Oliver Cromwells ghost, or, Old Noll newly revived Wild, Robert, 1609-1679. 1678 Approx. 6 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 3 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. Text Creation Partnership, Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) : 2004-03 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1). A66010 Wing W2143 ESTC R27071 09638649 ocm 09638649 43877 This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission. Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. 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Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site . eng Cromwell, Oliver, 1599-1658 -- Poetry. 2003-08 TCP Assigned for keying and markup 2003-09 Apex CoVantage Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2003-10 Judith Siefring Sampled and proofread 2003-10 Judith Siefring Text and markup reviewed and edited 2003-12 pfs Batch review (QC) and XML conversion Oliver Cromwells GHOST : OR OLD NOLL Newly Revived . ROws'd from Infernal Caverns void of Light , Where Traytors Souls keep an Eternal Night : Through the Earths friendly Pores at last I come To view the Fate of mangled Christendome . Treason , and Blood , Ruin , and Usurpation , Deceipt , Hypocrisie , and Devastation ; Envy , Ambition , and untam'd desire , Still to gain more , still to be mounted higher : Wars , Ianglings , Murders , and a Thousand more Vices like these , you know were heretofore . The only grateful Bantlings , which could find , A kind Reception in my gloomy Mind — — But now alas I 'm chang'd — the Pondrous guilt Of Treason , and the Sacred Blood I spilt ; Those crouds of Loyal Subjects I made groan , Under pretence of strickt Religion , When I my self , to speak the Truth , had none : Too weighty for my strugling Soul did grow , And prest it downwards to the Shades below , Where it these Twenty Years has Silent lain , Tormented with Variety of Pain , Too great for fleshly Mortals to sustain . Nor had it budg'd as yet — but that the Fame Of Plots , Conspiracies , and Murders came To the Infernal Gates so fast , that I , For others Good , forgot my Misery : And whilst the busie Daemons were imploy'd In culling out a Bloody Regicide , I bilkt my Keeper , and with wondrous Pain , Once more I mount my Native Soyl again ; Where to my Grief , more Villanies I view , Than Heav'n e're Pardon'd , or than Hell e're knew . Since Lucifer's like Rome's Destructive Pride , Both Damn'd himself , and all his Imps beside : Though old in Artful Wickedness I be , Yet Rome , I now Resign the Wall to thee : Thou in this single Plot , hast now done more , Than Mankind , helpt by Hell , could do before . What! was thy swell'd Ambition grown so wide , That nought but Kings could satisfie thy Pride ? Must Monarchs , whom the Heav'n it self do's prize , Now become Morsels for thy gaping Vice. Methought , though hot with Gluttony thou burn , A Pious Justice might have serv'd thy turn ; Especially when , ( to content you more ) Spitted on 's Sword , and Pickled in his Gore ; But now your aim we better understand , He was the Whet — you gap'd for all the Land. Strange Cormorant ! that in her Monstrous Breast , Could at one Meal three Butcher'd Lands digest . Ye Powers ! I thought my Countries Innocence , ( When in fierce Whilwinds you had born me hence ) And by the Pow'r of your most just Command , Restor'd the Scepter to the Owners hand ) Would have sufficient bin to Wall you free From the Assaults of such an Enemie . I little thought , when last I took my leave , And sadly entred my unwelcome Grave , That e're the Porphry Idol could command So great a Friendship in our Native Land ; As by that means to hope to circumvent , With black Design , both King and Government . But yet take heed ye Romish Idiots , That have a hand in these most Hellish Plots ; Who by your base contrivance , hope to bring Ruin to Nations , Death unto a King Beware , I say , by my Example , do , For there 's a God above do's all things view : Tho wrapt in Clouds amongst the Skies , he dwells , Yet he discerns you in your closest Cells ; See's your Contrivances , and whilst you poor Conceipted Traytors think your selves secure , He your clandestine Plots does plainly view , And will divulge them , and their Actors too . Trust my Experience , one , who if you will Believe , what all the World says of him still , Had no small share of Pride , Ambition , Wit , Courage and Conduct too to manage it . By which I wrought my Curst designs so high , I could have match'd my Brewers Family With the best Blood in Brittain . Right or wrong , Or Life or Death , attended on my Tongue : All the three Kingdoms truckled to my Will — But what of this ? — I was a Traytor still . Nay , so intemperate was my folly grown , I boldly offer'd at the Sacred Crown ; Which though I mist , — yet by a holy Cheat , At last I gain'd to fill the tott'ring Seat ; And made Ten thousand Souldiers Arm'd , appear With Roaring Guns , to plead my Title there . Not doubting but that happy Seat should be Transfer'd from me to my Posteritie . But all was insignificant , when Death Unkindly Robb'd me of Beloved Breath : My Titles all forsook me , and my Race , Instead of them , inherit my disgrace . This is the Fate of Traytors here ; but know , That could you think what they endure below , I 'm sure you would be Loyal ; but the Pope By prating Jesuits , has so rais'd your hope , That I in vain those Tortures now should tell , You 'l know them when I meet you there — Farewel . R. W. D. D.