1. Zion. 2. Her Children. 3. the Beast and Where overthrown. 4 The two Witnesses Rising. 5. Pope and Jesuit. 6. Enemies of the Church all Flying. 7. Angels destroying them    

Distressed Zion RELIEVED, OR, The Garment of Praise for the Spirit of Heaviness. Wherein are Discovered the Grand Causes of the Churches Trouble and Misery under the late Dismal Dispensation. With a Complete History of, and Lamentation for those Renowned Worthies that fell in England by Popilh Rage and Cruelty, from the Year 1680 to 1688. Together with an Account of the late Admirable and Stupendious Providence which hath wrought such a sudden and Wonderful Deliverance for this Nation, and Gods Zion therein.  
Humbly Dedicated to their Present Majesties.  
By Benjamin Keach, Author of a Book called, Zion in Distress, or the Groans of the True Protestant Church.  
Licenced and Entered according to Order.  
LONDON, Printed for Nath. Crouch at the Bell in the Poultry near Cheapside. 1689.   

To their Most Excellent Majesties William and Mary, by the Grace of God, King and Queen of England, etc.  
Dread Sovereigns,  
May it please your Majesty's  
MOST graciously to cast your Princely Eyes,  
And to accept of this small worthless Mite,  
From one, whose Soul's enamoured with the sight  
Of seeing you brought to Great Britain's Throne,  
Which Angels do delight to look upon.  
Methinks I see the Cherubs clap their wings,  
Singing sweet Anthems to the King of Kings,  
That such a King and Queen are set on high,  
In glorious Power and Sovereign Majesty.  
No marvel 'tis, since by Angelic Power  
You're both preserved to this happy hour.  
For sure he's blind who can't discern most clear  
'twas by Heavens Conduct you were both brought here.  
Such a stupendious Providence before  
Was never known, and never may no more  
Be seen again in this Great Northern Isle,  
Which fills our hearts with joy, & makes us smile  
What a distressed and for lorn estate  
Was this now glorious Kingdom in of late.  
Poor England, alas! did bleeding lie,  
For many years enslaved by Tyranny.  
And Zion too was in the same condition,  
Weeping with bitter groans, and deep contrition  
Let me a little freely now dilate  
Upon Great Britain's miserable state:  
When first on her you cast your Royal look,  
And her Salvation likewise undertook,  
A glorious Enterprise, which Heaven did bless  
With such amazing and admired success.  
Sick, sick, as heart can hold, the Kingdom lies▪  
Filling each corner with her mournful cries;  
Sometimes she burns, as when a Fever heats;  
Anon Despair brings cold and clammy sweats.  
No rest she gains, or if she do, she dreams  
Of Massacres, Fires, Blood, and direful Themes.  
She no Physicians finds; Bold Empirics▪  
Are from St. Omers sent, to try their tricks,  
Who wicked crafty counsel take together,  
To poison her, 'twas this that brought them hither.  
Nay hold (says Petre) we'll first let her blood;  
That's fit for her, and will do us most good.  
Her Blood's infected, so corrupt, I see,  
Naught else can cure her Northern Heresy.  
But let us first prescribe a Golden Pill  
To ease her, that she may suspect no ill,  
But may conclude we choice Physicians be;  
The Pill that they prepared was Liberty;  
Curiously gilded it was, and tasted well,  
But when 'twas down she int' an Ague fell;  
Then these State-Mountebanks do her assure  
Jesuits-Powder will effect the cure.  
Yet still she's sick, and seized with stronger fits,  
Which made most think these Drs. all were Cheats.  
Their Physic was of such a composition,  
It made the Body Politic in confusion;  
And many evidently did foresee  
'Twas to effect a direful Tragedy.  
They did pretend to purge ill humours out,  
That they their black Designs might bring about;  
And th'evil humours which did lurking lie  
In divers parts o'th' Body, grew thereby  
More strong and vigorous, and did disturb  
What nature did before so strongly curb,  
That wise Physicians made this wise conclusion,  
'twould wholly change the bodies constitution  
From good to bad, from healthy, free, and sound,  
Would cause malignant humours to abound.  
Ill ones, no doubt, it was designed to nourish,  
Tho', for a while, some good ones it did cherish▪  
Thus may a Medicine, which is safe and good,  
(As Liberty is, if rightly understood)  
When ill prepared, and unduly given,  
Prove dangerous as any under Heaven;  
And pity 'tis this universal Pill,  
That has wrought wonders, was designed so ill.  
But ah! what shall she do? th' Impostors Art  
Her head doth poison, and corrupt her heart;  
Must she, O must she die! O hear her groans!  
Hear Zions too; O harken how she moans!  
There is no help but from the God of Wonder,  
'Tis he alone that's able to bring under  
This Foe to Nature, which is grown so strong,  
And hath her vital parts oppressed so long.  
All her Physicians weep, and secretly  
Were heard to say, poor England now must die,  
Unless th' Almighty by his own right hand  
Work Miracles to save our sinking Land.  
But who's the Instrument will rise up for her?  
Who is the Man whom God delights to honour,  
To bring relief when all her hopes were gone?  
Great Sir, 'Twas you Jehovah fixed upon;  
No sooner heard she your victorious Name,  
But she revived, and cheerful soon became:  
But ah! the Winds were cross, this made us fear  
We ne'er should have your longed for presence here.  
And when we heard you were upon the Seas,  
Our hearts rejoiced, yet had not perfect ease;  
We doubted still what dangers you might meet  
In that most Glorious and Renowned Fleet,  
Yet still our Prayers more fervent were and more  
To see your Royal Person safe on shore:  
And all the time in England you have been,  
What strange amazing wonders have we seen?  
A poor sick Land divided; by Christ's power  
Made whole and all united in an hour,  
United so, as jointly to combine  
To own this just and glorious design.  
O'er us long hung a black and dismal Cloud,  
From whence we feared a dreadful storm of blood;  
Yet when it broke, nought but sweet dews distil,  
This, this may sure our souls with wonder fill,  
To see a Mighty Army raised by Rome,  
Some fly for fear, and others Friends become,  
To gain the Victory, yet never fight,  
This plain appears God's hand to all men's sight.  
Poor Zion, who i' th' dust did prostrate lie,  
Bewailing her approaching misery,  
Began to rouse, and on her feet to stand,  
When you upon the English Shore did land.  
She long expected, in our Hemisphere  
A glorious Star would certainly appear;  
And now he's come, she can't for bear to sing,  
With Joy to welcome her desired King;  
And as the Sun, whose powerful reflection  
Gives to all Vegetables a resurrection;  
Even so God's Witnesses now raised are,  
Whose bodies lay like dead so lately here.  
For though it was in the cold Winter time,  
We saw so great a change in our sharp Clime  
As made us cry, The Winter now is gone,  
Your powerful Rays in this our Horizon,  
Made Flowers bud as in the early Spring,  
And chirping Birds melodiously to sing:  
We heard the Turtles Voice too in our Land,  
Such mighty Blessings, Thankfulness command;  
Blessings which England never knew before,  
For which the God of Heaven we should adore:  
And since our Sun is risen, let him shine  
Most gloriously in Rays which are Divine,  
Like powerful Sol, whose Soul reviving Beams,  
Whose warming nature and delightful gleams,  
Send forth on all his powerful Influence,  
So let him equally his warmth dispense.  
Nor can we fail of this our expectation.  
It's like yourself, 'tis like your Declaration,  
You by some just sublime and sacred Arts  
Are both become the King and Queen of hearts;  
You there erect your Throne, 'tis there you reign,  
Sure such a Kingdom always will remain.  
Oh may our Sun never Eclipsed be,  
Oh may he send his Beams from Sea to Sea,  
And may he give an Universal Light,  
That all dark Regions may receive their sight;  
And may his strong attractive Power likewise  
Dry up those naufeous sinks of sin that rise  
And grow so rife, unto our Nation's shame,  
And high dishonour of Jehovah's Name:  
May he his growing cherishing Beams display  
Upon the Good and Virtuous, so that they  
May all strive to exceed in fruitfulness,  
And flourish like those Trees the Lord doth bless.  
But let him, Lord, be a hot scorching Sun  
To thy grand Foe, The Whore of Babylon:  
Let him make all those noisome weeds to fade,  
And lose the glory which they lately had,  
So that the Flower de Luce may hang the head,  
It is high time it quite were withered.  
Let proud Tyrconnels heart now die away,  
To hear who does Great Britain's Sceptre sway.  
Let our Dear Sovereign send such powerful Darts  
As may subdue the most rebellious hearts  
Of Teagues and Tories in that mournful Land  
O'er which our Princes long have had command;  
But let him be a healing Sun unto  
His People, and their Differences subdue;  
When Both have run their Race, Crown Both on high,  
Among thy Saints to all Eternity.  
So prays your Majesty's most humble and most obedient and truly Loyal Subject, Benj. Keach.   

