...]h talk of the Wits Coffee House.
Thither, says B [...]indle, thou shalt go, and se [...]
Priests sipping Coffee, Sparks and Poets Tea;
Here rugged Freeze, there Quality well drest,
These baffling the Grand-Seigniour; those the Test.
And hear shrew'd Guesses made, and Reasons given,
Pag. 111.
That humane Laws were never made in Heaven.
But above all, what shall oblige thy Sight,
And fill thy Eye-B [...]lls with a vast Delight;
Is the Poetic Judge of Sacred Wit,
Who do's i' th' Darkness of his Glory sit.
Pag. 28.
And as the Moon who first receives the Light,
With which she m [...]kes these neither R [...]gions bright;
So does he shine, refl [...]cting from afar,
The Rays he borrow'd from a better Star:
For Rules which from Corneille and Rapin flow,
Admir'd by all the scribling Herd below.
From French Tradition while he does dispence,
Unerring Truths, 'tis Schism, a damn'd Offence,
To question his, or trust your private Sense.

Hah! Is not that right, Mr. Johnson? Gad for­give me he is fast asleep! Oh the damn'd Stupidity of this Age! asl [...]ep! Well, Sir, Since you'r so drousy, your humble Servant.


Nay, Pray Mr. Bayes, Faith I heard you all the while. The White Mouse.


The White Mouse! ay, ay, I thought how you heard me. Your Servant, Sir, your Servant.


Nay, Dear Bayes, Faith I beg thy Par­don, I was up late last Night, Prithee lend me a little Snuff, and go on.

[Page 21]

Go on! Pox, I don't know where I was, well I'll begin. Here, mind, now they are both come to Town.

But now at Peccadille they arrive,
And taking Coach, t'wards Temple Bar they drive;
But at St. Clement's Church, eat out the Back;
And slipping through the Palsgrave, bilkt poor Hack.

There's the Utile which ought to be in all Poe­try, Many a Young Templer will save his Shilling by this Stratagem of my Mice.


Why, will any Young Templer eat out [...]he Back of a Coach?


No, I'gad, but you'll grant it is mighty natural for a Mouse.

Thence to the Devil, and ask'd if Chanticleer,
Of Clergy kind, or Counsellor Chough was there;
Pag. 133.
Or Mr. Dove, a Pigeon of Renown,
By his high Crop, and corny Gizzard known,
Pag. 126.
Or Sister Partle [...], with the Hooded Head;
Pag. 130.
No, sir. She's hooted hence, said Will, and fled.
Why so? Because she would not pray a-Bed.

'Sdeath! Who can keep awake at [...]uch Stuff? Pray, Mr. Bayes, lend me your Box [...]gain.


Mr. Johnson, How d'e like that Box? [...]ray take notice of it, 'twas given me by a Per­ [...]n of Honour for looking over a Paper of Verses; [...]nd indeed I put in all the Lines that were worth [...]ny thing in the whole Poem. Well, but where [...]ere we? Oh! Here they are, just going up [...]airs into the Apollo; from whence my White [...]kes occasion to talk very well of Tradition.

[Page 22]
Thus to the Place where Johnson sat we climb,
Learning on the same Rail that guided him▪
And whilst we thus on equal Helps rely,
Our Wit must be as true, our Thoughts as high.
Pag. 45.
For as an Author happily compares
Tradition to a well-fixt pair of Stairs,
So this the Scala Sancta we believe,
By which his Traditive Genius we receive.
Thus every step I take my Spirits soar,
And I grow more a Wit, and more, and more.

There's Humour! Is not that the liveliest Imag [...] in the World of a Mouse's going up a pair of Stairs More a Wit, and more and more?


Mr. Bayes, I beg your Pardon heartily I must be rude, I have a particular Engagemen [...] at this time, and I see you are not near an en [...] yet.


Gods [...]kers! Sure you won't serve me so All my finest Descriptions and best Discourse is ye [...] to come.


Troth, Sir, if 'twere not an Extraordinary concern I could not leave you.


Well; but you shall take a little more and here I'll pass over two dainty Episodes of Swallows, Swifts, Chickens, and Buzzards.


I know not why they should come in except to make yours the longest Fable that eve [...] was told.


Why, the Excellence of a Fable is in th [...] Length of it. Aesop indeed, like a Slave as h [...] was, made little, short, simple Stories, with a dr [...] Moral at the end of 'em; and could not form an [...] Noble Design. But here I give you Fable upo [...] Fable; and after you are satisfied with Beasts i [...] the first Course, serve you up a delicate Dish o [...] Fowl for the second; now I was at all this pains t [...] [Page 23] [...]buse one particular Person; for I'gad I'll tell you what a Trick he serv'd me. I was once translating [...] very good French Author, Varillas; but being something [...]ong about it, as you know a Man is not always in [...]he Humour; What does this Jack do, but puts out [...]n Answer to my Friend before I had half finished [...]he Translation: So there was three whole Months [...]ost upon his Account. But, I think, I have my Revenge on him sufficiently, for I let all the World [...]now, that he is a tall, broad back'd, lusty Fellow, Pag. 137. of a Brown Complexion, fair Behaviour, a Fluent [...]ongue, and taking amongst the Women; and to [...]op it all, that he's much a Scholar, more a Wit, [...]nd owns but two Sacraments. Don't you think [...]his Fellow will hang himself? But besides, I have [...]o nickt his Character in a Name as will make you [...]plit. I call him—I'gad I won't tell you unless remember what I said of him.


Why, that he was much a Scholar, and more a Wit


Right; and his Name is Buzzard, Ha! ha! ha.


Very proper indeed, Sir.


Nay, I have a farther fetch in it yet [...]han perhaps you imagine; for his true Name be­gins with a B, which makes me sl [...]ly contrive him [...]his, to begin with the same Letter: There's a [...]retty Device, Mr. Johnson; I learn'd it, I must [...]eeds confess, from that ingenious Sport, I love my Love with an A, because she's Amiable; and [...] you could but get a Knot of merry Fellows to­ [...]ether, you should see how little Bayes would top [...]m all at it, I'gad.


Well, but good Faith, Mr. Bayes, I [...]ust leave you, I am half an hour past my time.


Well, I've done, I've done. Here are [...]ght hundred Verses upon a rainy Night, and [...] Bird's-Nest; and here's three hundred more, [Page 24] Translated from two Paris Gazettes, in which th [...] Spotted Mouse gives an account of the Treaty [...] Peace between the Czars of Muscovy, and th [...] Emperour, which is a piece of News. White do [...] not believe, and this is her Answer. I am resolv [...] you shall hear it, for in it I have taken occasion [...] prove Oral Tradition better than Scripture. No [...] you must know. 'tis sincerely my Opinion, that [...] had been better for the World, if we ne'er had an [...] Bibles at all.

E'er that Gazette was printed, said the White,
Our Robin told another Story quite;
This Oral Truth more safely I believ'd,
My Ears cannot, your Eyes may be deceiv'd.
By word of Mouth unerring Maxims flow,
And Preaching's best, if understood, or no.
Pag. [...].
Words I confess bound by, and trip so light,
We have not time to take a steady sight;
Yet fleeting thus are plainer than when writ,
To long Examination they submit.

Hard things—Mr. Smith., if these two Lin [...] don't recompence your stay, ne'er trust John Bay [...] again.

Hard things at the frist Blush are clear and full,
Pag. 15.
God mends on second thoughts, but Man grows du [...]

I'gad, I judge all Men by my self, 'tis so wi [...] me, I never strove to be very exact in any thi [...] but I spoil'd it.


But allowing your Character to be tru [...] is it not a little too severe?


'Tis no matter for that, these gene [...] Reflections are daring, and savour most of a No [...] Genius, that spares neither Friend nor Foe.

[Page 25]

Are you never afraid of a drubbing for that daring of your Noble Genius?


Afraid! Why, Lord, you make so much of a Beating, I'gad, 'tis no more to me than a Flea biting. No, no, if I can but be witty upon 'em, let 'em 'en lay on, I'faith, I'll ne'er baulk my Fancy to save my Carkass. Well, but we must dispatch, Mr. Smith.

Thus did they merrily carouse all day,
And like the gaudy Fly their Wings display;
And sip the Sweets, and bask in great Apollo's ray.

Well, there's an end of the Entertainment; and Mr. Smith, if your Affairs would have permitted, you would have heard the best Bill of Fare that ever was serv'd up in Heroicks: But here follows a Dispute shall recommend it self, I'll say nothing for it. For Dapple, who you must know was a Protestant, all this while trusts to her own Judg­ment, and foolishly dislikes the Wine; upon which our Innocent does so run her down, that she has not one word to say for her self, but what I put in her Mouth; and I'gad, you may imagine they won't be very good ones, for she has disoblig'd me, like an Ingrate.

Sirrah, says Brindle, Thou hast brought us Wine,
Sour to my Tast, and to my Eyes unfine.
Says Will, all Gentlemen like it, ah! says White,
What is approv'd by them must needs be right.
Tis true, I thought it bad,
Page 38.
but if the House
Commend it, I submit, a private Mouse.

Mind that, mind the Decorum and Defference, which our Mouse pays to the Company.

[Page 26]
Nor to their Catholic Consent oppose
My erring Judgment, and reforming Nose.

Ah! ah! there she has nick't her, that's up to thee Hilts, I'gad, and you shall se [...] Dapple res [...]nts it.

Why, what a Devil shan't I trust my Eyes?
Must I drink Stum bec [...]use the Rascal lyes?
And palms upon [...] Catholic Consent,
To give sophisticated Brewings vent.
[...] 5.
Says White, What ancient Evidence can sway,
If you must Argue thus and not obey?
Drawers must be trusted, th [...]ough whose hands con­vey'd,
You take the Liquor, or you spoil the Trade.
For sure those Honest Fellows have no knack
Of pu [...]ting of [...] stum'd Clar [...]t for Pon [...]ack.
How long, alas! would the poor Vintner last,
If all that drink must judge, and every Guest
Be allowed to have an understanding [...]ast?
Thus she: Nor could the Panther well inlarge,
With weak defence against so strong a Charge.

There I call her a Panther, because she' [...] spotted, which is such a Blot to the Reformation, as I war­rant 'em they will never claw off, I'gad.

But with a weary Yawn th [...]t shew'd her Pride,
Said, Spotless was a Villain, and she lyed.
White saw her canker'd Malice at that Word,
And said her Prayers, and dr [...]w her Delphic Sword
T'other cry'd Murther, and her Rage restrain'd:
And thus her passive Character maintain'd.
But now alas!—

Mr. Johnson, Pray mind me this; Mr. Smith [...] you to stay no longer, for this that follow [Page 27] is so engaging; hear me but two Lines, I'gad, and go away afterwards if you can.

But now, alas, I grieve, I grieve to tell
What sad Mischance these pretty things befel
These Birds of Beasts.—

There's a tender Expression, Birds of Beasts: 'tis the greatest Affront that you can put upon any Bird, to call it, Beast of a Bird:Pag. 129. and a Beast is so fond of being call'd a Bird, as you can't imagine.

These Birds of Beasts, these learned Reas'ning Mice,
Were separated, banish'd in a trice.
Who would be learned for their sakes, who wise?

Ay, who indeed? There's a Pathos, I'gad, Gen­ [...]lemen, if that won't move you, nothing will, I can assure you: But here's the sad thing I was [...]fraid of.

The Constable alarm'd by this Noise,
Enter'd the Room, directed by the Voice,
And speaking to the Watch, with Head aside,
Pag. 135.
Said, Desperate Cures must be to desperate Ills apply'd.
Th [...]se Gentlemen, for so their Fate decrees,
Can n [...]'er enjoy at once the But and Peace.
Pag. 115. Pag. 144.
[...]hen [...]ach have separate Interests of their own,
Two Mice are one too many for a Town.
By Schism they are torn; and therefore, Brother,
[...]ok you to one, and I'll secure the t'other.
[...]w whither Dapple did to Bridewell go,
O [...] in the Stocks all Night her Fingers blow,
Pag. 98.
Or in the Compter lay, concerns not us to know.
[...]ut the immortal Matron, spotless White,
[...]orgetting Dapple's Rudeness, Malice, Spight,
[...]ook'd kindly back, and wept, and said, Good Night.
[Page 28]
Pag. 145.
Ten thousand Watchmen waited on this Mouse,
With Bills, and Halberde, to her Country-House.

This last Contrivance I had from a judicious Au­thor, that makes Ten thousand Angels wait upon hi [...] Hind, and she asleep too, I'gad.—


Come, let's see what we have to pay.


What a Pox, are you in such hast? Yo [...] han't told me how you like it.


Oh, extreamly well. Here, Drawer.

THE EAGLE and the RO …

THE EAGLE and the ROBIN. AN APOLOGUE. [...]ranslated from the Original of Aesop, written Two Thousand Years since, and now rendred in familiar Verse. By H. G. L. Mag. With an OLD CAT'S PROPHECY. [...]ken out of an Old Copy of Verses, suppos'd to be writ by John Lidgate, a Monk of Bury.

LONDON. [...]nted and Sold by H. Hills, in Black-fryars near the Water-side. 1709.


GOOD Precepts and true Gold are more va­luable for their Antiquity. And here I present my good Reader with One, deliver­ [...] by the first Founder of Mythology, Aesop him­ [...]f. Maximus Planudes takes Notice of it, as a [...]ery excellent Part of his Production; and Phoe­ [...]us, Cameratius, and others, seem to agree, that [...]s Eagle, and five others not yet translated, are [...]al to any of his that are handed down to us. [...]ho' Mr. Ogleby and Sir Roger L'Estrange had the [...]nhappiness to be unacquainted with them, yet I [...]d the good Fortune to discover them by the re­ [...]oval of my old Library, which has made me a­ [...]ends for the Trouble of getting to where I now each. They were Written, or Dictated at least, [...] Aesop, in the fifty fourth Olympiad: And tho' I [...]signed them chiefly for the use of my School, (this [...]ing translated by a Youth design'd for a Greek Pro­ [...]ssor,) yet no Man is so Wise as not to need Instru­ [...]ion, ay, and by the way of Fable too; since the [...]doly Scriptures themselves, the best Instructors, [...]ach us by way of Parable, Symbol, Image and [...]igure; and David was more moved with Nathan's —Thou art the Man. than all the most rigid [Page 4] Lectures in the World would have done. Whoeve [...] will be at the Trouble of comparing this Vers [...] with the Original, let them begin at the tenth Lin [...] and they will find it Metaphrastically done, Verbu [...] verbo, as the best way of Justice to the Author.

Those that are meer Adorers of [...] w [...] not be angry that it is in this sort of Metre, s [...] which I gave leave, the Lad having a turn to th [...] sort of Measure, which is Pleasant and Agreeabl [...] tho' not Lofty. For my own part, I concur with m [...] Master Aristotle, that [...], are ve [...] far from being unnecessary or unpleasant.

May this be of use to thee, and it will please.

Thine in all good Wishes, Horat. Gran [...]


