A POEM UPON THE Late Victory OVER THE FRENCH FLEET at SEA.

By MAT. MORGAN, L. D.

Quando repostum Caecubum ad festas dapes
Victore laetus Caesare,
Tecum sub altâ (sic Jovi gratum) domo
Beate Mecaenas bibam,
Sonante mistum tibiis carmen lyrâ
Hac eolium, illis barbarum.
Ʋt nuper actus quum freto Neptunium
Dux fugit, ustis Navibus
Minatus urbi vincula, quae detraxerat
Servis amicus perfidis.
Io triumphe, tu moraris aureos
Currus, & intacta boves;
Io triumphe, nec Jugurthino parem
Bello reportasti ducem
Neque Africuno, cui super Cartha­ginem
Virtus Sepulchrum Condidit;
Terra Mari (que) victus hostis, Punico
Lugubre mutavit Sagum.
Horat.

LONDON: Printed, and are to be Sold by the Booksellers of London and Westminster, MDCXCII.

TO My much respected FRIEND, THOMAS LANGTON, Esq

SIR,

I Have long waited for such an Opportunity as this of ma­nifesting the Sense I always had of your extraordinary Worth, and my own Obligations; I am extremely conscious that this Poem is not worth your Acceptance, and that it doth not rise up to the Dignity of the Occasion, which per­haps is the greatest that is extant in the Records of History; but I am as well assur'd that you will let my Zeal atone for all the Blemishes which are so conspicuous thro' the whole Texture of the Work; I need not tell you who make the best Reflections for yourself, what a Train of important Consequences this Victory draws after it; that it will double and inflame the Courage of our Army in Flanders, if that can be capable of any Accession, and that it will root all our Alliances the stronger: The Com­munity of Danger doth usually draw People into a stricter Ʋnion; and methinks an escape out of it should still bind us with a firmer Cement; Nay, I don't doubt, but that it will terminate in this Event too, that it will proselyte our male Con­tents, and that the Coals of Fire with which we have burn'd the French Fleet will melt them down into a Charity with their Neighbours: If they had made a Descent no one can figure to himself what Miseries would have attended it.

But tho' their Hopes were so very lively, they would not have found such tame work of it as they expected; for I am afraid our Renegades would have been sacrific'd to the Resentments of the People. London, which is the Centre of Wealth, Loyalty and Courage would not have suffer'd their Wives to have been ra­vish'd, their Children depriv'd of their Birth-rights, and Sla­very entail'd upon them for an Inheritance; for if they had suc­ceeded Smithfield would have again blaz'd out with Martyrs, every day had produc'd a fresh Massacre; and it would have come to this fatal push, as it was in the Reign of Charles the Ninth, the most treacherous and bloody Tyrant that ever wore a Crown, except this present Louis; ou la Mort, ou la Messe, ei­ther Death or the Mass; these without an Hyperbole are the natural Effects of the Temper and Principles which are infus'd into the Papists; the first words they are taught are to Curse; and like Hannibal are sworn at the Altar to extirpate Here­ticks.

I should think my self very prophane, nay almost blasphemous if I should call it a Religion, it is rather a Complication of all the Villanies that were ever acted under the Sun, colour'd over with that Name: They consecrate Daggers for the Breasts of Princes, can poyson with the Sacrament, have unhing'd all Ci­vil Society, and destroy'd their Morals, have enslav'd Spain with the Inquisition, and made Italy Atheists by their Examples, they make Murther lawful, and dispense with Incest; In short, it is an Ʋsurpation upon the Rights and Consciences of Mankind, maintain'd by Interest and sooth, by Flattery.

I cannot resolve some Mens tarrying in that Communion, who are otherwise discerning enough, but into an implicite Education; they imbibe their Errors early, and then it is a difficult Task to unlearn what is riveted in and become habitual: They who are behind the Curtain, and play the Ressorts of the Machine, laugh at the Easiness of their Votaries, and cheat them of their Money.

But for them, Sir, who distinguish themselves by the Name of Protestants, and yet gnaw out the Bowels of their native King­dom, this is amasing to a Prodigie; had they liv'd in the ri­gid Common-Wealths of an Athens, or a Sparta, Pillars of Infamy would have been erected upon their Houses, and their very Me­mories raz'd with Salt; the more exalted their Station hath been, the viler is their Apostacy, and the Guilt of Schism is whol­ly upon their own Heads.

