THE MUSES Holocaust: OR, A NEW BURNT-OFFERING TO The two great Idols OF PRESBYTERY AND ANABAPTISM.  
By SAMVEL HOLLAND.  
LONDON: Printed for the Author. MDCLXIII.   

The Muse's Holocaust.  
BE the Tongue blistered that shall dare prefer  
The Cause and Courage of John Presbyter;  
And the Quill lighter than a feather thought,  
That such Fanatic madness shall be taught,  
As praise that Cap of Zeal, which lined comes,  
Without with Cruel, and within with Thrums.  
See where the Rabble, with their lugging ears,  
And armed with black Sedition, appears  
In Knots of wild Rebellion, like a Bed  
Of hissing Serpents with Contagion fed:  
And that their Followers may the more adore them,  
Their godly Leaders walk in Cloaks before them.  
For since Sedition did this Age provoke,  
Jack Presbyter hath ever chose the Cloak;  
And makes that Garment at all times to be  
A signal Cloak of his Hypocrisy.  
They have a Cloak for every thing they do;  
A Cloak i'th' Street, a Cloak i'th' Pulpit too.  
A Cloak is all their Wear; and if they can,  
They'll have a Cloak to cozen God and Man.  
The Cloak doth act more mischief in the Town,  
Then all the long Addresses of the Gown.  
'Twas in his Cloak that JENKINS up did cry  
Against our late King another Crucify:  
'Twas in his Cloak he seemed Another man,  
And finely learned to turn the Cat i'th' Pan:  
'Twas in his Cloak returning to his Fever,  
That now he seems as fiery hot as ever.  
'Twas in his Cloak that BAXTER loud did bawl,  
Beloved listen, and hear BAXTERS Call:  
The Bishops of their Mitres dispossessed,  
Will breed the Saints an Everlasting Rest.  
'Twas in his Cloak that CALAMY did spit  
Against Saint Paul's his Excremental Wit;  
And waspish WATSON did so loudly roar,  
And called his Mother, England's Church, a Whore.  
'Twas in his Cloak that CARTER prayed, to gain  
The sacred Sceptre from his Sovereign;  
And moved his Hearers all, like true Pres-byters,  
To fight against the Bishops and their Mitres.  
'Twas in his Cloak that NYE late down did cry  
The Cross, the Surpliss, and the Liturgy;  
And hoped ere long his Friends would have the Power  
To be again possessed of the Tower:  
That so the swarming Sectaries might rule  
From nearest Thames unto the farthest Thule.  
And if they cannot do it, may those Elves  
Help in New-England, and then hang themselves.  
This is the Sense of all, This is the Air  
Of every trueborn Presbyterian Prayer.  
With these is high the Anabaptist flown,  
Who will have no Religion but his own:  
They will conspire with all the Powers of Hell,  
To bid both ORDER, Truth and Peace farewel.  
From such and All as are so refractory,  
And care for none, but their own Directory,  
Good Lord protect us! let Flames join with Flames,  
T'abate their Numbers, and devour their Names:  
Not their Church-buckets filled with Sister's tears,  
Nor dropping Clouds of Jealousies and Fears,  
(Could it rain Water fast as Blood before)  
Shall longer save this Presbyterian Whore.  
Smectymnuus be henceforth the Hangman's name,  
And from his last dissecting hand take Fame.  
May All together in one Fire be brent,  
With buchanan's and Knox's Testament;  
And all rot with them, that would tumble down  
The rising Mitre, and the established Crown.  
AMEN.  
FINIS.