A Lady liv'd in former Days,
That well deserv'd the utmost Praise;
For Greatness, Birth, and Justice fam'd,
[...]nd every Virtue cou'd be nam'd.
Which made her course of Life so even,
[...]hat she's a Saint (if dead) in Heaven.
This Lady had a little Seat
[...]st like a Palace, 'twas so neat,
[...]om ought (but Goodness) her Retreat.
One Morning in her giving way,
[...]s was her Custom ev'ry Day,
[...]o cheer the Poor, the Sick and Cold,
[...]r with Apparel, Fookd, or Gold,
[...]here came a gazing Stranger by,
[...]n whom she quickly cast an Eye.
The Man admiring, made a stand;
[...]e had a Bird upon his Hand:
What's that, says she, that hangs it Head,
[...]nking and faint? 'Tis almost dead.
[...]adam, a Red-Breast that I found,
[...] this Wet Season almost drown'd.
[...]h! bring him in, and keep him warm;
[...]obins do never any harm.
[Page 6]They soon obey'd, and chopt him Meat,
Gave him whatever he wou'd Eat;
The Lady Care her self did take,
And made a Nest for Robin's sake:
But he perkt up into her Chair,
In which he plenteously did fare,
Assuming quite another Air.
The Neighbours thought, when this they spy'd,
The World well mended on his side.
With well-tun'd Throat he whistl'd long,
And every body lik'd his Song;
At last, said they, this little Thing
Will kill it self, so long to sing.
Well, Closet him among the rest
Of those my Lady loves the best;
They little thought, that saw him come,
That Robins were so quarrelsome:
The Door they open'd, in he pops,
And to the highest Perch he hops;
The party-colour'd Birds he chose.
The Gold-Finches, and such as those;
With them he'd Peck, and Bill, and Feed,
And very well (at times) agreed:
Canary Birds were his Delight,
With them he'd Test a Test all Night;
But the brown Linnets went to pot,
He kill'd 'em all upon the spot.
The Servants were employ'd each Day,
Instead of Work, to part some Fray,
And wisht the aukard Fellow curst
That brought him to my Lady first.
At last they all resolv'd upon't,
Some way to tell my Lady on't.
Mean while he'd had a noble Swing,
And rul'd just like the Galli [...] King;
Having kill'd or wounded all,
Unless the Eagle in the Hall;
[Page 7]With whom he durst but only Jar▪
He being the very Soul of War:
But hated him for his Desert,
And bore him Malice at his Heart.
This Eagle was my Lady's Pride,
The Guardian Safety of her Side:
He often brought home Foreign Prey,
Which humbly at her Feet he lay.
For Colour, Pinions and Stature,
The fairest Workmanship of Nature.
[...]Twou'd do one good to see him move,
[...]o full of Grandeur, Grace and Love:
He was indeed a Bird for Jove.
He soar'd aloft in Brucum's Field,
And thousand Kites and Vultures kill'd;
Which made him Dear to all that flew,
(Unless to Robin and his Crew)
One Day poor Bob, puff'd up with Pride,
Thinking the Combat to abide,
A Goose-quill on for Weapon ty'd,
Knowing by Use, that, now and then,
A Sword less Hurt do's than a Pen.
As for Example—What at home
You've well contriv'd, to do at Rome,
A Pen blows up—before you come.
You are suppos'd to undermine
The Foe,—in some immense Design.
A Pen can bite you with a Line;
There's forty ways to give a Sign.
Well,—all on Fire away he stalk'd,
Till come to—where the Eagle walk'd.
Bob did not shill I shall I go,
Nor said one word of Friend or Foe;
But flirting at him made a Blow,
As Game-Cocks with their Gauntlets do.
At which the Eagle gracefully
Cast a disdaining, sparkling Eye;
As who should say,—What's this, a Flie?
[Page 8]But no Revenge at all did take,
He spar'd him for their Lady's sake;
Who ponder'd these things in her Mind,
And took the Conduct of the Eagle kind.
Upon Reflection now—to shew
What harm the least of things may do,
Mad Robin, with his cursed Flirt,
One of the Eagle's * Eyes had hurt;
Inflam'd it, made it red and sore:
But the Affront inflam'd it more.
Oh! how the Family did tear,
To fire the House could scarce forbear:
With Scorn (not Pain) the Eagle fir'd,
Murmur'd Disdain, and so retir'd.
Robin, to offer some Relief,
In words like these would heal their Grief.
Shou'd th' Eagle die,—which Heav'n forbid,
We ought some other to provide.
I do not say that any now
Are fit, but in a Year or Two.
And shou'd this mighty Warrior fall,
They shou'd not want a General.
As Men have long observ'd, that one
Misfortune seldom comes alone;
Just in the Moment this was done,
Ten Thousand Foes in sight were come.
Vultures, and Kites, and Birds of Prey,
In Flocks so thick—they darken'd Day.
A long-concerted Force and strong,
Vermin of all kinds made the Throng;
Foxes, were in the Faction join'd,
Who waited their Approach to ground.
By every Hand, from common Fame,
The frightful Face of Danger came.
One cries, What help now—who can tell?
I'm glad the Eagle's here, and well:
[Page 9]Another, out of Breath with fear,
Says, Thousands more near Sea appear;
They'll swop our Chickens from the Door.
We never were so set before:
We are glad the Eagle will forget,
And the Invaders kill or beat.
Reserv'd and Great, his Noble Mind
Above all petty things inclin'd;
Abhor'd the Thoughts of any thing,
But what his Lady's Peace cou'd bring.
Who Blest him first, and bad him do,
As he was wont, and beat the Foe.
Burning and restless as the Sun,
Until this willing Work was done;
He whets his Talons, stretcht his Wings,
His Lightning, Darts, and Terror flings:
Tow'rs with a flight into the Sky,
These Million Monsters to descry,
Prepar'd to Conquer, or to Dye.
The Party, that so far was come,
Thought not the Eagle was at home:
To Fame and Danger used in Field,
They knew he'd quickly made 'em yield:
But on Assurance he was near,
Incumber'd, Faint, and Dead with fear;
They made with Hurry towards the Lakes,
And he his Pinions o'er 'em shakes;
They had not (with such Horrour fill'd)
The Courage to let one be kill'd:
They fled, and left no Foe behind,
Unless it were the fleeting Wind:
Only—a Man by Water took
Two fine young Merlins, and a Roo [...]
The Family had now Repose:
But with the Sun the Eagle rose;
Th' Imperial Bird pursu'd the Foe,
More Toil than Rest inur'd to know.
[Page 10]He wing'd his Way to Latian Land,
Where first was hatch'd this murd'ring Band;
He darted Death where-e'er he came,
Some of 'em dying at his Name.
Their mighty Foe—a fatal Pledge,
Their Bowels tore thro' ev'ry Hedge:
They Flutter, Shriek, and Caw, and Hiss;
Their Strength decays, and Fears increase:
But most the Chevaliers, the Geese.
So many slaughter'd Fowl there was,
Their Carkasses blockt up the Ways;
The rest he drove, half spent, Pell-mell,
Quite to the Walls of Pontifell.
Robin at home, tho' mad to hear
He should so Conquer every where,
Expostulated thus with Fear.
Ungrateful I, that so have stir'd
Against this Generous, Noble Bird,
Wast thou not first by him preferr'd?
Let's leave him in his Gall to burn,
And back to Pontifell return.
There some to Chimney-Tops aspire,
To Turrets some that cou'd fly higher;
Some 'bove a Hundred Miles were gone,
To Roost them at Byzantium.
Alas! in vain was their Pretence,
He broke thro' all their strong Defence:
Down went their Fences, Wires and all;
Perches and Birds together fall.
None hop'd his Power to withstand,
But gave the Nest to his Command;
They told him of Ten Thousand more,
In Flocks along the Ganges Shore:
Safe in their Furrows, free from Trouble,
Like Partridges among the Stubble▪
He spreads himself, and cuts the Air,
And steady Flight soon brought him there.
[Page 11]Lord, how deceiv'd and vext he was!
To find they were but meer Jackdaws.
A Hundred Thousand all in sight,
They all could Chatter, not one Fight.
I'll deal by them as is their due:
Shough, cry'd the Eagle; off they flew.
His flashing Eyes their Hearts confounds,
Tho' by their flight secure from Wounds;
Which was a signal, fatal Baulk,
To a late swift Italian Hawk.
The Eagle wou'd no Rest afford,
Till he had sent my Lady word;
Who when she heard the dear Surprise,
Wonder and Joy stood in her Eyes.
My Faithful Eagle, hast thou then
My Mortal Foes destroy'd again?
Return, return, and on me wait;
Be thou the Guardian of my Gate;
Thee and thy Friends are worth my Care,
Thy Foes (if any such there are)
Shall my avenging Anger share.
So—lest new Ills shou'd intervene,
She turn'd the Robin out again.
The Samians now in vast Delight,
Bless their good Lady Day and Night;
Wish that her Life might ne'er be done,
But Everlasting as the Sun.
The Eagle high again did soar,
The Lady was disturb'd no more,
But all things flourish'd as before.

Robin Red Breast, with the Beasts.

ONE that had in her Infant State,
While playing at her Father's Gate,
Seen, and was most hugely smitten
With young Dog and dirty Kitten,
Had took them up and lug'd 'em in,
And made the Servants wash 'em clean.
When she to a fit Age was grown,
To be sole Mistress of her own,
Then to her Favour and strange Trust,
She rais'd these two; in rank the first
The Dog: who with gilt Collar grac'd,
Strutted about. The Cat was plac'd
O'er all the House to domineer,
And kept each Wight of her in fear;
While he o'er all the Plains had pow'r.
That savage Wolves might not devour
Her Flocks. She gave him charge great Care
To take: But Beasts uncertain are.
Now see by these what Troubles rise
To those who in their Choice unwise
Put trust in such; for he soon join'd
With Beasts of Prey the Dog combin'd,
Who kill'd the Sheep, and tore the Hind:
While he would stand, and grin and bark,
Concealing thus his Dealings dark.
A Wolf, or so, sometimes he'd take,
And then, O what a Noise he'd make!
But with wild Beasts o'er-run yet are
The Plains: Some die for want of Fare,
[Page 13]Or torn, or kill'd; the Shepherds find
Each day are lost of ev'ry kind.
Thy silly Sheep lament in vain,
Of their hard Fate, not him complain▪
The Shepherds, and the Servants all,
Against the Traitor loudly baul:
But there was none that dar'd to tell
Their Lady what to them befel;
For Puss, a Fox of wondrous Art,
Brought in to help, and take their part,
By whose Assistance to deceive,
She made her ev'ry Lye believe.
One lucky Day, when she was walking
In her Woods, with Servants talking,
And stop'd to hear how very well
A Red-Breast sung, then him to dwell
With her she call'd: He came, and took
His place next to a Fav'rite Rook.
Where Robin soon began to sing
Such Songs as made the House to ring;
He sung the Loss and Death of Sheep,
In Notes that made the Lady weep:
How for his Charge the Dog unfit,
Took part with Foes, and Shepherds bit;
Ev'n from his Birth he did him trace,
And shew him Cur of shabby Race;
The first by wandring Beggars fed,
His Sire advanc'd, turn'd Spit for Bread;
Himself each trust had still abus'd;
To steal what he should guard, was us'd
From Puppy: known where-e'er he came,
Both vile and base, and void of Shame.
The Cat he sung that none could match
[...]or venom'd Spite, or cruel Scratch;
[...] [...]
[Page 14]That from a Witch transform'd she came,
Who kitten'd three of equal Fame:
This first, one dead, of Tabby Fur
The third survives, much Noise of her
Had been: A Cat well known, with ease
On Errands dark, o'er Land and Seas,
She'd Journeys take to Cub of Bear,
From these intriguing Beasts, who swear
They'll bring him to defend the Wrong
That they have done. Again he sung,
How Tabby once, in Moon-light Night,
Trotted with Letter Fox did write;
In which he sends his best Respects
To the She-Bear, and thus directs:
"Madam, said he, your Cub safe send,
"None shall his Worship soon offend;
"It's all I can at present do
"To serve him, as his Friends well know.
At this the Beasts grew in such Rage,
That none their Fury could assuage;
Nay, Puss her Lady would have scratch'd,
And tore her Eyes, but she was watch'd;
For she'd set up her Back, and mew,
And thrice ev'n in her Face she flew.
The Dog, like an ungrateful Spark,
At her would dare to snarl and bark.
Her Tenants wondring stood to hear
That she their Insolence would bear;
And offer'd their Assistance to
Soon make them better manners know:
But she, to avoid all farther Rout;
Her Window opening, turn'd Bob out;
Hoping that then her Beasts would live
In Peace, and no Disturbance give.
Yet nothing she can do avails,
Their Rage against her still prevails▪
[Page 15]Tho' Puss was warn'd to fear their Fate
[...]n Lines (by old Prophetick Cat,
Writ before her Transformation,
When she was in the Witch's Station)
Foretelling thus: "When Beasts are grown
"To certain heights, before unknown
"Of Human Race, some shall aloud
"Inflame and arm a dreadful Croud,
"Who in vast Numbers shall advance,
"And to new Tunes shall make them dance:
"When this begins, no longer hope,
"For all remains is Ax and Rope.
But not deter'd by this they dar'd,
With some who of their Plunder shar'd,
T' affront their Lady, and conspire
To many with her Money hire,
Contemning her, to pay undue
Regards unto this Bestial Crew:
Tho' these resembled Human Shapes,
They were indeed no more than Apes;
Who some in House, and some in Wood,
And others in high Boxes stood,
That chatt'ring made such noise and stir,
How all was due to Fox and Cur:
Till by their false deluding way,
She found her Flocks begin to stray.
Still Robin does for her his Care
And Zeal express, on whom yet are
His thoughts all fix'd. On her he dreams
Each Night. Her Praises are his Themes
[...]n Songs all day. Now perch'd on Tree,
Finding himself secure and free,
He pertly shakes his little Wings;
[...]ets up his Throat: Again he sings,
That she had left no other way
[...]o save her Flocks, and end this Fray▪
[...] [...]
[Page 16]But soon to her Assistance take
One who could make these Monsters shake;
A well-known Huntsman who has Skill
The fiercest Beasts to tame or kill:
At her Command he'd come, and he
Would make her great, and set them free;
That should these Beasts some evil day
Bring Cub into her Grounds, she may
Depend that not her self they'll spare,
Since to insult her now they dare:
All she at best can hope for then,
Is to be safe shut up in Den;
Since by sure signs all these Ingrate
Are known to bear her deadly Hate.
He ends his Song, and prays to Heaven,
That she may have the Wisdom given,
Before it be too late to take
Such Resolutions, as may make
Her safe, and that these Beasts no more
To ravage in the Plains have pow'r.


[...]ccasion'd, by the Two Houses Joining in One Address to the QUEEN.

BY THE Author of the True-born English-Man.

LONDON: Printed in the Year MDCCIX.


