THE CONFUSION OF BABEL.  
A Poem.  — Quid nos Dira Refugimus Aetas quid intactum nefasti Liquimus. 
Licenced and Entered according to Order:  
LONDON, Printed for W. Davis, in Amen-Corner.   

The Confusion OF BABEL.  

IN what unhappy Times was the Foundation laid,  
When Traitorous Earth that bold Defiance made,  
And every Atom its poor strength betrayed?  
Some overpowering evil,  
Like a deluding Devil,  
Did still attend the Ambitious Rout,  
To generate, or bring their Treason out.  
And could they dart at thy Imperial Throne,  
Great God, to separate thy Union;  
Who art thus individed All in one?  
Thus silly Mortals can Courageous grow,  
With numbers, thinking to outweigh the Foe:  
But never dream,  
How much thy strength surpasses them,  
Till Ruin teaches them to see,  
The difference 'twixt Worms and Heaven's Majesty.  
Not happy till their Ignorance they know.  
What could the senseless Fabric do,  
Tho' Mountains on the top they threw?  
Bold Aetna now in, Flames consumes,  
And belches out its nauseous fumes,  
Who dared so Impiously to aspire,  
And proudly Reach the All-revenging Fire.   

2.  
The fruitful Earth unbosomed all her store,  
Whose fattened Glebe was never poor,  
Tho' impetuous Floods had Drowned the world before.  
Yet Covetous Man,  
Tho' all this Liberty was given,  
Must turn a Rebel and conspire 'gainst Heaven:  
Still aggravaning his Forefathers fall,  
Who more by Pride then Ignorance; did Damn us all.  
The guilty Stones could represent,  
Nothing but a Monument;  
Whose vast Circumference might contain,  
The endless Labours of their Brain,  
And all the Frantic Whymsies' bare,  
That ever could inhabit there.  
Let beauteous Shinar now decay,  
And perish with th' infected Dust,  
Who proved so unfaithful in her trust.  
Nothing now thy shame can hid,  
Who were't by Nature Beautified,  
Till affected Art swelled thee up with Pride;  
No wonder then thy esteem is lost,  
Who warred confounded in the Cost:  
Now  Tongues may Curse thy Name,  
And variously express thy shame,  
Who mad'st the world more impiously the same.   

2.  
From this infected Hive,  
All Nations do derive,  
The Ills which to this day survive.  
Nor can we wonder at thy fall?  
Since all thy dregs are Epidemical.  
Let every Stone,  
Weep to imagine what it has done:  
For all's derivative from thee alone.  
England, that had th' Imperial Sway,  
And bore the Victory of the day,  
From hence did so insensibly decay.  
What can we find,  
Where there is nothing else but Wind?  
For Pride ne'er leaves the plenteous Spoil behind.  
The Zealous Rout could lead the Rebels on,  
And all for True Religion,  
Which was Established, and yet none.  
Their Towering thoughts too proudly did aspire,  
But eyes will dim when held too near the Fire;  
What is't in their fond Projects we admire?  
Sceptres and Crowns at every foot were thrown,  
Tho' in th' descent,  
The Head ne'er suffered that sweet punishment,  
But all was in Imagination;  
And in that Pious Sect was found,  
Pulpit above, but the Church underground,  
With blust'ring Noise, but a mere empty sound   

4.  
The Faithful Brethren in a knot were tied,  
Which to Dis-sect were Parricide;  
Yet when an Alexander e'er shall come,  
They dread th' unwelcome Doom:  
And think the Fate too near their home.  
What could Rebellious Catiline effect,  
Tho' Armies to the Field he'd led?  
Victor o'er his Conquered Dead,  
Yet his own self he could not then protect.  
Caesar in Triumph there might Ride,  
Tho' Enemies on every side:  
And too great a number to deride:  
Tho' Flames about the Sacred Altar dance,  
'Tis yet secure from all injurious chance.  
Security to Kings is always given,  
(For Kings are all Allies to Heaven)  
And tho' the Sea swell with impetuous rage,  
Yet there are Powers that can assuage  
The short-iived Fury, and comply  
Within a Calm, t' effect a Prodigy.  
No wonder now the Giants fade,  
When little Infects learn their Trade.  
And from a Molehill top would be,  
Blest with Sacred Immortality.   