TO THE READER.  
YOU are here presented with a Poem that gives a full Relation of the woeful state and sufferings of the Protestant Church from the year 1680. until the year 1688. Together with an Account of those Worthy Christians and Renowned Heroes that suffered during the same space of time. In the year 1666. I wrote a Treatise called Zion in Distress; I then perceiving Popery ready to bud, and would, if God prevented not, spring up afresh in this Land, and then in 1680. came forth a new Edition, with such Enlargements, which made it very different from the first Impression, which was entitled also, Zion in Distress, or The Groans of the True Protestant Church, wherein I showed the Causes of her Calamities, with an Enumeration of some prevailing Sins; together with the Plots and Contrivances of Rome against Zion, which Book received general Acceptance. But now this, as the Title assures you, brings better News for our great joy and astonishment at what God hath wrought; he hath graciously been pleased to turn our sorrow and mourning into Rejoicing.  
You have therefore an Account of the glorious Deliverance both of Church and State from Popery and Slavery by the hand of His now present Majesty, which as it is the Wonderment of this present Age; so it will be, no doubt, of future Generations: But since the excellencies of things appear best, when compared to their contraries, as Light, when compared to Darkness, and Health to Sickness, and Liberty to Bonds, etc. I have repeated many things that you have in Zion in Distress, which set forth her deplorable condition, that so we may the more clearly discern and admire the present blessing and future glory of God's Church; but because many grounds of Zions Complaint still continue, such I mean as respect the Divisions that are amongst good Protestants, and the sad Enormities of Professors, she doth repeat those her Sorrows with some fresh aggravations and additions of them: And since the Great Whore is fallen, and suddenly too in this Kingdom, and many that represent her are in hold, I have added something concerning her Trial, Sentence or Condemnation, that was in the last, which part looked to such a happy hour as this is; and tho' we cannot perfectly foresee what God is about to do, as yet, we being but in the morning of the approaching glory— yet are we full of expectation, that the work of God in respect of these great and longed▪ for blessings, will not go back again, but do believe their present Majesties are raised up to be glorious Instruments in the hand of God beyond what some ('tis like) may suppose; nor do I doubt but that the slain Witnesses are a-getting out of their graves; time will open things clearer to us: But I am sure we cannot sufficiently adore the Divine Goodness for that Salvation wrought by his own right hand; let us strive to be thankful to God, and labour to live in love one with another, and improve the present Providence; for since God hath graciously been pleased to do wonders for us, let us endeavour to do some great things for him.  
If this may stir up any to act and do valiantly in Israel, and be any ways useful to the Church of God, or to any Member thereof, I have my desire,  
Who am still thy Soul's Friend and Servant for Christ's sake, Benjamin Keach.   

On the Ingenious Author of the Poem called, Distressed Zion Relieved.  
OUR Author heated with Seraphic Fire,  
Which did his late lamenting Muse inspire.  
He thereby in the highest notes of grief  
Wept Tears in Verse when Zion lacked Relief  
From Art high lofty strains he would not borrow.  
But only did describe a Natural sorrow.  
His clear discerning Soul did then foretell  
Her danger, and what afterward befell.  
He gave us warning to prevent the stroke,  
Sins to forsake, and M 〈…〉 y to invoke,  
Yet would not without Consolation leave us,  
Nor did that Book of comfort quite bereave us,  
But still assured us, That the Scarlet Whore  
Should in a short time fall and rise no more.  
What he did then predict we hope that we  
Within a little while performed shall see,  
That Heaven on Sion's sorrows will look down,  
And for her sufferings will at length her Crown.  
That Zion late distressed, God will relieve,  
And for her troubles comfort to her give.  
These Hopes our Author's Soul do now inspire  
they rouse his Muse, and make him to admire  
What Great Deliverance is already wrought,  
So great that it was even beyond our thought.  
This he in cheerful accents to us sings,  
And our past sufferings to our memory brings.  
The Glory of those Worthies he revives,  
That for their Country offered their Lives.  
They Popery and Slavery did withstand,  
Which was even ready to o'erspread the Land.  
And though God did not then success afford,  
Our Author doth their Gallant Names record;  
And thereby hath himself obtained a Name  
That shall be registered in the Book of Fame;  
When he is gone, his Works shall never die,  
But still be Famous to Posterity.  
C. N.   

Distressed Zion RELIEVED, OR, The Garment of Praise for the Spirit of Heaviness.  

FOR almost Thirty years' last passed have I  
Seen Floods of Tears flowing continually  
From Zions Eyes, whose sad distressed state  
With Filial Sympathy I did relate.  
In Sixty Six a year of expectation  
Came no relief, but still fresh Lamentation;  
When she was told her sorrows would be o'er,  
That year produced more sorrow than before,  
Which caused me who in Prison then did lie  
To sigh and sob, and weep most bitterly,  
In prospect of what I saw coming on  
Poor Zion, ere her miseries would be gone,  
And therefore did before that year run out,  
Foretell some things time since hath brought bo●  
Zions Distresses plainly did appear,  
And still they did increase year after year,  
Until the time the Popish Plot was known,  
That Grand Intrigue of Bloody Babylon,  
My Soul had then some ease, I then did hope  
The day was come should quite o'erthrow t●● Pop●  
And bloody Whore, That cursed Church of Rome  
That she would now receive her fatal Doom;  
But all my hopes being frustrate, I again  
In the year Eighty poured out Tears amain.  
For at that time came forth a new Addition  
To Zions groans and sorrowful condition,  
When I had thought poor Zions woes were gone  
What dismal Clouds o'er▪ spread our Horizon;  
Just as I deemed I spied the morning Light.  
How were we threatened with a dismal Night  
Of Popish Darkness; this I did descry,  
And mourned in Verse for England's misery,  
But Sion's troubles I did most lament;  
Whose Enemies were strong and insolent,  
Which caused me in Christian Sympathy  
With bitter groans my grief to testify  
In this sad manner:   

