THE CONFUSION OF BABEL.
A Poem.
—Quid nos Dira Refugimus Aetas quid intactum nefasti Liquimus.
Licensed and Entred according to Order:
LONDON, Printed for W. Davis, in Amen-Corner.
The Confusion OF BABEL.
IN what unhappy Times was the Foundation lay'd,
When Trait'rous Earth that bold Defiance made,
And ev'ry Atom its poor strength betray'd ?
Some overpow'ring evil,
Like a deluding Devil,
Did still attend the Ambitious Rout,
To generate, or bring their Treason out.
And could they dart at thy Imperial Throne,
Great God, to seperate thy Union;
Who art thus individed All in one?
Thus silly Mortals can Couragious grow,
With numbers, thinking to outweigh the Foe:
But never dream,
How much thy strength surpasses them,
Till Ruin teaches them to see,
The difference 'twixt Worms and Heavens Majesty.
[Page 2] Not happy till their Ignorance they know.
What cou'd the senseless Fabrick do,
Tho' Mountains on the top they threw?
Bold
Aetna now in, Flames consumes,
And belches out its nauseous fumes,
Who dar'd so Impiously to aspire,
And proudly Reach the All-revenging Fire.
2.
The fruitful Earth unbosom'd all her store,
Whose fatten'd Glebe was never poor,
Tho' impetuous Floods had Drown'd the world before.
Yet Covetous Man,
Tho' all this Liberty was given,
Must turn a Rebel and conspire 'gainst Heaven:
Still aggravaning his Fore-Fathers fall,
Who more by Pride then Ignorance; did Damn us all.
The guilty Stones cou'd represent,
Nothing but a Monument;
Whose vast Circumference might contain,
The endless Labours of their Brain,
And all the Frantick Whymsies bare,
That ever cou'd inhabit there.
Let beauteous
Shinar now decay,
And perish with th' infected Dust,
Who prov'd so unfaithful in her trust.
Nothing now thy shame can hide,
Who wer't by Nature Beautified,
Till affected Art swell'd thee up with Pride;
No wonder then thy esteem is lost,
Who war't confounded in the Cost:
Now diff'rent Tongues may Curse thy Name,
[Page 3] And variously express thy shame,
Who mad'st the world more impiously the same.
2.
From this infected Hive,
All Nations do derive,
The Ills which to this day survive.
Nor can we wonder at thy fall?
Since all thy Dreggs are Epidemical.
Let every Stone,
Weep to imagine what 't has done:
For all's derivative from thee alone.
England, that had th' Imperial Sway,
And bore the Victory of the day,
From hence did so insensibly decay.
What can we find,
Where there is nothing else but Wind?
For Pride ne'r leaves the plenteous Spoil behind.
The Zealous Rout cou'd lead the Rebels on,
And all for True Religion,
Which was Establish'd, and yet none.
Their Tow'ring thoughts too proudly did aspire,
But eyes will dim when held too near the Fire;
What is't in their fond Projects we admire?
Scepters and Crowns at ev'ry foot were thrown,
Tho' in th' descent,
The Head ne'r suffer'd that sweet punishment,
But all was in Imagination;
And in that Pious Sect was found,
Pulpit above, but the Church under-ground,
With blust'ring Noise, but a meer empty sound
4.
The Faithful Brethren in a knot were ty'd,
Which to Dis-sect were Parricide;
Yet when an
Alexander e're shall come,
They dread th' unwelcome Doom:
And think the Fate too near their home.
What cou'd Rebellious
Cataline effect,
Tho' Armies to the Field he'd led?
Victor o're his Conquer'd Dead,
Yet his own self he could not then protect.
Caesar in Triumph there might Ride,
Tho' Enemies on ev'ry side:
And too great a number to deride:
Tho' Flames about the Sacred Altar dance,
'Tis yet secure from all injurious chance.
Security to Kings is always given,
(For Kings are all Allies to Heaven)
And tho' the Sea swell with impetuous rage,
Yet there are Pow'rs that can asswage
The short-Iiv'd Fury, and comply
Within a Calm, t' effect a Prodigy.
No wonder now the Gyants fade,
When little Insects learn their Trade.
And from a Mole-hill top would be,
Blest with Sacred Immortality.
5.
The Pious Puritan may spare his breath,
And Pray'rs more fitter at his death.
Which by the Spirit last two hours long,
Mixt with a secret Curse, and Holy Song.
The Funeral Requiems for great
Charles's Soul,
[Page 5] Are now unnecessary things,
For Kings,
Still are more powerful where they least controul.
Well may they gaze on Heav'n so fast.
And take their leave, seeing 'tis the last:
Who knows but all their time is past.
