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Tilden's MISCELLANOUS POEMS, ON Divers Occasions; Chiefly to Animate & Rouse THE SOLDIERS.
Printed 1756.
[Page iii]
PREFACE or Introduction.
Ingenious, and Courteous Reader,
[...] a matter of great [...] a Man near 70 years [...] to be the pro [...] [...].—Yet, Courteous [...], I have some Excuses to make, for digging up rusty Talents out of the Earth so long [...] bid. In the first place, When I was Young I was [...], and could not stand the G [...]st of a Laugh; but having Observ'd the Press for more than 60 Years, which has [...] open, and free to every idle Scribler, who have come [...] with Impunity instead of the Punishment. I Tho't they would have [...]ad; I am thereby emboldened to venture my self among the Rest. But ingenious Sirs, I thi [...] I have greater, and nobler Views: For since [...] Soldiers are the very life, nerves, and [...] of their Country, and cannot be too much Honored, nor too well Paid; being a [Page iv] lover of Martial Discipline; I tho't at this critical Juncture it might be of some service to the Public, to attempt to animate, and stir up the martial Spirits of our Soldiery, which is the utmost I can do under my present Circumstances. The small Effort I made last Spring was so well accepted by the Gentlemen of the Army that I am thereby emboldened to revise that, and some other Pieces, and put them into a small Pamphlet. I have nothing further to say, Gentlemen; but conclude with the two following Stanzies,
Kind Sirs, If that you will accept,
This petty Pamphlet as a Gift;
With all the Powers I have left,
I will consult your Honour:
But If you throw her quite away,
As I confess you [...]ustly may,
Iv'e nothing further for to say;
But spit, and tread upon her.
But if that kindly you receive,
And grant the Muse a blest Reprieve;
That little while She has to Live;
T'will give Her Life, & Motion;
And make Her crazy Pinions Strong;
Thro' lofty Theme She'll fly along,
And every Stanzie in her Song;
Shall stand at your Devotion.
[Page 5]
The British Lyon roused.
HAil, great Apollo, guide my feeble Pen,
To rouse the august Lion from his Den,
Exciting vengeance on the worst of Men.
Rouse British Lion from thy soft Repose,
And take Revene upon the worst of Foes,
Who try to wring & hawl you by the Nose.
They always did thy quiet Breast Annoy,
Raising Rebellion with the Rival Boy,
Seeking thy Faith and Int'rest to Destroy.
Treaties & Oaths they always did break thro'
They nev'r did nor wou'd keep faith with you
By Popes and Priests indulged so to Do.
All neigbouring Powers & neutral standers by
Look on our Cause with an impartial Eye,
And see their Falseness and their Perfidy.
Their grand encroachments on us ne'r did cease
But by indulgence mightily increase,
Killing, and Scalping us in Times of Peace.
They buy [...] Scalps exciting savage Clans,
In Childrens Blood for to imbrue their Hands,
Assisted by their cruel gallic Bands.
[Page 6] Britains! strike home, strike home dècisive Blows
Upon the [...] Foes,
Who always Truth, and Justice did oppose.
Go, brave the [...] with your War-like Ships
And spread your Terror o'er the western Deeps
And crush the [...] of the gallic Fleets.
Cleave liqued Mountains of the foaming Flood
And [...] the B [...]ows with the gallic Blood,
A faithful Drubbing be their future Good,
Bury their [...] all in wa [...]y Tombs;
And when [...] News unto Ve [...]sallies, it comes;
Let Lewis Swear by Gar, & gnaw his Thumbs.
Oh! ride triumphant o'er the gallic Powers,
And conquer all these cursed Foes of Ours,
And sweep the Ocean with your iron Showers.
While all the Tribes in Neptuns spacious Hall,
Shall stand astonish'd at the Cannon Ball;
To see such Ha [...] [...] down among them fall
Some of their Tribes perhaps are killed Dead,
And others in a vast Amazement [...],
While Neptune stands Agast, & scratch's his Head.