5.  
The Pious Puritan may spare his breath,  
And Prayers more fit at his death.  
Which by the Spirit last two hours long,  
Mixed with a secret Curse, and Holy Song.  
The Funeral Requiems for great Charles' Soul,  
Are now unnecessary things,  
For Kings,  
Still are more powerful where they least control.  
Well may they gaze on Heaven so fast.  
And take their leave, seeing 'tis the last:  
Who knows but all their time is past.  
O how they love to be,  
Eunuched with strange Formality;  
Whose whitened eyes would represent,  
The happy thoughts of th' Innocent:  
But within,  
That sordid Skin,  
Lie the rank baits of all presumptuous Sin:  
That Piety should yield,  
And quit the field,  
When such pernicious Antichrists arise;  
Who would at once their King and Country Sacrifice.  
Of Solemn Black their Garbs are made,  
To them an Emblem of the silent Shade:  
Where Schism and Distraction Reigns,  
The Element which all things cursed maintains.   

6.  
In the first Rank Diego stood,  
An everlasting Enemy to Good:  
Whose Cure for his Disease was Innocent Blood.  
Had he lived still one might fear,  
Th' Egyptian Murderer here.  
What could he less in such a Cause maintain?  
Who would Depose his Sovereign,  
Or more completely have him slain.  
Diego, Cursed from his Mother's Womb,  
Born to be th' Epitaph to his Tomb:  
Deformed, and Crooked, whose mistake  
Did never yet a Circle make;  
O how the little fiery Soul would storm!  
Which from its Body took its Form.  
And thoughts within that narrow compass breed,  
Which might disturb his very Ashes now he's, dead.  
What could the Puny Rebels do?  
Tho' on the top of Babel he,  
Woven Execute his Treachery,  
Are there no Subjects left that can be True?  
Honour and Wealth, did still attend his days,  
And Bounteous Charles preferred his praise:  
But whilst the hungry Serpent fled,  
He secretly all o'er his Venom spread.  
Well might the Foreign Nations keep  
His Ashes, now asleep,  
For here,  
The fear,  
Of Cadmas Brood were just,  
When Earth is mingled with such poisonous Dust.  
Old Charon gazed, when from the Brook,  
The little Passenger he took;  
With such a Burden on his back,  
That made the aged Vessel crack:  
Amazed at this, he hastened o'er,  
And set him on the shore;  
Where all the Furies with one general shout,  
Did the Magnetic Harbinger Salute.   

7.  
Good Obadiah next,  
Unfold the Text,  
Whose Rosey Cheeks, and smiling Face,  
Becomes the Office of his place,  
And seem some Holy Gifts of Grace.  
Then with sound Doctrine he,  
Feeds the Fraternity,  
Till they repay again with Charity.  
He Bellows out like a Geneva Bull,  
Hell and Damnation, a Pulpit full.  
Perilous Tyranny to this,  
Seems rather happiness,  
For th' punishment was Death, but thine  
Torture with active life dost join.  
Soulsaving Sentences are lost,  
When undervalued in the Cost.  
And thou like Quacks dost Medicines give,  
With thousand Names Superlative,  
And all from Supernatural Providence dost derive.  
Shapes thou hast had a thousand more,  
Then ever Proteus bore:  
And in this,  
Thou dost Engross all Ovid's Metamorphosis.  
Whither wilt thou go at last?  
Having already through the Pope's Dominions past,  
And Purgatory too, with too much haste.  
Couldst thou preserve Great Charles' Life?  
Whose after-Perjuries were more,  
Then all thy Memorandum Truths before.  
Days, Months, and Year●, were in thy Brain contained,  
But the faithless Clock as yet,  
Never went true but when 'twas set.  
And something always by going backward gained.  
All thy Luxurious Pomp and State,  
Was but to make thee miserably Great,  
Or something much beneath the turn of Fate.  
No kind Comparison will hid thy shame,  
For now thy Name,  
Is as Injurious as thy Fame.  
For Pluto's Porter now we may thee take,  
When at thy Gate,  
The Tripple-headed Cerbirus does always wait:  
Thy Hydra-Witnesses may hold their Tongue,  
Aeson again will never now be young,  
Or Old Times be renewed by living long.  
Monarch's can see when at their Feet,  
Reverence and Treason meet:  
And thy Discovery might pass,  
Where through a Glass,  
The Cheating Portait seemed t'appear as ' 'twas.   

8.  
And next the wretched Poliphus appears,  
Whose younger Years,  
Were spent in vicious Lust,  
Till the bright Lustre perished with the Rust.  
Prisons and Goals him to contain,  
Were then in vain,  
When his enchanting Tongue could let him act again  
Could Don Tomazo represent his Crimes?  
Or number up his Follies with the Times?  
Too poor a Subject than he took,  
And clipped the Volumn his Book:  
O did the Perjured Villain know!  
What to our Maker, and our God we own,  
Life were no trifle to be shuffled so.  
Ireland may cease,  
To boast its Peace,  
From all pernicious poisons there;  
When Brutish Man shall claim the greater share:  
And with more easiness can  
Commence a Beast before a Man.  
Unhappy Nation then, that th' Pillars should,  
Be Traitorous where the Fabric stood:  
And the deserving Virtue perish in the Wood  
For that Degree thou Poliphus were't fit,  
Who proved too Fatal in thy Wit:  
Happy 'twere had thy Fortune Ruined it.  
Thy Native Soil cannot be grateful now,  
And Perjurers for Words we must allow,  
But the Beast will drive when the Devil holds the Blow.  
Strange that dull Ore should cheat thy pining Soul,  
And make thy Remedy more foul:  
The Servile Captives scorn to feed,  
Or Triumph o'er their miserable dead:  
But wash away,  
With Tears, the Sympathising Clay.   

