UPON THE HAPPY AGREEMENT BETWEEN KING AND PARLIAMENT: AND THE Spanish Priests Bonefire, March 8. 1672.
WHat time a
Storm Impended o're our
State,
Plotted by
Forrain and
Intestine Hate,
When
Belgick Brutes, and
Traitors had intent,
Like
Vaux, to undermine our
Parliament:
And with the Devil, undertook a Course
To get by
Fraud, what they ne'r could by
Force:
When
Brandy sail'd, and nought remain'd to them
(Distressed Devils) but a
Stratagem;
When they had done all that the
Dutch were able,
And found
Deceit was stronger then the
Cable,
From their
Infernal Country strait they come,
Impostures, to out
Seminary Rome;
And mongst us such Dam'd Seeds of
Discord sow,
As might ourselves, whom none could else o'rethrow.
But
Brittains Mighty
Caesar soon lookt in,
And saw the
Ass coucht in the
Lyon's Skin;
Making their closest
Machins but his Mirth,
Alas! he spi'd 'em, e're they gave 'um Birth:
And to the
Members such a Speech began,
The Voyce of God they cry'd, and not of Man:
Each Sentence so Serene was, and so choice,
If 'twas not Gods, 'twas Gods
Vicegerents Voice.
'Twas a Substantial
Word, a
Word in Season,
Archt o're with
Honnour, underpropt with
Reason;
So Gracious as his Auditors became,
His
Subjects double, both of Joy and Shame:
So Sweet, so Clean, so Keen that every Word
Hew'd down more Lawrel then his Royal Sword.
Above 'em all they saw his Glory Fly,
As high in
Parts as
Principallity;
There he that worth Ten Thousand of us was,
Did all the Wisdom of his Realms surpass,
They that disputed, do themselves despise,
The People weak are, but the Prince is Wise;
My Lord the King, Wise as Gods Angel is,
Discerning what is right, and what's amiss.
'Has given 'em now an understanding right,
Right as the Righteous Cause, for which we fight.
Now shines the Sun in Uigor and full force,
And all the Glorious Stars observe their Course,
Whose
Royal Beams have so Enlightned them,
Midnight cannot conceal a
Stratagem.
What
Monarch in the World compares with ours.
Heads such a multitude of
Councellours,
Who while they well their proper
Orbs maintain,
May (under him) be each a
Soveraign;
They'r Wise then, that keep close to such a Head,
Whose Arms
Expanded over
Europe spread:
So shall th'
Audacious Dutch, that Huff it thus,
Come Cap in hand, and
Truckle under us.
But now we Praise and thanks to Heaven return,
And in
Bonefires, that Hagg
Discention Burn;
Red Seas of Wine flow from each teeming
Terse,
As 'tware the
Vintage of the
Ʋniverse:
Agreed, Agreed, they cry, O Heavenly Voyce,
The very Streets themselves seem'd to Rejoyce:
The
Spanish Priest, out did us all by odds,
We Burnt but
Faggots, but he Burnt his
Gods.
FINIS.
London, Printed for Thomas Vere, at the Angel without New-Gate. 1673.