O how they love to be,
Eunuch'd with strange Formality;
Whose whitned eyes wou'd represent,
The happy thoughts of th' Innocent:
But within,
That sordid Skin,
Lye the rank baits of all presumptuous Sin:
That Piety should yield,
And quit the field,
When such pernicious Antichrists arise;
Who wou'd at once their King and Country Sacrifice.
Of Solemn Black their Garbes are made,
To them an Emblem of the silent Shade:
Where Schism and Distraction Reigns,
The Element which all things curs'd maintains.
6.
In the first Rank
Diego stood,
An everlasting Enemy to Good:
Whose Cure for his Disease was Innocent Blood.
Had he liv'd still one might fear,
Th'
Egyptian Murderer here.
What cou'd he less in such a Cause maintain?
VVho wou'd Depose his Soveraign,
Or more compleatly have him slain.
[Page 6]
Diego, Cursed from his Mothers VVomb,
Born to be th' Epitaph to his Tomb:
Deform'd, and Crooked, whose mistake
Did never yet a Circle make;
O how the little fiery Soul wou'd storm!
VVhich from its Body took its Form.
And thoughts within that narrow compass breed,
VVhich might disturb his very Ashes now he's, dead.
VVhat cou'd the Puny Rebels do?
Tho' on the top of
Babel he,
VVou'd Execute his Treachery,
Are there no Subjects left that can be True?
Honour and VVealth, did still attend his days,
And Bounteous
Charles preferr'd his praise:
But whilst the hungry Serpent fled,
He secretly all o're his Venom spread.
VVell might the Forreign Nations keep
His Ashes, now asleep,
For here,
The fear,
Of
Cadmas Brood were just,
VVhen Earth is mingled with such poys'nous Dust.
Old
Charon gaz'd, when from the Brook,
The little Passenger he took;
VVith such a Burthen on his back,
That made the aged Vessel crack:
Amaz'd at this, he hast'ned o're,
And set him on the shore;
VVhere all the Furies with one general shout,
Did the Magnetick Harbinger Salute.
7.
Good
Obadiah next,
Unfold the Text,
Whose Rosey Cheeks, and smiling Face,
Becomes the Office of his place,
And seem some Holy Gifts of Grace.
Then with sound Doctrine he,
Feeds the Fraternity,
Till they repay again with Charity.
He Bellows out like a
Geneva Bull,
Hell and Damnation, a Pulpit full.
Perilous Tyranny to this,
Seems rather happiness,
For th' punishment was Death, but thine
Torture with active life dost joyn.
Soul-saving Sentences are lost,
When undervalu'd in the Cost.
And thou like
Quacks dost Med'cines give,
With thousand Names Superlative,
And all from Super-natural Providence dost derive.
Shapes thou hast had a thousand more,
Then ever
Proteus bore:
And in this,
Thou dost Engross all
Ovid's Metamorphosis.
Whither wilt thou go at last?
Having already through the
Popes Dominions past,
And
Purgatory too, with too much haste.
Cou'dst thou preserve Great
Charles's Life?
Whose after-Perjuries were more,
Then all thy
Memorandum Truths before.
Days, Months, and Year
[...], were in thy Brain contain'd,
But the faithless Clock as yet,
[Page 8] Never went true but when 'twas set.
And something always by going backward gain'd.
All thy Luxurious Pomp and State,
Was but to make thee miserably Great,
Or something much beneath the turn of Fate.
No kind Comparison will hide thy shame,
For now thy Name,
Is as Injurious as thy Fame.
For
Pluto's Porter now we may thee take,
When at thy Gate,
The Tripple-headed
Cerbirus does always wait:
Thy
Hydra-Witnesses may hold their Tongue,
Aeson again will never now be young,
Or Old Times be renew'd by living long.
Monarchs can see when at their Feet,
Reverence and Treason meet:
And thy Discovery might pass,
Where through a Glass,
The Cheating Portait seem'd t'appear as 'twas.
8.
And next the wretched
Poliphus appears,
Whose younger Years,
Were spent in vicious Lust,
Till the bright Lustre perisht with the Rust.
Prisons and Goals him to contain,
Were then in vain,
When his inchanting Tongue cou'd let him act agen
Cou'd
Don Tomazo represent his Crimes?
Or number up his Follies with the Times?
Too poor a Subject then he took,
And clipt the Volumn his Book:
O did the Perjur'd Villain know!
[Page 9] What to our Maker, and our God we owe,
Life were no triffle to be shuffl'd so.
Ireland may cease,
To boast its Peace,
From all pernicious poysons there;
When Brutish Man shall claim the greater share:
And with more easiness can
Commence a Beast before a Man.
Unhappy Nation then, that th' Pillars shou'd,
Be Trayt'rous where the Fabrick stood:
And the deserving Vertue perish in the Wood.
