THE APPARITION; OR, THE GENIUS OF IRELAND: Complaining of Her Present Misery, AND Imploring Speedy RELIEF FROM ENGLAND. Dedicated to Duke SCHOMBERG. Written by EDM ARWAKER. LONDON, Printed for R. Bentley, and are to be sold by R. Baldwin, 1689. His EXCELLENCY Duke Frederick, MARSHAL de SCHOMBERG, General of His Majesty's Army, and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Garter. GREAT SIR, To whom can this Complaint, made by the Genius of Ireland, be so justly Dedicated, as to that General, on whom Her Eyes are fixed, as designed to be Her Glorious Deliverer? Whose long Celebrated Name gives her joyful Expectations, even in the midst of Sufferings, and encourages Her to an extraordinary Resolution, by an assurance of being speedily Relieved, or nobly Revenged? And indeed, it is her Happiness that she cannot presume too much upon that Patronage; a Patronage that will amply satisfy the largest Hopes she can conceive from it, as well as give occasion to that Prince, who (intending the total Extirpation of the Protestant Religion from his Dominions) Exiled the greatest Supporter of his Throne and That; to repent his rash Ingratitude, when he finds that Religion Established in another Country, by the very means he used to Banish it his own; and sees the Moses whom he Expelled his Court, Raised up to deliver Israel. Nor do we expect less than Miracles from that Hand, since we know them familiar to It; and that as there is nothing so difficult which It dares not undertake, so there is nothing It undertakes, which it does not accomplish. 'Tis therefore, Mighty Sir, because you have been a Prince of Wonders, that we depend on You for that of Ireland's Preservation, and 'tis that Dependence occasions you the trouble of this Address. Pardon then, my Lord, this Effect of your own famed Merit, as readily as you face the Dangers to which it now exposes you; And as you cannot be displeased with that deserved Esteem which renders You our Choice and Option for this hazardous Enterprise, so let it not be less grateful that it brings these poor Endeavours to the Shelter of your Illustrious Name; which because it gives Security to all who are happy in its Protection, makes every one its ambitious Suppliant: In which Throng, may it please your Excellency to admit, My LORD, The Humblest and most Obedient of your Servants, Edm. Arwaker. THE Apparition. IT was a Dismal and Tempestuous Night, Heavn's Glorious Lamps withdrew their Light, As if itself did of some Loss Complain; While Sable Clouds wept Showers of Rain, And mourning Winds did in loud Sighs Lament, And to each frighted Ear proclaim their Discontent; When in the height of all the Noise, A wretched Swain, by weighty Cares oppressed, (Cares, the sworn Enemies of Rest, Which o'er his Bed did Sentry keep, And from his Eyes still banished Sleep And Quiet from his Breast;) Distinguished something like a Humane Voice, That did in broken Accents make sad Moan; And with such moving Reth'rick vent its Grief; As called his Pity, to neglect his own, And give those louder Sorrows quick Relief. [2] Scarce had his Eye bestowed one circling Glance In search of what it was employed to find, When the sought Object did advance; A Matron so divinely Fair, It seemed that Nature did collect in Her All Graces scattered through the Female-kind: Her Eyes, amidst her Tears, were dazzling bright, Even that Eclipse could not conceal their Light; And, tho' with weighty Grief oppressed, She moved with Charming and Majestic Mien, In nothing lessened, tho' distressed, But still a Beauty, still a Queen. The Crown that once did her raised Head adorn, Now tottering on it stood; It's richest Jewels from their places torn, By Hands unmanly Rude; By Hands so Barbarous, they did not spare The lovely Tresses of her Golden Hair; And strove with equal Sacrilege t'erace The Sacred Lines of Beauty in her Face, But those indelibly were Printed there. Her right Hand held a Golden Lyre, On which she oft such Charming Airs had played As made those very Savages admire That did her this Inhuman Wrong; But by their Rages, alas! unstrung. The useless Instrument with sad neglect she bears, No more it lays her Grief, nor lightens more her Cares. [3] The Swain, who well did that famed Ensign know To be the same by fair juverna born; Surprised to find both altered so, The Lyre now robbed of that Harmonious Voice Which often to each pensive Heart Did simpathetick Melody impart; And that Great Queen, to whose Luxuriant Court Crowds of Admirers did resort To revel in its Joys, Now Unattended and Forlorn: As well as sudden Passion would allow, Desired the reason of this Change to know. To whose Request the easy Queen consents, And sadly thus her teeming Sorrow vents. [4] Five Lustres of soft Peace had blessed my Plains, Through the kind influence of Evander's Reign, My Ruins, by Intestine Wars, Were by his healing Hand so well repaired, I had almost outworn the Scars; Now no Alarms, but Shouts of Joy, I heard. Each Season did its proper Product yield, The loaden Trees their timely Burdens bear; And Heaven such Fatness dropped on every Field, That Golden Plenty Crowned the happy Year. My Savage Natives happily subdued, These Blessings learned to use, Blessings which heretofore they did abuse, Because not understood; Thus by their Conqueror's taught how Well to live; They