My roving Muse the Surface reach again,
Search every part of the Atlantick plain,
And see if any Gallics yet remain.
[Page 7] And if they do, let British Cannons Roar;
And let thy Thunders reach the Wester Shoar
While I shall strive to Rouse, her Sons once more.
The English Soldiers Encouraged.
ROuse Heroes, Arm, brave Captains take the Field,
Great George commands, Arm with your Spear, and Shield.
Gird on the glit [...]ing Sword upon your Thigh
Once more New England courage bravely try,
Maintain the Honor you so bravely Won,
Or late, at Louisbourg on Cape Breton,
Where Hero [...] you storm'd, & took the Town,
And gain'd immortal Trophies of Renown.
Now George Commands drive back the Encroaching Foe
That plot in Time your fatal Over-throw,
From Arcada, to the Ohio River,
They Sel [...]e your Lands where Jove is not the Giver,
Laying a Plan that they in Time to come,
O're all these Lands may Sing their Te Deum;
And Cloud your Sun with Popish Superstition,
And make you dread their Bloody Inquisition.
In vain you'l sigh, & make your sad Complaints
Unto these Idol-worshippers of Saints
[Page 8] Better to Die if Heaven sees it Fit,
In Fields of Blood, than ever to Submit:
Go Heroes bold, you've a Commission given
From George our King, & the Great KING of Heaven.
The Blood of Infants Cryeth from the Ground
With Scalped Mothers Scatter'd up & down.
Revenge, Revenge our Blood & righteous Cause
Upon these rogues who break all natures Laws.
In coverts they Watch many Days & Nights
To take a Time to do their Base Exploits,
Scalp a few Children home again they run,
And Swing their Scalps, & Sing their Te Deum▪
They've Murther'd thus in all our North Frontiers,
Fill'd Mothers Hearts with Sighs, and Groans, and Tears,
And thus they've acted more than three Score Years:
Had ever Mortals such a Cursed Foe?
Ask Jove, or Mars, & they will tell you No.
Curs'd be that Arm, & let the Sinnews shrink,
That stay's 'its sword their cursed blood to drink
Drink [...]ratial steel, till you your Thirst [...]ffwage
For they deserve your utmost Marshal-rage:
Drink, Drink I say, till you allay your Thirst
Gun-powder blast them like a Thunder gust
For never was there any Cause more Just.
Since they in blood their chiefest pleasures have,
In blood bold Heroes roul them to their Grave▪
[Page 9] Since they the blood of Innocents have Shed
Let thundring bombs fall blazing on their head
With dire Confusion hurl them to the Dead
In Anna's Reign a Soldier I have been;
But Years forbid that I should go again,
My hands are feeble yet my Heart is True,
With Pray'rs & Wishes it will go with you;
But er'e we part take this Advice from me,
Against good Orders take no Libertie,
Observe good Orders, else your Camp's undone▪
And Mars will Smite his bold rebellious Son;
Observe your Posts, Watch well both Front, and Rear,
And double Foes I think you need not Fear:
Your Leaders brave no doubt a Rule will fix,
Justice and Mercy for to Intermix;
As knowing well that there is one above them
They'l give you Cause both for to Fear and Love them:
Go war-like Souls you've Leaders great & brave
Crown'd with Success, & if you well Behave,
In British Annals then your Names will Shine
To the remotest Periods of Time,
All round the Globe your mighty Fame will run
And over-take the Chariots of the Sun:
Ages to come Historians they will say,
You've Fix't our Rights in North-America.
But whether am I Bor'n? These thot's of arms
Have fill'd my troubl'd Breast with strange Alarms.
[Page 10] Break off my Song my barbarous Muse be still
And [...] Steal down Parnaffus [...]ill.
BRADDOCK's Fate; with an incitement to Revenge.
Compos'd August 20, 1755.