‛ WHat dismal vapour in so black a form  
‛ Is this which seems Harbinger to a Storm  
‛ What pitchy Cloud invades our starry Sky,  
to stop the beamings of the World's great Eye  
‛ What spreading Sables of Egyptian Night  
‛ Would rob the Earth of its illustrious Light?  
‛ What interposing Fog obscures our Sun?  
‛ What dire Eclipse benights our Horizon?  
‛ Is England's Great and Royal Bridegroom fled?  
‛ Is its Aurora newly gone to Bed,  
‛ That scattered Clouds make such prodigious haste,  
‛ Combine in one, and reunite so fast?  
‛ Clouds that so lately dissipated were,  
‛ Do now conspire to make a darker Air.  
‛ I mourn unpitied, groan without relief;  
‛ No bounds nor measures terminate my grief,  
‛ The Sluices of mine Eyes are too too narrow  
to vent the Streams of my increasing sorrow.  
‛ Ebbs follow swelling Floods, and springing Days  
‛ Adorn the Fields which Winter dis-arrays.  
‛ All States and Things have their alternate ranges,  
‛ As Providence the Scene of Action changes.  
‛ All Revolutions hurry to and fro,  
‛ Yet rest and settlement at length do know.  
‛ But helpless I have often looked about  
to find some ease and Soul refreshment out,  
‛ Yet can I see no prospect of relief,  
‛ But swift additions multiply my grief,  
‛ As Pilgrims wander in their great distress  
‛ Amongst the wild rapacious Savages,  
In pathless Deserts, where the midnight howls  
Of hungry Wolves mixed with the screech of Owls,  
And Ravens dismal croaks salute the Ears  
Of poor Erratic trembling Passengers.  
‛ So I'm surrounded, so the Beasts of prey  
‛ Conspire to take my Life and Name away.  
‛ My glowing Soul does melt, my Spirits faint  
‛ For want of vent, I'm pregnant with complaint;  
‛ No Age nor Generation but has known  
‛ Some part of this my just and grievous moan,  
‛ But now I'm far more dangerously charged  
‛ By bolder Foes; my sorrows are enlarged,  
HE Hellish Tribe of black Avernus' Crew,  
‛ Do Bloodhound like, me and my Lambs pursue.  
‛ Lord Jesus come; O Christ, let me invoke,  
‛ Thy sacred presence to divert the stroke.  
‛ Have all my Friends forsook me? Are there none  
to ease my woes? Ah must I grieve alone?   Sion's Friend. 
‛ What doleful noise salutes my listening Ear?  
‛ What grief expressing voice is that I hear?  
‛ Methinks the accent of this dismal cry  
‛ Issues from one in great extremity;  
‛ The shrilness of this mournful tone bespeaks  
HE Woman's loud and unregarded shrieks.  
‛ The more her deep and piercing sighs I heed,  
‛ The more my Heart in Sympathy does bleed.  
‛ Ah! who can find her out? who can make known  
‛ The Author of this Heart-relenting moan;  
‛ Doubtless though sorrow now has seized upon her,  
‛ She is a Lady of high Birth and Honour,  
‛ Of Royal Stem, extracted from above,  
‛ Nursed in the Chambers of the Father's Love,  
‛ Espoused to a most Illustrious Prince,  
‛ Who over all has Just Pre-eminence,  
‛ Monarch of Monarches!  
‛ Ah Zion! is it thou?  
‛ Oh mourn my Soul, Oh let my Spirit bow;  
‛ Let all that Love the Bridegroom sigh for grief,  
‛ For Zion weeps as if past all relief;  
‛ But why, O Zion, (since thou art beloved  
‛ Of Heaven's Supreme) art thou so sadly moved?  
‛ Why with stretched Arms dost thou implore the Skies?  
‛ Why do such streams of Tears flow from thine Eyes?  
‛ This makes me wonder.  Zion. 
‛ My forlorn Estate  
‛ Is poor, unpitied, mean and desolate.  
‛ ay long have wandered in the Wilderness,  
‛ Involved in trouble and in sore distress;  
‛ In Caves absconding from the horrid rage  
‛ Of savage Beasts; until this latter Age.  
‛ Yet when I but attempted to look out,  
‛ The Monsters to destroy me searched about;  
‛ The roaring Bloodhounds greedy on the scent,  
to kill or drive me back again are bend.  
‛ No interval of peace, no rest they give,  
‛ Pronounce me cursed, and not fit to live.  
‛ The cruel Dragon joineth with the Beast  
to gore my sides, and spoil my Interest;  
' Th' old Lion, Lioness, and the Lion's whelp,  
‛ With dreadful Jaws the other Beasts do help.  
‛ Dogs, Bulls and Foxes, Bears and Wolves agree  
to rend and tear, and make a spoil of me.  
‛ I that have been so delicately bred,  
‛ My Children at the Royal Table fed,  
‛ Am now exposed to the Infernal spite  
‛ Of such who still in Fire and Blood delight.  
‛ Hatch Plo●s in Hell and Rome, whose black desig  
‛ Is to stab Monarches, and to undermine  
Our Ancient Laws, subvert Religion, and  
‛ Bow England's Neck to Antichrists command.  
‛ These were Forerunners of that dismal Doom  
‛ Of Fire and Faggot, which the Whore of Rome  
‛ Prepared for English Protestants, and the rest,  
‛ Who won't adore the Image of the Beast.  
‛ I am the mark these Monsters aim at; all  
‛ Their Grand Intrigues were to contrive my fall.  
‛ If Friends or Strangers any favour show,  
‛ They strait conspire to work their overthrow.  
1678.' Ah vile Conspiracy! Ah cursed Plot!  
‛ So deeply laid; How canst thou be forgot?  
' Th' Infernal Conclave ne'er produced a Brat  
‛ Into the world so horrible as that,  
‛ Since Rome Usurped the Western Monarchy,  
‛ Which she still Rules with Fraud and Treachery,  
‛ In forging Plots, employing Hellish Actors;  
‛ Ah! let us treat 'em as the Devils Factors.  
‛ Distressed Zion O how few regard  
‛ My sighs and tears, their Hearts are grown so ha●●  
‛ My restless Hurricanes with storms and wind,  
‛ No ease, no peace, no comfort can I find;  
'' The horrid aspect of these Monsters do  
‛ Affright my Children, some they worry too,  
‛ Others they seize like greedy Beasts of prey,  
‛ And to their Den the Sacrifice convey.  
‛ Renowned GODFREY whose immortal Glory  
‛ Martyred for me shall ever live in Story;  
‛ Let every Loyal Eye that reads it there,  
‛ Yield to his name the Tribute of a Tear.  
‛ Brave Soul! thy Love and Loyalty do claim  
‛ That King and People should proclaim thy name  
‛ As England's Victim, ne'er to be forgot,  
‛ Fastening on Rome an Everlasting blot.  
‛ The Great Jehovah who is only wise,  
‛ Permits thy fall as a sweet Sacrifice.  
‛ Thy barbarous Murder has made clearly out  
‛ That Plot which none but Infidels now doubt.  
‛ Those bloody Varlets, black Assassinates,  
‛ Cursed Executioners of Rome's Debates,  
‛ Drunk with Infernal cruelty, made thee  
HE Specimen of England's Tragedy.  
‛ By thee we learn what courtesy to hope  
‛ From Romish Butchers, Vassals to the Pope  
‛ Thou leddest the Van, first fellest into the Trap  
‛ From whence they hope't no Protestant should scape.  
‛ Poor Innocent! trepanned amongst them came  
‛ Into their Nets like a poor harmless Lamb,  
‛ Whilst they like hungry Tigers ready stood  
THAT imbrue their Talons in thy guiltless Blood.  
‛ Thou little dream'dst such an Infernal snare  
‛ Had there been laid t' entrap thee unaware.  
'Tis strange (say some) what reason should ing●  
‛ Them to make thee the Object of their rage;  
‛ Some think 'twas 'cause the Babylonish Whore,  
‛ Big with a Bastard longed as heretofore  
‛ For Christian Blood; Her Favourites made haste  
‛ In her great need to help her to a taste  
‛ Of choicest Liquors; thine she calls for first,  
to cheer her sinking Heart, and quench her Their▪  
‛ Fearing miscarriage; when her Spirits faint  
‛ She drinks the Heart's blood of some Martyred Sain  
‛ Insatiate, like the Horseleech still she cries,  
‛ Give, give me that, there's nought else will suffice  
‛ My craving Paunch; my pleasure must be done  
‛ This Heretic was a Pragmatic one,  
‛ He knew my secret Clubs, and would reveal  
‛ My Tragic Plots; we must prevent his Zeal,  
‛ Let's strangle him before he does relate  
‛ The Villainies we intent to perpetrate.  
‛ Ah brutish Whore, of Cannibals the worst,  
‛ For this cursed draught be thou for ever cursed;  
‛ In the most lasting Records let us see  
‛ This horrid instance of thy cruelty.  
‛ This Loyal Knight ne'er injured thee, but stood  
‛ Upright for Justice, and his Country's good.  
‛ Will nought but Blood of Protestants give ease?  
‛ Or quench thy thirst? What mischievous Disease  
‛ Infects thy Bowels? Must your Church's food  
‛ Be Flesh of Saints? Your Morning's draught their Blood▪  
‛ Felonious Strumpet! dar'st thou be so bold  
to steal by night into thy Neighbours Fold,  
‛ And seize my Lambs? Thy Theft and Cruelty,  
‛ And all thy Murders shall revenged be.  
‛ But since he's gone and Justice does pursue  
‛ With eager steps the Assassinating Crew,  
‛ We'll acquiesce; for Heaven now seems to call,  
‛ And bid tears cease, at his sad Funeral.  
‛ Let Christians offer through the Universe  
‛ Whole Hecatombs upon his bleeding Hearse.  
‛ And could their tears increase into a Flood  
' 'Twere no excess; so much I prise his Blood.  