Great Names serve only to amuse and terrifie the Common Peo­ple, but Men of quicker Penetration are never carried away by Popular Vogue, for as it is quickly gain'd, so it is as suddenly lost, and it is usually the Talent of designing and undeserving Men to be sollicitous after it; they had never been advanc'd to those Heights, had they not given very sanguine Presumptions of themselves, and have now made them good, by so obstinately adhering to that Inter­est which prefer'd them.

A Man, Sir, may be very mortifi'd, and yet a great Hypocrite, and we may sometimes impute that to Zeal which is most necessary for his Constitution; for in some Cases Asceticks should be as well prescrib'd by the Physician, as they are enjoyn'd by the Rubrick: The false Bigot may look pale and discolour'd, and yet be very ma­licious; for the Men of the Anvil will tell you, That the fierc'st Flame is always the whitest.

God, Sir, hath permitted this French Tyrant long enough in the World to disturb the Peace of it, and tho he was generally thought to be the Spurious Issue of a Cardinal, yet he hath suffer'd him to possess a Throne which doth not belong to him, and that with such Affluence and Splendor that Solomon in all his Glory was not aray'd like the French Lillies.

But now, the Critical Juncture seems to be come, when his Glory must undergo, not only a partial Eclipse, but be totally ex­tinct: We only want to hear the same good News from the Army as we had from the Fleet, that our Victory may be entire and all of a piece, that the last Hand may be given to consummate their Ruine, and so no Gleanings may be left for an After-Destru­ction.

And now let me trespass so far upon your Modesty, as to give you your due Character;

That you are Generous without Prodigality, Affable without Affectation, a prudent Manager of your Fortune, and a sincere Lover of your Friend.

You pursue the Recreations of the Countrey without neglecting your Studies, those divert your Time, but these employ it.

You were season'd with an excellent Education, and you still retain so strong a Tincture of it, that you scatter a Perfume wherever you come.

The Learning you have acquir'd doth not run out into quar­relsome Disputes and pedantick Quotations, but you manage it for the better Conduct of your Life, and the Scholar serves to ac­accomplish the Gentleman.

Besides, you are descended from a virtuous and obliging Fami­ly, your Father was a wise and a very beautiful Person, my own (whose Ashes still I moisten with my Tears) hath always spoke of Him with a more than ordinary Emotion, and I have of­ten heard him say, That he thought Sir Thomas to be the finest bred Citizen not only in these parts, but in England, and perhaps in all Europe; as you carry his Features and Complection, so you are more like him in the Endowments of his Mind which is the noblest Resemblance.

The good Lady your Mother may be the Standard to her Sex, she is assiduous at her Devotions, Liberal in her Chari­ty, and very courteous and discreet in all her Deportments.

You had an Ʋnkle, Sir, who was crop'd off unnaturally in the Bloom of his Years, but he was the hopefullest Gentleman of his Age, so that this of Virgil might be properly apply'd to him,

Ostendunt terris hunc tantum fata, nec ultra
Esse sinunt;—

That Heaven only shew'd him to the World, and then snatch'd him away; but Time hath drawn a Scar over these Wounds, and his Loss is the less regretted because the other Brother sur­vives, who by the universal Suffrage of all who practise him, is allow'd to be one who is vers'd in the Laws, understands the Interest, and loves the Welfare of his Country; his Oeconomy is magnificent, and yet with a just thrift. He is a great Patriot and a publick Blessing to all about him, and you, Sir, do not in the least degenerate from this Ancestor, and these Relations.

I wish that you may long continue to be an Ornament to our City, which though she is remark'd even to a Proverb to be a fond Entertainer of Strangers, let their Merit or Extraction be never so obscure, yet now they deviate from their ancient [Page]Custom, and are all unanimous in placing their Respects upon you. If you design to marry again may you have a Lady wor­thy of your Embraces, of a corresponding Temper, and equal Goodness, and then you cannot fail to be the happiest Couple in the World. I desire the Continuance of your Friendship, and that you will still honour me with the Quality I now as­sume of being,

Dear SIR,
Your most humble and obedient Servant. MAT. MORGAN.

A POEM UPON THE Late Victory OVER THE French Fleet at Sea.