HAIL Image, of th' Eternal Mind,
The only perfect Blessing of Mankind;
Thou Emblem of the Sacred Rest,
And surest Pledge, it shall be once possess'd;
Where e're thou dwellest, 'tis always Calm and Clear,
Bright like thy Glorious self and Fair:
No Clouds thy Heavenly Climates know,
Thou find'st it all Serene, or mak'st it so.
If Nations thou, or Souls hast once possess'd,
From all their Broils and Burthens they're releas'd,
All Human Happiness attends on thee,
In Gaol thou sets the Pris'ner Free,
[...]f thou Unlock'st the Fetters of the Mind,
[...] spight of Bars and Bolts 'tis unconfin'd.
[Page 4]Tell us, bright Nymph, by what strange Art,
Thou fan'st the heated Souls of Men Oppress'd;
Cool'st all the Fury of the Heart,
And guid'st the Mind to Light and Rest?
Tell us, Great Interposing Something, how,
To thy Great Influence, all the Passions bow;
How thou deny'st the Gust of sweet Revenge,
Can'st all to Calms and Softness change?
In the least Moment act thy part,
And lock up all the Lab'rinths of the Heart?
Fill'd with just Rage, the Furious Sp'rits take Arms,
When Injury and Power to hurt Combine,
What Mind can once resist th' Unhappy Charms,
Where wish'd Revenge, with wish'd Occasion join.
When the Exasperated Passions rage,
And all the Man against himself Engage;
The mighty Tempests rise within,
And strong Convulsions, act the swelling Spleen.
When Fury leads him to the Fatal Brink,
Thou turn'st him round but once, and mak'st him think;
The Ungovern'd Wretch in Arms appears,
Against his Eyes, against his Ears;
Judges of nothing, Scorns his Sence,
Lampoons his Nature, Bullies Providence;
Headlong he seeks to give his Fury vent,
Bursting with Rage, and swell'd with Discontent.
Then thy soft showers distill upon the Soul,
And all the Frenzy of the Mind controul;
Reduce the Wretch, by Rage and Passions blind,
To Exercise the Opticks of his Mind;
Thy balmy Dews, the raging Storms restrain,
And Cool the Fermentations of his Brain;
Assisting Reason in her just Defence,
And Hand in Hand, Conduct him to his Sense;
[Page 5]Disperses all the Vapours that remain,
Brings him to act, and so restores the Man.
Touch'd with thy Scepters Golden point,
The Hypochondraick Poisons lose their Taint;
Th' Infecting Venome of inflam'd desire,
Flows back, and of it self puts out the Fire:
The Soul returns to Rectitude, and shows,
That Heaven within, from whence that Influence flows.
Blest Peace! May every Soul that knows thy Name,
[...]an thy just Fires and keep alive the Flame;
[...]o their due Homage, to thy Blessing pay,
[...]o banish Storms, and banish Crimes away.
Hail, Virgin Peace, thou Branch of Innocence,
How art thou sunk in early Crimes of Men,
How hard to be restor'd again,
And only art obtain'd in Penitence.
Thou bright Effluvium, of the Heavenly Ray,
[...]reat Emanation, from Eternal Day;
The Guilty only from thee run,
Like Storms and Darkness from the Sun;
Darkness and Storms, with Guilty pace,
[...]ee from the Glorious Lustre of thy Face,
And Hell it self's Enrag'd to know,
[...]hy Absence helps to make her so.
When Men by Pride, and wild Ambition led,
[...]or wild Ambition, oft distracts the Head;
Contend for Trifles, and make War,
To be less Happy than they are.
[...]hen thus against their Native Happiness,
[...]hey Fight with Plenty, and fall out with Peace;
[...]ow soon does War, its vile Effects Explain,
[...]nd his own Miseries inform the Man;
Damn'd to Repentance, and his Fate
Shows him his Follies, but too late.
[Page 6]With Crowds of consequential Harms Oppress'd,
He Learns the Sweetness of unvalu'd Rest,
But Learns it at a price so Dear,
As makes his Early Follies soon appear:
Both sides well Beaten, call for Peace,
And find too late their Happiness.
Their Mutual Mischiefs, Mutual Wits restore,
And show them both, that both were Fools before;
Then, Godd [...]ss, to thy Courts they sue,
With Penitence, most likely to be true,
For none Repent, like those that feel,
The Smart of doing Ill.
Blest Peace! when Heaven, for Crimes of Guil [...]y Me [...]
Commands thy Absence, whether do Nations run!
Kindoms in Tumults, and Confusions Dye,
And sink in Undirected Anarchy.
Societies with Justice cease,
For what's our Property, without our Peace?
Contentions all Prosperity invade,
Like two fixt Stocks, to one East-India Trade;
Both Languish, while they strive and Fight,
And both Succeed, when they Unite.
Not Heaven it self, could Strife of Parties bear,
The first Attempt Un-Angel'd Lucifer;
The mighty Seraph from his Glory fell,
And want of PEACE made up his Hell.
That was the Fire and Brimstone of the Place,
No Thoughts can form a more Distracted Case▪
Not Devils feel worse Punishment,
Nor Words more Terror represent.
Nature in no worse Figure can appear,
'Tis more than Natures self can bear;
Debate no more the Place of Woe,
'Tis Myst'ry all, and best it should be so.
[Page 7] [...]l me no more of wild Philosophy,
[...]ere weak aspiring Nature soars too high;
[...]hich Handmaid Sense, bewilders and Confounds,
With Reasons ill adapted Tools:
Attempts to square th' Extent of Souls,
Men mark Lands, by Butts and Bounds.
Wou'd the Great Be, and not to Be Divide,
[...]d all the Doubts of Entity decide;
[...]e mighty Maze of Wondrous Nothing Tread,
[...]d form the wild Ideas in his Head:
[...]ou'd fathom Chaos, Life and Sp'rit dissect,
And all Superiour Light reject.
Scorn the mean Helps of Speculations,
[...]d bring down God himself to Demonstrations.
The two Great Ends of Nature twine,
[...]d Generation to Corruption join;
[...]st up the Hours beyond the Death of Time,
[...]d make the Humane comprehend Sublime;
[...]lineate Heaven, the Hills of Glory show,
[...]d all the Vales of Darkness stretch'd below:
[...]escribe the Depth of these, of those the Height,
Give the Square-Root of Infinite;
Unlock the Chain of Cause and Consequence,
Dismiss Almighty Providence;
[...]he Bounds of Bright Eternal Day descry,
[...]nd form a Mathematical Eternity.
'Tis all in Vain, too short the Reach of Sense,
Embrance the high Dimesions of th' Immense:
No Rules can square, what we call GOD,
[...]o Geography describe the Dark abode.
Bow, mighty Reason, to thy Maker's Name,
For GOD and PEACE, are just the same;
Heaven is the Emanation of his Face,
[...]nd want of Peace, makes Hell in every place.
[Page 8]Tell us, ye Men of Notion, tell us why,
You seek for Bliss and wild Prosperity,
In Storms and Tempests, Feuds and War,
Is Happiness to be expected there?
Tell us what sort of Happiness,
Can Men in want of Peace possess?
Blest Charm of Peace, how sweet are all those Ho [...]
We spend in thy Society!
Afflictios lose their Acid Powers,
And turn to Joys when join'd to thee.
The Darkest Article of Life with Peace,
Is but the Gates of Happiness;
Death in its blackest shapes can never fright,
Thou can'st see Day, beyond his Night;
The Smile of Peace, can Calm the Frown of Fate,
And, spight of Death, can Life Anticipate;
Nay, Hell it self, could it admit of Peace,
Would change its Nature, and its Name would ce [...]
The Bright Transforming Blessing would Destroy
The Life of Death, and Damn the Place to Joy;
'The Metamorphosis, would be so strange,
Twould fright the Devils, and make them bless [...] Chan [...]
Or else the Brightness would be so intense,
They'd shun the Light, and fly from thence.
Let Heaven, that Unknown Happiness,
Be what it will, 'tis best describ'd by Peace.
No Storms without, or Storms within;
No Fear, no Danger there, because no Sin.
'Tis bright Essential Happiness,
Because He dwells within, whose Name is PEAC [...]
Who would not Sacrifice for thee,
All that Men call Felicity!
Since Happiness, is but an empty Name,
A Vapour without Heat or Flame;
[Page 9]But what from thy Original derives,
And Dyes with thee by whom it Lives.
When Kingdoms to the Laws of Peace submit,
What mighty Blessings crowd about her Seat!
Under the Ministry of Peace,
How soon will all a Nations Mischiefs cease!
How soon the Mighty Scepter in her Hand,
Scatters the Plagues and Sorrows of a Land!
From her bright Face how soon,
Will all Oppressions, and Injustice run!
The Plots and Parties of a State,
In her bright Book may quickly read their Fate;
Nations and Men, when to their Sense restor'd,
Will set the Scepter up to Rule the Sword.
Even Hypocrites, to thee pay Sacrifice,
Borrow thy Name for their Disguise;
By thee conceal the Seeds of Strife,
And Sanctify the Villanies of Life.
Thou art the great Pretence of War,
When Tyrants in thy Robes appear,
When Kings by Lust of Rule, and Power misled,
Pamper'd by Providence and over fed;
Fall out for Power to Oppress,
And then pretend 'tis all for PEACE.
Ambition, that Old Painted Whore of State,
That she may look as Fair as Great;
Wears thy old Cloaths, and in that Gawdy Dress,
With Ease obtains the Name of Peace.
Cloath'd in thy Robes, how Fair she looks and Bright,
And shines Delusive Beams of borrow'd Light.
Makes guilded Injury appear,
With Charms of Right, and Sanctifies the War;
As Princes, when they weaker Powers Oppress,
First give them Poverty, then call it Peace.
[Page 10]War, Devastation, Violence, and Blood,
As guilty Men would have them understood;
All in their turn pretend to Peace,
And cry out Property, when they Oppress;
Chast Nymph, how is thy Name Prophan'd,
When Villains tack thee to their wild Designs;
Till the Unnatural End's obtain'd,
And time the mighty Fraud explains!
In strong Alliance, see the World combin'd.
To Injury and Wrong enclin'd,
The Embattl'd Squadrons, spread the Field of War,
The plunder'd Towns in Flames appear;
The General Ruin like a Flood,
Condemns the ravag'd Plains, to Barrenness and Blood:
The Royal Firebrands o'th' World appear,
And plead the Conscientious Cause of War,
Blast Nations with their wild Success,
And still pretend 'tis all for Peace.
In Ecclesiastick Quarrels 'tis the same,
Where Hierarchy's the thing, and Peace the Name;
Th' Enthusiastick Errors mad Men broach,
All cry the Peace and Union of the Church.
The mighty Cheat's in strong Delusions drest,
And Peace becomes the Church's Jest;
The Holy Varnish colours the Deceit,
And High-Church Projects work beneath the sacred Cheat.
Thus all the Tyranny of Priests.
Cover'd with Clouds, and Ecclesiastick Mists,
In zealous Masks for Conscience sake oppress,
And damn Mens Souls to purchase Peace.
If Reason prompts an injur [...]d Land,
To take their due Defence in hand;
If Nations fly to Nature's Laws,
Howe'er provok'd, or whatsoe'er the Cause:
[Page 11]Wild Power drest up like Justice takes the Sword,
Oppressions the Design, and Peace the Word;
The Innocent, as for Rebellion, dye,
The double Mask deceives the Eye:
Nations deluded hunt an empty Name,
Abus'd by [...]ustom, and debauch'd by Fame,
Nature's brought in a Rebel t' her own Laws,
And stoops [...]o wild Pretence instead of Cause.
Yet Peace is still the same, the Chaste, the Fair,
Her i [...]tive Beauties will appear:
[...]n spight of Clouds and Counterfeits, her Name
Breaks thro' the Cheat, and well secures her Fame;
Where-e'er her Balmy Couch is spread,
Where-e'er she makes her Flow'ry Bed,
Plenty, her Handmaid, brings her Clusters in
The grateful Tribute of the Vine:
C [...]res brings loaden Sheaves, and N [...]ptun [...] Fleets,
And Foreign Wealth, with Native meets:
Celestial Odours crown her Spicy Bed,
And Rays of Goodness shine about her Head.
Th' Obsequiours Seasons at her Elbow stand,
And Streams of Fulness flow from either Hand.
Th' Enlivening Sun-beams join their chearful Aid,
And wanton Nature sports beneath her Shade.
Blest Peace, the highest Treasure Men possess,
How happy are the Nations thou wilt bless!
How doubly Curs'd, if that can be,
And blind to his own Happiness, is he;
That courts eternal Feuds, and loves to Jar;
That sucks in native Strife, and feeds on War;
That covets Storms, and seeks to live in Flames,
And shuns the guilded Streams;
The gentle Calms of thy Pacifick Sea,
Where all's Delight and Harmony!
[Page 12]Next her, the very Image of her Face,
Her Sister Union takes her Place;
Twin-births of Wisdom, he the Son of Time,
Of Genealogy Sublime:
God like the Race, and of Inlightned Birth,
And rarely, very rarely found on Earth.
The genial Flame from Heaven impregnate stands
And all the Kinds of Happiness commands;
No Song their Lustre can reherse.
When hand in hand they gild the Universe:
They make the meanest Actions shine,
And Humane Wisdom seems Divine.
When struggling with the Lusts and Pride of Men,
Peace strives to bless a Land in vain;
But, crush'd with Clamour and Ungovern'd Rage,
She quits th' Embarrass'd Stage:
When War prevails, that Frenzy of the Mind,
That General Lunacy of all Mankind;
When thus the Bloody Scenes are drawn,
And all Restraints are gone;
Reason and Justice quit the Stage,
And Sense it self submits to Tyrant Rage;
Her Sister Union turns the happy Scale,
'Tis whom she pleases shall prevail;
She only can the Strife decide,
And byass Vict'ry to the Weakest Side.
Union is Natures strong Cement,
The Life of Power, and Soul of Government:
Without it, all the World's a Mob;
Confusion's Universal Monarch of the Globe;
Armies are Crowds of Lunaticks got loose,
Whose Power for want of Reason's out of Use;
Meer Hoords of Tartars, Wild and Rude,
Dissolv'd in Mother Multitude.
[Page 13]Even Government it self must Dye,
[...]n Wild Uncultivated Anarchy;
The Bond dissolves, what should the Parts retain?
When once the Union of the whole's Destroy'd;
The Engine's useless, all the Parts remain,
Like Native Chaos, Vast and Void.
[...]nion's, the mighty Guide of Humane Things,
The Bond of Nations, and the Power of Kings.
Crowns without thee sit loose, and Tottering show,
To what strange Influence they their Safety owe:
The High Precarious gilded Trifles stand,
[...]ubject to every Tumults Vile Command:
The dang'rous Precipice of Discord lies,
The Gulph of Princes, and of Monarchy's;
The Ill supported State of Humane Power,
Destroys it self, and must it self Devour.
[...]ion once broke, the Power Dissolves of Course,
[...]nd Laws and Constitutions lose their force.
Chaos Succeeds on either Hand,
None can Obey, and none Command;
[...]he Fate of Government must soon appear,
[...]bble will Govern here, or Tyrants there.
Bright Charming Sisters, whither are you Fled?
Where is your bright Pavilion spread?
[...]hat Halcyon Climates close your blest Abodes?
[...] 'tis with Men, you make those Men like Gods!
There be my Portion, with what-e're Mischance,
[...]o Ills can Countervail the Difference,
[...]o Ills can reach the Mind, that Peace secures,
Unmov'd, he Fortunes Storms endures.
[...]nd Fortune's Storms they shall endure, that Place
In thy bless'd Smiles their Happiness:
Peace, while eclips'd with Fear and Doubt,
[...]hey that have most within, have least without.
[Page 14]Of all thy bless'd admiting Train,
'Tis hard that I alone should wish in Vain!
That I at Distance view thy Shade;
Am Lean with Expectation made!
When to the World thou mak'st a short return,
Me only thou hast seem'd to shun!
Me thou re-visit'st not; but Storms of Men,
Voracious and unsatisfy'd as Death,
Spoil in their Hands, and Poison in the Breath,
With Rage of Devils hunt me down,
And to abate my Peace, destroy their own.
Assassins, Men of Fire and Blood,
And that worst Murther, Slander and Reproach,
Ages of Time my Soul has stood
The bitter Blasts and Rage of such;
Untainted yet with Vice, at War with Crime,
My strong Appeal's to Truth, to Heaven, and Ti [...]
Besieg'd by Men of Cruelty and Law,
Who kill by Rules, and call it just,
Who Right with Cords of Int'rest draw,
Till Justice is with Humane Rage opprest:
That bind the Hands from Industry,
Pinion the willing Wings, and bid Men fly.
These, like the Hussars on the Rhine,
Whose Plund'rings are Compassions all to mine;
Ravage the Villages, lay wast the Land,
And still their Contributions they Demand;
So first they rifle me the shortest Way,
And when they've stript me Naked, bid me Pay!
In all their Fury, Rage, and Heat,
My Morning Vows, even for them I make.
I neither seek not wish their Fate,
Within my self, I find a safe Retreat;
And Peace, no Power of Hell can shake.
[Page 15]In forty Gaols, this Halycon Beam will shine,
The Malice shall be theirs, the Peace be mine.
'Tis vain to Conquer me by Fear,
I scorn the baseness of Despair;
Brought up in Teaching Sorrows—School,
In Peace and Patience, I possess my Soul;
Am Master of my mind,
And there the Heaven of Satisfaction find.
Let them ten thousand barb'rous Methods try,
When they'll no longer let me live, I'll die;
Of all their Fury I shall have
An Uncontested Conquest in the Grave.
Till then, blest Angel of Eternal Light,
Soft Peace, be thou the Day's Delight,
Be thou my Solace in the Night:
'Tis thou alone inspir'st my Pen,
And calm'st my Soul, and keep'st it smooth within;
Witness the daily Tribute that I pay,
Witness this very Hymn to thee.
The noisie World distracts my Head no more,
Than raging Billows shake the shore;
The Foam and Froth they leave behind,
Tell us there have been Waves and Wind.
But the eternal Bound remains the same,
Fixt by th' Eternal Voice, and like his Name:
Unmov'd, it all their Watry Rage defies,
And sends them back to quarrel with the Air;
So I the Rage of Men despise,
Unmov'd by Desperation, or by Fear.
Firm as the Rocks, in rowling Seas abide,
When Floods of Doubts, and Dangers pass beside:
When Griefs Assault me, or when Comfort flows,
I'm Undepress'd by these, Unrais'd by those;
[Page 16]Mischance can find no Footing to begin,
I'm Calm without, because I'm Clear within.
Enquiring Poet search among the dead;
'Tis thither Peace and Union fled;
However Rivall'd here, they're sure to have,
An uncontroul'd Dominion in the Grave,
There all the Parties will unite;
No more for Air and Shadows fight,
Enlighten'd by the Change of Scenes they see,
Through all our Politick Hypocrisie.
All the Religious Shams we make,
When we the Nations Peace, for trifles break;
