THE Double Descent.  
A POEM.  
This Hour's the very Crisis of your Fate,  
Your Good or Ill, your Infamy or Fame,  
And all the Colour of your Life depends  
On this Important NOW—  Dryden's Spanish Friar, Act. 4. 
LONDON, Printed for John Dunton at the Raven in the Poultry. 1692.   

THE Double Descent, A POEM.  

I.  
'tIs so— I feel the warm Poetic Fire  
Glow in my Breast, and vigorous Thoughts Inspire,  
In flowing Dress I see the Muse descend  
And by her Smiles assures me that she will  
For Thoughts as yet unborn, some kind assistance lend.  
But tell me Muse, what shall I sing?  
What Subject shall my empty Pages fill?  
To what New Measures shall I touch the String  
Of Great Apollo's charming Lyre?   

II.  
In Love's soft Numbers I was never skilled,  
Nor Amorous Odes or Stanza's wrote;  
To rugged satire I am more inclined,  
But I am now forbid the Thought,  
And must some other Subject find:  
But as of old great Archimedes mind  
Was with some Mathematic Raptures filled,  
When he cried out 'tis found, 'tis found, so I  
The Lofty Subject now Descry,  
I must in Lines Prophetic tell the Story  
Of Albion's great, and William's greater Glory.   

III.  
Ungrateful We— have we the Time forgot,  
When Laws and Liberties were trampled on?  
And England's brightest Glory gone?  
When Romish Wolves unboundedly did rove  
Through every Field, through every Grove,  
And silly Sheep became their Lot;  
When all our Hopes to lowest Ebb were brought,  
The Great Nassau, that Son of Fame,  
Like mighty Belgic Lion came  
And quickly chased these Ravenous Beasts of Prey  
From Albion's happy Cliffs away,  
Dispelled the Mists of night, and showed us perfect day.   

IV.  
Nor stopped he there, but bravely ventures on,  
In parts abroad to gain a Victor's Crown,  
Great Minds in this, like heavenly Bodies are,  
Which move about the Sphere,  
They ne'er stand still— alas! our little Isle,  
Enough of Laurel could not show,  
To grace and to adorn his manly brow,  
He must to Foreign Parts for Triumphs go,  
And on the Rhine, the Sambre and Moselle,  
Erect large Trophies to his mighty Name,  
Which shall remain as Deathless as his Fame.   

V.  
One mighty Work is yet undone,  
A Work in Embryo and not yet begun;  
What, did I say the Platform was not laid,  
That English Arms might France Invade?  
You are to blame, my over hasty Muse,  
If his quick piercing Judgement you accuse;  
For know long since in Nassau's hidden thought,  
The great Design, the glorious Scheme is wrought,  
And France is Conquered ere the Battle fought:  
For though his Princely Thoughts have been observed  
To be like Night all secret and reserved,  
Yet when in Action they themselves display,  
What was like darkness hid, is active as the day.   

VI  
It is Resolved— nor shall thy Fate, O France!  
Resist his Vow, nor all thy mighty Force,  
So much all Europe's and the World's discourse;  
No, tho' from Flanders all thy Troops advance,  
Or thy New Conquests should disgorge and spew  
From ragged Walls their starved and tattered Crew,  
To make a formidable band,  
Which will like Locusts overspread the Land;  
All this, and more than this will never do:  
Thy Fate is certain, and thy Doom is sealed,  
Nor will the Saints, which to thy aid  
Thou hast in vain so often Prayed,  
Hear thy Complaints, or smallest Succours yield,  
With Incense tho' his Altar's smoke,  
In vain St. Denis you invoke,  
And what must still increase thy fears,  
Tho' once his Head he lost, he now has lost his Ears.   