ASSIST me Chlio with a lofty Strain
To sing the Conquest of the purple Main,
With Carcasses of flaming Vessels spread,
And all its Waves, with drown'd Aegyptians, Red;
Inspire my Breast with such a furious Heat,
As that with which we did their Navy beat:
Which Neptune's Kingdom with it's Ruines fills
After the Guns, we'll stab them with our Quills;
One Death shall not secure them, they shall sink
Like the Sepia, in Satyrick Ink;
For the French Sun hath in the Ocean set
Out of those Depths he never up shall get,
It's Glory is extinguish'd in the Streams,
And past resource We've quench'd his haughty Beams:
A Genuine English Courage they have try'd,
And we in blood have all their Lillies dy'd;
The Guardian Angel of our British Land,
The most Illustrious of that shining Band,
A bright Commission did from Heaven receive,
And with a low Obeisance took his leave;
With Wings of joyful speed away he flew,
That this decisive Combat he might view;
Was carry'd in a Vehicle of Light
And there he stood the Arbiter of the Fight:
He in a rapturous Exclamation cry'd,
And yet he was not partial to his side,
Valour true English Spirits ne're forsakes
If. the contested Globe was now the Stakes,
Undoubted Victory to them should fall,
And so be Masters of the rivall'd Ball.
Until this time they never fairly fought,
But all their sordid Victories they bought;
For Spanish Towns with Louis D'ors they treat
They can't corrupt, nor beat an English Fleet;
Smarting with real wounds they dearly feel
That Gold is not so prevalent as Steel;
This time we as an Epoche will date
In which they were so bold to tempt their fate,
We taught the callow Novices to flie,
And now they do rebel against the Sky,
The Methods of our Fights they understood
At the Expence of our dear Neighbour's Blood;
'Tis we reform'd the Genius of France
Crusted all o're with Ease and Ignorance,
'Tis we the raw Pretenders up did train
When they scarce knew to Sail upon the Main;
But those we did instruct, we now can kill,
We made them Valiant against their will,
Or else they had continu'd Cowards still;
In Triumph we will Io Paeans sing
Now we have made them worth the Conquering;
Tho' once their fulsom Mercuries did boast,
That they pursu'd us flying to our Coast;
Yet we did then in Policy retire
That we might Charge them now with brisker fire;
These Intermissions did our Courage whet
That we a keener Appetite might get;
Forbidden Objects do provoke our Lust
Now the Ragoust goes down with smarter gust,
But the next Summer them we never saw;
They at safe distance did themselves withdraw;
In vain the trembling Fugitives we seek,
They sail'd Incognito, skulk'd in every Creek.
Of Lapland their Ally they hir'd a Wind,
So to transport them we could never find;
When we attack'd they always did recoile
Like to Olympick Wrestlers daub'd with Oil,
As idle Truants dread the Master's stripe,
These supple Gamesters did elude our gripe;
But now we them encompass'd in the List,
And Hundreds perish'd by a single Fist;
In frightful Colours now the Battel draw
Which all the World before us never saw;
Antiquity did ne're such News receive,
And Ages after us will scarce believe;
It only will their admiration raise,
Like to a Legend in King Arthur's days.
Petty Encounters were the antient Fights,
Like to the Pagantry of vulgar Sights:
Grapling they one another then did charge
And made the Sea a Continent of Barge.
Xerxes who swell'd till he was grown so great,
And yet Themistocles did him defeat.
Though the Historian on his Hero doates,
His Navy was a Set of Fisher-boats.
The Romans often on the Waves did fight,
Great was their Courage, but their Vessels slight;
They had not Tires in which the Canon roars,
But all the Noise they made was with their Oars.
Their Storms were only an Etesian Breeze,
The Ships, describ'd by wise Thucydides,
Were like low Houses upon narrow Lanes,
They in Feluccas fought and weak Tartanes;
A little Tempest would their Hulks devour,
And Archimedes Engines had the Power
With curious Art to hoist the floating Tree,
And throw their Mariners into the Sea.
The mighty Forests now begin to move
Fear in the Deep, and wonder from above,
Astonishment doth all the Regions fill,
Stop'd once again almost the Sun stood still,
Splinters and flying Limbs obscur'd his Sight,
And interposing Smoak Ecclips'd his Light.
They are the Pride and Burden of the Seas,
Are floating Islands like the Cyclades;
They like to burning Mountains are, for thus
Flames break from Aetna and Vesuvius.
The horrid Noise spoils their luxurious Mirth,
And Naples trembles with Sulphurous Earth;
And yet this Hill rich Clusters doth refine:
So we will celebrate our Joy with Wine.
Here Thunder, Lightning here we do admire,
And here do Currents run of liquid Fire,