COME all ye Sons of Bri [...]an'ny,
[...] my Mule in Tragedy,
And Mourn brave BRADDOCK's Destiny.
And spend a Mournful Day.
Upon Monongabela Fields,
The Mighty're fallen o'er their Shields;
And British Blood bedews the Hills
Of Western G [...]lb [...].
July the Ninth, O! Fatal Day,
They had a bold, and bloody Fray,
Our Host was smote with a Dismay;
Some basely did Retire:
And left brave BRADDOCK in the Field;
Who had much rather Die than Yield:
A while his Sword he bravely wield,
In Clouds of Smoke, and Fire.
Sometime he bravely stood his Ground,
A Thousand Foes did him Surround,
'Till he receiv'd a mortal Wound;
Which forc'd him to Retreat▪
[Page 11] He [...] upon the thirteenth Day,
As he was home▪ ward on his Way;
Alas! Alas! we all must say,
A sore, and sad Defeat.
Now to his Grave this Hero's born;
While Savage Foes triumph and scorn;
And drooping Banners dress his Urn,
And guard him to his Tomb.
Heralds, and Monarchs of the Dead,
You that so many Worms have fed,
He's coming to your chilly Bed,
Edge close and give him room.
His Epitaph.
BEneath this stone brave BRADDOCK Lies,
Who always hated Cowardice,
But fell a Savage Sacrifice;
Amidst his Indian Foes.
I Charge you, Heroes, of the Ground,
To guard his dark Pavilion round;
And keep off all obtruding Sound;
And cherish his Repose.
Sleep, Sleep, I say, brave valiant Man,
Bold Death at last has bid thee stand,
And to resign thy great Command,
And Cancel thy Commission:
[Page 12] Altho' thou didst not much incline,
Thy Post and Honours to resign;
Now iron Slumber doth Confine;
Now envy's thy Condition.
A Survey of the Field of Battle.
REturn my Muse unto the Field,
See what a Prospect it doth yield;
Ingrateful to the Eyes, and Smell;
A Carnage bath'd in Gore,
Lies Scalp'd and Mangled o'er the Hills;
While sanguine Rivers fill the Dales;
And palefac'd Horror spreads the Fields,
The like ne'er here before!
And must these Son's of Britanny's
Be Clouded, set in Western Skies,
And fall a Savage Sacrifice!
O! 'tis a gloomy Hour.
My Blood boils high in every Vein,
To climb the Mountains of the Slain,
And break the iron Jaws in twain
Of savage gallic Power.
Our Children with their Mothers Die,
While they aloud for Mercy Cry;
They Kill, and Scalp them instantly,
Then fly into the Woods;
[Page 13] And make a mock of all their Crys;
And bring their Scalps [...] Sacrifice,
To their infernal [...];
And Praise [...] Demon Gods.
Revenge, Revenge th [...] harmless Blood;
Which these inhuman, Dogs have shed,
In every frontier Neighbourhood:
For near these Hundred Years:
Their Murdering Clan in ambush lies,
To Kill, and Scalp them by Surprize,
And force from tend [...] Parents Eyes,
Ten hundred thousand Tears.
Their sculking, scalping, murdering Tricks
Have so Enrag'd Old ‖ Sixty-six,
With Legs and Arms like withered Sticks,
And youthful Vigour gone:
That if he Lives another Year;
Compleat in Armour he'll appear;
And laugh at Death, and scoff at Fear,
To right his Country's wrong:
Let Young and Old, both High, & Low,
Arm well against this Savage Foe,
Who all around inviron us so;
The Sons of black Delusion.
New-England's Sons you know their way,
And how to cross them in their Play;
And drive these murdering Dogs away,
Unto their last Confusion.
[Page 14] One bold Effort O let us make,
And at one blow behead the Snake;
And then these Savage Powers will [...],
Which long have us Oppress'd.