VII.  
Methinks I see the mighty Soul of War,  
The Fortunate, the brave Nassau,  
Born to teach Tyrants Martial Law,  
Sitting at Helm of a rich Naval Carr,  
By Moderns styled a Man of War,  
Whilst pressing Waves o'er one another crowd,  
Striving who first should bear the precious Load,  
And the blue Triton's Trumpets sound  
From shore to shore on either side rebound:  
See in a lofty Chariot drawn,  
Neptune the Regent of the Sea,  
His Looks all gay as when on Morning's dawn,  
He stole from Thetis kind embrace;  
See him give up the Badge of Majesty,  
His Trident with Prostration low,  
To great Nassau, as rightly judging he  
Was than himself more fitter for the place,  
And how to govern did much better know.   

VIII.  
See on the Coast of Normandy,  
Upon the Beach and on the Sand,  
The gaping Troops all wondering stand,  
Of rabble rout a mghty Host,  
Could they but fight as well as they can boast:  
But by perpetual Slavery  
Their minds so spiritless are grown,  
Don Quixot who with lifeless Puppets fought,  
Not sooner could a Victory obtain,  
Than could of Men a handful o'er this mighty Train.  
Alas, their Souls are not their own,  
Their all is for a trifle bought,  
And they've exchanged their Liberty  
For welcome Bonds, and doubly welcome Poverty.   

IX.  
So looked the silly Indians, when they saw  
The Spansh Fleet approach their shore;  
The Ships they fancied Monsters all,  
And thought they lived because they heard 'em roar;  
But what amazement did it draw,  
When from their sides they saw an Army crawl,  
Some prostrate on their Knees did fall,  
But thousands durst not longer stay,  
But swift as Wind ran hastily away.   

X.  
The French with Indians may compare,  
If not in Folly, yet at least in Fear;  
The Common sort are of a Race,  
So poor, so spiritless and base,  
That they the Dignity of Man disgrace,  
Freedom and Slavery with them,  
Are understood to be the same.  
But there are yet some quick, discerning few,  
Who know the Price of Liberty,  
And out of Duty, not of Blindness true,  
Yet Wish and Pray against the Tyranny:  
These often have with passionate regret  
Observ●d their country's sinking state,  
And mourned and wished that Heaven would send  
Some kind deliverer for their Friend:  
Of a Descent when these shall hear,  
Tho they may Counterfeit a Fear,  
Yet inwardly rejoice and sing,  
Since by Britana's fate they plainly see,  
Nassau's great Aim is Liberty;  
To knock their Fetters off, and set them free,  
And them from Egypt to a Land of Canaan bring.   

XI.  
He Lands, the mighty Hero Lands, when straight the Air  
Is filled with shouts of Joy and shouts of Fear:  
His Troops well Disciplined like one Man seem,  
And all resolve to stand and fall with him:  
Of a Resistance some faint show is made,  
But all as if they viewed Medusa's Head,  
Are Charmed— As was Britania heretofore,  
When some time since he Landed on her shore:  
He soon the mighty difference quickly showed,  
Between the cruel, and the just and good,  
His business was to Save and not Invade.   

XII.  
Swift as the Lightning, flies the News to Court,  
A sad, a terrible Report,  
For long Debates they have no time to spare,  
No Spanish Councils they desire,  
Their Votes, must like their humours be, as quick as Fire;  
Scarce can they in their Seats be warm,  
But comes another fresh Alarm,  
That the Arrear Ban did not stay  
One Brush, but tacked about and ran away,  
And that some thousands of the better sort,  
In Troops did hourly to the Foe Resort,  
Which like a furious Torrent gust along,  
And nothing stopped it in its way,  
But that it would without delay,  
Down to the very Gates of Paris throng.   