Naked and bare Pretence [...] there are seen,
The empty Shams of Weak Wise Men.
No Mists of State can cloud those Skies,
Souls see without the Agency of Eyes:
Mediums and Hieroglyphick Nature cease,
And all Men know what all will not possess.
The Vails of thin Mortality withdrawn,
A bright eternal Day begins to Dawn.
A different Face of things appears in View,
And all false glimmering Lights, give way to true▪
Actions of Men, howe're conceal'd, must there,
In all their Native Nudities appear.
There Hypocrites will freely cease,
To watch for Blood, and cant of Peace.
Unhappy England! How from thee,
Do crowds of blinded Fools, go there to see;
That Wedded to their Follies, part from hence,
Under the strong Invasions of their Sence.
Hag-rid by party Prejudice,
And prompted to depend on Lies;
Are sent to Graves and Darkness for their Eyes:
Cou'd they return from that Dark shore,
And talk of what they Acted here before,
[Page 17] [...]hey'd be like Men, from Holland lately come,
[...]hey that go High Church Out, come Low Church Home!
There Corion's Picture, will at large be shown,
[...]ho swears by forty Gods, believes in none;
[...]nd all his Cants of Liberty and Church,
[...]etected by himself, himself Reproach.
[...]ly Unmask'd there, in his Native Dress,
[...]oes what he is appear, not what he does Profess;
[...]here they the strange Aenigma's understand,
That harrass this divided Land.
must be as Ridiculous as Plain,
[...]nd Mists of Parties interpose in Vain.
What L —ly means, when he pretends,
First to disown the Church that he defends?
And how he'd have that Meaning known,
When he defends the Church that he'll disown.
Was ever Nation mock'd with Peace like this?
[...]eace both our Happiness, and our Disease!
[...]ll Men the mighty Benefit pretend,
And those that mock the Means, will bless the End.
[...]nhappy Englishmen! at last be wise,
No more your proper Happiness despise;
No more be led by Knaves in Fools Disguise▪
[...]ummon your Reason in to be your Guide,
Or let your Sense the mighty Cause decide.
Can Persecution bring forth Peace?
And Miseries be tack'd to Happiness?
[...]laspheme no more the Light of common Sence,
Nor let your Actions clash with Providence;
[...]or Consequence will always Cause obey,
And guide the World, as Light directs the Eye.
Confusions never fail to p [...]ague a Land,
Where wild Precipitations go before;
Nature and Providence go Hand in Hand,
And this perm [...]ts, what that does first procure.
Blest Article of Humane Good,
How wilt thou have thy Name be understood?
[Page 18]Unmask the noisie Clamours of the Age,
And shew thy dazling Face upon our Stage.
How would our Hypocrites avoid thy Face!
Purple and Scarlet quit the Place!
How void would be the Pulpit, Bench, and Bar,
Where all thy Mimicks now appear!
How would they blush, when thy blest Face they see,
Withdraw their awkward Pageantry;
Pay their just Debt to Guilt in Shame,
And give due Homage to thy Rev'rend Name!
In every Province of this Land,
Heaven stop in Mercy his Revenging Hand!
What Monsters thy Commission bear!
In thy Defence and Name, what R——kes appear!
That act the Mountebank of State,
And mock the Name of Magistrate!
Cover the Bench with Frauds and Vice,
With boasted Bribes, and Partialities.
See the Illiterate Wretch enrob'd with Power,
The poor Man's Property devour;
Debauch'd with Pride, and wise by Chance,
He boasts of Gravity and Ignorance.
Eternal Violence adorns his Gate,
The Motto of the Barren Magistrate;
Yet when by Law he studies to oppress,
He's call'd a Justice of the Peace.
Thee Momus, Patron of the half-taught Race,
To our Surprize, and thy Disgrace;
What Rabble hast thou cloath'd with Power and Law
To keep Inferiour K—s in Awe!
Exalting Fools to make the Nations Wise,
And hoodwink Justice with the vile Disguise.
Momus makes Justices, and lists the Band,
That should reform the vicious Land;
And from the huge Bordelloes of the Nation,
Sets Humane Devils up for Reformation.
Were all the Rabble of his Magistrates,
Upn the Stage of Shame do take their Seats;
[Page 19]Never was such a Cavalcade of Sin,
So grave without, so black within▪
Never was Peace buffoon'd at such a r [...]te,
Or Crime so courted by the Magistrate.
See, sleepy Momus, see thy chosen Race,
Hell in the Heart, and Justice in the Face!
The Country's Scandal, and thy Shame,
Lewd in their Manners, Vile in Name.
In Aspect Grave, and dissolute in Life,
Correct the Husband, and debauch the Wife.
Never was Bench of Justice so supply'd,
And Peace by her own Sons defy'd!
With Beaus and Boys, with Bullies and Buffoons!
Just so the French reform by their Dragoons.
Momus in strict Confed'racy with Crime,
Too plain his Project, and too long his Time;
With sublimated Spleen, and Party-Strife,
Debauch'd in Politicks, but grave in Life,
The Bench, the Pulpit, and the Bar,
Supplies with High Church Sons of War:
The Party, not the Manners, he enquires,
And thus he kindles High Church Fires.
W—h now no more shall modest Men alarm,
Debauch'd by Custom, when he thinks no harm;
Ancient in Vice, and Inn [...]cent in Crime,
And quite worn out with Sin and Time.
Be Hell born Ch—s now the Satyr's Mark.
That swears by Day-light, murthers in the dark;
Supplies his want of Vice by want of Wit,
[...]nd boasts of Crimes he never could commit;
[...]hat Balances his old Accounts with Hell
With L—s that no [...] an but himself can tell;
[...]angier, the Guard [...], and thirty Years Debauch,
[...]ompleated him a Champion of the Church;
[...]ray for that Town, good People, whose Consent,
[...]low'd his Vices, their's should Represent,
[...]nd strove to send the Wretch to Parliament▪
[Page 20]Could stupid Momus find no Wretch but this,
To Bully Justice on a Bench of Peace.
Our harden'd Sinners are but Fools to him,
He lives up to the Dignity of Crime,
Bawdy and Blasphemy supply his Tongue,
Hurry the vile Distemper'd Wretch along;
To Villainies of such uncommon size,
Makes Nature blush, and fills Mens surprize.
And should he thirty Years command the Peace,
Our Verse secures him this one Happiness;
The harden'd, self-condemn'd, abandon'd Elf,
Shall never punish V—n like himself.
Such, Momus, is thy Chequer-work, and Art,
So hast thou Spangl'd every part,
Such Prodigies of Crime possess,
The high deputed Government of Peace.
Momus himself can never Name,
Tho' Sleepy Momus does not know,
Whether he can or no,
In forty Justices, one Man of common Fame.
Some are so scandalous in Lives,
Their Hist'ry has no Negatives:
Here from the Bawdy-house, to th' Bench they go,
And Fine the W—s, they first made so.
There W—field Justices, at Sessions meet,
Sit Drinking o're the Judgment Seat,
Till Country Squire gets too Drunk to pay,
Then Bilks the House, and Quorum sneaks away.
These Momus, are thy blest Reforming Crew,
For whose Advancement all the Whigs withdrew;
And you with hard Mouth'd Wretches fill their Plac [...]
That Swear by Pistol-Light to Faces,
That Forge and Bribe, and Perjure all Mankind,
To carry on the Mischief they design'd.
Yet, Momus, all things answer not thy End,
In B—gate's part, the Devil was not thy Friend;
Satyr, must B—gate's Modesty protect,
Who knew himself too drunk to act;
[Page 21]He blush'd to execute the vast extent
Of Power, that Momus never blush'd to grant;
'Tis hard his Drink shou'd Sence refine,
But see the Modesty of Wine;
B—gate, the first Converting Church Dragoon,
[...]irst mounts his Horse, to pull Dissenters down;
See him into the Assembly Ride,
The Justice tell the Priest he Ly'd.
The Language like the Posture very Wise,
[...]ust as he acted Peace, in Grave Disguise.
He knows his Name's too scandalous, to bear,
That Badge of Justice, which he ought to fear;
He can't Conform his Vicious Will,
[...]exert that Whip, he knows he ought to feel;
Some Men have Modesty in Vice,
And he's a Fool indeed, that's never Wise.
But we'll no more the Catalogue Survey,
Momus himself, has led the way:
May the Black List, of his infernal Troop,
Like him to wiser Agents stoop.
The blushing Nation long has seem'd to wait,
When Guilt shou'd make him Abdicate;
That meaner Men of Justice, may take Place,
That have it more in Head, and less in Face.
Nor shall our Verse, examine here the Lists,
Of his exalted Modern-Priests;
How like the rest in Morals and in Sence,
And how by sadder Consequence:
Religion Languishes, and Justice Dyes,
O're run with Vice, and Immoralities;
How sacred Oracles decay,
And Vice pulls down the Church the shortest way.
Tell us no more of Crown and Church,
No more our Loyalty Reproach:
The Men of God pull down your Fabrick more,
Than all the Sons of Hell, that went before:
When Laws with Ignorance o're run,
And Justice Dyes, the State's undone;
[Page 22]When sacred Vestments, sacred Villains hide,
And Crime's by Habit sanctify'd.
Religion Prostitute the Text prophan'd,
Good God, how can we think the Church shou'd stand!
These her Foundations undermine,
And then to hide the Vile Design;
The Innocent in Ruder Terms Reproach,
And cry the Danger of the Church!
Nor let our [...]harity be censur'd here,
Because we Crowds o [...] Characters forbear.
The Bead Roll of whose Crimes would show,
Too back for our Posterity to know;
And are conceal'd in meer Compassion,
Not to themsel [...]es a one, but all the Nation;
That Foreign Countries may not see,
Our Ecclesiastick Nudity;
And it become a New Proverbial Jest,
To be as Wicked, as an English Priest.
And yet our Lines must to our selves be Just,
Some Crimes may not be told, but others must;
When Men cannot their own D [...]sgrace with-hold,
What cannot be avoided, must be [...]old:
Blush, Readers, for a bleeding Nation's Fate,
When we the Name of A— [...] relate;
A modest Pen can hardly bear to write,
The Crimes he never blushes to commit.
'Tis hard when Men run up to such a Height,
What Poets would conceal, themselves will write.
Their Actions such a Vein of Crime contain,
'Tis their own Satyr, and they're spar'd in vain.
And should I this one Character forbear,
The Stones themselves the horrid Facts would speak,
How he with Hypocritick Pray'r,
His Peoples Sundays Blessing can prepare,
And damns them all the Week.
Cover'd with Sacred Robes, he's White and Clean
But, black with Slander, 's all debauch'd within;
[Page 23]Yet, lest the Church's Cause should sink,
He dares to tread on the Commandments Brink;
Usurps upon the Keeper of the Fold,
And swears his Curacy's a good Freehold.
And yet this Wretch with horrid Front pretends,
To rank himself among the Church's Friends.
Scandal to all Religions! Were the Church
Once freed from that too just Reproach;
That she does not such Sons of Crime expel,
She'd stand in Spight of all the Gates of Hell.
Was ever Nation thus Buffoon'd,
By her own Teachers she's Lampoon'd.
Ye Hypocrites! If you can understand,
Reform your Clergy, and your Church will stand.
Vice is the Church's Danger and Disease.
'Tis Crime alone destroys her Peace;
Tis Crime lets Error in, and Error Strife,
You'd soon reform her Doctrine in her Life.
[...]f you would then the Church's Fame restore,
Give her but Peace she asks no more:
Peace would turn all her Men of Scandal out,
Tell me the Church that ever stood without!
Tis done! Heaven said Amen, the mighty Blow
Was heard where Discord reigns below.
Th' August Assemblies Hand in Hand proclaim
Their Homage PEACE to thy Eternal Fame;
With Joynt Assent approach the Throne,
Such Thunder needs must strike the Hydra down,
To think their High Allies had lost the Day,
And must to hated PEACE give way.
Hell trembled when the weighty News came down,
It shook the Black Imperial Throne;
[...]t struck the Fallen Seraph with Surprize,
He knew the Dying Party ne'er could rise.
When to his Oracle their Crouds repair,
The best Advice he gives them is, Despair.
He spoke, and all hi [...] Party has obey'd.
[...]ome Trifling Hopes indeed their Fear delay'd;
[Page 24]But when Britannia's Sons address'd their Queen,
Despair, that Mark of Hell, was plainly seen;
Pale with the Anguish of their Minds,
Their Envy no Emission finds;
But dumb with Rage, they view the Hated PEAC [...]
That fixes England's Happiness
Pity their weaken'd Rage, and take some Care,
Watch 'em, Good People all, lest in Despair
They obey the Dey'l, and hang themselves for Fear
'Tis done! Bright PEACE has got the D [...]
The Mists of Parties flee away.
The Dazling Beams of Heavenly Glory shine,
Immortal PEACE, the Victory's fairly thine.
Where are those Sons of Belial, bring them down,
That grudg'd th' Angelick Saint her Crown
That boldly said she should not Reign.
Satyr—produce them, let them all the slain.
Let all those Sons of God and Men appear,
Who Levied first this High-Church War.
Let them the wondrous Declaration read,
That struck their Hydra thro' his Hundredth Head.
Let them their Pulpit-Ecchoes contradict.
'Twas there they did just PEACE reject.
'Twas there that Noise of Nothing first they broac [...]
Their Country and their Queen reproach'd;
Frighted our Children wi [...]h the uncouth Cry
Of Danger to the Church and Monarchy.
Alarm'd the Nation, rouz'd Britannia's Sons,
Each Hero to the Place of Hazard runs;
But to their Joy surpriz'd no less,
They found 'twas all in perfect PEACE.
Safety and PEACE in thriving Posture grow,
And none saw Danger here, but those that wish'd i [...]
Let all those Mountebanks of State
Receive for PEACE is to Death to them, their [...]
Let all the Healing Breezes of thy Air,
Stagnate their Hopes of Party-War.
[Page 25]Let Men of Strife and Chagrin feel within
The strong Convulsions of Expiring Sin.
The Nation felt it like a Man possest,
And strong Exorcisms dislodge the Dreadful Guest.
The Struggles of Departing Feud
Will make perhaps some Ravings in the Blood,
Which vented at the Tongue with Rage and Pain,
May cause long Speeches to be made in vain.
'Tis but the Pangs of their Departing Breath,
Are there no Thunders, Tremblings of the Earth,
Day-Stars, and Comets to presage?
Horror oft stirs when Devils quit the Stage.
Al [...]'s vanish'd here, the Fiends withdrew,
Their Party-struggles mean and few.
Some small Vulcano's belch'd their Stench and Fire,
But 'twas en passant, f—t, and so expire.
Like Meteors in the Air that flie,
As soon as they're Inflam'd they die;
Or Guns, where soon as Air has Vent,
Just as the Noise is made, 'tis spent;
So had our Clamours at th' Approach of PEACE,
Just Life enough to hiss, and then decease.
They're Dead! The blazing Aspect of thy Face,
Immortal PEACE, has clear'd the Place.
See daily how their Fugitives come in,
And Crouds of Captives bow before thy Queen;
The Leaders own the fair Defeat,
And all their Bubbl'd Votaries submit;
Pride boils in some, and makes them scorn to yield,
But Shame has bid them quit the Field,
Submit to unexpected Fate,
And own their Party-Fortunes Desperate;
Nor is this all, Misfortune's ne'er alone,
Now they're in Danger to be quite undone,
The Circumstance is very Dark,
They cannot bite and must not bark;
Or if they do, 'tis Frenzy all, and Feud,
And is but laught at by the Multitude.
[Page 26]Hard Fate of Madmen, that when they're in Pain,
No Men regard when they complain.
Thus Feud and Party-Strife suppress'd and dead,
Millions of Mischiefs with them fled.
Envy with Teeming Prospects swell'd, and big,
Does now the Grave of her own Off spring dig.
Abortive P [...]ojects daily come,
The Nauseous Froth of her Miscarrying Womb;
Like Monsters by their Parents Hands they die,
And PEACE does calmly all their Rage defie.
What wild Effort? What strange delirious Dreams?
What undigested half-drawn Schemes?
What Inconsistent unsubsisting Thought
Have they from unperforming Envy brought?
What Brainless unconcocted things proceed,
Th' Effects of Windmills in the Head?
What Engines without Form or Shape
The Great Machine of Government to ape?
What Shifts, what Shams, what artless Terms of State,
That hasten rather than prevent their Fate?
Have all our Men of Speeches try'd
Before their sick'ning Party dy'd?
Was ever Head with Brain and Learning stor'd,
That did of old such wondrous things afford?
At one half Turn so gravely mad!
So many mean Incongruous Nothings said:
How weak are all Disg [...]ises to conceal,
That Folly which its own Defects reveal!
Nonsense infallibly affords
Something that cannot be conceal'd by Words.
And Inconsistence will in Spight of Rule,
If it conceals the K——e, betray the F————l.
Therefore to judge them Termagant and Mad,
Are the best Natur'd things that can be said;
For he that can his Native Country curie,
If he is [...] Di [...]t [...]acted, must be worse.
Soft Gentle PEACE, p [...]cu [...]iar to thee,
How [...] less, is thy Victory▪
[Page 27]The Rebels that withstand thy Law,
Are only bound from Harms, and kept in Awe.
Their Schemes indeed are baulk'd, their Projects slain,
Their Persons all in Life remain,
Are safe in their Subjection to thy Name,
Only receive their Punishment in Shame.
Nor does the Gentle Conqu'ror only spare
Her Rebels, but those Rebels taste her Care;
Under he [...] Soft and Gentle Shade,
[...]he keeps them happy that her Realms Invade;
Prevents them only of that Harm
They'd do themselves, and with her Gentle Charm
[...]he [...]ts them all her Subjects Blessings Share,
And learns them thus the Difference of Peace and War.
Victorious PEACE, how happy are those Lands
Where willing Princes bow to thy Commands!
No Nations are by far so blest as they
That seek to stoop to thy Eternal Sway;
Thy Kingdom Form, and thy Commands obey.
Britannia, yet a Stranger to thy Fame,
How does she Glory now she knows thy Name.
[...] vain sha [...]l War remoter Empires pierce,
And Men of Terror vex the Universe;
[...] thy blest Scepter Governs US at home,
Naio [...]s will here to pay thee Tribute come;
The Wealth of all the World will round thee flow,
[...]nd Empires to Britannia's Scepter bow.
Nations with Envy shall our Safety see,
While Britain's Glorious QUEEN shall rule by thee.