For that Degree thou
Poliphus wer't fit,
Who prov'd too Fatal in thy Wit:
Happy 'twere had thy Fortune Ruin'd it.
Thy Native Soil cannot be grateful now,
And Perjurers for Words we must allow,
But the Beast will drive when the Devil holds the Plow.
Strange that dull
Ore should cheat thy pining Soul,
And make thy Remedy more foul:
The Servile Captives scorn to feed,
Or Triumph o're their miserable dead:
But wash away,
With Tears, the Sympathizing Clay.
9:
Why did the
Renegadoes slyly peep,
Then Snore, to rouse us from our drousie sleep?
But Noise will Eccho from the Trayt'rous Deep.
Faux might have satisfi'd his Will, but Night,
Trembl'd at his sight,
And hover'd o're to hide the dismal sight:
But see what Nature now has done,
For Tapors vanish at th' approaching Sun:
[Page 10] What tho' the undiscover'd fire was lay'd,
Yet 'twas enough to be betray'd;
And thou the Sacrifice wer't made.
VVhen once
Prometheus stole,
From
Jove the Heav'nly Cole,
The Vulters gnaw'd his never dying Soul:
And with Justice was repay'd,
Who dy'd to save the Man he made.
Yet Hell ne'r troubled thee, nor Heaven,
For thou in th' meen,
Did'st hang between,
To make the unexpected Ballance even.
Traytors may think their work is done,
VVhen Resolution makes them bold;
And that the fatal Tale is told,
VVhen the Prologue's but begun.
Alas their Conscience does, betray their Guilt,
And they may gaze on him whose Blood they wou'd have spilt.
10.
Tempestuous Storms may rise,
And darken all the Skies;
The blust'ring VVinds may Buffet at the VVall,
But the Majestick Building will not fall.
The swelling VVaves may proudly Vaunt,
And the tim'rous Marriners daunt;
But when upon a Rock they'r tost,
All the Majestick Fury's lost.
Heart-hardned
Pharoah, when
Israelites He
Did follow through the Deep divided Sea;
His Triumph was before his Victory.
Chariots and Arms did beautifie the Train,
But all alas in vain!
[Page 11] For tho' Revenge still tortures to expire,
Yet too much water will Extinguish Fire.
The Guardian Pillar there was Light,
But on thy side ill-boding Night.
What could'st thou then expect,
When Heav'n the Innocent does still protect?
The Sea thou cou'dst not rule, altho' the Land,
Was at thy Soveraign Command,
And govern'd by thy Conqu'ring hand.
But Rebels Lives have but a short Extent,
Nothing lives long in a strange Element.
11.
Why should I number up the Tribe agen?
Or dream I saw the Tragick Seean?
The Catalogue its Title now does want,
O cou'd they but renew the Covenant,
How prittily the Devil wou'd play the Saint.
Like scatter'd Dust before the Wind they flye,
And
Aegypts Plague does verifie,
But on themselves first the Disease must lye.
And whilst the Marks-man thought to bare the spoil,
'Tis strange the specious Musket shou'd recoil!
Conspiracies when once begun,
Still perish more by going on,
And like the Viper does not rest,
Unless it eat its way through its own Mothers Breast.
Presaging Comets they may fear,
When every Year,
To tell their Ruin they appear.
Fantastick Visions will not fright,
[Page 12] Tho' made more horrid by the night:
But sight is double by a flatt'ring Light.
Th' Imperial Eagle does not fear,
When the buzzing Insects humm about his Ear,
Tho' they with all their busie Train,
Pass o're and o're his back again,
Like Marriners upon the quiet Main:
'Tis sure he's sensible of what is done,
Whose Eyes can gaze upon the Sun.
12.
Forreign Invaders now may quit their Arms,
And quite Unravel all their secret Charms:
For Blossoms on the flourishing Tree will last,
Whilst milder Gales defend them from the Blast:
Those fiery Zealots may repent,
Their Curs'd intent,
And Recollect the time they've spent:
Better 'twere far cou'd they but meet,
With Humble Rev'rence at Great
Charles's feet;
And their Obedience pay,
Like purling Rivers hast'ning to the Sea.
But yet again they must dispair,
For no polluted Soul comes there,
When to the Altar comes Amphibious Pray'r.
Caesar need fear,
No
Brutus here,
To all the Senate shou'd appear:
For from the Conscious vain,
Wou'd spring the Sympathizing Blood again.
What tho' the Tow'ring Pile does fade,
[Page 13] And ev'ry Stone is in Confusion lay'd;
Yet all the Tongues this Ditty sing,
And every one does stand,
Like Branded Pilferers Burnt on th' Hand,
Bawling out,
God Save the KING.
FINIS.