XIII.  
This News their looks with consternation fills,  
With thousand doubts and fears Oppressed,  
A hurricane arises in the Breast  
Of mighty Lewis, who with passion swells:  
And am I then so despicable grown?  
(Says he) and these disorders too so near the Throne;  
Must all my hopes be ruined by a Man,  
Who is at best but Nature's smallest span;  
I thought no Head on Earth had equalled mine,  
But he does all my Counsels undermine,  
Sees through the dark recesses of my Soul;  
Ob Lovis! best of Friends and Counsellors,  
Who to my Interest didst devote thy Hours;  
What made the angry Fates to snatch thee hence?  
Thou man of deep Intrigue, thou man of mighty Sense;  
With ease thou threatening Dangers didst control,  
And by unparallelled disguise and artifice,  
Spoil all the Measures of my Enemies.  
Say, my best Friends, what Methods shall I take?  
As yet unknown, a mighty Fund to raise,  
I've tried a thousand several ways;  
Ten thousand places I have lately Sold,  
Made Cobbler's Gentlemen, for Gold;  
And if a greater Sum they could advance,  
Equal 'em with the Peers of France;  
This I have done, but when I think the whole  
Is now in Danger, how it wracks my thought?  
And I am into wild confusion brought; One  
One way, as yet, is unessayed,  
The Cloisters Plunder, and the Church Invade;  
Shall useless Plate upon their Altars lie,  
While Lewis has an Enemy?  
Tho Poverty they all profess,  
Yet have they Riches in such store,  
The great Mogul has scarcely more.  
I'll bring their Worship to an humble dress,  
And the Religious, Poor shall be,  
Not in Profession, but reality,  
But Pardon, Holy Church, this rude address,  
Mothers, their Sons should Succour in distress.   

XIV.  
Now leave we them in different projects warm,  
Distracted, just like Sailors in a Storm;  
Now here, now there, from Prow to Poop they run,  
And all their Work each minute but begun,  
To view the Progress of his Arms,  
Who Mankind with his Virtues Charms,  
In more than Roman Triumph while he Rides,  
He their low Adoration Chides;  
Tells them, he came to Save and to Protect,  
To Heaven they only should allow Respect,  
The influencing Cause of such a good Effect,  
Yet they their Acclamations give not o'er,  
But still they more forbid, they shout the more;  
So when our Saviour heretofore,  
By power Miraculous did Heal  
A Man, and charged him to Conceal  
The secret, and to no man tell his Name;  
Tho he returns of Gratitude did pay,  
Yet could not that command obey,  
But over all Judea spread his glorious Fame.   

XV.  
To men in Greenland, who a long half year  
Have not of Light the least appearance seen;  
The Sun more welcome cannot be;  
To Criminanls' Reprieves, to Captives Liberty,  
Not half so grateful do appear  
As great Nassau's Descent,— who long has been  
The Obstacle of Europe's Tyranny:  
Through mighty Cities see him pass,  
While numerous crowds his Chariot-wheels attend  
And all applaud and all commend;  
With herbs and flowers the Virgins strue the ways,  
And think enough his worth they cannot praise;  
Nay, the Religious of each Order strive  
Who in most studied Panegricks shall  
The largest Praises to his Virtue give;  
Tho his Religion they dislike,  
Yet his Great Actions, and his Name,  
Echoed through all the world by Fame.  
Their Minds with mighty Veneration strike;  
The Aged with their Crutches crawl,  
And Bedrid Man before he dies,  
Is willing for to bless his Eyes,  
With sight of him who Gives to Europe Law,  
And little Babes are taught to Lisp Nassau.   

XVI.  
So when the Great Deliverer of Old,  
Moses, the Meek, the Just and Bold,  
To Israel Tribes his Large Commission show,  
Proved by his Wonder-working Rod,  
They all with awful Reverence bowed;  
But when he led them through the Sea,  
With Manna fed them, and by mighty stroke  
Fetched Water from the hardened Rock;  
Their wonder came almost t'Idolatry;  
There then were Murmurers a few,  
As Korah, Dathan, and his Crew:  
And they a Dismal Exit met:  
Yet on the gallic Shore there's scarcely one,  
But who approves the Business done;  
Yet if there should be some, who with Regret  
Their country's New-gained Freedom see,  
And wish Returns of Slavery,  
May they meet Dathan and Abirams Fate.   