THus, thus did I in Eighty make sad moan  
For that brave Hero who was dead and gone;  
But Oh my Heart!— A Cordial presently,  
My Spirits faint! Ah me! Help Lord! I die  
Unless I have relief, I can't sustain  
My sinking Soul! was ever any pain  
Or sorrow equal to what I now feel?  
My burdened mind under her weight does reel.  
Oh since that year what woes have I beheld!  
How have my mournful Eyes with tears been filled?  
I than did fear what since is come to pass  
As in that Treatise plainly hinted was.  
Did Rachel mourn, and all relief refuse,  
How then can I forbear? How can I choose  
But weep, and to lament for my sad Lot?  
What Children have I lost? who now are not.  
Did I for one such Lamentation make?  
My Bowels now may surely throb and ache,  
When I recount how many since are gone,  
Who murdered were by bloody Babylon.   
1681. Poor College first before this Idol fell,  
Betrayed to death by Evidence from Hell;  
To drink his Blood there seemed to be some strife,  
Was twice Indicted; they must have his Life:  
Yet they could never shake his constancy,  
Hear his great Soul sing his own Elegy.  

A Poem written by Mr. Stephen College a while before he was sent to Oxford, where he Suffered Death, Aug. 31. 1681.  
Wrongful Imprisonment  
Hurts not the Innocent.  

WHat if I am into a Prison cast,  
By Hellish Combinations am betrayed?  
My Soul is free although my Body's fast:  
Let them repent that have this evil laid,  
And of Eternal vengeance be afraid;  
Though Racks and Gibbets can my Body kill,  
My God is with me, and I fear no ill.   

What boots the clamours of the giddy Throng?  
What Antidote's against a poisonous Breath?  
What Fence is there against a Lying Tongue,  
Sharpened by Hell to wound a man to Death?  
Snakes, Vipers, Adders do lurk underneath:  
Say what you will, or never speak at all,  
Our very Prayers such Wretch's Treason call.   

But Walls and Bars cannot a Prison make,  
The Freeborn Soul enjoys its Liberty;  
These clods of Earth it may incaptivate,  
Whilst Heavenly Minds are conversant on high,  
Ranging the Fields of Blessed Eternity:  
So let this Bird sing sweetly in my Breast,  
My Conscience clear, a Rush for all the rest.   

What I have done I did with good intent,  
To serve my King, my Country, and the Laws;  
Against the bloody Papists I was bend,  
Cost what it will I'll ne'er repent my Cause,  
Nor do I fear their Hell-devouring Jaws;  
A Protestant I am, and such I'll die,  
Maugre all Deaths, and Popish Cruelty.   

But what need I these Protestations make,  
Actions speak men far better than their words.  
whate'er I suffers for my country's sake,  
Not 'cause I had a Gun, or Horse, or Sword;  
Or that my Heart did Treason ere afford;  
No, 'tis not me (alone) they do intend,  
But thousands more, to gain their cursed End.   

And sure of this the World's so well aware,  
That here 'tis needless more for me to say,  
I must conclude, no time have I to spare,  
My winged hours do fly too fast away,  
My (work) Repentance must I not delay,  
I'll add my Prayers to God for England's good  
And if he please will Seal them with my Blood.   

O Blessed God destroy this black design  
Of Popish Consults! it's in thee we trust;  
Our Eyes are on thee, help, O Lord, in time.  
Thou God of Truth, most Merciful and Just,  
Do thou defend us, or we perish must;  
Save England, Lord, from Popish Cruelty,  
My Country bless, Thy will be done on me.   

