Popery plain Foppery: OR, THE EXCELLENCY OF THE Protestant Religion, In Opposition to POPERY.
A POEM, Written by Sir W. V. Baronet.
Licensed, and Entred according to Act of Parliament.
LONDON, Printed by John Harefinch, in Mountague-Court in Little Britain. 1689.
[...]
THE EXCELLENCY OF THE Protestant Religion.
I Blunder forth no
Quirks, nor captious Theams,
No
trivial Toyes, nor fond lascivious Dreams;
Nor buzz the honest Reader in the Ear
With
Miracles were done I know not where;
But much do blame our
Carnal-witted Brood,
Who
loath to
taste of
Intellectual Food,
Yet
Surfeit on old
Tales of
Robin Hood;
The Wonders of the Well of
Winnifride,
Which holy Friars have so often try'd;
Of
Patrick's Broils, or of St.
George's Lance;
Of Errant Knights, or of the
Fairy Dance;
Or
Arthur's
Knights, or the
twelve Peers of
France;
How
Dunstan catch't the Devil by the
Nose,
With thousands of absurder Lyes than those:
How
Patrick kill'd, five hundred years before,
Thousands of
Irish Kernes by charmed lore;
How
David did a mighty Mountain move,
And by his Word the massy Earth remove:
With many more, to gull the multitude,
Which the
True Church accounts both false and rude:
But whilst such
idle Tales about are hurl'd,
I'll sing the
best Religion in the World:
That which is
pure, of God's
bright Spirit born,
And grieves to see Christ's Seamless Garment torn,
Or parted from the
Fashion Primitive,
But, as the
Gospel teaches, strives to
live:
And flies vain Dreams, which oft inchant the Sense
From worshipping the God-head's
Excellence.
She slights the Tales of
Poets strange Vagaries,
Vows made to
Saints, and needless
Ave Maries:
And whilst some steal to paths unknown, or stray
To stranger Coasts, She goes the surest way,
For fear of
Wolves, or what may else betide
A man that loseth Christ, his surest Guide.
While some in
Tongue unknown like
Parrots chat,
And ask of God by
rote they know not what;
Our
Churches Babes do pray in
Christ his Name
For what they want, and He doth grant the same
For his dear sake, who pleads for Humane Race,
While they with understanding crave his grace;
And having gain'd their Suit, they sing his praise
With cheerful hearts, new Tongues and thankful Layes;
Not grounding Faith on
Saints Pluralities,
On
Angels, Powers, or
Principalities;
Acknowledging no
Advocate but one,
But build their Faith upon the
Corner-stone,
Exploding School-mens dreams, hypocrisies,
Souls Merchandize, and winding Fallacies;
But preaching of Christ's Gospel, strive to free
Poor Captive Souls from Sin and Slavery.
But as of old the Poets did approve
The lesser Gods as Advocate to
Jove,
And by the like distinctions in the Schools
Would them create subordinated Fools,
Or Courtiers of th'
Olympian Majesty,
To intercede or aid
Mortality,
To which they kneel'd in various Idol shapes,
Like
Babel's Head of Gold, Calves, Cats, or Apes;
So
Babels babling Daws Saints help exact:
St.
Margaret Lucina's part must act;
St.
Anthony relieves them of the Pox,
With Reliques, charms fetch'd from old
Balaam's box.
For the
Twin-brother gods they consecrate
St.
Nicholas at Sea their Advocate:
St.
Eustace must uphold the Forrest game,
For which old
Pagans us'd
Dianas Name;
With a huge Club St.
Christopher they please,
As those old Heathens painted
Hercules:
Yea, every place possessed
Tutelars,
Small Gods to ease them of their
heavy cares;
Juno helpt
Carthage, Mars Rome, Pallas Greece,
Ceres blest Corn,
Pan Sheep,
Pomona Trees:
So
Dennis France, George England, Jago Spain,
And the like Saints to guard all Coasts they feign.
The
Scots were all of good St.
Andrews ward,
Ireland of
Patrick's,
Wales of
David's guard;
Unto St.
Mark the bold
Venetian bends,
And he that
Venice wrongs with
Mark contends;
But above all, St.
Peter bears the Bell,
He
Rome protects, and
Rome must all excell:
Numa's
Egeria Peter hath supprest,
With
Romulus Saint
Peter did contest;
Nay,
Peter's Keys the
Eagle bruis'd, therefore
St.
Peter's Chair at
Rome all must adore.
Concerning other Points of
Faith's abuse,
As
Purgatory's pain, false
Idols use;
Courting the
Saints, to
Christ's apparent wrong;
Gods
sacred Word kept from the
Vulgar Tongue;
Additions to the
Mass, the
Papal Keys,
And Priests
debarr'd of Wives; Let him that weighs
The Dreams of
Balaams Priests, this Passage know,
Pride made the
Pope a Simon Magus grow,
Boldly to sell the Spirit's Gifts for gain,
In sundry wise, as History makes Plain.
Indulgences, and
Masses many a score
For
Money bought and sold, what would you more?
But who
no Money hath cannot obtain
One
Mass to save from Purgatories pain.
Yet a true Church
Rome fain would still be thought,
Though little else but
Fraud is in her wrought:
But let us leave
her and
her glosing words,
And call to mind what
Scripture well records,
That she shall see how many Potentates
Will flinch from her, and free themselves and States;
And likewise hear One with a dreadful Tone
Proclaim the fall of
Whorish Babylon.
FINIS.