XVII.  
News of Revolts come every hour to Court,  
Which did Adullam's Cave resemble,  
For those who made Oppression but their sport,  
Or did with guilt and horror Tremble,  
To that as to a Sanctuary fly;  
Who would a Twig to drowning Man deny?  
Few Noblemen, but those whose weighty crimes  
Had rendered them the Odium of the times,  
Appear— What course shall mighty Lewis take,  
Since his great Friends him and his cause forsake;  
He sees the Clouds grow black, and further spread,  
And fears the Storm will break upon his Head:  
Where shall he go, or whether shall he fly?  
To what Dark corner of the Earth,  
Famous for giving Tyrant's Birth,  
Retire, and in confusion sigh and die?  
Tho Mother Church does Prodigals receive,  
Yet his Repentance she can ne'er believe,  
Who daily sends to Infidel's Relief,  
Equals the Turban, with the Coul,  
Thinks Christianity endures no loss,  
If the Half-Moon stand rival with the Cross;  
Let him, like Cain in ancient times,  
Guilty of more Nefarious crimes,  
Than ere his were, through Deserts roll,  
Since his Oppressions, Cruelties,  
Were infinitely more than his;  
Cain was condemned for shedding filial Blood,  
He spilt a drop, but this has caused a Flood.   

XVIII.  
He comes, the Conqueror comes, Nasau the brave,  
To Gates of Paris, infamously known,  
For Blood and Massacres once done,  
From both of which, was Born, that place to save,  
Where from all parts Addresses come,  
Not such as heretofore were made,  
When Lives and Fortunes solemnly were laid  
At Prince's Foot— And all was Masquerade,  
All show, and just to nothing came the Sum;  
But grateful Sense of what they owe  
To his all Powerful Arms, since now,  
Too sensibly they taste and see  
The Fruits of welcome Liberty,  
With such surprise, as one born blind surveys,  
After his cure, the Sun's bright rays;  
They see the Halcyon Days appear,  
And Peace and Plenty once more flourish there:  
If after all these mighty Wonders done,  
The great Nassau accepts the Crown,  
By double Title now his own,  
How greatly 'twill his Fame advance,  
When not in compliment alone,  
But in reality he's known  
To be the Just, the only King of France!   

(19)  
Leave, leave, a while, my Muse, the Dazzling Sight  
Of Nassau's Glory,— to survey,  
A noisy, vain, imaginary Scene;  
For such a Project is no more,  
A French Descent upon the English Shore;  
The Quarrel is maintained with just such Odds,  
As when the Giants fought with Gods:  
I view, methinks, with Pity and Delight,  
The foolish trifling vain Essay,  
And see the Phantoms vanish quite away,  
As do the Figures in the Fairy Queen.   

(20)  
Behold, upon the British Waves appears,  
(Some few men's Hopes, but no Man's Fears;)  
A gallic Fleet, which calls the yielding Stream,  
As if she proudly came to claim,  
By Force, the English Diadem.  
Ah, foolish France! how plainly shall we see,  
How silly thy Pretences be,  
To aim at Universal Monarchy?  
See how the very Elements conspire;  
And Winds, and Waves in closest League,  
Combine to frustrate thy Desire;  
To mar thy whole Design, and spoil the Grand Intrigue.   

(21)  
But should we grant by Magic Spells,  
By Exorcisms, or something else,  
Thy Priests should charm the very Waves to Peace,  
And make the Winds their noisy Blusters cease:  
(For what great Wonders can't they do,  
Who make their God, and eat him too?)  
Should with calm Breezes, and a merry Gale,  
Thy whole (but not invincible) Armada sail,  
With so much Pleasure and Delight,  
As if it came to Triumph, not to Fight;  
Yet on fair Albion's Shores, by Heaven's Command,  
Whole Troops of Guardian Angels stand;  
Who with a Look can drive thee from the Shore,  
Cause thee to make more shameful a Retreat,  
Than Spanish Fleet in Eighty Eight;  
When to the British Coast its threatening Face it bore.   

