SEJANUS: OR THE Popular Favourite, Now in his Solitude, and Sufferings.
Written for the Consolation of
E. S. the Famous
Bromigen Protestant, in Bonds, and Imprisonment, for the
Good Old Cause, and the Truths sake.
— Facit indignatio versus.
Difficile est hîc Satyram non scribere.
Juv.
IS this thy Glory now? is this thy Pride,
Of sticking to the Saints, and Godly side?
Religious Bugbear words that fright from hence,
From Subject, all their Loyalty to Prince,
Make black Rebellion, seem white Innocence;
Entitle Heaven, to the vilest Crimes,
Make Deity, like Rabble, blame the Times.
Mad Zealots! so Atheistically civil,
Blaspheme the Gods, to Complement the Devil.
The mightiest of these inspir'd Saints, is come
To Crown himself with fancied Martyrdom:
Geneva Whig, that still crys out at
Rome,
But raises still Domestick Broils at home.
How quietly Great
Charles might end his Reign,
Which all in Troubles the poor Prince began,
Now vext by Ghost, meer shadow of a Man:
The cunning Hypocrite, that still can spy
The smallest Mote in his kind Prince's eye,
By Zeal, and Nature, made so double blind,
That in his own the Beam he cannot find:
Some say but one vast Luminary stands
In's furrow'd brow, and watches all the Land;
But sunk into its hole, crept out of sight,
As if it were afraid to see the Light,
His Skull's too narrow Circle can't contain
His Tow'ring thought, and vast Gygantick brain;
Blinded again with hopes of Reformation,
Poor little
Polyphemus of the Nation;
That mighty Monster brav'd the rising Floud,
And this can wade through a whole Sea of Bloud.
How hath this wretched Isle been chang'd, and curst,
Since thou wert born, and since it knew thee first!
How did its Tributary Rivers pay
A bloudy, dreadful Homage to the Sea!
Whilst on the Purpl'd Ocean thou didst ride,
And Tack about still with the Wind and Tide:
This floating Bark, he now again would Steer,
Ah! treacherous Pilot, and false Mariner;
The Kingdom's yet scarce mended Hulk to save,
Would launch again into the Purple wave:
Religious Bully! that can cheat a Nation,
And make it perish, working out Salvation.
Three Kingdoms he o'relooks, and soon can count
The
Tories all, from
Barwick, to the
Mount:
Sifts Cities, Shires, to find what each afford;
Calls this
Tantivy, that
Protesting Lord:
Sees what grave Noddle's for Caballing fit,
And who are
Bromigens of Sense and Wit.
These are the Faculties of Soul and Mind,
And here his Body as compleat you find;
From's liquid Corp, distills a fleeting gore,
And the whole Carcass, makes one putrid Sore.
The better to emit this flowing Sap,
His Belly carries still a Silver Tap,
Through which black Treason, all its Dregs doth strein
At once, both Excrements, of Guts, and Brain;
But some will have his clear, thin Body pass,
For a refined sort of Optick-glass:
Some make the polisht Fabrick of his Bone
A glittering Skeleton of Specular Stone.
Old
Ovid's Muse from hence may take her flights,
Her
Argus only had an hundred sights;
This little Monstrous Corps, is Eye all o're,
And the whole Body sees at every Pore;
Sees hatching Thought, meet Embrio of a Plot,
Nay sees it oft before it be begot.
But to say truth, his Opticks are but two,
Yet more than
Ovid's Centinel can do
With hundred Eyes, that many things could view;
But this sees many hundred ways with two:
So quick, so nimble, and such rolling Eyes,
They watch each other, like two cunning Spies,
Lest this declare for King, and that for People,
For
The Citizens have made a great clutter of late about their Monument, as if their Inscriptions there would keep out Popery better than all the Writings of the Churchmen.
Cities Pyramid, or Churches Steeple.Poor turning, winding, weathercock of State,
Set on the doubtful Pinacle of Fate,
And now will turn again, if not too late.
If well corrected for his Insolence,
The little Spaniel fawns upon his Prince;
But once escap'd the Ax, or fatal Loops,
Straight to the dull unthinking Rabble stoops,
Pufft up with the vain blast of Vulgar breath,
Thus small State-Urchins hurry to their death:
So the kind Air with an officious blast,
Tosses poor Bubbles, to the Clouds, at last;
Dances the little Globe about the Skie,
Then breaks the glittering Ball it fann'd so high.