Man's Life's a Voyage through a Sea of tears,  
If he would gain the Haven of his Rest;  
His signs must fill the Sails whilst some Men Steers.  
When Storms arise let each man do his best,  
And cast the Anchor of his hopes (oppressed)  
Till Time or Death shall bring us to that Shore  
Where Time nor Death shall never be no more.   
Laus Deo. Amen. From my Prison in the Tower, August 15, 1681. Stephen College   
Great Essex! Ah thy groans methinks I hear!  
What ne'er a Friend? hadst thou not one Friend near?  
No●e, none to help; in vain it was to cry  
When there were none but Savage Monsters nigh.  
Since thy great Soul could not enticed be,  
No● wouldst conceal their cursed cruelty,  
They make a bloody Tragedy of thee.  
Surprised, lest all should be discovered  
Unto this devilish Policy they were led;  
And to conceal their horrid Plot they try  
Those wicked Arts, which do it justify  
Confirming it to all Posterity.  
Though thy Assassinates like men appear,  
Their cursed attempt showed least of man was there,  
Incarnate Devils certainly they were.  
Ah cruel Tyrants! destitute of shame,  
To murder both thy Body and thy Name.  
Could not thy Blood their hellish thirst suffice?  
But must thou die a double Sacrifice?  
What! cut thy Throat with such barbarity,  
And when thy Sovereign also was so nigh!  
The Royal Prison, though a Tower strong,  
Was no defence nor refuge to thee long.  
Thou careful waist how to preserve thy life,  
And yet didst fall by a cursed Romish Knife.  
Thy Head almost cut off; and yet they cry  
That thy own hands did act the Tragedy;  
●●t now we hope it plainly will appear,  
Who the vile Actors; who the Murderers were.  
May I not borrow now (as many do)  
Some proper lines, made on an Essex too.  
Shall such a Noble Peer fall thus by Rome?  
And shall I not drop tears upon his Tomb?  
Shall none who loved him, move for a Vote?  
Ye Lords and Commons, ye are bound to do't.  
A Vote that all on that same day o'th' year  
On which he fell shall mourn, or shed a tear,  
Or else be judged a` Papist? It were wise  
T' erect an Office in my children's Eyes,  
For issuing forth a constant sum of tears,  
There's no way else to pay him his Arrears,  
And when we have driened this Ages Eyes quite dry,  
Let him be wept the next in History.  
1683. Renowned Great Lord Russel next, 〈◊〉  
Is marked out for this direful Tragedy,  
Scarce had I dried mine Eyes for loss of one,  
But they another Hero fall upon.  
A braver Lord scarce ever lost his Head;  
Nay few like him hath England ever bred.  
From a most Noble Stem he did Spring forth,  
And had a Spirit suited to his Birth.  
Had I not wept so many tears before,  
For him whole Rivers from mine Eyes might pour.  
Had I an Helicon in either Eye,  
The thoughts of Russel soon may draw them dry.  
Great Soul! too great for our inferior praise,  
You for yourself the Noblest Trophies raise.  
Your Love to Zion, and your Native Land  
Shall mentioned be, even while the Earth doth stand  
My loss and England's too who shall repair?  
Great God his hardened Enemies do not spare;  
'Twas by the Blood of these Great Men I see  
England was freed from Rome's cursed Tyranny.  
T'avoid the Odium of their cursed Plot,  
Which notwithstanding ne'er will be forgot,  
Another was contrived, wherewith they thought  
The innocent to ensnare, who should be brought  
Thereby to ruin; and then hoped to see  
Zion and her best Friends would ruined be;  
This was the Second part of Rome's design  
To work the overthrow of me and mine,  
And these two Champions standing in their way  
With bloody hands they villainously slay.  
The first inhumanely was Murdered,  
The other they did publicly Behead.  
They charged him indeed with odious Crimes,  
(And many others too, in those black times:)  
Crimes he to th' last did utterly deny,  
Whose Noble Soul their malice did defy,  
But Villains swore, and he alas must die.  
O Heaven and Earth be ye astonished!  
How fain would they have struck off my poor Head,  
Yet of my Blood that they themselves might clear,  
Good Protestants the scandal on't must bear.  
1683. Sidney, dear Sidney treacherously fell,  
Whom I esteemed a Prince in Israel;  
Those Laws that were intended for defence,  
Were wrested so thou couldst not have from thence  
Any relief, but thou must likewise die,  
Although on thee no guilt at all did lie,  
Jury and Judge dealt so inhumanely.  
What hadst thou done? what cause of death in the  
For Zion 'twas; 'twas for thy Love to me.  
Thy Principles were such, Hell could not bear  
The thoughts thereof, though published they ne'er we  
Thou wast too Just, and hadst such piercing Eyes,  
Those Hellish Statesmen doubted a surprise,  
And therefore made thee a third Sacrifice.  
1684. By Popish Arts many more ruin'd were,  
Poor Holloway likewise fell into the snare;  
B'ing from th' Western World a Prisoner brought,  
By those who fiercely his destruction sought;  
Who at the place of Execution  
Delivered his Bible unto one  
Of his Relations, wherein he had writ  
The following lines, which I do here transmit.  
‛ Owner hereof prise this, and bless the Lord  
‛ That yet to England doth his Word afford;  
‛ Had I lived longer, hopes I should have had  
THAT have seen times mend, but now expect them bade  
‛ Truth will not do, for much of it I wrote,  
‛ And for't I die much rather than the Plot.  
‛ Did you know all, you'd say I did my part  
to free you from designed Popish smart.  
And now alas! behold my dismal case,  
Great Floods of sorrow follow on apace.  
Many Religious, Pious Men of worth  
Are rendered vile, not fit to live on Earth.  
Observe Rome's policy, who contrived it so  
That Protestants should Protestants undo.  
Conscience must now be basely shackled  
Against its Light imposed on, and misled,  
And truckle like a Slave unto all those  
Who did Christ's Regal power in man oppose:  
Either their Consciences must wounded lie  
Under despair for their Apostasy;  
Or if they were resolved, and sincere,  
They loss of Goods, Contempt and Scorn must bear;  
Be sent to noisome jails, or to Exile,  
Which many chose, rather than to defile  
Their precious Souls, and treacherously dis-own,  
Or yield the power of Christ's righteous Throne  
Up to Usurpers, who audaciously  
Cry, All is Caesar' s due, and so deny  
God over Conscience has the Sovereignty.  
No wonder they Laws violently break down;  
That all our Civil Rights are overthrown.  
That our Just Properties they take away,  
And our most Ancient Liberties betray.  
Since they the Glorious Monarchy of Heaven  
●o now Invade, and strive to have it given  
●nto their hands that they may tread it down,  
And impudently cry, All is their own.  
Grand Rebels! what, attempt the Right of God?  
●● you not fear his dreadful Iron Rod?  
Would you Dethrone him? would your hellish spite  
●●●rive both God and Man of their just Right?  
This you designed (although in vain) to do;  
And Christ's blessed Kingdom fain would overthrow▪  
One while they cry, Conscience to them must be●  
Another time, Christ's Right they did defend.  
When it did seem to favour their design,  
Conscience in all its rights they undermine,  
But when they found 'twould with their Interest sta●  
And with th' Intrigues that they then had in hand,  
They cry, Nought's juster than that all men do  
To others as they would be done unto.  
But to return; nothing for many years  
Is seen but Persecution, Blood and Tears.  
No Liberty at all Conscience must have,  
But the Dissenters Prison proves his Grave,  
Where hundreds of them lay long buried,  
Whilst others of their Goods were plundered.  
Many in filthy jails so long did lie,  
That poisoned with the stench they there did die.  
Law and Religion both were trampled down,  
And most good men termed Enemies to the Crown.  
Charters of Towns and Cities ta'en away,  
That Popery and Slavery might bear sway.  
No Stone 〈…〉 unturned, whereby they might  
Bring 〈◊〉 poor England an Eternal Night  
Of Popish darkness; many therefore fled,  
Whilst others were strangely dis-spirited.  
Divers good Magistrates were laid aside,  
And wicked men for Judges they provide,  
Void of all fear of God, who any thing  
Would give for Law, they thought would please 〈◊〉 King  
Did a Dissenter Law or Justice crave?  
He's branded for a Rascal, Rebel, Slave.  
Yet many men so strangely blinded were,  
They could not see, though things appeared so clear,  
Because that King a Protestant was thought,  
Matters by him so cunningly were wrought,  
And carried on; but when he came to fall,  
All things were plain and barefaced unto all;  
For the next King his Visage did lay down,  
And publicly himself a Papist own;  
And I likewise more clearly did espy  
My dreadful danger then approaching nigh:  
The Popish Plot under a Cloud was hid,  
(And a Shame Plot contrived in its stead.)  
Though owned by three Successive Parliaments;  
●et all's denied by Romish Innocents',  
●hose Jesuits who hanged for Treason were,  
Themselves free from all guilt or crime declare,  
〈◊〉 th' unborn Child; nor is this strange, since they  
〈◊〉 Dispensation have, That they may say  
Whatever will preserve their Cause from blame,  
And Holy Church secure from her just shame.  
1685. Therefore is Dr. Oates brought on the Stage,  
degraded and exposed to brutish rage,  
They on his Back their cruel strokes do lay,  
Whereby their Hellish Plot they stifle may;  
●et let them whip and lash him till he die,  
And practise all their Romish cruelty,  
●one of his Evidence he can deny.  
'Tis to his Honour and Immortal praise,  
And to his name it will high Trophies raise.  
Those many hundred stripes laid on by Rome  
Are as so many Monuments become,  
More great and lasting than a Marble Tomb.  
Poor Dangerfield! courageous and bold,  
Whom Rome's Incendiaries never could  
By horrid threats or subtle flattery,  
Prevail upon to gainsay, or deny  
What he of their Intrigues did testify.  
Unto a cruel whipping they him doom,  
Which yet could not his Fortitude o'ercome.  
'T would pierce one's Heart to think what miseries  
He suffered from his bloody Enemies;  
And though perhaps not well prepared to die,  
Yet he must fall by Romish Tyranny,  
A Villain in the midst of all his pain,  
Stabbing his tender Eye out with a Cane,  
Which pierced so deep he in great torments lay,  
That never ceased, till Death took him away.  
The Fence b'ing thus thrown down the ravenous Beasts  
Rush in, and of poor Innocents' make Feasts.  
Wild Boars and Bears, yea Wolves and Tigers, strive  
All to destroy, and leave no Lambs alive.  
Religion, Laws, though all good men's great care,  
Yea, and men's precious Lives, they did not spare;  
That England seemed as if it were become  
A Scene of misery, and a prey to Rome.  
And what could Zion do? Alas, poor I  
Bewailed my state, but saw no comfort nigh;  
Yea, my poor Children about me hung,  
B'ing hardly able to endure the wrong,  
And sharp Assaults of those fierce Fiends of Hell,  
Yet knew not how their malice to repel.  
About this time i'th' West there did appear  
Some unto whom their Country was most dear,  
Striving to free it; but mistook the time,  
And Person too, who Landed then at Lyme:  
A Man beloved; but not the Instrument  
God chosen had; and now to us hath sent  
To save our Land, and Zion, from that blow,  
Which would have been to both an overthrow.  
1685. But of my joys I must forbear to sing,  
A doleful noise seems in my Ears to ring,  
And still grows louder; sure 'tis from the West;  
What's that I see? a cruel savage Beast!  
A Man? no sure a Monster; though he came  
Of Humane Race, he don't deserve that name,  
A cursed Spirit of th' Infernal Legion,  
A Lord Chief Justice of the Lower Region.  
I cannot rest, hot struggling rage aspires,  
And fills my Freeborn Soul with Noble Fires.  
My Muse soars high, and now she doth despise  
What e'er below attempts to Tyrannize.  
Ah! but again she faints; how shall I tell  
What to those poor mistaken Souls befell.  
The dismal news of Rapine, Spoil, and Blood  
Shed in those Parts, which ran even like a Flood,  
Works strange Effects in my afflicted Soul,  
For grief my Bowels do within me roll.  
In biting satire I could even contemn,  
That Villainous Judge who Innocents' did condemn;  
Who on the Bench did nought but what he knew  
Would gratify the bloody Popish Crew.  
Though nature seems assistance to refuse,  
Revenge and Anger both inspire my Muse.  
Shall the Wretch live? why is he spared so long?  
Justice seems to complain of having wrong;  
Th' Infernai Daemons, angry seem to say,  
Dead or alive we him will fetch away,  
And at his stay they all seem to repine,  
That to their vengeance we don't him resign.  
But Ah! his Blood can never recompense  
His ruining so many Innocents'.  
And it may seem the wonder of the time,  
And some are apt to think, may be a crime,  
That we no more regard their memory,  
Who for their Country's welfare dared to die.  
Poor Hearts! who seeing we were drawing nigh  
To Vassalage and ROMISH Tyranny,  
Resolved to save Religion and the Laws,  
But mist; and fell into this Tiger's Claws,  
Whose mind upon the prey was wholly bend,  
Pitying none, though ne'er so Innocent;  
b●● like an hungry Wolf, or furious Bear  
Without remorse the harmless Lambs did tear.  
No time of preparation would he give  
To many; nor Petitions would receive.  
Nor would he h●a● their Wives and children's cry,  
But sco●t and laughed at them in misery;  
And though they pity begged with sighs and groans,  
He was relentless to their tears and moans,  
Begged that distressed Widows he'll not make,  
But save their Husband's lives for Jesus sake.  
●t being plain, most of those who were there,  
Designed well, though taken in a snare.  
But with what rage did he upon them fall,  
Swearing, He'd make examples of 'em all,  
Cried, On that Signpost take and hang them up,  
The Rogues shall all taste of this bitter Cup:  
Whereby this bloody Wretch destroyed more  
In a few Weeks, than Bonner did before  
In full three years, many as faithful men  
As suffered by Popish fury then.  
He hanged 'em up by two, by three, by seven,  
Whose Blood aloud for vengeance cries to Heaven.  
Their Bodies likewise cut to pieces were,  
Their Quarters hanged o'th' Hedges here and there▪  
Their Flesh was given to be Meat for Crows,  
And all because they Antichrist oppose;  
And were resolved never to bend the Knee  
To Images, nor turn to Popery;  
Nor ever Slaves or Vassals to become  
Unto the Pope, and Scarlet Whore of Rome;  
Whom Christ commands (his Saints, so to reward  
As she has done to them) in's Holy Word.  
Their ends were right, but they mistook their call,  
And therefore God did suffer them to fall;  
They did disdain those Yokes with generous scorn,  
Which were by other servile Spirits born.  
‛ They saw the threatening Storm approach from far,  
‛ Fearing a thousand mischiefs worse than War,  
‛ And therefore rushing on th' impetuous waves,  
‛ Would rather die like Men than live like Slaves.  
to save Me and the Land they bravely tried,  
‛ Failed in th' attempt, and then as bravely died.  
‛ In vain would envious Clouds their Fame obscure,  
‛ Which to Eternal Ages shall endure.  
‛ If ill designs some to the Battle drew,  
‛ Must all be scandalised for a few?  
‛ If fawning Traitors in their Councils sat  
' 'Tis base to mock, rather lament their Fate.  
‛ Though Heaven for England's Sins refuse to bless  
‛ Their great Design with the desired success,  
' 'Tis an unequal, brutish Argument,  
‛ Always to judge the cause by the event;  
‛ Thus the unthinking giddy multitude,  
‛ An Innocent may Criminal conclude.  
But woe to those who in cold Blood did kill,  
And thereby did their own revenge fulfil.  
The Highways like a Slaughter-house became,  
Or bloody Shambles, to their Enemy's shame;  
What multitudes of men did they destroy  
And hang on Trees, which did so much annoy  
The People round about, it made them cry,  
O Lord defend us from Rome' s cruelty.  
But this Relation gives me little ease,  
I must some other way seek to appease  
My overflowing Passion; therefore I  
Some of those Hero's Names cannot pass by  
Until I drop some tears upon their Hearse,  
That the next Age may mourn for them in Verse.  
Brave Colonel Holmes, Wise, Valiant and Sincere,  
Who didst to Zion true affection bear,  
Thy worthy Name shall not forgotten be,  
But shall recorded be in History  
To after Ages; nor can thy Arrears  
Be duly paid without a Flood of tears.  
Great Soul! thy Life thou seemedst to despise,  
Rather than ask it of thine Enemies.  
Much less didst thou in any sort incline  
Others to charge, to save that Life of thine.  
How didst thou grieve and publicly bewail  
Thy undertaking should so strangely fail?  
But yet Prophetically didst Divine,  
It would revive again in little time,  
Though by what means it brought about should be,  
It was impossible thou couldst then foresee,  
And thy Prediction now is come to pass,  
Though by thy Foes it then contemned was.  
And now the sad Spectators wondering saw,  
The Horses long refuse the Sledge to draw;  
The poor dumb Beasts by Heaven's Instinct are  
Made sharp Reprovers, whilst the lash they bear;  
And seem to say, These men are innocent,  
They must not die, God will not give consent,  
And therefore he doth strangely us restrain  
From drawing them, though lashed and lashed again.  
What other voice there was I cannot see  
In this amazing wondrous Prodigy.  
Yet all these warnings from the Foe are hid,  
For die they must, and die they also did;  
Although on foot to slaughter they must drudge,  
To gratify a most Tyrannical Judge.  
Nor did the Gallant Father fall alone,  
He in the Cause lost a Religious Son.  
Poor Captain Holmes, few young men like to thee,  
Did hazard all to set their Country free  
From Rome's cursed Yoke, and cruel Slavery.  