HAil, Queen of PEACE, the Nation's best Defen [...]
Terror of Crime, and Shade of Innocence;
They Joy, the Pride, the Pleasure of the Land,
Which You in Plenty guide, in PEACE comman [...]
Calm as that Heaven whose Circle bounds the Eye,
And bright from true Celestial Majesty.
You Reign admir'd, the Helm with Glory steer,
And give us PEACE amidst the Storms of War.
When we the Course of England's Fate review,
We find no Monarch guided right like You;
Your Majesty by Heaven's securer Hand,
Has learnt the True Arcana of Command.
Your Ancestors by Policy or Power,
Strove our resign'd Subjection to secure,
And made th' Obedient Nation tamely bear
Some Loads for Quietness, and some for Fear.
The Tottering Throne was Canker like maintain' [...]
By feeding on the Vitals of the Land;
The feeble Carcass of the Government,
By Tyranny and wild Oppression rent,
Dy'd of that Hectick Fever, DISCONTENT.
Reviv'd in You, its Resurrection shows,
What Government to Application owe [...]:
How Justice calls a Nation from the Dead,
And how the Body's influenc'd by the Head?
[Page 29]They Rul'd by Politicks and studied Arts,
But You have found the Passage to our Hearts.
Despotick Rule can there do Grievance prove,
For Arbitrary Power's no Crime in Love.
MADAM, this Title makes yon absolute,
Where Love's the Bondage, Subjects ne'er Dispute;
[...]rerogatives and Laws are Foreign things,
The Hearts of Subjects are the Strength of Kings.
Your Majesty when You Invite to PEACE,
[...]roves that You can, Heaven Grant You due Success;
[...]oth seek and understand our H [...]ppiness.
Tis Peace and Union, makes the Nation Thrive,
Give Laws their Birth, and keeps those Laws alive;
[...]nion's the Nation's Life, and Peace the Soul;
[...]nion preserves the Parts, and Peace the whole;
[...]is Peace and Union that Support the Throne,
Union the Peoples Part, and Peace the Crown;
When Bodies Politick seem Sick and Dead,
Union revives the Members, Peace the Head;
The Sisters always Hand in Hand proceed,
Union to fortifie, and Peace to feed.
[...]o Nation can our Happiness Invade,
Union our Hearts secures, an [...] Peace our Trade;
[...]eligion shares the Blessing these procure,
This will Dissenters, That the Church secure;
[...]nd Christian Graces in Conjunction move,
[...]eace, Charity procures; and Union, Love.
Union is Freedom join'd to Government,
[...]nd Peace is Property in due Extent.
[...] every Article the Blessing's seen,
[...]nion's a Parliament, and Peace the QUEEN:
There Peace and Union once a Land possess,
[...]he Houses always Join, when they Address.
[...]om the same Cause, to the same End they move,
[...]hey arm at Safety, and commence in Love;
[...]he Constituted Parts make up one whole,
[...]fferent in Body, but the same in Soul.
[...]nion's your Lords and Commons Hand in Hand,
[...]ating the steady Posture of the Land.
[...]ce is the People's Joy, which they express,
[...]outing a loud Amen to that Address.
[...]on's your Living Spring, of Means and Ways,
[...]d Peace an unexhausted Fund of Praise;
[...]nion with Hands up lift, seeks Aid from Heaven,
[...]d Peace returns with Thanks, for Aid that's given.
[Page 30]Union's a People, willingly in awe,
And Peace a Princess, Governing by Law.
Union's a People, join'd with just Assent,
To bless their Maker for the Government;
Peace is a Prince, that Joys in that Success,
Of which his People all the Fruits possess.
Thus Princes, when they Invite a Land to Peace,
Both seek and understand their Happiness.
MADAM, when You our Party Peace propose,
You S [...]ab the Mighty Projects of your Foes;
Your Healing Words, as from your Lips the fall,
Are Wounds struck deep, into their Party-Gall;
But when you stoop to argue and perswade,
Your Words like Darts, the very Soul invade;
The moving Eloquence in Words of Peace,
When Princes Court their Peoples Happiness,
Having something so Unusual, and so Great,
Such soft Impressions in the Soul Create;
As leave no room to Speak, but wonder at.
Peace like the Sun, when it draws near the Pole,
This melts the Frozen Zone, and that the Soul;
Mountains of Party-Fend and Rage give way,
And flie from Peace, as Night absconds the Day.
The strange Transforming Power of Peace appears,
And while You Speak, You mould the Soul that hears:
Thus MADAM, Heaven it self You imitate,
And while You talk of Peace, Your Words Create:
Legions of Human Dev'ls Your Voice Transforms,
And at one Word You laid Three Nations Sto [...]ms.
Even Satyr feels the Sov'raign Influence,
Satyr provok'd, in Vertue's just Defence;
Engag'd with Devils and the Crimes of Men,
Yet while I Write of Peace, it Calms my Pen.
The Whips and Scorpions, MADAM, thrown away,
You call for Peace, and Satyr must Obey;
What tho' with Injury and Crouds Oppress'd,
Unhappy only as by You Unbless'd;
Yet in his Breast he Crushes his Designs,
And Writes for Peace in his Serenest Lines.
Your Majesty the Pen it self reforms,
And makes him Write of Peace, that Lives in Storm [...].
Compass'd with Parties, and the Rage of Men,
You Check the just Resentment of his Pen;
To Temper turns, and with the calmest Air,
He sings that Peace, of which he reaps no share.
[Page 31]Peace is the Basis of Your Glorious Throne,
And Peace, the Brightest Jewel in your Crown,
[...]Tis Peace▪ would make your Enemies Despair;
[...]Tis Peace they more than all your Armies fear.
Union and Peace, Compose the high Intent,
This th' End of Justice, That of Government,
Kings that to any other purpose Reign,
The Sword they bear is always born in Vain,
By differing ways your Government's secur'd,
You by the Scepter Reign, and they the Sword.
These we call Tyrants, tho' a King's the Name,
A Mask of Glory, on a Mock of Fame.
Your MAJESTY, while You to Peace Encline,
Has made your Scepter really Divine;
Kings that like You, the Ends of Ruling know,
[...]re truly Sacred, Heaven Declares them so:
While Heaven and You the self same thing intend,
[...]ou Bless the Means, as You pursue the End.
The Royal Scepter which You timely bore,
And none e'er Grac'd that Royal Scepter more:
[...]o far's Divine, as by the High Decree,
The Means and End Join in Your Majesty;
[...]or Crowns and Dignities are giv'n in Vain,
Where Kings for any End but Justice Reign;
[...]ower thus concurs to General Happiness,
[...]or Justice always ends in Calms and Peace.
Suffer the Poet, MADAM, to aspire,
And hear the Blaze, where You have rais'd the Fire;
Prophetick Ardour makes the strong Impress,
Tis You gave Pinions to his Artless Verse,
[...]umble and Mean, he never us'd to soar,
[...]nd ne'er could say, he was Inspir'd before.
That Secret Hand, that did your Thoughts incline,
[...]or Heaven both mov'd the Act and the Design;
[...]as join'd Your own, to all Your Peoples Peace.
[...]nd on their Blessings, rais'd Your Happiness;
[...]or is this all, for Heaven ne'er acts by Parts,
But forms at once his Empire in our Hearts.
That Hand that thus Your Soul to Peace must move,
Will ne'er deny the Peace he made You Love.
The Calm You move us to, You'll feel within,
There, MADAM, Your Celestial Crowns begin;
[...]eaven there Anticipated You'll Enjoy,
[...]hat Peace must all Your meaner Joys Destroy;
[...]he Satisfactions that may there be known,
[...]rpass the Envy'd Pleasures of Your Crown:
[Page 32]That Heaven has form'd You his Blest Instrument,
To Heal this Heart-sick Nation's Discontent,
That all their Happiness comes handed down,
From Him that gave, by You that wear the Crown;
That Heaven reserv'd this Hour, till You should Reign,
And Chose You from the Bright Descended Train;
And suffer'd WILLIAM's self to aim at it in Vain.
That he reserv'd the Glory and Success
For You, whom he Delights and has resolv'd to Bless;
What Transports, MADAM, must possess your Mind!
What Prospects of the Glories still behind!
What Wonders Heaven has yet for You to do!
What vast Rewards of Glory to bestow!
No Pen the soft Impressions can present,
Numbers are vastly short, and Language faint;
No Simile due Parallel affords,
The Thoughts surpass the Agency of Words;
The Poet that conceives it can't reherse,
'Tis above the Inspiration of his Verse;
The Wings of Fancy never soar'd so high,
'Tis only Sacred to Your MAJESTY.
'Tis You alone can feel th' amazing Joy,
Which like the Sun, does fainter Fires Destroy;
No Heart but Yours the Myst'ry can unfold,
The Story must be felt, it can't be Told.
'Tis all a Heaven, as it from Heaven descends,
And only where that Heaven begins, it ends.
For Peace within is Heaven Anticipate,
And does Similitude to Heaven Create;
'Twill open that Bless'd Peace at once, and show
That Presence there, whose Glory makes it so.
'Twill Fire Your Soul with Beams of Sov'raign Grace,
And You'll grow Ripe for Heavenly Crowns apace:
There in Your Brightest Glory You'll appear,
And You that give us PEACE, shall find it there.
THE Female Reign: AN …