So
Romes fam'd
Sejanus.
Darling once that govern'd all,With the inconstant Rout did stand or fall;
Th' obliged Camp, their General did crown,
Then dragg'd his ragged Carcass through the Town.
Weak Fools! that think they may securely flee
On the loose wings of wild Inconstancy,
Or on its Metaphor, the
Mobile.
Digusted by the Rout, this cunning Wight
Runs cringeing to his injur'd Monarch straight,
Whose goodness is too ready to forgive,
Faulty alone in suffering him to live.
Advanc'd to follow Mace, and wear a Gown,
The
Tony then saw
Mutineers in Town,
But now they all
True Protestants are grown.
Whilst he unto its Chambers can resort,
There's nought, alas, of
Popery at Court;
Clap the Prophetick Soul but in the
Tow'r,
It straight Divines of
Arbitrary Pow'r.
Now leaves the Rout, and then as soon as able,
Leaves his good Prince, just as he left the Rabble.
Who e're before saw such a Little thing
Contend with Monarch, grapple with a King!
Of Giants oft we read, that fought the Skies,
Cufft back the Thunder of the Deities;
But ne're of Pigmy Lord that did the same,
A Lord that's only fit to fight with Crane.
The Green-Ribband Club describ'd, of which he is made the Head.
This busie Noddle of the Factious Crew,Not now distinguish'd by th' old Northern Blew,
(The Badge of upstart Whigs must still be new)
With his Green bob in this new Senate sits,
And round him all those Liv'ry-men of wits;
Some raze a name, and some insert a clause,
Order their Bills themselves, and Vote them Laws:
With awful care some Scriblers penning be
A Speech for
Reported spoken by
E. S.
Sister Scotlands Liberty,'Gainst
L—dale's unbounded Tyranny.
There a young Scribe is copying out a Cant,
Next morn for to be spoke in Parliament:
Upstarts an Hector, swears upon a Book,
The Oath common to one of the Club.
Gad you shall see we will exclude the Duke.This brings a Bill 'gainst
Arbitrary Power,
And that will send a Member to the
Tower;
One Votes him to be
Censur'd on his Knees,
This cries
Discharge, that
Let him pay his Fees:
And in the little Club you fairly see,
Of the Great Senate an Epitome.
But now the Mouth of this
Young Rump is gone,
The dissolv'd Members scatter in the Town;
Poor
Tony's now confin'd, and like to write
All that fierce Indignation can indite;
His second Volume quickly will appear,
The
He writ a Pamphlet when last there.
Tower alway made him Scribler.As we below on some bright Meteor gaze,
Poor Panick Fools, admire a Little blaze,
Which once dropt down, regardless we pass by,
As too vile object for our scornful Eye.
The gazing Croud thus him in Lustre view,
Caress, admire, and adore him too;
But once Eclips'd, or shaded in a Cloud,
Away runs all the silly buzzing Croud.
All thy past shifts will serve thee now no more,
Or there is scarce another left in store:
The Tempter his old Sore'ress doth forsake,
When once h' hath brought the wither'd Hag to Stake:
When the glib
Proteus taken by
Aristaeus.
changing Monster once was ta'ne,And fetter'd in the cunning Shepherds chain,
With all its wiles he never could escape,
Though chang'd to Fish, to Dragon, and to Ape,
And every minute put on other shape.
Our sad distracted
Albion gaz'd around,
She saw no Foe, but still she felt a wound:
The bleeding Deer thus trembling stands at Bay,
But can't find where the close hid Archer lay.
As on the winding Banks, and watry Maze,
Where fam'd
Meander cuts his crooked ways,
The lost, confounded Traveller doth gaze,
At last kind Fate, or Providence doth bring
The poor despairing Soul unto the Spring:
So some kind Angel,
Genius of this Isle,
Where Peace, alas! with thee could never smile,
Hath taught us now to make her flourish still,
Shewn us the hidden
Source of all her Ill.
Reason the
Plummet, Wit the
Line shall be,
Both stretcht to
fathom, and to
measure thee:
Lead through the Labyrinth of all thy Tricks,
All the wild
Mazes of thy
Politicks.
FINIS.
LONDON: Printed for Smith, Curtiss, Janeway, Baldwin, all True-Ptotestant-Booksellers, near the sign of the Three-Legg'd Brand-Iron, call'd Tyburn.