And this brave Soldiers will we [...]o;
If Heaven, and George shall say so too:
And if we drive the Matter thro;
The Land will be at Rest.
Come every Soldier charge your Gun;
And let your Task be Killing one;
Take Aim [...] the Work is done:
Don't throw away your Fire;
For he that Fires without an Aim,
May Kill his Friend, and be to blame,
And in the end come off with Shame;
When forced to retire.
O Mother Land, we think we're sure,
Sufficient is thy Marine Powers,
To dissipate all Eastern Showers:
And if our Arms be Blest;
Thy Sons in North America,
Will drive these Hell-born Dogs away,
As far beyond the Realms of Day,
As East is from the West.
Forbear my Muse thy barbarous Song,
Upon this Theme thou'st dwelt too long,
It is too High, and much too Strong,
The Learned won't allow:
[Page 15] Much Honour should accrue to him,
Who ne'er was at their Acad [...]m,
Come blot out every ‖ Tel sem;
Get Home unto thy Plow.
The Christian Hero, or New-England's Triumph; written soon after the success of our Arms at Nova-Scotia and the Signal Victory at Lake George
O Heaven indulge my feeble Muse,
Teach her what Numbers for to choose
And them my Soul shall ne'er refuse,
Triumphantly to Sing;
Unto that great and heav'nly Power,
Who Sav'd us in a gloomy Hour,
When our dire Foes meant to devour,
'Twas Heaven's eternal King,
Who made our Soldiers Men of Might,
And taught their Fingers how to Fight,
And how to aim their Shaft's aright,
In the decisive Hour:
Thro' him we have trod down our Foe,
Who all around inviron'd us so,
And sought our fatal Overthrow;
Bless the delivering Power:
[Page 16] He is our Fortress and our Shield;
He sav'd us in the Bloody Field,
And made our Foes unto us Yield,
In spight of all their Gods:
Their vet'ran Bands we've vanquished,
And sent them Head-long to the Dead;
While some in dire Confusion fled
To Covers of the Woods.
Their Dieskaw we from them detain;
While Canada aloud Complains;
And count the Numbers of their Slain,
And make their dire Complaints:
The Indians to their Demon Gods;
And with the French there's little Odds;
While Images receive their Nods;
Invoking rotten Saints.
New-England's Sons, and Daughters Sing,
Triumph unto your heavenly King;
Who did such great Salvation bring,
In such a needy Hour.
Not all created Powers can Trace
His Glories thro' unbounded Space;
Nor Seraph's Eye behold his Face,
Nor half describe his Power.
Of Old, when he was Israels GOD,
He clave the red Arabian Flood,
The watry Walls like Castles stood;
'Till Israel reach'd the Land:
[Page 17] But fell with most tremendous Force,
On Pharoah's [...], and his Horse,
'Til they were dash'd, & drown'd, & lost,
And cast upon the [...] ▪
Thro' Desart Lands their Tribes he led,
And forty Years he rain'd them Bread,
So that with plenty they were Fed,
On the Arabian Sands;
And oft reliev'd them in Distress,
Whilst they were in the Wilderness,
'Till they his Mercy's do Confess;
And keep his great Commands:
Again at his Almighty Word,
Old Jordan backward roll'd his Flood,
Which like a rocky mountain stood,
Nor dar'd for to Oppose,
'Till that the Feet of his high Priest;
The yielding Channel had releas'd;
Then he return'd his rapid Force,
His Banks he over-flows.
He's still the same Almighty GOD,
He brought our Fathers o'er the Flood:
And scatter'd all their Foes abroad;
Gave them this Wilderness:
His tender Mercies we must own,
Who heard us when we made our Moan;
O might we Live to him alone,
And never more Transgress.
[Page 18] They Planted were, the choicest Vine;
Religion was their grand Design:
But from their Ways we do Decline,
The source of many Woes:
Yet hath he not Forsaken us;
Altho' we have departed thus;
Yet by his Arm Assisting us;
We have trod down our Foes.