Which in black Streams flow from the melted Juice,
Which stately Fires in Norway do produce.
Dress'd in the Pomp of Death they gayly ride
This Fight at Actium Empire must decide,
With the Propitious Omens of the Sky,
Augustus's Triumphs over Anthony.
He with a Look did keep the World in awe,
T' other was rash, and dissolute, and raw:
One Fortune courted, t'other at her railes,
And fled away with Cleopatra's Sails.
Neptune the Nymphs sent to their Chambers down
As useless Mouths from a besieged Town.
The Whales from Greenland hither did retire,
That their spilt Oil might aggravate the Fire.
And all the Sharkes in Ambuskade did lie,
As keen-maw'd Vultures o're Campagns do fly.
They both rapacious prey upon the Slain,
Those on the Earth, these slaughter'd on the Main.
The dreadful Combat pleasantly begins,
With English Trumpets and French Violins,
Their ancient Custom they cannot forget,
He first will practice o're a Minuet;
A murd'ring Bullet in his Loins he feels,
And now firm Land he wishes for his Heels.
The Spartans Harp's into their Battels brought,
But they a rougher Discipline were taught.
Orpheus did not entice, but did provoke,
With his melodious Strains our sturdy Oak,
Altho he play'd so exquisitely well,
A full Broad-side did send him down to Hell.
Now with a louder Musick they are tore
From the kind Dolphin Succour did implore,
Who once Arion did transport to Shore.
These empty Fops are of the Sea the Scum,
From whence their Mother Venus once did come.
You don't with Men, you do with Spunges fight,
They swim like Pumices they are so light.
Now the brave Russel doth advance with Speed,
That by his side the tatter'd Ships may bleed,
A Name that's worthy of so great a Deed:
Russel! the very Word a Nation saves,
Belov'd at Land, and dreaded on the Waves;
Russel! the greatest Man that e're was born,
He by the bloudy Ax from us was torn,
You Sir, defend the Land he did adorn.
Pardon thy Admirer then, thou mighty Shade,
Who an untimely Sacrifice wast made,
If I some Tears a Tribute to thee pay,
Never was Joy unmixt from some allay.
Salt as the Brine let all my Sorrows flow,
In which was struck this decretory Blow.
Thy Noble Blood did for such Vengeance call
When Hecatombs did on the Altar fall,
And now a Vagabond is that cruel Cain,
By whose contrivance thy best self was slain,
Whose Praise doth exercise all grateful Tongues,
But this brave Admiral hath reveng'd thy Wrongs.
For when the French expir'd, he thus did boast,
Sink down a Victim to great Russel's Ghost.
The valiant Shovel doth like Lightning fly,
And like a Shuttle weaves their Destiny.
He on both sides their tawdry Ships doth spoil,
Doth Charge, and fights it fair upon the Foil:
Just so the Rhosne that runs into the
Iemane by Geneva.
Lake
The sluggish Waters turbulent doth make,
The Stream doth very furiously divide,
And passeth thro' it with a rapid Tide.
Shovel this just Encomium still commends,
The roughest Enemy, and best of Friends,
He daring is, and fierce aboard a Fleet,
Every where else you him obliging meet;
He with an affable Deportment treats,
Even the Antagonist his Courage beates,
The Trembling Quarry, for this Eagle fled
Fit to succeed great Narborough in his Bed.
One thought by Marriage to possess great Sense,
And wed with Tully's Wife his Eloquence;
He, nip'd with others Feathers hath not flown.
He had a stock of Courage of his own.
Carter and Hastings in the Fight are dead;
Yet pale and speechless them they still do dread.
They both look terrible within their Urns,
Although the Sun is setting, yet it burns.
With Whinings we lament the vulgar Rout,
But a brave Souldier's buried with a Shout;
For he hath loud congratulating Crys.
The same with which an Hero fights he die;
But they a Posthumus Honor both shall have;
Laurel shall be triumphant on their Grave.
As once it did bring forth from Virgil's Tomb,
And they in Death are Conquerours become;
Bellona's Minion Ashby doth survive,
Spight of malignant Fame He is alive,
He is discolour'd, Slaughter doth him sta in
He treads on shatter'd Sculls, is daub'd with Brain,
If any can be found in Men so vain.
Then Delaval hath got immortal Fame,
His Courage English is, tho French his Name,
He is our own, such a prodigious Worth,
Like a rough Tempest issu'd from the North,
As the Great Albemarl did once before,
He came from thence our Kingdom to restore,
Altho it is an harsh and barren Ground,
Yet with tough Minerals it doth abound:
His Name with Terror thro' their Countrey flies,
And Nurses with it still their Childrens Crys,
As that of Talbot once their Land did tame,
When with two Syllables he overcame;
He with a Blast of air, their Cities took,
He with a Sound, as Caesar with a Look,
And then of Mariners the lowest Crew,
Loud Strains of Praise are to their Courage due;
