Mr. Coleman's LEGACIES OR, A DISCOVERY OF POPISH MALICE; WITH AMPLE CAUTIONS To beware of Dangerous Seducers.
With Allowance.
LONDON, Printed for D. M. 1679.
Mr. Coleman's LEGACIES OR, A DISCOVERY OF POPISH MALICE.
DEAR Country, where my Infant Breath I drew,
Thy Int'rest once I eager did pursue;
Employ'd my Thoughts, and so compell'd my Will
To be obedient to thy Dictates still:
Serious in nothing but what just might prove
To settle Friendship, and Eternal Love:
Bound in my Conscience to protect thy Cause,
The which long started at the breach of Laws;
Disowning baseness, and all private Sin,
That ope's the Soul and lets black Treasons in.
Ah! —had I but so happy been to know
That Blissful State, and to continue so:
Free had I been, as Nature could afford,
Protected by great Justice's awful Sword,
The which now Fate turns on me; I must feel
The weighty pressure of offended Steel,
Breath'd from destructive Air, the cruel Guilt
For which my Blood must be so justly spilt:
Air breath'd from
Rome, pernicious Tempests roll,
To blast with Mildews, spot the candid Soul
With lasting stains; make it more vile than he,
Who counts himself on Earth a Deity:
Compos'd of Dust, yet arrogates the name
Of him who rules the Universal Frame;
Deceiving mortals with a fond conceit,
That murders will promote 'em, make 'em great,
But the Design is to support his Seat;
The which on seven high Mountains plac'd there Waits
The Triple Sisters on the Triple Fates,
Pride, Treason, Envy, and a thousand more,
Attend his Courts; of which pernicious store
He sends abroad dire Troops throughout the World,
Made fit for mischief, and like Torches hurl'd
In mighty Piles, breed dangers where they come,
And vex the Nations with Commands from
Rome;
Denouncing Purgatory and the Fire.
Where Active Spirits work and never tire,
Till mony frees 'em, or they there must stay,
Till
Plato's year of
Jubile makes way
For their releasements: This did I believe
Till kinder Heaven did kindly undeceive,
And made me sensible of my Estate,
How I stood tott'ring on the brink of Fate,
By undermining Priests was prompted too
The cruell'st things that wretched man could do;
All dangerous Ills, wing'd with the foulest Crimes,
That thoughts can center at, or blackest Times
Expose to mortal Eyes, or bring to light,
Hatch'd in the shades of everlasting Night;
'Twas my intent to put in practice all,
But dreadful sins on the Promoters fall;
Pounding to Attoms those who strive to raise
The bailful Engins, and extincts their days;
For Kings are Heavens great Vice-roys, and that God
Who gave them Pow'r defends them with his Rod:
The Sacred Name of Majesty's Divine,
A God compacted in a mortal Shrine:
In vain are Plots, in vain Conspiracies,
Rome vainly vaunts of bearing Heavenly Keys;
Celestial! no—for why she oft mistakes
Them for the Keys that ope' Infernal Lakes,
From whence such swarms of deadly Locusts flye,
Whose dusky Wings obscure the clearing Skye;
Devour the Nations, and with Poyson-stings,
Corrupt the Scriptures, life Eternal springs;
Such have in thee, O
Brittish Island, made
Dissention, Murders, and had all betray'd;
Had Mercy not the Fatal Act deny'd,
And turn'd the deadly Arrows in their side;
Preserv'd the guiltless, and the guilty found:
Witness my self, in dangerous Mischiefs drown'd,
Must suffer justly, justly doom'd must dye,
For Crimes deserving more, if more can be;
And likewise all those cruelmen that strive
To ruine Nations, must at last arrive
To like disgraceful Ends, Rewards for those
Who Trade in mischief, or with Treason close.
Monks, Jesuits, and all the wretched Train!
O shun such crafty men, who strive to Reign
And Lord it or'e the Consciences of men,
To bring them into Slavery agen;
Worse then
Egyptian-bondage, worse then all
That did in
Egypt Jacob's Sons befall.
Nay worse then
Babylonish Tyrants, they
First seise, and then insult upon the Prey:
With smooth pretexts lead simple Souls aside,
And make 'em then the Trophies of their Pride:
Therefore beware of such, lest after-times
Shou'd haunt your Conscience with Eternal Crimes.
Blush not at admonition, but beware,
Lest you're intangl'd in the self same Snare
That is my lot, when all the Priests of
Rome,
Have not the Power to save you from the doom
So justly pass'd, no nor themselves secure
From dangers that their Fatal Prides inure.
Therefore my Friends, whoe're you are, take heed
That you no farther do in Ills proceed;
Lest you a wretched Expiation make,
And with me justly my Reward partake.
FINIS.