9:  
Why did the Renegadoes slyly peep,  
Then Snore, to rouse us from our drowsy sleep?  
But Noise will Echo from the Traitorous Deep.  
Faux might have satisfied his Will, but Night,  
Trembled at his sight,  
And hovered o'er to hid the dismal sight:  
But see what Nature now has done,  
For Tapors vanish at th' approaching Sun:  
What tho' the undiscovered fire was laid,  
Yet 'twas enough to be betrayed;  
And thou the Sacrifice were't made.  
When once Prometheus stole,  
From Jove the Heavenly Cole,  
The Vulture's gnawed his never dying Soul:  
And with Justice was repaid,  
Who died to save the Man he made.  
Yet Hell ne'er troubled thee, nor Heaven,  
For thou in th' mien,  
Didst hang between,  
To make the unexpected Balance even.  
Traitor's may think their work is done,  
When Resolution makes them bold;  
And that the fatal Tale is told,  
When the Prologue's but begun.  
Alas their Conscience does, betray their Gild,  
And they may gaze on him whose Blood they would have spilt.   

10.  
Tempestuous Storms may rise,  
And darken all the Skies;  
The blust'ring Winds may Buffet at the Wall,  
But the Majestic Building will not fall.  
The swelling Waves may proudly Vaunt,  
And the timorous Mariners daunt;  
But when upon a Rock they're tossed,  
All the Majestic Fury's lost.  
Heart-hardned Pharaoh, when Israelites He  
Did follow through the Deep divided Sea;  
His Triumph was before his Victory.  
Chariots and Arms did beautify the Train,  
But all alas in vain!  
For tho' Revenge still tortures to expire,  
Yet too much water will Extinguish Fire.  
The Guardian Pillar there was Light,  
But on thy side ill-boding Night.  
What couldst thou then expect,  
When Heaven the Innocent does still protect?  
The Sea thou couldst not rule, altho' the Land,  
Was at thy Sovereign Command,  
And governed by thy Conquering hand.  
But Rebels Lives have but a short Extent,  
Nothing lives long in a strange Element.   

11.  
Why should I number up the Tribe again?  
Or dream I saw the Tragic Seean?  
The Catalogue its Title now does want,  
O could they but renew the Covenant,  
How prettily the Devil would play the Saint.  
Like scattered Dust before the Wind they fly,  
And Egypt's Plague does verify,  
But on themselves first the Disease must lie.  
And whilst the Marksman thought to bare the spoil,  
'Tis strange the specious Musket should recoil!  
Conspiracies when once begun,  
Still perish more by going on,  
And like the Viper does not rest,  
Unless it eat its way through its own Mother's Breast.  
Presaging Comets they may fear,  
When every Year,  
To tell their Ruin they appear.  
Fantastic Visions will not fright,  
Tho' made more horrid by the night:  
But sight is double by a flattering Light.  
Theseus Imperial Eagle does not fear,  
When the buzzing Infects humm about his Ear,  
Tho' they with all their busy Train,  
Pass o'er and o'er his back again,  
Like Mariners upon the quiet Main:  
'Tis sure he's sensible of what is done,  
Whose Eyes can gaze upon the Sun.   

12.  
Foreign Invaders now may quit their Arms,  
And quite Unravel all their secret Charms:  
For Blossoms on the flourishing Tree will last,  
Whilst milder Gales defend them from the Blast:  
Those fiery Zealots may repent,  
Their Cursed intent,  
And Recollect the time 've spent:  
Better 'twere far could they but meet,  
With Humble reverence at Great Charles' feet;  
And their Obedience pay,  
Like purling Rivers hastening to the Sea.  
But yet again they must despair,  
For no polluted Soul comes there,  
When to the Altar comes Amphibious Prayer.  
Caesar need fear,  
No Brutus here,  
To all the Senate should appear:  
For from the Conscious vain,  
Would spring the Sympathising Blood again.  
What tho' the Towering Pile does fade,  
And every Stone is in Confusion laid;  
Yet all the Tongues this Ditty sing,  
And every one does stand,  
Like Branded Pilferers Burnt on th' Hand,  
Bawling out, God Save the KING.   
FINIS.