THE DREADFUL APPARITION; OR, The POPE Haunted with Ghosts.  
In Relation to Sir Edmundbury-Godfrey's Murder, and the Visitations of the late Sainted Traitors, who Suffered fo● The Romish-Cause.  
The Figure being by the Verses at large Explained.  

 
 
〈…〉 am not I Pope of Rome  
torment me not before my time is come.  
F. you are Cause of my Continual pains▪  
My soul is Lost for your Ambitio●s gains  
O Christ who mercy 〈◊〉 for th●e▪  
With Bloody hands 〈…〉  
〈…〉 and be forever blest▪—  
〈…〉 that happy place of rest▪  
I am perplexed with perpetual fright  
 
TO Godfrey's Ghost I wish all things 〈…〉  
〈…〉 may have our Pope of Rome 〈…〉  
Lo us depart and 〈…〉 fate  
 
 
  NUNCIO. 

Horror's and Death! what dismal Sights Invade  
His Nightly Slumbers, who in Blood does Trade.  
The Ghostly Apparitions of the Dead;  
The Blessed by Angels; Damned by Demons Led:  
'Tis sure, Rome's Conclave must Amazed stand,  
When Souls Complaining, thus against them band;  
Who All but One to please Ambitious ROME,  
Have Gained Damnation for Their Final DOOM.  
Hear how They Curse Him all, but He who fell  
Great Britain's Sacrifice by Imps of Hell;  
Who showed Their Bloody Vengeance in the Strife,  
To Murder Him, who Business had for Life.   1. POPE. 

HOw do my Eyeballs Roul, and Blood run back,  
What Tortures at this sight my Conscience Rack;  
Oh! Mountains now fall on me, some Deep Cave  
Pity me once, and prove my speedy Grave,  
Involved in Darkness from the Seated Light,  
Let Me abscond in Everlasting Night.  
Torment me not, you Shades, before my time,  
I do confess your Downfalls was my Crime;  
To Satiate my Ambition and Revenge,  
I pushed you on to this Immortal Change.  
But, Ah! fresh Horrors, Ah! my Powers grown weak,  
What art thou Fiend? from whence? or where? O Speak;  
That in this Frightful Form, a Dragon' s hue  
Presents One Sainted, to my Trembling View?   2. FIEND. 

BY Hell's Grim KING's Command, on whom I wait,  
I've brought your Saint his Story to relate;  
Who from the black Tartarian-Fire below,  
So long begged Absence as to let you know  
His Torments, and the Horrid Cheat condole,  
You fixed on him to Rob him of his Soul.   POPE. 

Oh! spare my Ears, I'll no such Horrors hear;   3. COLEMAN. 

You must, and know your own Damnation's near:  
You must e'er long be Plunged in Grizly Flame,  
Which I shall Laugh to see, tho' racked with pain,  
Thou Grand Deceiver of the Nations All,  
Contriver of my Wretched Fate and Fall:  
Thou who didst push me on to Murder Kings,  
Persuading me for it on Angels Wings  

I should Transcend the Clouds, be ever Blest,  
And be of All that Heaven could yield, possessed,  
But these I missed, got Torment without Rest:   
For whilst on Earth I stand, a Hell within  
Distracts my Conscience, pale with horrid Sin:  
Instead of Mortals Pardon, One on High,  
I must your Everlasting Martyr Fry;  
Whilst Name of Saint I bear on Earth, below  
It stirs the Flames, and much Augments my Woe.   POPE. 

Horrors! 'tis Dismal, I can hear no more,  
O! Hell and Furies, how I have lost my Power.   4. Sir E. GODFREY. 

SEE Sir this Crimson Stain, this baleful Wound  
See Murdered me, with Joys Eternal Crowned;  
Though by the Darkest Deed of Night I fell,  
Which shook Three Kingdoms, and Astonished Hell:  
Yet raped above the Skies to Mansion bright,  
There to Converse with Everlasting Light;  
Thence got I leave to View thy Wretched Face,  
And find my Death thy Hellborn PLOTS did race,  
And next to the Almighty Arm did Save  
Great Albion's Glory from its yawning Grave;  
From Sacred Bliss my swift- Wing'd Soul did glide,  
Conducted Hither by my Angel-Guide,  
To let thee know thy Sands are almost run,  
And that thy Thread of Life is well-nigh Spun;  
Repent you then, Wash off the Bloody Stain,  
Or You'll be Doomed to Everlasting Pain.   5. ANGEL. 

Come Worthy of Seraphic Joys Above,  
Worthy Our Converse, and Our Sacred Love;  

Who haste Implored the Great Jehove for One  
Who Shed thy Blood, to Snatch thy Prince's Throne,  
In this thy Saviour's Great Examples shown:   
Come let Us hence, and leave Him to his Fate,  
When Divine Vengeance shall the Business State.   POPE. 

I'll Horror seizes me, I cannot fly;  
Oh Ghastly! yet more Apparitions nigh?   6. WHITEBREAD. 

THus wand'ring through the Gloomy Shades, at last  
I've found Thee, Traitor, that my Joys did Blast,  
Whose Dam'd Injunctions, Dire Damnation's Sealed,  
And Torments that were never yet Revealed:  
Mirrihords of Plagues, Chains, Racks, Tempestuous Fire,  
Sulpherian Lakes that Burn and ne'er Expire,  
Deformed Demons, Uglier far than Hell,  
The Half what We Endure, no Tongue can Tell;  
This for a Bishopric I Undergo,  
But Now would give Earth's Empire were't not so.   POPE. 

Retire, good Ghosts, or I shall Die with Fear,   7. HARCOURT. 

Nay stay Sir, first You must my Story Hear:  
How could you thus Delude your Bosom-friend?  
Your Foes to Heaven, and Us to Hell thus send;  
Damnation seize You for't, e'er long You'll be  
Plunged Headlong into vast Eternity;  

There for to Howl, whilst We some Comfort gain,  
To see You welte in an Endless Pain,  
And without Pity, justly there Complain.    POPE. 

Ho! Cardinals anl Bishops hast with speed,  
Bell, Book, and Cindle fetch, let me be freed:  
Ah! 'tis too late, by Fear Intranc'd I lie,   8. BISHOP. 

Herd you that Groan? with speed from hence let's fly.   9 CARDINAL. 

The Fiend has got Him, doubtless, let's away,  
And in this Ghastly place no longer stay.   BISHOP. 

Dread Horrors ce●se me, Fly, for Mercy call,  
Lest Divine Vengeance over-whelm US ALL.   
FINIS.   

Printed for J. Jordan, at the Angel in Guiltspur-Street, without Newgate, 1680.