THE Female Reign: AN ODE, Alluding to Horace, B. 4. Od. 14. ‘Quae Cura Patrum, quaeve Quiritium, &c.’ Attempted in the Style of Pindar. Occasion'd by the wonderful Successes of the Arms of Her Majesty and Her Allies. With a LETTER to a Gentleman in the Ʋniversity.

By Samuel Cobb, M. A.

LONDON: Printed by H. Hills, and Sold by the Booksellers of London and Westminster, 1709.


A LETTER to a Gentleman in the University.


THIS comes to Congratulate You on the agree­able News of some late extraordinary Successes, which have bless'd the Arms of Her Majesty, and Her Allies. I leave you to the Printed Papers for a particular Account of those Actions, which have surpriz'd the World; and, we hope, given the last Stroke to the languishing Power of the Common Ene­my of Europe. They will furnish noble Topics for the Wits of an Ʋniversity, like yours, who can embellish (if that can be done) the Glories of a Female Reign with a juster Sublimity of Verse, than what you will find in the following Performance, which was written several Months ago, and not run over with a hasty Negligence. The Ode, from whence I take my Hint, is accounted by some Critics not inferior to the 4th of the same Book, which begins thus, ‘Qualem ministrum fulminis alitem, &c.’ And was written in Complement to Augustus, on oc­casion of a famous Victory gain'd by Tiberius, as this, which I have aim'd to imitate, was written on the Praise of Claudius Nero. I need not inform Men of your Reading and Letters what occasion'd both. The Poet, as he does in almost all his Odes, has shewn a peculiar Artfulness and Elegance, and turns all the Panegyric on the Emperor (who was not in the Action) with Te concilium, & tuos Praebente Divos. If You ask wherein I have trod in the Steps of Horace, You will find it in the Beginning. I have only kept him in view, and used him only where he was serviceable [Page] to my Design. He took the same liberty with Alcaeus, as appears from some Fragments of that Greek Lyriac, quoted by Athenaeus. In my Digressions and Transitions I have taken care to play always in sight, and make eve­ry one of them contribute to my main Design. This was the Way of Pindar, to read whom, according to Rapin, will give a truer Idea of the Ode, than all the Rules and Reflections of the best Critics. I will not pretend to have div'd into him over Head and Ears, but I have endeavour'd to have made my self not the greatest Stranger to his Manner of Writing; which generally consists in the Dignity of the Sentiments, and an ele­gant Variety, which makes the Reader rise up with greater Satisfaction than he sat down. And that which affects the Mind in Compositions of any sort, will never be disagreeable to a Gentleman of Ingenuity and Judg­ment. I have avoided Turns, as thinking that they de­base the Loftiness of the Ode. You will easily perceive whether I have reach'd that acer Spiritus & Vis, re­commended by Horace, as the Genius of Poetry. Whe­ther you will call the following Lines a Pindaric Ode, or Irregular Stanza's, gives me no Disturbance: For however the seeming Wildness of this sort of Verse ought to be restrain'd, the Strophe, Antistrophe, &c. will never bear in English, and it would shew a strange [...] Debauchery in our Taste, if it should, as may be wit­nessed by the servile Imitation of the Dactyles and Spondees used by Sir P. Sidney. But to make an e [...] of this tedious Epistle; you will see thro' the Whole, that Her MAJESTY is the Chief Heroine of the Ode; and the Moral, at the End, shews the solid Glo­ries of a Reign which is not founded on a pretended Justice, or Criminal Magnanimity.

Yours, &c. S. C


WHAT can the British Senate give
To make the Name of ANNA live
By Future People to be sung,
The Labour of each grateful Tongue.
Can faithful Registers or Rhyme
In charming Eloquence, or sprightly Wit,
The Wonders of her Reign transmit
To th' unborn Children of succeeding Time?
Can Painter's Oil, or Statuary's Art
Eternity to Her impart?
No—Titled Statues are but empty things
Inscrib'd to Royal Vanity,
The Sacrifice of Flattery
To Lawless Nero's, or Bourbonian Kings.
True Virtue to Her kindred Stars aspires,
Does all our Pomp of Stone and Verse surpass,
And mingling with Aetherial Fires,
No useless Ornament requires
From Speaking Colours, or from Breathing Brass.
Greatest of Princes! where the wand'ring Sun
Does o'er Earth's habitable Regions rowl,
From th' Eastern Barriers to the Western Goal,
And sees Thy Race of Glory run
With Swiftness equal to his Own:
Thee on the Banks of Flandrian Scaldis sings
The jocund Swain, releas'd from Gallic Fear;
The English Voice unus'd to hear,
Thee the repeating Banks, Thee every Valley rings.
The Gaul, untaught to bear the Flames
Of those who drink the Maese or Thames,
From the Britannick Valour flies,
No longer able to withstand
The Thunderbolt launch'd by a Female Hand,
Or Lightning darted from Her Eyes.
What Treble Ruin Pious ANNA brings
On False Electors, Perjur'd Kings,
Let the twice Fugitive Bavarian tell,
Who from His Airy Hope of better State
By Lust of Sway, irregularly Great,
Like an Apostate Angel, fell.
Who, by Imperial Favour rais'd,
I'th' highest Rank of Glory blaz'd;
And had till now, unrival'd, shone
More than a King, contented with His Own.
But Lucifer's bold Steps he trod,
Who durst Assault the Throne of GOD,
[Page 7]And for contented Realms of blissful Light;
Gain'd [...]he sad Privilege to be
The First in Solid Misery,
Monarch of Hell, and Woes, and Endless Night.
Corruption of the Best is Worst,
And foul Ambition, like an Evil Wind,
Blights the fair Blossoms of a Noble Mind;
And if a Seraph fall, He's doubly Curs'd.
Had Guile and Pride, and Envy grown
In the black Groves of Styx alone,
Nor ever had on Earth the baleful Crop been sown [...]
The Swain, without Amaze, had Till'd
The Flandrian Glebe, a guiltless Field:
Nor had He wond'red, when He found
The Bones of Heroes in the Ground.
No Crimson Streams had lately swell'd
The Dyle, the Danube, and the Scheld.
But Evils are of Necessary Growth
To Rouze the Brave, and Banish Sloth.
And some are Born to win the Stars
By Sweat, and Blood, and Worthy Scars.
Heroic Virtue is by Action seen,
And Vices serve to make it keen;
And as Gigantick Tyrants rise
NASSAU'S and ANNA'S leave the Skies
The Earth-born Monsters to Chastise;
While Cerberus and Hydra grow
For an Alcides, or a MARLBOROUGH.
If, Heav'nly Muse, you burn with a Desire
To Praise the Man whom all admire:
Come from thy Learnd'd Castalian Springs,
And stretch aloft thy Pegaseian Wings;
Strike the loud Pyndaric Strings,
Like the Lark, who soars and sings:
And as you sail the Liquid Skies,
Cast on * Menapian Fields your weeping Eyes:
(For weep they surely must
To see the bloody Annual Sacrifice;
To think how the neglected Dust
Which, with contempt, is basely trod,
Was once the Limbs of Captains, Brave and Just,
The Mortal Part of some Great DEMY-GOD:
Who for thrice Fifty Years of stubborn War,
With slaught'ring Arms, the Gun and Sword,
Have dug the Mighty Sepulcher,
And fell as Martyrs on Record
Of Tyranny Reveng'd, and Liberty Restor'd.)
See, where at Audenard, with Heaps of Slain
Th' Heroic Man, inspir'dly Brave;
Mowing a-cross, bestrews the Plain,
And with new Tenants crowds the wealthy Grave.
His Mind unshaken at the frightful Scene,
His Looks as chearfully serene
[Page 9]The routed Battle to pursue,
As once adorn'd the Paphian Queen,
When to Her Thracian Paramour she flew.
The gath'ring Troops He kens from far,
And with a Bridegroom's Passion and Delight
Courting the VVar, and Glowing for the Fight,
[...]e new Salmoneus meets, the Celtic Thunderer.
Ah cursed Pride! Infernal Dream!
VVhich drove him to this wild Extream
That Dust a Deity should seem.
[...]hought, as thro' the wond'ring Streets he rode,
Th' Immortal Man, or Mortal God.
VVith rattling Brass, and trampling Horse
Should counterfeit th' Inimitable Force
Of Divine Thunder: horrid Crime!
But Vengeance is the Child of Time,
And will too surely be repay'd
On his prophane, Devouted Head,
VVho durst affront the Powers above,
And their Eternal Flames Disgrace,
Too Fatal, brandish'd by the Rightful Jove,
Or (a) Pallas, who supplies his place.
The British Pallas! who as (b) Homer's did
For her lov'd Diomed,
Her Heroe's Mind with Wisdom fills,
And Heavenly Courage in his Heart instills.
[Page 10]Hence thro' the thickest Squadrons does He ride,
VVith ANNA's Angels by his side.
VVith what uncommon Speed
He spurs his foaming, fiery Steed!
And pushes on thro' midmost Fires
VVhere France's Fortune with Her Sons retires.
Now here, now there, the sweepy Ruin flies;
(c) As when the Pleiades arise,
The Southern Wind afflicts the Skies.
Then, muttering o'er the Deep, buffets th' unruly B [...]
Till Clouds and Water seem to joyn.
Or as a Dyke, cut by malicious Hands
O'erflows the Fertile Netherlands;
Thro' the wide Yawn, th' Impetuous Sea
Lavish of his new Liberty,
Bestrides the Vale, and with tumultuous Noise
Bellows along the delug'd Plain,
Destructive to the ripening Grain
For as th' Horizon he destroys:
The weeping Shepherd from an Hill, bewa [...]s the Wa [...] Rei [...]
So rapid flows th' unprison'd Stream!
So strong the Force of MINDLEHEIM!
In vain the Woods of Audenard
Would shield the Gaul, a fenceless Guard.
[Page 11]As soon may Whirlwinds be with-held
As His Passage o'er the Scheld.
In vain the Torrent would oppose,
In vain arm'd Banks, and numerous Foes,
Who with inglorious haste retire,
Fly faster than the River flows,
And Swifter than our Fire.
[...]endosm from far upbraids their nimble Shame,
And pleads his Royal Master's Fame.
by Conde's Mighty Ghost ▪ he cries,
By Turenne, Luxemburg, and All
Those Noble Souls, who fell a Sacrifice
At (a) Lens, at Fleurus, and at Landen Fight,
[...]top, I conjure, your ignominious Flight:
But Fear is deaf to Honour's Call.
Each frowning Threat and soothing Prayer
Is lost in the regardless Air.
As well He may
The Billows of the Ocean stay,
While CHURCHILL, like a driving Wind,
Or High Spring-Tide, pursues behind,
[...]d with redoubled Speed urges their forward Way.
Nor less, Euginious, Thy Important Care,
Thou Second Thunderbolt of War!
Partner in Danger and in Fame,
With Marlborough's the Winds shall bear
To distant Colonies Thy conqu'ring Name.
[Page 12]Nor shall the Muse forget to sing
From Harmony what Blessings spring.
To tell how Death did enviously repine
To see a Friendship so Divine.
When in a Ball's destroying shape she past,
And mark'd Thy threatned Brow at last.
But durst not touch that Sacred Brain
Where the Concerns of Europe Reign;
For straight she bow'd her ghastly Head,
She saw the Mark of Heaven, and fled.
As Cruel Brennus once, insulting Gaul,
When he, at Allia's fatal Flood,
Had fill'd the Plains with Roman Blood,
With conscious Awe forsook the Capitol,
Where Jove, Revenger of Prophaneness, stood
But where the Good and Brave Command,
What Capitol, what Castle can withstand?
Virtue, as well as Gold, can pass
Thro' Walls of Stone, and Towers of Brass.
LISLE, like a Mistress, had been courted long,
And always yielded to the Bold and Young:
The fairest Progeny of Vauban's Art,
Till Savoy's Warlike Prince withstood
Her frowning Thunders, and thro' Seas of Blood
Tore the bright Darling from th' Old Tyrant's Hea [...]
Such (a) Buda saw Him, when Proud
He was Bassaw of the City, and lost his Life on the Br [...]ach.
Apti fel [...]
Unhappy, Valiant Infidel!
[Page 13]Who, Vanquish'd by superior Strength,
Surrendred up his haughty Breath,
Upon the Breach measuring his manly Length▪
And shu'd the Bow-string by a Nobler Death.
Such (c) Harscham's Field beheld Him in his Bloom,
When Victory bespoke him for her Own,
Her Favourite, immortal Son,
And told of better Years revolving on the Loom [...]
How He should make the Turkish Crescent wane,
And choak (d) (d) Tibiscus with the Slain.
While Viziers lay beneath the lofty Pile
Of slaughter'd Bassaws who o'er Bassaws rowl'd)
And all his numerous Acts she told
From Latian Carpi down to Flandrian LISLE.
Where every Day new Conquests should produce,
Labour for Envy, and a Muse.
Where with her rattling Trumpet's sound
Fame should shake the Hills around;
Should tell how WEBB, nigh woody Wynendale.
Argu'd each Inch of the important Ground.
So much in Virtue's Scale
[Page 14]True Valour Numbers can out-do,
And Thousands are but Cyphers to a few.
Honour with open Arms receives at last
The Heroes, who thro' Virtue's Temple past.
And show'rs down Lawrels from Above
On those whom Heav'n and ANNA Love.
And some, not sparingly, she throws
For the Young Eagles, who could try
The Faith and Judgment of the Sky,
And dare the Sun with steddy Eye,
For Hanover's and Prussia's Brows,
Eugenes in bloom, and future Marlboroughs.
To Hanover, Brunswiga's Second Grace,
Descendant from a long Imperial Race,
The Muse directs an unaffected Flight,
And Prophecies, from so serene a Morn,
To what clear Glories He is Born,
When blazing with a full Meridian Light
He shall the British Hemisphere adorn.
When Mars shall lay his batter'd Target down,
And He (since Death will never spare
The Good, the Pious, and the Fair)
In his ripe Harvest of Renown,
Shall after his Great Father sit,
(If Heav'n so long a Life permit)
And having swell'd the flowing Tide
Of Fame, which he in Arms shall get,
The Purchase of an Honest Sweat,
Shall safe in stormy Seas Britannia's Vessel guide.
Britania's Vessel, which, in ANNA's Reign
And prudent Pilocy, enjoys
The Tempest, which the World destroys,
And rides Triumphant o'er the Subject Main,
O may She soon a quiet Harbour gain!
And sure the Promis'd Hour is come,
When in soft Notes the Peaceful Lyre
Shall still the Trumpet and the Drum,
Shall play what Gods and Men desire,
And strike Bellona's Musick dumb.
When War, by Parents curst, shall quit the Field
Unbuckle his bright Helmet, and to rest
His weary Limbs, sit on his idle Shield
With Scars of Honour plow'd upon his Breast.
But if the Gallic Pharoah's stubborn Heart
Grows fresh for Punishment, and hardens still,
Prepar'd for th' irrecoverable Ill.
[...]d force th' Unwilling Skies to act the Last Ungrateful Part:
Thy Forces, ANNA ▪ like a Flood, shall whelm
[...] Heav'n does Scepter'd Innocence maintain)
His famish'd, desolated Realm,
[...]nd all the Sons of Pharamond in vain
(Who with dishonest Envy see
[...]he sweet forbidden Fruits of distant Liberty)
[...] Curse their [...]igid Salic Law, and wish a Female Reign.
A FEMALE REIGN, like Thine,
O ANNA, British Heroine!
[Page 16]To Thee afflicted Empires fly for Aid
Where e'er Tyrannic Standards are display'd,
From the wrong'd Iber to the threatned Rhine.
Thee, Where the Golden-sanded Tagus flows
Beneath fair (a) Ulyssippo's Walls
The frighted Lusitanian calls;
Thee, they who drink the Sein, with those
Who plow Iberian Fields, implore
To give the lab'ring World Repose,
And Universal Peace Restore.
Thee Gallia, mournful to survive the Fate
Of her fall'n Grandeur, and departed State,
By sad Experience taught to own
That Virtue is a safer Way to Rise,
A shorter Passage to the Skies
Than Pellion upon Ossa thrown:
For they who by deny'd Attempts presume
To reach the Starry Thrones, become
Sure Food for Thunder, and condemn'd to how [...]
In (a) Aetna, or in (b) Arima to rowl
By an inevitable Doom,
Gain but a Higher Fall, a Mountain for their Tomb.


Per Graiû populos, mediaeque per Elidis Urbem
Ibat ovans; Divúmque sibi poscebat Honores.