Such Merit for strict Gratitude doth call,
The Genius of the Nation thanks you all,
You to their Shores the Runaways did chase
By Tracts of Blood you did the Miscreants trace
Who now were swifter than the scaly Race.
Them in their proper Element you did out-do,
They could not fly so fast as you pursue.
Your Acts to After-ages shall be told,
And their Recital shall make Cowards bold.
Mothers your brave Atchievements shall repeat,
And by your Models make their Children great,
To Schemes of War the hardy Infant trains,
Stout by your Blood transfus'd into their Veins;
Widows their husbands Deaths do not bewail,
Their Eyes are dry, they scorn the puling Veil,
Hearing their Fate, they all transported cry'd,
They did their Duty, for their Country di'd,
We yield to that as the much fairer Bride.
If I the other Chieftains now should tell,
This Poem would like to their Ocean swell,
VVhich they perplext into a Bloody Storm,
The Scene where they these Actions did perform.
Like Alexander's Army they were seen,
All things undaunted were, and nothing mean;
They all were carried upon Eagles wings,
Their Soldiers, Generals, their Heroes, Kings.
The eager Citizen listens to the Ground,
He hears, and is transported with the Sound.
All the dead thumps distinctly doth repeat,
And with each Stroak a Legion we defeat.
The Countrey-man forsook his painful Plow,
And every one is a Dictator now.
For their Descent they eagerly do watch,
VVith weapons which their Fury first doth snatch,
None of them are afraid, they all did laugh,
And with their Flailes would make them flie like Chaff;
Unto the Shore they cheerfully did run,
The home-spun Baucis was an Amazon.
Nay every Infant was an Hercules,
And in their Cradles would these Serpents seize.
Fame with the News did to their Court advance,
And spoil'd the Measures of an hopeful Dance,
A most unwelcome Message them did greet,
One Tongue did baffle forty pair of Feet;
For Flamboys to retire they all did call,
In Indignation they broke up the Ball.
Louis his gloting Eyes around did roll
And darted thro those Ports his guilty Soul.
A sudden Palsie seiz'd upon each Joynt,
And from his swelling Neck he tore his Point,
Hot Rhemes of anger both his Cheeks did scal'd,
Pluck'd off his hair, and like his Monks was bald.
Morbleus and Jernies were but common Sport,
Oathes only for the Lacquies of the Court.
He sent unto the Academies Mint.
For those who never yet appear'd in Print,
He made them too refine upon the Theme.
That in more hellish Strains he might blaspheme.
For in worse Execrations he doth deal,
Then Vilanies vomit out upon the VVeel.
Baptist's Composures all the Artists play,
But they the raging Flame cannot allay.
If but a Valet thro' the Chamber runs,
He stamps and cries it is the Noise of Guns.
A whisper gives him a convulsive throw,
A Rat behind the Hangings is a Foe.
He thinks each Cloud to be a thundring Smoak,
He hates his Druids for the sake of Oak.
Surer than Oracles our Canon spoke;
An horrid Silence with such tidings suits,
As in his Brothers Courts they all are Mutes,
Each one by Nods anothers Sense divines.
They speak with Fingers and converse by Signs.
Lewis incens'd and overthrown like Saul,
Now for his trusty Confidents doth bawl.
Authors are travesti'd by smart Scarron,
And Nature hath Burlesqu'd his
The VVidow of Scarron.
Maintenon,
VVith spite and wrinkles is an Endor Witch,
Uglier than Hecuba when turn'd a Bitch.
For he hath laid aside the Lions Skin,
Only with Distaffs he is fit to spin.
Like the fond Hercules with his Omphale
Lewis was near so valiant as he;
He never him was like in bearing Arms,
Only in Luxury and VVomens Charms,
To Harlay send a Messenger away,
And let him be disturb'd tho deep at Play.
A most lascivious, crafty, cruel Man,
Both like the King and Metropolitan:
Let him depute a suffragan Antick
Whilst he his Master's wounds doth softly lick,
With spiritual Opium let him give him rest,
And whisper in his Ears a smutty Jest;
But he in vain his drolling Hours doth waste
All his Buffoonry now hath lost its taste,
On Ships he in the Arras now doth fall,
Makes it a rase Campagne, a naked Wall,
And bids them sink the Yatchts in the Canal;
We with his Navy have sunk all his Hopes,
He can't endure the sight of Masts and Ropes:
Two painted Vessels do that Nation fit,
A greater Fleet we never will permit.
Go bid the Medalists their Tools with-hold
Lay an Embargo upon all the Gold,
Contract this wicked, prodigal Expence,
Raise all the Arrear-ban for the Shoars defence;
We with tough Iron have brought down their price,
And down-right blows have spoil'd the quaint Device:
Go with their Salt the Plats of Laurel sow
Those Honours don't become a French Man's brow,
It is a Priviledge we will ne're allow;