It would be vile Ingratitude;
Since he our Foes has oft subdu'd,
To show a wilful Turpitude,
And pamper flesh Desire:
But O! the cursed charms of Sin;
We fear we shall return again,
Unto the Pit we tumbled in,
And wallow in the Mire.
O that he would our Souls [...]
And all our sinful Powers subdue,
And from Pollution purge us thro'
Wash us and make us clean,
In Lavers of that precious Blood,
Which issu'd from the SON OF GOD,
More healing than was Siloams Flood;
The one effectual Mean.
If he would seise our feeble Frame;
And mould our Souls over again,
Make them his Image to retain,
And all our Powers inspire;
[Page 19] Then should the Sun no more than we,
Nor Moon, nor Stars obedient be,
Nor Run with such alacritie,
Nor such intense Desire.
Forbear my Muse thy feeble Song,
The Theme's too high, & much too strong
For any sinful mortal's Tongue;
It shakes thy feeble Frame.
The loftiest Numbers cannot raise
A true and adequated Praise,
Unto the Ancientest of Days,
Nor celebrate his Fame:
The highest Heavens supremely Bright,
Are scarcely Pure in his Sight;
His charge of Folly is most right,
On Angels high, and just:
Then what shall we poor Mortals say,
Who have been wont to disobey;
And dwell in Houses made of Clay,
And founded in the Dust:
The reigning Powers around his Throne,
Before him they do cast their Crown;
With deep abasement spread the Ground,
Submissive at his Feet:
The Glories of his Majesty,
Too powerful for a Seraph's Eye;
Therefore it doth his Presence fly;
And seek a Vail'd retreat.
[Page 20] Forbear my Muse, hide in the Dust,
But ne'er forget to put thy Trust,
On the most Holy, High and Just,
The Fountain of all Power;
Come cancel all thy feeble Lays,
And rather Live, than speak his Praise,
Spend the Remainder of thy Days
To L [...]ve, and to Adore.
The Soldiers Reprov'd for reflecting upon one another.
BRave gallant Soldiers, 'tis a Shame
That some of you have been to blame
And one another do Defame;
These mean intestine Jars;
And base Efforts of small Revenge,
The bonds of Union will unhinge,
And separate endearing Friends;
And much retard the Wars:
After such Glory you had won,
And made the French and Indians run,
And almost Canada Undone;
And gain'd a Crown of Honour:
Will you indulge such base Envy,
Which doth so tend to Mutiny;
And undermine your Country;
And throw Disgrace upon her:
[Page 21] There is no Place nor Colony,
Can challenge the Supremacy;
In GEORGE we've an equality;
Each is a twin-Born Brother;
Come let us then unite our Bands;
And join our Hearts as well as Hands;
While we the common Foe withstand,
Preferring one another.
This finding Faults, and picking Flaws,
Will disconcert all Martial Laws,
And overturn the common Cause;
And make our Wheels to stand:
Perfidious France with Canada,
Will carry on their boasted Sway;
And bear from us the Prize away,
And drive us off the Land.
All Men in Power i [...] you please;
I could intreat you on my Knees,
To crush such base Incendery's;
Those Sons of vile Detraction.
What think you Sirs our Foes will say,
When they shall hear at Canada,
Our common Cause is thrown away,
By tumbling into Faction.
There are some Scriblers who pretend,
To be their Country's mighty Friends,
Distilling Poisons from their Pens;
It is a burning shame,
[Page 22] That in a corner they should Lie,
And let their poisonous Arrows fly,
At Men in Place and Dignity,
And ne [...]er disclose their Names:
Indeed there is a smutty Soul,
Who Writes his name as black as Coal,
Who hath in Slander grown quite Bold,
And dip't his Pen in Gaul,
Vending a pack of wicked Lies
Wherein he strove to Stigmatize,
And basely Brand with Cowardize
A NOBLE GENERAL.