LONDON: [...]rinted and Sold by H. Hills, in Black-Fryars, near the Water-side, 1709. Price One Penny.


ONCE more our awful Poet Arms, t' engage
The threatning Hydra Faction of the Age:
Once more pr [...]pares his dreadful Pen to wield,
And ev'ry Muse attends him to the Field:
By Art and Nature for this Task design'd,
Yet modestly the Fight he long declin'd;
Forbore the Torrent of his Verse to pour,
Nor loos'd his Satyr till the needful Hour:
His Sov'reign's Right by Patience half betray'd,
Wak'd his Avenging Genius to its Aid.
Blest Muse, whose Wit with such a Cause was Crown'd,
And blest the Cause that such a Champion found.
With chosen Verse upon the Foe he falls,
And black Sedition in each Quarter galls;
Yet, like a Prince with Subjects forc'd to engage,
Secure of Conquest he rebates his Rage;
His Fury not without Distinction sheds,
Hurls mortal Bolts but on devoted Heads:
To less infected Members gentle found,
He spares, or else pours Balm into Wound.
such gen'rous Grace th' ingrateful Tribe abuse,
And trespass on the Mercy of his Muse;
Their wretched dogrell Rhimers forth they bring
To snarl and bark against the Poets King;
A Crew, that scandalize the Nation more
Than all their Treason-canting Priests before;
On these he scarce vouchsafes a scornful Smile,
But on their Pow'rful Patrons turns his Style.
A Style so keen, as ev'n from Faction draws
The vital Poyson, stabs to the Heart their Cause.
[...]ake then, great Bard, what Tribute we can raise;
Accept our Thanks, for you transcend our Praise.


FOR to whom can I dedicate this Poem, with so much Justice as to you? 'T [...]s the Representation of your own Heroe: 'tis th [...] Picture drawn at length, which you prize and admire so much i [...] little. None of your Ornaments are wanting; neither the Landscap [...] of the Tower, nor the Rising Sun; nor the Anno Domini of your Ne [...] Sovereign's Coronation. This must needs be a grateful Undertaking [...] your whole Party: Especially to those who have not been so happy [...] to purchase the Original. I hear the Graver has made a good Marks of it: all his Kings are bought up already; or the value of the R [...] mainder so inhanc'd, that many a poor Polander, who would be gl [...] to worship the Image, is not able to go to the Cost of him: But must [...] content to see him here. I must confess I am no great [...]rtist; but Sig [...] Post painting will serve the turn to remember a Friend by; especial when better is not to be had. Yet for your Comfort the Lineame [...] are true: and though he fate not five times to me, as the did to [...] yet I have consulted History; as the Italian Painters do, when th [...] wou'd draw a Nero or a Galigul [...]; though they have not seen t [...] Man, they can help their Imagination by a Statue of him, and s [...] out the Colouring from Suetomus and Tacitus. Truth is, you mig [...] have spar'd one side of your Medal: the Head would be seen to m [...] advantage, if it were plac'd on a Spike of the Tower; a little nearer [...] the Sun. Which wou'd then break out to better purpose. You tell [...] your Preface to the No-Protestant Plot, that you shall be forc'd [...] after to leave off your Modesty: I suppose you mean that little which [...] left you: for it was worn to Rags when you put out this Medal. [...] [...] ver was there practis'd such a piece of notorious Impudence in the f [...] of an Establish [...]d Government. I believe, when he is dead, you [...] wear him in Thumb-Rings, as the Turks did Scanderbeg; as if [...] were Virtue in his Bones to preserve you against Monarchy. Yet [...] this while you pretend not only Zeal for the Publick Good, but a due [...] [...]eration for the Person of the King. But all Men, who can see an [...] [Page 5] before them, may easily detect those gross Fallacies. That it is necessa [...]y for Men in your Circumstances to pretend both, is granted you; for without them there could be no ground to raise a Faction. But I would ask you one civil Question, what right has any Man among you, or any Association of Men, (to come nearer to you,) who out of Parliament, cannot be consider'd in a publick Capacity, to meet, as you daily do, in Factious Clubs, to vilify the Government in your Discourses, and to libel it in all your Writings? Who made you Judges in Isra [...]l? Or how [...] it consistent with your Zeal of the Publick Welfare, to promote Se­dition? Does your Definition of Loy [...]l, which is to serve the King ac­cording to the Laws, allow you the Licence of traducing the Executive Power, with which you own he is invested? You complain that his Ma­jesty has lost the Love and Confidence of his People; and by your very urging it, you endeavour what in you lies, to make him lose them. All g [...]od subjects abhor the thought of Arbitrary Power, whether it be in one or many: if you were the Patriots you would seem, you would not at this [...]ate incense the Multit [...]de to assume it; for no sober Man can fear it, either from the King's Disposition, or his Practice; or even, where you would odiously lay it, from his Ministers. Give us leave to enjoy the Government and the Benefit of Laws under which we were born, and which we desire to transmit to our Posterity. You are not the Trustees of the publick Liberty: and if you have not right to peti­tion in a Croud, much less have you to intermeddle in the Management of Affairs; or to arraign what you do not like: which in effect is every thing that is done by the King and Council Can you imagine that any reasonable Man will believe you respect the Person of his Majesty, when [...] apparent that your Seditious Pamphlets are stuff'd w [...]th particular Reflections on him? If you have the Confidence to deny th [...]s, 'tis easie to [...]e evinc'd from a thousand P [...]ssages, which I only forbear to quote, be­cause I desire they should d [...]e and be forgotten. I have perus'd many of [...]ur Papers; and to shew you that I have, the third part of your No-Protestant Plot is much of it stolen from your dead Author's Pamphlet [...]ll'd the Growth of Popery; as manifestly as Mil [...]on's Defence of the English People, is from Bucha [...]a [...] de jur [...] regn [...] apud Sco [...]os: or your first Covenant, and new Associa [...]ion, from the holy League of the French Guisards. Any one who reads D [...]vila, may trace your Practices all a­ [...]ong. There were the same pretences for Reformation, and Loyalty, the [...]ame Aspersions of the King, and the same grounds of a Rebellion. I [...]ow not whether you will take the Historian's word, who says it was [...]eported, that P [...]ltrot a Hugonot, murther'd F [...]ancis Duke of Guise by [...]he Instigations of Theodore Reza: or that it was a Hug [...]ot Minister, [...]therwise call'd a Presbyterian, (for our Church abhors so devilish a [...]enet) who first writ a Treatise of the Lawfulness of d [...]p [...]sing and mur­ [...]hering Kings, of a different Persuasion in Religion: But I am able to [...]rove from the Doctrine of Calvin, and Principles of Bu [...]h [...]man, that [...]hey set the People above the Magistrate; which if I mistake not, is [Page 6] your own Fundamental; and which carries your Loyalty no farther than your liking When a Vote of the House of Commons goes on your side you a [...]e as ready to observe it, as if it were pass'd into a Law: But wh [...] you are pinch'd with any former, and yet unrepealed Act of Parli [...]ment you declare that in some Cases, you will not be oblig'd by it. The Passage is in the same third part of the No-Protestant Plot; and is [...] plain to be denied. The late Copy of your intended Association, you neither wholly justifie nor condemn: But, as the Papists, when they are u [...] oppos'd▪ fly out into all the Pageantries of Worship; but in times [...] War when they are hard press [...]d by Arguments, ly close intrench [...]d behind the Council of [...]nt: So, now, when your Affairs are in a lo [...] Condition, you d [...]re not pretend that to be a legal Combination, [...] whens [...]ever you are afloat. I doubt not but it will be maintain'd a [...] justified to purpose For indeed there is nothing to defend it but t [...] Sword: 'tis the proper time to say any thing, when Men have all thing in their power.

In the mean time you wou'd fain be nibling at a Parallel betwixt t [...] Association, and that in the time of Queen Elizabeth. But there th [...]s small difference betwixt them, that the ends of one are directly opposite to the other: one with the Queen's Approbation, and Conjuncti [...] as Head of it; the other without either the Consent, or Knowledge the King, against whose Authority it is manifestly design'd. There [...] you do well to have recourse to your last Evasion, that it was contri [...] by your Enemies, and shuffled into the Papers that were seiz'd: wh [...] yet you s [...]e the Nation is not so easie to believe as your own Jury: [...] the Matter is not difficult, to find 12 Men in Newgate, who wou'd [...] quit a Malefactor.

I have one only Favour to desire of you at parting, that when [...] think of answering this Poem ▪ you wou'd employ the same Pens aga [...] it, who have combated with so much Success against Absalom and A [...] tophel: for then you may assure your selves of a clear Victory, w [...] the least Reply. Rail at me abundantly; and, not to break a Custo [...] do it without Wi [...]: By this Method you will gain a considerable Pe [...] which is wholly to wave the Answer of my Arguments. Never own [...] bottom of your Principles, for fear they shou'd be Treason. Fall seve [...] ly on the Miscarriages of Government; for if [...]candal be not al [...]ow you are no free born Subjects. If God ha [...] not bless'd you with the [...] l [...]nt of R [...]iming, make u [...]e of my poor Stock and welcome: let [...] Verses run upon my Feet: and for the utmost Refuge of notorious B [...] heads, reduc [...]d to the last extremity of Sense, turn my own Lines [...] me, and in utter Despair of your own Satyr, make me Satyrize my [...] Some of you have been driven to this Bay already; but above all [...] rest commend me to the Non-Conformist Parson, who writ the Whip [...] Key. I am afraid it is not read so much as the Piece deserves, bec [...] the Bookseller is every Week crying help at the end of his Guzette, g [...]t it off. You see I am charitable enough to do him a Kindness, [...] [Page 7] it may be publish'd as well as printed; and that so much Skill in He­brew Derivations, may not lie for Waste-Paper in the Shop. Yet I half suspect he went no farther for his Learning, than the Index of Hebrew Names and Etymologies, which are printed at the end of some English Bibles. If Achitophel signifie the Brother of a Fool, the Author of that Poem will pass with his Readers for the next of Kin. And perhaps 'tis the Relation that makes the Kindness. Whatever the Verses are; buy 'em up I beseech you out of pity; for I hear the Conventicle is shut up, and the Brother of Achitophel out of Service.

Now Footmen, you know, have the Generosity to make a Purse, for a Member of their Society, who has had his Livery pull'd over his Ears: and even Protestant Socks are bought up among you, out of Veneration to the Name. A Dissenter in Poetry from Sense and English, will make as good a Protestant Rhimer, as a Dissenter from the Church of Eng­l [...]nd a Protestant Parson. Besides, if you encourage a young Beginner, who knows but he may elevate his Style a little, above the vulgar Epi­the [...]s of prophane and sawcy Jack and Atheistick Scribler, with which he treats me, when the Fit of Enthusiam is strong upon him: by which well-manner'd and charitable Expressions, I was certain of his Sect be­fore I knew his Name. What would you have more of a Man? he has damn'd me in your Cause from Genesis to the Revelations: And has half the Texts of [...]both the Testaments against me, if you will be so civil to your selves as to take him for your Interpreter; and not to take them for Irish Witnesses. After all perhaps you will tell me, that you re­tain'd him only for the opening of your Cause, and that your main Law­yer is yet behind. Now if it so happen he meet with no more Reply than his Predecessors, you may either conclude, that I trust to the Goodness of my Cause, or fear my Adversary, or disdain him, or what you please, for the short on't is, 'tis indifferent to your humble Servant, whatever your Party says or thinks of him.