The next Great Worthy amongst the vanquished Host  
Which in that hour of darkness I have lost,  
A Preacher was, endued with Holy Art,  
Who did dissolve the Stone in many a Heart,  
His name was Lark; O come my Children now,  
Pay him those tears which he laid out for you;  
Ah! must he fall by Fate? Ah! must he yield?  
His Life up too? but why not in the Field?  
Must Samson fall by the Philistines hand  
Who from their Bondage strove to save the Land?  
Well! by thy death thou hast prevailed so,  
Thou hastenedst their utter overthrow,  
And yet I cannot but lament to think  
Of what a bitter Cup thy Flock do drink.  
My loss of thee is more than loss of Ten,  
Though they might be sober Religious men:  
When Death thus with his hands lays hold upon  
The Pillars of the House, the Building's gone,  
Unless God in his Mercy instantly  
Raise others up their places to supply:  
But Ah! how many dye? how few appear  
Them to succeed, and their great weight to bear.  
In Jesus Christ's own Harvest in this Nation,  
(which now seems white) there's cause of Lamentation.  
A Chariot and an Horseman I have lost,  
But he's above, encamped i'th' Heavenly Host.  
Have you not seen an early rising Lark  
Mounting aloft, making the Sun her mark?  
Lo here's a Lark that soared up higher, higher;  
Till he had sung himself into heavens Quire.  
From Earth to Heaven he went, and in a trice  
His Soul ascended into Paradise.   