love the Hands whence they the Good receive; Advanced by their Subjection, more Than by their boasted Liberty before. [5] Now, to complete my Bliss, my favouring Lord Did loved Barzillai to improve me send; Barziilai, who best knew to wield my Sword, The King's, the Soldiers, and the Muse's Friend: His Instances of Loyalty So many, dangerous, and great, All must Admire, but few can Imitate: No brave Desert scaped his discerning Eye; And as none better did advise, None sooner undertake a Glorious Enterprise, So none was Nobler to Reward than Herald For he of Merit had too just a Sense To let it want due Recompense; Injurious to Himself alone, In not designing any for his Own. Nor was the Gown less than the Sword his Care, Nor wanted large Encouragements; Who e'er did sweat in Learning's steep Ascents, Met high Preferment, worth their Labour, there. Thus he supplied the Bench and Bar, And did the Church on such firm Pillars rear, That time no more the Structure shall impair. [6] But oh! such Blessings were too great to last! Heaven called Evander to a nobler Reign, Heaven for his Presence was in haste; With Prayers and Tears I begged his stay in vain! The Sentence was irrevocably passed. His Throne Philotheus next ascends, Philotheus justly Honoured and Revered: No Prince had ever Subjects more his Friends, None more, by those who loved him not, was feared: But soon he lost their Love and Awe, Exposed, through Goodness, to abuse, By Vipers cherished in his Breast; Who Eager and Impatient grown, Broke through the Sacred Fences of the Law. The chief Supporters of a Monarch's Throne, Ruined his Interest, to promote their own; And of his Favour made a Fatal Use, Their Superstitious Rites to introduce, Rites, Heaven, and all the Friends of Heaven detest. Unhappy Prince! who by thy People's Crime Wert a young Exile forced abroad, To be infected in a foreign Clime With a false Worship of the One True God Which makes thy Empire bear so short a date, Yet moves our Pity only for thy Fate. [7] 'Twere endless to rehearse The means by which Philotheus was misled, May they who brought the Mischiefs on his Head, Condemned to be eternal Wanderers, Their Treachery deplore, And try the sad Experiment no more; While of the Evils by their Counsels done I only mention what my Realm has known. On me the first Essay they make; Believing I th'Infection first would take, Since through my Fields it long has spread, The only Venom in them bred: In favour of this cursed Design, All Means, all Stratagems they try, But They and Hell in vain combine, Their black Contrivances I still defy, Till they by one pernicious Wile succeed, And as the most prevailing way indeed To work my certain Fall, They good Barzillai from my Helm recall. [8] Not all the soothing Flatteries they used To still my Plaints, and lull my Fears asleep, Not even the next Best Man they could provide To be my Guardian and my Guide, Could make me cease to Weep; But still all hated Comfort I refuse. Nor let the World my just Resentment blame, Nor thou, Great Celadon, my Grief accuse, Since I enjoyed in Thee Blessings soon thought too Good, too Great for me; Yet could not then forbear For dear Barzillai's loss to shed a Tear, The meanest Tribute due to his loved Name. But since, alas! he is no more, No Mourning can suffice, Nor I enough my hapless Fate deplore, With all the exhausted Treasure of mine Eyes. [9] Barzillai now and Celadon removed, My Lovers both, and both deservedly Loved, Shisanthropus next fills the Place, The Hater and Abhorred of Humane Race. Soon all the blessed Advances I had made In the right way of True Religion, The forward steps I had in Learning gone, And Civil Education, Were all by him turned Retrograde. Born in the wildest Deserts of my Land, Where nothing does frequent but Beasts of Prey, Or Men more Barbarous than they; Where deepest Bogs and thickest Woods agree To shelter Inhumanity; In their Confusion he delights, All Decency and Order slights, And hates whatever Good he does not understand. [10] Now his Ambition fledged with Power, Removes, whatever does his Rise oppose, Evander's Friends he soon pronounces Foes; Even those who served him in his Wars, Scarce for more Pay than Honourable Scars; This Tyrant will allow to wear no more The Swords they had with Glory used before; By him of their Commands deprived, The little All on which they barely lived, They are obliged to Foreign Shores to roam, To earn the Bread they were denied at home. The Sword thus wrested from their Conquerour's Hands, My Natives soon reject their Laws, Nor more Obedience pay to their Commands; To their first Wildness th'unawed Beasts return, And show their long hid Teeth and Claws, And now the settled Government they scorn; The settled Government o'erthrown, They raise a Babel of their own, O may it end in like Confusion! [11] Now to my Chief Preferments they advance Men of Mean Rank and Sense, Even Prodigies of Ignorance; While those of more Intelligence Are laid aside, only for that Offence. My Arms, a dangerous Trust In Hands that cannot Wisely manage it, To such they foolishly commit; Strangers to Honour's nicer Laws, Whose Swords are eaten with Ignoble Rust, Or basely stained in some Inglorious Cause. To these their Unarmed conquerors Lives Defenceless are exposed; Beneath their Sacrificing Knives The