If he shall force me for to stain,
My Paper with his dirty name,
It shall be to his lasting Shame,
I'll tell him for his Pains.
For nature hurry'd I'm afraid,
When that infamous Fop was made,
And in her hurry cloas'd his Head,
But never thought of Brains.
He is a base Incendery,
The very spawn of Infamy,
And doth disgrace his Colony;
We must think one is true;
That gallant Men with them were scarce,
Or else they meant to send one base,
The very dregs of Sodom's Race,
A Raking Villain too.
[Page 23] It is beneath Great L—'s Sword,
A meet Correction to afford,
And to cashier him by the Board,
It won't admit the thing▪
I think the common Hang-man should,
Be the Chastizer of the Fool,
And teach him to observe some Rule,
Or Noose him in his String.
Some say he was so Pockifi'd,
That at the Lake he like to've Dy'd;
And if he had no one had Cry'd
The Value of one Shilling,
But would have Shouted, and have said,
Let's Waft him Head-long to the Dead,
And let this Epitaph be made,
For the profidious Villain.
Beneath this Stone Inter'd doth Lye,
The base Born Son of Infamy;
He'd Curse, he'd Swear, & Whore, & Lye;
Black Crimes enough to load him,
This Pockey Swearing Cursing Sot,
While many a base Born Brat he Got,
He ne'r refus'd a Whore nor Pot;
Good Men abhor and loath him▪
[Page 24]
The vanity, & uncertainty of all Sublunary Things.
MY Muse mount on the Morning Wings
Survey all sublunary Things,
That are the airy Clouds below,
And see if ought we can Inherit;
Save Vanity to vex the Spirit,
All round the tainted Atmosphere
Of Sin, Calamity, and Care
Of Sorrow, and of mortal Woe.
But darling Muse be not so bold,
As to prefer the sordid Gold,
To be the great, & sovereign Good:
Content ne'er Alexander knew,
Who carry'd his Arms the World quite thro',
His Honor, & Gold, but noise, and show;
He's justly deem'd a Murderer now,
For shedding a Sea of human Blood
Great Pompey, Caesar, Hannibal,
If these your Demigods you Call;
Because they bore a mighty Sway.
Then Earthquakes, Feavours, Plagues, and Floods;
Are much greater Demigods;
Because they bore a larger Sway,
More mortal Beings Slew than they;
Then to them Idol homage pay.
[Page 25] My Muse behold, and 'twill Surprize,
Some Men on honour's Tower who rise,
And see how it confounds their Brains,
For e'er they rise unto the Top,
And mimick the conceited Fop,
Their Brains turn round, and off they drop,
And off their painted Honours lop,
And blend in Dust their last remains.
Were all this Globe a Golden Mass,
'Twould prove too small a thing at last,
For to content the Misers Mind.
For if he had it all in Store,
He still would want a little more;
How vain and empty thing therefore,
This Pluto God for to Adore;
Or to his Homage be confin'd?
By Watt's Standard, bold and just,
Honour and Gold are painted Dust,
They are at most but noise & show;
They ne'er could save a Soul from Death,
Nor add to th' Body one single Breath;
For soon the bubble Life it breaks,
And then we see our gross Mistakes;
So vain are all things here below:
'Tis a few Moments here we know;
Vain Man walks in an empty show;
E'er Death he strikes the fatal Stroke,
[Page 26] Then all his Spirits evaporate,
His Flesh goes down for Worms to Eat,
Thro' every cavern of his Heart;
And crawl thro' every vital Part,
His Name doth vanish like the Smoke.
What were their Names before the Flood,
Men's Daughters bore the Sons of GOD;
Whose Violence obtain'd Renown,
'Tis all of them that we can know,
Above Four Thousand Years ago,
With them their Wicked Names did rot,
In Moses's Time they're so forgot,
He only heard an eccho Sound.