Tho' 'twas Apollo's Grove, ne're stint your hand
But let the mournful Ewe and Cypress stand:
The Monarch's reason with his force is fled,
Tye down the foaming Tyrant in his Bed,
Him like another Chilperick let them shave
Immur'd within a Cloister let him rave;
But never let him on the Throne appear
But shut him up with his belov'd Valiere;
Now that his Glory a short Race hath run
A Royal Fryar with an holy Nun,
An Ulcer on one half of him did prey,
Let a Relapse the other eat away.
Our Treasures once were most supinely kept
When he that should have been the Dragon, slept;
In Royal Ermines was a guady Moth
Us fretted, and consum'd himself with sloth:
A suddain Repartee was all his Sense,
And his good Nature was his Negligence.
With Nero's Fate he did complaining Die,
He neither had a Friend nor Enemy:
When his health should decline we always fear'd
Dread of a Successor his Reign endear'd;
Talk'd wittily, did very seldom think,
Was very condescending in his drink;
And then he had a soft relenting Heart
Easily wounded, but with Cupid's Dart:
Nothing to Martia ever did deny,
Weapons against himself he did supply,
With his own hands her craving stomach fed
Guest at his Meals, and favourite of his Bed,
And for whose sake the Ax with Patriots bled:
She at the Price of Provinces always laught,
And dissolv'd Pearls drank for her Morning's draught:
All pardon'd Murthers did a Tribute pay
Abus'd his Body, did his Soul betray,
He unconcern'd could view the Widows Eyes,
Deaf as an Adder to the Orphans cries,
With cruel Rapine empty'd all their Bags,
For which Posterity will be in Rags:
Objects of pity now they're sunk so low;
This was the Livery he did bestow,
Oppress'd with Wine, and sleep he still did snore,
And then the Harpies did devour our store;
But when they came a second Theft to take
They found another Guardian broad awake;
Their danger past retrieve they then did see,
He with a flaming Sword did guard the Tree;
He is obliging, valiant and just
All did submit to him, or they must
His Armor never did contract a rust.
Still in that shining Equipage was bright,
Always in Counsel is, or in a Fight,
Acts those dispatches which his States-men write.
His Souldiers like to Tortoises do dwell
In the Inclosures of an harden'd Shell.
Proof against all assaults their breasts are try'd,
Are not so slow altho' so fortify'd.
But Louis now is infamously poor,
Sends to solicite Succours at each door;
His suppliant Ministers do crowd the Gate
Beg to relieve him they would Coin their Plate:
As once with us, the zealous Matrons bring
Marks of their Sex, the Thimble and the Ring.
Now to protect him from all kind of harm,
Their Thimbles against the Needle will not arm;
The Pledge of plighted troth with joy she pays,
And in that Circle she a War will raise:
Chloe no longer glittering Jewels wears,
But for his sake depopulates her Ears;
Nay with her shining Lockets she will part
Plac'd by her Lover on the panting heart:
Thus they contribute all their wealthy Store
To make the golden Calf they do adore;
The Spirit of his Counsels all is fled
Now Lovoy is deceas'd, and Colbert dead,
Both to his base designs did aptly sute,
One to raise Money, t'other t' execute:
Now the discarded Minister Pompone
Doth with mean shifts prop up his tott'ring Throne;
Grown old in wickedness doth play his feats
And multiplies his offices and cheats.
In France a Vein of universal Pride
Doth into lesser Tyrannies sub-divide:
So that the haughty Kingdom doth appear
Like to a barbarous Amphitheatre,
VVhere Gladiators on each other fall,
An the great Vulgar tramples on the small;
And he's an huffing Tyrant over all.
Its parallel an Algier Captain meets,
Where low ones are o're-topt by higher Streets
By gradual Ascents it doth arise,
And looking up doth tire your curious Eyes,
They two do in an equal Posture stand,
They Pirates are by Sea, and he by Land.
The Gibelines with Sadness are cast down,
Now their expected Fleet is overthrown.
They tear our Bowels with a Vipers rage,
Pests of the Land, and Scandals of the Age;
Not half so honest as a Suburb Stews,
Then they Cabal, and scatter factious News,
These Ideots do against themselves conspire,
Like Indian Wives they leap into the Fire.
On us these Contradictions cannot pass,
They love the Church, yet would bring in the Mass,
That Mischiefs like Pandora's Box contains
Racks, Gibbets, Faggots, and the least are Chains;
Such Tortures Heathen Emperors had amaz'd,
And London by their Hands again had blaz'd,
For Popery this Censure hath incur'd,
That it is cruel, impious, and absurd;
The Priest doth like a Mounteback shew his Tricks,
He shakes his beades, and hugs the Crucifix,
With mimick Gestures, doth extort a Tear,
His Preaching is not worth one Soul a Year.