(22)  
But should they Land!— and that's a grand Suppose;  
What then will be their Fate, Who knows?  
If Causes by Effects we guess,  
To Delphic Oracles we need not go,  
Of this Descent th' Event we know;  
And without Magic tell the whole Success;  
So quick a Slaughter would be made  
Of those, who durst our Shoar invade,  
One Man would scarce be left alive,  
(Who by good Luck did all the rest survive,)  
With Sorrow, Passion, and Regret,  
In France, to tell his Fellow-Soldier's Fate.   

(23)  
The FRENCH— Although indeed no Terror lie  
In the Word French, yet there's a strange,  
And almost unaccountable Antipathy,  
Against 'em does in English Bosoms range;  
Should Goths and Vandals, Turks and Saracens,  
People who make it still their Trade,  
Their Neighbour's Kingdoms to invade;  
Or a strange Nation come we know not whence,  
These might perhaps much more increase our Fear,  
When their tall Ships upon our Coast appear;  
But not our Rage by half so much incense,  
Not Fire and Water more Aversion bear,  
Than lies between the English and Monsieur.   

(24)  
Suppose they should through Clouds of Fire and Smoke,  
Sent from our Fleet— those thundering Sons of Oak,  
Rush through, and make a bold Attempt to Land,  
Not only Horse and Foot, a numerous Band,  
Their proud usurping Force would quell;  
But Women, ignorant in Arms,  
Dreadless of Dangers, and of Harms,  
With Kitchen-weapons, Spit and Fork,  
Would do a deal of murdering Work:  
If these the Enemy repel,  
'Tis fit they should the Glory share,  
And each as Badge of Honour wear,  
Close by her Side a frenchman's Nose or Ear.   

(26)  
Had the Descent (so much the Town's Discourse)  
Intended been for any Land but ours,  
What Consternation would it not create?  
What great Convulsions in the State?  
Whereas altho' the threatening Danger's near,  
No Face puts on the Livery of Fear.  
Gay are our Days, and pleasant all our Hours,  
Plenty and Pleasure all our Care;  
But Preparations yet are made,  
The Foe to welcome, if he should invade;  
For 'tis a Truth on Record still,  
And owned by all the Sons of Sense,  
'Tis lawful to use Self-defence,  
Let Nonresistance Sparks say what they will.   

(26)  
But yet before fair Albion they invade,  
Specious Pretences must be made;  
INVADE US!— no, the Word they scorn,  
They were for nobler Projects born;  
They only come to save our Land  
From being by the Dutch trepanned,  
To set a Prince once more upon the Throne,  
By Subject's Villainies undone,  
On a right Basis our Religion settle,  
And separate the Dross from Loyal Metal;  
Law, Right and Justice to restore;  
With twenty other fine Pretences more.   

(27)  
Blessed Regulators of a blessed Cause,  
When French Dragoons shall give to England Laws;  
What sort of Creatures are there in the Nation,  
Who wish and pray for such a Reformation?  
In that Enquiry go not yet too far,  
For in this Town a numerous Crowd there are,  
Wretches impatient of their Liberty;  
Who, tho' they all might live at ease,  
Are utter Enemies to Peace,  
And long for Wooden Shoes and Slavery;  
To utter Ruin would their Country bring,  
To Reinstate an Idol-King;  
And when with Flames they see the Nation burn,  
Not drop a Tear, or Sigh and mourn;  
But Nero-like, tune up their Harps and sing:  
With them all sober Reason's Stuff;  
But they are now grown Satyr-proof,  
And all their Mind's impregnable like warlike Buff.   

(28)  
But leaving them to Racks of Hope and Fear,  
To be succeeded by a wild Despair:  
See, see my Muse, the lowering Cloud,  
Which threatened Storms of Fire and Blood,  
Quite vanquished from our Hemisphere;  
From every side loud Acclamations ring  
Long live the warlike King, and beauteous Queen:  
Soft charming Music fills the Air,  
Now calm, unruffled, and serene  
Music which cheers the listening Ear,  
Whilst Guardian Angels in a Choir,  
Whom Love and Reverence inspire,  
In a full Anthem Albion's Paises sing.   
FINIS.