Now stop mine Eyes, for fear your Floods should fail,  
And I want tears for all I must bewail;  
But yet I need not doubt; Springs I espy,  
Yea Fountains, which will give a fresh supply  
For two young Plants, who both sprang from one Stem,  
Beloved of God, I hope, as well as men.  
Dear Hewlins, of what use might you have been,  
If you to spare th' Almighty good had seen?  
What cruel Tyrants had we lately here,  
That two such tender Branches would not spare?  
But when I think, of Grace that they had store,  
And with what patience they their Sufferings bore,  
It gives such comfort I can weep no more.  
What Testimony did they leave behind,  
Of that sweet joy which they in Christ did find?  
When wicked men all pity do deny,  
Our Saviour to compassion's mo●'d thereby;  
And doubtless they are placed in that High Sphere,  
Where th' Spirits of Just Men Triumphant are.  
Ah me! Alas! what means this Sea of Blood?  
Oh! See, see, see, it breaks forth like a Flood.  
Must Walcot, Bateman, Ayliff, Ansly too  
Be all forgot, are no sighs to them due?  
No, no, that must not be; I'm drenched in tears,  
To hear this cry of Blood sound in mine Ears.  
But lo! another Stream issues amain,  
My sinking Spirits, Lord, with speed sustain.  
Poor Nelthrop's gone too, and the Lady Lisle;  
Nay more, the Gallant Noble Lord Argile.  
Hath Scotland bred a greater Man than he?  
Of Noble Birth, and Ancient Pedigree.  
No danger could his Highborn Soul restrain,  
He strove his Country's Liberty t' obtain.  
And it to free from Romish Usurpation,  
Beyond most of the Nobles in that Nation;  
For which his Enemies many snares did lay,  
Both his Estate and Life to take away,  
Who only did design Tranquillity  
To th' State; and to secureed from Slavery.  
Were I but able I'd advance his Praise,  
And with high strains of grief his Glory raise.  
A Nobleman, Just, Pious, Valiant, Wise,  
Able for Counsel, or for Enterprise;  
Fit to set Cato Copies if alive,  
Whose sharp discerning Judgement soon could dive  
Into their Plots, though laid as deep as Hell;  
But missing his Design, our Statesman fell.  
Success sometimes does not the Wise attend,  
The most Sagacious sometimes miss the end  
They aim at; and yet may not be i'th' wrong;  
The Race is not to th' swift, nor to the strong  
The Battle is not always; and we see  
This Scripture Proverb was made good in thee.  
Farewell Argile! my weeping Muse shall burn  
Her withered Laurel, at thy mournful Urn;  
Contemn a Monument, and scorn a Stone;  
Marbles have flaws, and must good men have none?  
But gone he is; drop tears my Children all,  
And mourn, because that day a Prince did fall:  
Though he be gone, his Honour shall not die,  
My Children shall preserve his Memory.  
Undaunted Rumbold is the next that I  
Register in my mournful Elegy,  
He both Courageous and Religious was,  
Whose Zeal for's Country's Freedom did surpass  
Most others; and although he then did lie  
Under the scandal and the infamy  
Of secretly conspiring how to slay  
His Sovereign Lord in a vile treacherous way,  
Which he denied, and did abominate,  
When his last Breath he yielded up to Fate  
So wounded, that two Deaths he seemed to die:  
Tears drop again, mine Eyes I cannot dry,  
When I observe the Babylonish Train,  
Strive all these worthy men's repute to slain  
With Lies, false Slanders, and black Calumny,  
That they unpitied by all might die.  
But to my comfort, I now hope the day  
Is come, will wipe all their reproach away;  
That whilst their Souls Triumphing are in Glory,  
Their Fame will cleared be in future Story;  
And that to all good Men their Memory  
Will precious be to all Posterity.  
But now my Muse back to the West must go,  
And tell what there the Enemy more did do,  
Where cause of grief be sure I cannot lack.  
Brave Patchel next appears with Captain Blake;  
And though I have great store of tears let fall,  
Yet their sad Fate aloud on me doth call  
To draw the Sluices up, and yet once more  
From my wet Eyes fresh Floods of tears to pour;  
For I perceive whole Troops together come  
Of Western Sufferers, crying, Pray make room;  
Why must our names be buried in the Crowd?  
And all our worth be vailed in a Cloud  
Of dark Oblivion? Must we always lie  
Under an Odium of the blackest dye?  
Is nothing due unto our mangled Clay?  
Will none strive our reproach to roll away?  
Can you so partial be? What not a tear  
For us to whom Liberty was so dear?  
Do you disdain to speak in our defence,  
Because some were of no great Eminence?  
Was not our Blood as dear to us as theirs,  
Whose death you do bewail with bitter tears?  
A lust our mean dust be slightly trampled on,  
And disregarded without sigh or groan?  
Ah! Must we ever, ever be forgot?  
And must our names like wicked Persons rot?  
No, no, Great Souls! I equally resent  
The sad misfortune of each Innocent;  
And though some (not for want of Ignorance)  
Cry against your Prince your Arms you did advance;  
Yet your Allegiance sure could never bind  
Your hands, that when Rome's power had undermined  
The Constitution, thereby to o'erthrow  
The Government, yet you must nothing do.  
Must every man sit still, and quiet be?  
And Law, Religion, Life in Jeopardy;  
The contrary Jehovah hath made out,  
And thereby our Salvation's brought about.  
Yet Nonresistance is our duty still,  
When Princes Rule by Law; but not by Will.  
When Magistrates pursue that gracious end,  
God by advancing of them did intend;  
Then to resist them is a horrid thing,  
And God to shame will all such Rebels bring.  
But must Superiors be submitted to,  
When they contrive to ruin and undo  
Their faithful Subjects, and overturn the State,  
And their most sacred Oaths do violate?  
Is Government ordained to destroy,  
Or to preserve the Rights that Men enjoy?  
Suppose a Father should be led away,  
T' attempt the Mother's Life, and strive to slay  
His Innocent Children; and to those adhere,  
Who unto them malicious Enemies were:  
In such a case as this the Children sure,  
Their Mothers, and their own Lives may secure.  
Ought they not then their Father's hands to bind,  
So to prevent the mischief he designed?  
Don't Nature teach a Man to save his Life  
From th' Treachery of Father, Child, or Wife?  
Must Servants yield, and passively consent  
Their Master from their Bones the Flesh should rend  
Is it a crime if they won't this endure,  
But seek a better Master to procure?  
Self-preservation 'twas that moved you,  
(Foreseeing what was ready to ensue,)  
To seek such ways to save yourselves and me,  
Which you thought Just, and hoped would prosperous be  
And though God did Success to you deny,  
Yet you might act with all Integrity;  
Which Heaven doth seem to Crown now with Applause,  
And to Assert the Justice of your Cause.  
Since 'twas ordained that spot should be the Scene  
Where the Cause died, there to reviveed again:  
And though for what you therein were misled  
I did lament, and many tears have shed;  
Yet I must vindicate you from the wrong  
You suffered have by many a viperous Tongue;  
And will more of your worthy names revive,  
Though at your slips I never will connive.  
Dear Hicks, shall slanderous mouths seek to defame,  
And to calumniate so sweet a name?  
Ah! shall detracting malice go about  
With its rude Breath to blow thy Taper out?  
Well! let them all their full-mouthed Bellows puff,  
It is their Breath that stinks, and not thy snuff.  
Oh what a judgement 'twere if such as they  
Should but allow thy actions, and betray  
Th' endangered name by their malign applause  
To good opinion; that were a just cause  
Of grief indeed; but to be made the Story  
Of such false Tongues, Great Soul! it is thy Glory.  
Ah! is he dead? did his poor Body fall  
By th' rage of man? tears cannot him recall.  
Yet might not then have died, but his day  
Might have been lengthened, had he known the way  
To Life and Peace which God hath since found out,  
And for our safety, strangely brought about,  
The day he longed for his Eyes had seen  
If some things had, and some things had not been.  
What he saw passed, Heaven's Eye foresaw to come;  
God saw how that contingent act should sum  
The total of his days; His Allseeing Eye  
(Though his own could not) saw that he should die  
That very fatal hour, yet saw his death  
Not so, so necessary, but his Breath  
Might have been spared to a longer date  
Had he embraced this, not taken that.  
Had not a furious Judge condemned thee,  
Void of all pity and humanity,  
Thou mightst have lived and seen with joyful Eyes  
That done, for which thou fellest a Sacrifice;  
Yet that God order all things right weare sure;  
The Death of some may Life to more procure.  
But here's just cause of further Lamentation,  
For one we scarce can equal in the Nation.  
A worthy Preacher, who could not comply  
With what his Conscience could not justify.  
But hark how th' Enemy doth scoff and jeer,  
That a Dissenter's taken in the snare.  
A better Sacrifice there could not come,  
To please the Cannibals of Bloody Rome,  
Who do believe there is no Dish so good,  
As a John Baptist's Head served up in Blood.  
But he's a Rebel; Ay! that, that's the cry;  
Now as to that, let's weigh impartially  
His dying words, now printed, which relate  
He did believe Monmouth Legitimate,  
Or Lawful Son of Charles, or else that he  
Would ne'er have acted in the least degree  
In that design, and we may likewise find  
The rest in general were of that mind;  
And though they were mistaken, let's take care  
Not to asperse what dying men declare.  
But sober thoughts of them still to retain,  
And not with Obloquy their Memory stain.  
But lo! a multitude of Sufferers more  
(Whose Blood for vengeance cries,) stand at the door  
Open to them; my Muse; Ah! do but see  
What a great number of them still there be;  
Now they are come, 'tis fit I first make room  
For the most gallant generous Battiscombe:  
A worthy Person of a great Estate,  
Although he was cut off by cruel Fate.  
The wretched Judge allured him to accuse  
Some other Gentlemen, which he did refuse  
With scorn; for he abhorred his Life to buy  
By such base and unmanly treachery.  
When he o'th' Ladder was he seemed to smile;  
Saying, He hoped in a little while  
He should enjoy a Crown and Diadem  
Of Glory in the New Jerusalem;  
That from a Land of misery and woe  
To the Celestial Paradise he should go.  
Hamling fell too, nor was his Innocence  
Before so vile a Judge, the least defence  
Against the Crimes wherewith they charged him,  
Though altogether free from any Crime;  
Who neither was in Arms, nor did assist  
Any that were; nor any who did List  
Themselves for Monmouth; nay he did advise  
His Son not to engage, but to be wise,  
And unto God's dispose leave every thing,  
Who in due Season would Deliverance bring.  
But he was a Dissenter, and for this  
He must not live; for he accused is  
By two such Rascals as did never care  
Whether 'twere truth or falsehood they did Swear;  
But with the Judge's humour would comply,  
And by such Evidence this man must die.  
Next Mr. Brag a Man of good Descent,  
And well known to be wholly innocent;  
Who though a Lawyer, yet no Law could have  
Whereby his Life from violence to save.  
When Law and Justice both o're-ruled were,  
And Judge and Jury too resolved to steer  
By the false Compass of the Princes will,  
In vain was the most Learned Lawyer's skill;  
None were secure, neither the weak nor strong:  
Will was made Law whether 'twere right or wrong.  
The Landmark was removed, all Common laid;  
And all our English Liberties betrayed.  
But time will fail me, therefore I'll proceed,  
And not forget Smith, Rose, and Joseph Speed,  
And Evans too; shall such a man as he  
Fall basely, and not draw a tear from me?  
Then Madder, Kid, young Jenkins too all bled,  
Who for his Youth ought to be pitied;  
With Doctor Temple, Spark, and Captain Lisle  
Killed in cold Blood, their malice was so vile;  
And many hundred others who there fell  
So barbarously, there's scarce a Parallel  
Of Stirs that were in any former Reign,  
Where so much cruelty was; and leaves a stain  
Upon that time, will ne'er be wiped away  
Until the World and all things else decay.  
But notwithstanding so much Blood was shed,  
Some hundreds of poor Souls were banished;  
Bereft of their Wives and Children dear,  
And into Foreign Country's driven were,  
And there exposed to all misery,  
And the severities of Slavery.  
The Husband separated from the Wife,  
Deprived of all the joys of humane Life.  
Their Goods, and their Estates all forfeited,  
And nothing left wherewith to buy them Bread.  
But should I all their miseries recount,  
They to a mighty number would amount;  
Yet now Great Nassaw's settled on the Throne,  
We do not doubt but he'll regard their moan;  
That on their sorrows he will cast his Eyes,  
And of his Princely goodness, ease their cries.   