Alass! all sublunary Things,
Honour, and Gold of hasty Wings,
Which soon forsake the longing Sight.
So when we try to gripe the Sands,
In spite it trickles thro' our Hands,
The most that we can here Inherit,
Is Vanity to vex the Spirit,
And leaves us in the gloom of Night.
Say, Muse what can there then appear,
To be our Summum Bonum here;
Or where shall we this Treasure find?
The Man whom Virtue truly shows,
To be content where e'er he goes,
That Man alone he only knows,
To take a dear and sweet Repose,
A calm, serene contented Mind.
[Page 27] The Man who hath this Heav'nly Bliss;
His Substance be it more or less;
Yet Virtue teacheth him to know,
'Tis a Treasure to be Content;
And the best Blessings that Heaven e'er [...];
Who' e'er enjoys this Heav'nly Pleasure,
He has the best and largest Treasure,
Of any Mortal here below.
An EPITAPH upon Sir Isaac Newton.
BEneath this Stone here lies a Bard Inter'd,
His Equal never on this Globe appear'd
A Traveller whose vast Capacious Soul
Went thro' the Zodiac, & from Pole to Pole,
Discovering Worlds which long lay hid in night
'Till GOD, he said let Newton be a Light,
Systems, on Systems in far distant Space,
He bro't to view, and onward held his Chase,
'Till distant Mansions they so charm'd his Sight,
He drop' this Clay, & the [...]er took his Flight;
His Guardian Angel knew him beaming [...]ar,
And Wa [...]t him homeward in a Golden Car,
And says▪ You'er welcome mighty Traveller
Unto your Glories, & your Mansions here,
[Page 28] His Visiters who came from every Pole,
O! how they view his great Capacious Soul
And represent him in an Angel's Shape,
As Men, like Man oft times do shew an Ape.
He hither came from yonder dusky spot,
Perhaps they ne'er another such have got:
In Heav'nly Climes this spacious Soul may Grow,
To vie with us who do admire him so.
An Essay on Progedies, and Earthquakes.
HAil Heaven-born Muse the chief of all the Nine,
This once assist this feeble Muse of mine,
And touch her Lips with a Heroes Fire,
While that she roves a-cross the golden Lyre
With reverend aw keep her within her Sphere
To view the Scenes of the preceeding Year,
Catastrophes, and awful Progedies,
Are felt on Earth and seen in azure Skies,
Vapors, of Smoak, and Flames, and seas of Blood,
Shew forth the Wrath of an offended GOD:
These awful Signs of his up-lifted Hand,
It Speaks there is an awful Day at Hand,
[Page 29] Sulpher and Nitre from deep Caverns burns.
Convulse the Earth, the Mountains overturns,
The Earth it Trembles, the Hills are soar afraid,
If half his Finger on this Globe is laid,
Tall Cities into ruin heaps are laid,
Thousands of Mortals underneath are Dead
Ten Thousands more go screaming, screaching down,
To the deep Caverns of the gaping Ground
Whilst mighty Mountains sink their lofty Head,
And Neptune takes Possession in their stead;
While frightned Mortals, Staggering every where,
And Shrieks, and Soans, and cruel Death was there,
While neighbouring Rocks, & Hills repulse their Crys,
Beat the impetious Ecchoes round the Skies,
While the hoarse Thunder from the hollow Ground,
Threaten all Nature, and make it shudder round;
Forbare my Muse too feeble are thy Lays
To tell the smallest portion of his Ways,
My Muse forbear to prophecy or say,
That these are preludes of the JudgmentDay,
[Page 30] When all those Seeds shall from the center Burn▪
All Nature to a mighty Chaos turn,
Nor needs a Comet for to help it Burn;
That Day, and Hour, to Him is only known,
Who sits upon the high, and lofty Throne:
Forbear my Muse be silent, and Remiss,
Ah! who shall Live when the Great GOD doth this,