Victims prostrate lie expecting Death. And thou, Omniscient Heaven, dost only know How soon, alas! unless in time opposed, Those Bloody Hands may strike the Fatal Blow, To end at once their Sufferings and their Breath. But this kind Fate they fear will be denied, Afraid of Tortures yet in store, Since they by sad Experience tried How Cruel even their Mercies were before. [12] The Sacred Temples of my God, Wherein my People True Devotion paid, The Places blessed with his Abode, To hear and grant the Prayers they made; Partake their Rage and Spite; These by base uses they profane; And Beasts the beauteous Courts defile, Wherein Angelic Choirs did not disdain To view our Sacrifices with delight, And often would on our Oblations smile. But now, Polluted by this Disrespect, These Seats the Heavenly Guests reject, And grieve to be Spectators of their Fate, Which an Abuse so vile, Or a more odious Worship desecrate. [13] No more th'Ambassadors of Heaven, The blessed Dispenser's of its Sacred Word, That taught us how to Fear and Praise the Lord, Their Presence here afford; To Shore's remote, and distant Countries driven: Or if some few remain behind, Pensive and drooping all the day they go, Partakers of the Common Woe; The Church's Ruin still afflicts their mind: The Hebrew Captives so, As on Euphrates' Banks they sat, Wept at the sad remembrance of lost Sion's Fate. [14] The Seat where Learning once did pleased reside, And every day some fair Improvement made, Whence all my Kingdom was supplied, With Men of Worth and Fame, Whose Labours have Immortalised my Name; Even this an Ignorant, Idle Crew invade; This pleasant Hive, wherein I used to see Each one, resembling the Industrious Bee, Store loads of gathered Honey up, To make choice Nectar for Apollo's Cup; Is now possessed by Drones of lazy kind, That ne'er increase, but waste the Stock they find. [15] My well Manured and Fertile Soil, Alas! neglected and untilled, No Prospect does of a kind Harvest yield; The lofty Trees that did it once surround, Hewn down, and levelled with the Ground, No longer do its Fate prevent, No longer are its Guard or Ornament; Themselves, like that, become a common Spoil. From this sad Source my Tears proceed, At this I inward bleed; Nor can I hope to staunch the flowing stream, Unless by Albion's timely Aid, Whose healing Virtue on the like extreme I did successfully implore; Nor left I then her Services unpaid, And she shall find, would she but try once more, I have as good, as great Rewards in store. [16] Scarce had her Lips their motion ceased, Scarce the light Winds had boar away the sound, When thousand Trumpets there were heard, And Shouts of Triumph filled the Air around, Shouts, which approaching Joy expressed; And strait with Conquering Laurel Crowned, The Bright Victorious Albion's self appeared. Raised by Resentment of her Sister's wrong, A threatening Cloud hung on her angry Brow, Ready to be discharged upon her Foes; And yet a kind enlivening smile broke through, To ease the Suff'rer's Woes, Resolved she should not bear the Burden long. With an impatient Haste This pitying Queen her weeping Friend embraced, Who prostrate at her Feet, implored Relief; And that kind Ceremony passed, Applied this healing Balsam to her Grief. Dry, my belov'd juverna, dry those Tears Injurious to your lovely Eyes; In all thy Griefs thy Albion shares, In all thy Woes does sympathize, Thy just Complaints with deep regret she hears, And swift Revenge has vowed: See, how in pity of thy Harms, Her vigorous Youth, roused by thy sad Alarms, To thy assistance crowd, And for thy Safety, lavish of their Blood, Resolve to quell thy Foes, or perish by their Arms. [17] Nor is the British Virtue sure unknown To that Rebellious Crew, Nor can they sure forget how heretofore At my shrill Trumpet's sound amazed they fled, How by my Sword's keen Edge they bled; And dare they tempt my Vengeance any more? If by my favouring Aid alone Thou didst the Treacherous Race subdue, How are they able to withstand thee now? When to the Power I for thy help design, Thou dost a second join, A brave Enforcement of thine own? Leaders alike Magnanimous and Wise, Who nobly will thy Right dispute, And what they Prudently advise, As boldly execute. But meanly I their Merits praise; The greatest Trophies to themselves they raise; Each has obtained a celebrated Name, That fills large room in the Records of Fame. [18] To these I mean to add one Hero more, An Instance of my tenderest Care; A Jewel brought me from a Foreign Shore, Nestor Renowned in War, Nestor, who Young made Victory his Bride, And She, still Faithful to her Lord, So long has waited by his Side, Made Conquest so familiar to his Sword, That now he claims it for his Own, By undeniable Prescription. He, once the gallic Monarch's boast, And Bulwark of the Lusitanian Coast, Now from both faithless Soils Exiled; Those faithless Soils unworthy such a Store, Whose loss has made them poor! While for the Crime they justly are reviled, A Crime, his Merits still upbraid; He shall conduct my Armies to thy Aid. He bravely will engage in thy Defence; For none can have a juster Sense Of thy unhappy Exigence, Of all the miseries thou hast undergone, Of all thy Losses for Religion; Since, in the Throng of her Admirers, none Has for her Glorious Cause Performed or Suffered more. FINIS.