Like a Jackcall he preys upon the Dead,
And forceth Legacies from a dying Bed.
Money for every Wickedness atones;
They tax and lay an Impost upon Groans.
The Rich are by their Pasport upwards sent,
But he that's Poor, is still impenitent.
Madmen and Ideots for Coin they Saint,
Fall down to Images, and worship Paint;
They Heaven command with an imperious Nod,
They mumble o're the Bread, and 'tis a God.
And once they say a Jew with envious Heat,
Did with a Poniard stab into the Wheat,
Rous'd with the Blow, an Infant started up,
Bled from the Wound profusely in the Cup.
So Huntsmen think they have a Hare in view,
And do with eager Cries her Flight pursue.
But when Sagacious Jouler comes so near,
To seize her hinder Legs and pluck to tear,
Comidia is Couchant in the Thorn,
And by their half-spent Mouths a Witch is torn,
All their Carthusians do with Darkness dwell,
It is the Antepast and Type of Hell,
Nothing's more damn'd than Fryers in a Cell.
They live a part, and only once a Week,
They have a Dispensation to speak.
The Women have an Order of St. Clare,
Their Heads are muffled, but their Feet are bare,
But first she like a pompous Bride is drest,
Then of her gaudy Plumes they her divest;
Each Statue then they do with Garlands crown,
She shines with all the Jewels of the Town,
Her thus attir'd, they to the Altar bring,
Her Lovers sigh, but all the Quire doth sing,
Then as a Malefactor first is strip'd,
Before he by the Officer is whipt,
The Nuns unclothe her to the very Skin,
Rifle each Knot, and pluck out every Pin;
Then she looks mournfully in dismal Black,
Beades in her Hand, and Scourges on her Back;
So she's thrown over to the Sister-hood,
And spends her wretched Life in Tears and Blood.
Sweeter Enjoyments all our Ladies taste,
And they without Constraint can all be chast;
Without the Veil they can Religious be,
The best bred humour still is very free.
The Priests should out of all the World be hist,
The Pope doth them as standing Legions list;
All that they practise are Intreagues and Lies,
They are on Families and Kingdom Spies.
The Jesuits cursed Maxims do instill,
They teach the Art to poison and to kill,
Then of Confession they have the task,
Make Women lewd by Questions that they ask,
Judges of Conscience these rank Lechers sit,
And first they hear the Sin, and then commit;
With new Conceits of Lust they daily teem,
Are sinful waking, and of Lust they dream.
And once a devilish, sacrilegious Monk,
Like an Italian raving when he's drunk.
With heavenly Vision thought himself inspir'd
With adust Choler, but was only fir'd,
He said that to the Virgin he was joyn'd,
Who did bring forth the Saviour of Mankind,
Thus was transported with a frantick Zeal,
And did these holy Galantries reveal,
The Father is assisted to his Chair,
Looks like a Coment with his staring Hair
And here the drivelling Votaries repair,
They bow their Necks, and do his Gout adore,
A piece of doating, ignorant fourscore.
They think it next unto Seraphick Bliss,
If they the Slipper suffer'd are to kiss.
Into the Camera they pay their Fees,
Have in return, Pardons and Jubilees.
They on all sorts of Crimes do lay a Tax,
You must lay down for Parchment and for Wax.
The Church of Rome is all hung round with toys,
Fit to please women, and unthinking boys.
When in that busie Scene of things you range
And to be furnish'd walk in the Exchange;
Variety of Merchandise there lies,
And you are deafn'd with the Sellers Crys,
Pulvilio, Snush, Essence of Oranges.
So you from that Communion reap this Fruit,
They to all tempers do their Order suit;
To Debauches, the Bigot and the Fop,
And for all Wares it is a Pedlars Shop,
This is that tinsel, gawdy, changling thing,
Which the hot-headed Gibeline here would bring.
Yet of our Joy, in Policy partakes
They should be glad for their own wretched sakes.
For had there been a sinister Event,
A furious Mob had been their Punishment.
The stubborn'st Spirits Mutiny confounds,
Acteon like, they had been torn by Hounds.
When the invited Enemy invades,
We'll under hatches put our Renegades.
These thirsty Horse-leeches shall have their fill,
Let them begin the Combat when they will;
Who their Religion and their Country sell,
But we'll take Care our Slaves shall not rebell,
So the Tlaxallans did with Cortez joyn,
And against Montezeuma did combine;
Those that they first oblig'd they did provoke,
And all were brought under the Spaniard's Yoke.
Their Treachery then too late they did implore,
Were kill'd by Guns, nay by their Dogs were tore.
The Women in the Quarrel do advance,
Just so they side with Heroes in Romance;
Though in his Cause they should like Furies fight,
Their Bodkins he with Poniards will requite;
His weighty Favours will on them bestow,
For to that Sex he a Revenge doth owe.