OF all our Antick Sights, and Pageantry,
Which English Idiots run in Crouds to see,
The Polish Medal bears the Prize alone:
A Monster more the Favourite of the Town
Than either Fairs or Theatres have shown.
Never did Art so well with Nature strive;
Nor ever Idol seem'd so much alive?
So like the Man; so golden to the sight,
So base within, so counterfeit and light.
One side is fill'd with Title and with Face;
And, lest the King shou'd want a regal Place,
On the reverse, a Tow'r the Town surveys;
O'er which our mounting Sun hi [...] Beams displays.
The Word pronounc'd aloud by Shrieval Voice,
Laetamur, which, in Polish, is rejoyce.
The Day, Month, Year, to the great Act are join'd,
And a new Canting Holiday design'd.
Five Days he sate, for every Cast and Look;
Four more than God to finish Adam took.
[Page 9]But who can tell what Essence Angels are,
Or how long Heav'n was making Lucifer!
Oh, cou'd the Style that copy'd every Grace,
And plough'd such Furrows for an Eunuch Face,
Cou'd it have form'd his ever-changing Will,
The various Piece had tir'd the Graver's Skill!
A Martial Hero first, with early Care,
Blown, like a Pigmy by the Winds, to War.
A Beardless Chief, a Rebel, e'er a Man:
So young his Hatred to his Prince began.)
Next this, (How wildly will Ambition steer!)
A Vermin, wriggling in the Usurper's Ear.
B [...]tt'ring his venal Wit for Sums of Gold
He cast himself into the Saint-like Mould;
Groan'd, sigh'd and pray'd, while Godliness was Gain;
The [...]udest Bag-pip [...] of the Sqeaking Train.
[...]ut, as 'tis hard to cheat a Juggler's Eyes,
His open Lewdness he cou'd ne'er disguise.
There split the Saint: for Hypocritick Zeal
[...]llows no Sins but those it can conceal.
Whoring to Scandal gives too large a scope:
[...]aints must not trade; but they may interlope.
[...]h' ungodly Principle was all the same;
[...]ut a gross Cheat betrays his Partner's Game.
[...]esides, their pace was formal, grave and slack:
[...]is nimble Wit out-ran the heavy Pack.
[...]et still he found his Fortune at a stay;
Whole Droves of Blockheads choaking up his way:
They took, but not rewarded, his Advice;
[...]illain and Wit exact a double Price.
[...]w'r was his aim: But, thrown from that pretence,
[...]he Wretch turn'd Loyal in his own Defence;
[...]nd Malice reconcil'd him to his Prince.
[...]m, in the Anguish of his Soul he serv'd;
[...]warded faster still than he deserv'd.
[...]hold him now exalted into Trust;
[...]s Counsel's oft convenient, seldom just.
[...]'n in the most sincere Advice he gave,
[...]e had a grudging still to be a Knave.
[Page 10]The Frauds he learnt in his Fanatick Years
Made him uneasie in his Lawful Gears.
At best as little honest as he cou'd:
And, like white Witches, mischievously good.
To his first Byass, longingly he leans;
And rather wou'd be great by wicked means.
Thus, fram'd from Ill, he loos'd our Triple hold;
(Advice unsafe, precipitous, and bold.)
From hence those Tears! that Ilium of our Woe!
Who helps a pow'rful Friend, fore-arms a Foe.
What Wonder if the Waves prevail so far,
When He cut down the Banks that made the Bar?
Seas follow but their Nature to invade;
But he by Art our Native Strength betray'd.
So Sampson to his Foe his force confest;
And, to be shorn, lay slumb'ring on her Breast.
But, when this fatal Counsel, found too late,
Expos'd its Author to the publick Hate;
When his just Sovereign, by no impious way;
Cou'd be seduc'd to Arbitrary sway;
Forsaken of that Hope, he shifts the sail;
Dri [...]es down the Current with a pop'lar Gale;
And shews the F [...]end confess'd without a Veil.
He preaches to the Crowd, that Pow'r is lent,
But not convey'd to Kingly Government;
That claims successive bear no binding force;
That Coronation Oaths are things of course;
Maitains the Multitude can never err;
And sets the People in the Papal Chair.
The Reason's obvious; Int'rest never lyes;
The most have still their Int'rest in their Eyes;
The Pow'r is always theirs, and Pow'r is ever wise.
Almighty Crowd, thou shorten'st all dispute;
Power is thy Essence; Wit thy Attribute!
Nor Faith nor Reason make thee at a stay,
Thou leap'st o'er all Eternal Truths, in thy Pindarique wa [...]
Athens, no doubt, did righteously decide,
When Phocion and when Socrates were try'd:
[Page 11]As righteously they did those dooms repent,
Still they were wise, whatever way they went.
Crouds err not, though to both Extreams they run;
To kill the Father, and recal the Son.
Some think the Fools were most, as times went then;
But now the World's o'er-stock'd with prudent Men.
The common Cry is ev'n Religion's Test;
The Turks is, at Constantinople, best;
[...]dols in India, Popery at Rome;
And our own Worship only true at home.
And true, but for the time, 'tis hard to know
How long we please it shall continues so.
This side to day, and that to morrow burns;
So all are God a mighties in their turns.
A Tempting Doctrine, plausible and new:
What Fools our Fathers were, if this be true?
Who, to destroy the seeds of Civil War,
[...]nherent Right in Monarchs did declare:
And, that a lawful Pow'r might never cease,
Secu [...]'d Succession, to secure our Peace,
Thus Property and Sovereign Sway, at last
[...]n equal Balances were justly cast:
But this new Jehu spurs the hot-mouth'd Horse;
[...]nstructs the Beast to know his Native Force:
To take the Bit between his Teeth and fly
To the next headlong Steep of Anarchy.
Too happy England, if our good we knew;
Wou'd we possess the Freedom we pursue!
The lavish Government can give no more:
[...]et we repine; and plenty makes us poor.
God try'd us once; our Rebe-fathers fought:
[...]e glutted 'em with all the Pow'r they sought:
[...]ll, master'd by their own usurping Brave,
[...]he free-born Subject sunk into a Slave.
We loath our Manna, and we long for Quails;
[...]h, what is Man, when his own Wish prevails!
[...]ow rash, bow swift to plunge himself in Ill [...];
[...]roud of his Pow'r, and boundless in his Will
[Page 12]That Kings can do no wrong we must believe:
None can they do, and must they all receive?
Help Heav'n! or sa [...]ly we shall see an Hour,
When neither wrong nor right are ni their Pow'r!
Already they have lost their best Defence,
The Benefit of Laws, which they dispence.
No Justice to their righteous Cause allow'd;
But baffled by an Arbitrary Croud.
And Medals grav'd, their Conquest to record,
The Stamp and Coyn of their adopted Lord.
The Man who laugh'd but once, to see an Ass
Mambling to make the cross-grain'd Thistles pass:
Might laugh again, to see a Jury chaw
The Prickles of unpalatable Law.
The Witnesses, that, Leech-like, liv'd on Blood,
Sucking for them were med'cinally good;
But, when they fasten'd on their fester'd Sore,
Then, Justice and Religion they forswore;
Their Maiden Oaths debauch'd into a Whore.
Thus Men are rais'd by Faction, and decry'd;
And Rogue and Saint distinguish'd by their Side.
They rack ev'n Scripture to confess their Cause;
And plead a Call to preach, in spight of Laws.
But that's no News to the poor injur'd Page,
It has been us'd as ill in every Age;
And is constrain'd, with Patience, all to take;
For what Defence can Greek and Hebrew make?
Happy who can this Talking Trumpet seize;
They make it speak whatever Sense they please!
'Twas fram'd, at first, our Oracle t' enquire;
But, since our Sects in Prophecy grow higher,
The Text inspires not them; but they the Text inspire.
London, thou great Emporium of our Isle,
O, thou too bounteous, thou too fruitful Nile,
How shall I praise or curse to thy Desert!
Or separate thy Sound, from thy corrupted part!
I call'd thee Nile; the parallel will stand:
Thy Tides of Wealth o'erflow the fatten'd Land;
[Page 13] [...]et Monsters from thy large Increase we find.
[...]ngender'd on the Slyme thou leav'st behind.
[...]edition has not wholly seiz'd on thee;
Thy nobler Parts are from Infection free.
[...]r Israel's Tribes thou hast a numerous Band;
[...]ut still the Canaanite is in the Land.
Thy Military Chiefs are brave and true;
[...]or are thy disinchanted Burghers few.
The Head is Loyal which thy Heart commands;
[...]ut what's a Head with two such gouty Hands?
The wise and wealthy love the surest way;
[...]nd are content to thrive and to obey.
[...]t Wisdom is to Sloth too great a Slave;
[...]one are so busie as the Fool and Knave.
Those let me curse; what Vengeance will they urge,
Whose Ordures neither Plague nor Fire can purge;
[...]or sharp Experience can to Duty bring,
[...]or angry Heaven, nor a forgiving King!
[...] Gospel-phrase their Chapmen they betray:
Their Shops are Dens, the Buyer is their Prey.
The Knack of Trades is living on the Spoil;
They boast e'en when each other they beguile.
Customs to steal is such a trivial thing,
That 'tis their Charter to defraud their King.
[...]ll hands unite of every jarring Sect;
They cheat the Country first, and then infect.
They, for God's Cause their Monarchs dare dethrone;
[...]nd they'll be sure to make his Cause their own.
[...]hether the plotting Jesuit lay'd the Plan
Of murth'ring Kings, or the French Puritan,
[...]our Sacrilegious Sects their Guides out-go;
[...]nd Kings and Kingly Pow'r wou'd murther too.
What means their Trait'rous Combination less,
Too plain t' evade, too shameful to confess.
[...]ut Treason is not own'd when 'tis descry'd;
[...]uccessful Crimes alone are justify'd.
The Men, who no Conspiracy wou'd find,
Who doubts, but had it taken, they had join'd.
[Page 14]Join'd, in a mutual Cov'nant of Defence;
At first without, at last against their Prince.
If Sovereign Right by S [...]vereign Pow'r they scan,
The same bold Maxim holds in God and Man [...]:
God were not safe, his Thunder cou'd they shun
He shou'd be forc'd to crown another Son.
Thus, when the Heir was from the Vineyard thrown,
The rich Possession was the Murth'rers own.
In vain to Sophistry they have recourse:
By proving theirs no Plot, they prove 'tis worse;
Unmask'd Rebellion, and audacicus Force.
Which, though not Actual, yet all Eyes may see
'Tis working, in th' immediate Pow'r to be;
For, from pretended Grievances they rise,
First to dislike, and after to despise.
Then, Cyclop-like in humane Flesh to deal,
Chop up a Minister, at every Meal;
Perhaps no [...] wholly to melt down the King;
But clip his Reg [...]l Rights within the Ring.
From thence t' assume the pow'r of Peace and War;
And ease him by degrees of publick Care.
Yet, to consult his Dignity and Fame,
He shou'd have leave to exercise the Name;
And hold the Cards, while Commons play'd the Game.
For what can Pow'r give more than Food and Drink,
To live at Ease, and not be bound to think?
These are the cooler Methods of the Crime;
But their hot Zealots think 'tis loss of time:
On utmost Bounds of Loyalty they stand,
And grin and whet like a Croatian Band;
That waits impatient for the last Command.
Thus Out-laws open Villainy maintain;
They steal not, but in Squadrons scour the Plain:
And, if their pow'r the Passengers subdue;
The most have right, the wrong is in the Few.
Such impious Axiomes foolishly they show;
For, in some Soils Republicks will not grow:
Our Temp' rate Isle will no Extreams sustain,
Of pop'lar Sway, or Arbitrary Reign [...]
[Page 15]But slides between them both into the best;
Secure in Freedom, in a Monarch blest.
And though the Climate, vext with various Winds,
Works through our yielding Bodies on our Minds,
The wholsome Tempest purges what it breeds;
To recommend the Calmness that succeeds.
But thou, the Pander of the Peoples Hearts,
[...]O Crooked Soul, and Serpentine in Arts,)
Whose Blandishments a Loyal Land [...] have whor'd,
And broke the Bonds she plighted to her Lord;
What Curses on thy blasted Name will fall!
Which age to Age their Legacy shall call;
[...]or all must curse the Woes that must descend on all.
Religion thou hast none: thy Mercury
Has pass'd through every Sect. or theirs through Thee.
[...]ut what thou giv'st, that Venom still remains;
[...]nd the pox'd Nation feels Thee in their Brains.
What else inspires the Tongues, and swells the Breasts
Of all thy bellowing Renegado Priest [...],
[...]hat preach up thee for God; dispence thy Laws;
[...]nd with thy Stumm ferment their fainting Cause?
[...]sh Fumes of Madness raise; and toil and sweat
To make the formidable Cripple great.
[...]t, shou'd thy Crimes succeed, shou'd lawless Pow'r
Compass those Ends thy greedy Hopes devour,
Thy Canting Friends thy Mortal Foes wou'd be;
Thy God and Theirs will never long agree.
[...]or thine, (if thou hast any,) must be one
That lets the World and Humane Kind alone;
[...] jolly God, that passes hours too well
[...]o promise Heav'n, or threaten us with Hell.
[...]hat unconcern'd can at Rebellion sit;
[...]nd wink at Crimes he did himself commit.
Tyrant theirs; the Heav'n their Priesthood paints;
Conventicle of gloomy sullen Saints;
Heav'n, like Bedlam, slovingly and sad;
[...]ore-doom'd for Souls, with false Religion mad.
Without a Vision Poets can fore-shew
[...]hat all but Fools, by common Sense my know:
[Page 16]If true Succession from our Isle shou'd fail,
And Crouds profane, with impious Arms prevail,
Not thou, nor those thy Factious Arts ingage
Shall reap that Harvest of Rebellious Rage,
With which thou flatter'st thy decrepit Age.
The swelling Poison of the sev'ral Sects,
Which wanting vent, the Nation's Health infects,
Shall burst its Bag; and fighting out their way
The various Venoms on each other prey.
The Presbyter, pufft up with spiritual Pride,
Shall on the Necks of the lewd Nobles ride:
His Brethren damn, the Civil Pow'r defy;
And parcel out Republick Prelacy.
But short shall be his Reign: his rigid Yoke
And Tyrant Pow'r will puny Sects provoke;
And Frogs and Toads, and all the Tadpole Train
Will croak to Heav'n for help, from this devouring Cran [...]
The Cut-throat Sword and clamorous Gown shall jar,
In sharing their ill-gotten Spoils of War:
Chiefs shall be grudg'd the part which they pretend,
Lords envy Lords, and Friends with every Friend
About their impious Merit shall contend.
The surly Commons shall Respect deny;
And justle Peerage out with Property.
Their Gen'ral either shall his Trust betray,
And force the Crowd to Arbitrary Sway;
Or they suspecting his ambitious Aim,
In hate of Kings shall cast a new the Frame;
And thrust out Collatine that bore the Name.
Thus in-born Broils the Factions wou'd ingage;
Or Wars of Exil'd Heirs, or Foreign Rage,
Till halting Vengeance overtook our Age:
And our wild labours, wearied into Rest,
Reclin'd us on a rightful Monarch's Breast.
—Pudet haec opprobria, vobis
Et dici potuisse, & non potuisse refelli.
Love given over: OR, …

Love given over: OR, A SATYR AGAINST THE Pride, Lust, and Inconstancy, &c. OF WOMAN. WITH SYLVIA'S REVENGE, OR, A SATYR AGAINST MAN, In Answer to the Satyr against Woman. Amended by the AUTHOR.

LONDON [...]inted and Sold by H. Hills, in Black-fryars near the Water-side. 1710.

To the Reader.

THE Pious Endeavours of the Gown, have not prov [...] more ineffectual towards reclaiming the Errors of a v [...] tious Age, than Satyr (the better way, tho' less practis'd) t [...] Amendment of Honesty, and good Manners among us. Nor [...] it a wonder, when we consider that Women, (as if they ha [...] the ingredient of Fallen-Angels in their Composition) the mo [...] they are lash'd, are but the more hardned in Impenitence: A [...] as Children in some violent Distemper, commonly spit out th [...] cherishing Cordials, which, if taken, might chase away t [...] Malady: So they (inspir'd as 'twere with a natural aversness to Virtue) despise that wholsom Counsel, which is Religously design'd for their future good, and happiness. Judge the [...] if Satyr ever had more need of a sharper sting than now: wh [...] hen can look out of his Cell on no side but sees so many obje [...] beyond the reach of indignation. Nor is it altogether unresonable for me (while others are lashing the Rebellious Tim [...] into Obedience) to have one fling at Woman, the Origi [...] of Mischief. I'm sensible I might as well expect to see Tr [...] and Honesty uppermost in the World, as think to be free fr [...] the bitterness of their Resentments: But I have no reason to concern'd at that; since I'm certain my Design's as far fr [...] offending the good, (if there are any amongst 'em that can said to be so) as those few that are good, would be offended their Reception into the Eternal Inhabitations of Peace, to Crown'd there with the Sacred Reward of their Labours. for those that are ill, if it Gall them, it succeeds according my wish; for I have no other design but the Amendmen [...] Vice, which if I could but in the least accomplish, I should well pleas'd; and not without reason too; for it must need some satisfaction to a young unskilful Archer, to hit the [...] Mark he ever aim'd at.

Love given over: OR, A SATYR against WOMAN.

AT length from Love's vile Slav'ry I am free,
And have regain'd my ancient Liberty:
[...]e shook those Chains off which my Bondage wrought,
[...]n free as Air, and unconfin'd as Thought;
[...]or Faithless Sylvia I no more adore,
[...]neel at her Feet, and pray in vain no more:
[...]o more my Verse shall her fled Worth proclaim,
[...]nd with soft Praises celebrate her Name:
[...]er Frowns do now no awful Terrors bear;
[...]er Smiles no more can cure or cause Despair.
[...]ve banish'd her for ever from my Breast,
[...]anish'd the proud Invader of my Rest,
[...]anish'd the Tyrant-Author of my Woes,
That robb'd my Soul of all its sweet repose:
[...]ot all her treach'rous Arts bewitching Wiles,
[...]der Sighs, her Tears, nor her deluding Smiles,
[...]hall my eternal Resolution move,
Or make me talk, or think, or dream of Love:
The whining Curse I've banish'd from my Mind,
[...]nd with it, all the Thoughts of Womankind.
Come then my Muse, and since the Occasion's fair;
[...]gainst that Sex proclaim an endless War;
Which may renew as still my Verse is read,
[...]nd live, when I am mingled with the dead.
Woman! by Hev'ns the very Name's a Crime,
[...]nough to blast, and to debauch my Rhyme.
[...]ure Heav'n it self (intranc't) like Adam lay,
Or else some banish'd Fiend usurp't the [...]way
When Eve was form'd; and with her usher'd in
[...]lagues, Woes, and Death, and a new World of Sin.
[Page 4]The fatal Rib was crooked and unev'n,
From whence they have their Crab-like Nature giv'n;
Averse to all the Laws of Man and Heav'n.
O Lucifer, thy Regions had been thin,
Wer't not for Woman's propagating Sin:
'Tis they alone that all true Vices know;
And send such Throngs down to thy Courts below:
Nay there is hardly one among 'em all,
But envics Eve the Glory of the Fall:
Be cautious then, and guard your Empire well;
For should they once get Power to rebel,
They'd surely raise a Civil-War in Hell,
Add to the Pains you feel, and make you know,
W'are here above, as Curst as you below.
But we may thank our selves; is there a Dog,
Who when he may have Freedom, wears the Clog?
But Man, vain Man, the more imprudent Beast,
Drags the dull weight when he may be releas't:
May such, (and, ah! too many such we see)
While they live here, just on