To the QUEEN.

NOW, Madam, that the glorious work is done,
Permit us to approach your charming Throne;
Who are made up of Clemency and Love.
And on your Royal Scepter is a Dove.
Just Heaven to you her choicest Gifts imparts,
You have your Subjects Purses and their Hearts,
Since by your Care we are from Danger freed,
They will as freely pay, as now they bleed.
For now that Age will see restor'd again,
In which we humbled once the Pride of Spain.
And then a Queen did save us in Distress,
You have her Wisdom, blest with her Success.
To late Posterity Records shall tell,
That in your Reign a proud Armada fell,
That Philip was made up of every Vice,
Was like to Herod eaten up of Lice.
Vengeance with Lewis equal pace doth keep,
Vermin already do begin to creep,
Him they corrode, and in his Ulcers lie,
This cruel Nimrod shall by piece-meal die.
He from the noise of Battels doth retire,
But vile Assasines he can boldly hire.
(Just as the Devil doth with Witches treat)
To kill that Prince he dares not fairly meet;
His General only enters in the List,
A Pois'ner, Son of a rank Duelist.
Bouteville just Punishment did at last receive,
For all his horrid Crimes upon the Greve.
Vengeance o'retook him, tho with heels of Lead,
And the Bourean struck off his guilty Head.
Great William shall false Luxemburgh oblige,
To fight his Troops, or else to raise the Siege,
Further Advantages he then shall gain,
Shall pierce him in the Bowels of Champaign;
Then at his Feet whole Provinces shall lie,
Shall by Reprisal seize on Burgundy,
Shall shake him out of his precarious Throne,
And this for ravish'd Hurange shall atone.
Savoy in Dauphine his Sides shall gore,
Till suppliant he for Mercy doth implore.
His discontented Subjects all shall rise,
And him they dreaded, now they shall despise,
We will confine him to the Tvilleries;
And there the barbarous Dioclesian like,
The heads of drousie Poppies let him strike;
Wee'll shut the savage Beast within a Den,
His Persecution doth exceed the Ten.
Wee'll trample in the dirt his hated Crown,
Wee'll crush and keep him under now he's down,
Now let each Frown be chang'd into a Smile,
Let Gladness be diffus'd throughout our Isle.
Let mutual Joy our Quarrels reconcile.
In Condescentions let us all be kind,
Let Amity the Sheaf of Arrows bind;
They cannot hurt us when together bound,
Single, with them we one another wound;
As when the Roman Soldiers change their Shields,
The greatest Force unto that Union yields.
In vain against them mighty Weights are hurl'd,
So when cemented, we defie the World.
FINIS.

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