But stay my Muse, for here's more cause of grief,  
And I have still more cause of heavens relief,  
For now alas! two Martyrs I espy,  
On whom were acted a sad Tragedy.  
The one a Person of great worth and name,  
A Citizen of London of much Fame,  
Who by Time serving wretches that would do  
What e'er might please the Factious Romish Crew.  
Was doomed to death by villainous Evidence,  
Though for himself he made a just defence.  
Alderman Cornish was this worthy man  
That thus unjustly suffered. Who now can  
Forbear to weep? or can forbear to tell  
What to a pious woman then befell?  
Poor Mistress Gaunt, most dear thou wast to me,  
Few of thy Sex ever excelled thee  
●● Zeal, in Knowledge, or in Charity,  
Who wast condemned a cruel death to die,  
'Cause thou relievedst men in misery.  
These two I must bewail, who in one day  
By Romish Treachery were swept away;  
Against whom these Miscreants malice did appear,  
‛ Though altogether innocent and clear;  
As doubtless we shall find apparently,  
When their Case stated is impartially.  
As to the woman 'twill be showed ere long.  
That many ways she suffered much wrong,  
Who by a Jury at H●●ks-Hall was freed,  
Yet at th' Old-Bailey against her they proceed;  
A London Jury took her Life away,  
Which they may answer for another day.  
On the same day these worthy Christians fell,  
Most of us may remember very well.  
That God's displeasure ere that day was done  
Seemed very evident to every one  
That his works doth observe, and mind his hand  
In his strange operations in the Land.  
O come ye Angels, lend your glorious Style!  
Created Being's to lament a while.  
Ye blessed Hosts that sing Jehovah's praise,  
Assist my Muse in lamentable Phrase;  
For now the City Streets even run with Blood  
Of those Just men, who only sought our good.  
Ah! London, let all future Ages see  
Thy grief, that Cornish lost his Life in thee.  
Could not their burning thee abate their rage?  
Nor their enslaving thee their wrath assuage?  
Could not Great Russel's death them mollify?  
Nor Essex's murder stop their cruelty?  
Would not th' enthralling of Great Britain do,  
Religion and Liberty to o'erthrow?  
Hast thou not many years triumphed in Blood,  
Undoing thousands who most faithful stood  
Unto their Country's Interest, venturing all,  
The Common-weal might not to ruin fall?  
Oh cursed Rome! thou'lt soon thy measure fill,  
Thy wickedness grows and increases still;  
Religion's shame, and all the World's great curse,  
Why dost thou still proceed from bad to worse?  
And now, my Muse, methinks we shan't do right  
To worthy Cornish, if we seem to slight  
His memory, by a short Encomium  
To whom so much is due; therefore let's come,  
And in a few lines more expatiate  
Upon the circumstances of his Fate.  
Ah! London, London, did it not surprise?  
Couldst thou behold poor Cornish with dry Eyes,  
Hanged like a Caitiff on a cursed Tree,  
And acted in the very midst of thee?  
To good men 'twas a grievous sight we know,  
Though to some wretches 'twas a pleasing show.  
A though with blushes Angels seemed to see  
This horrid Act; and Heaven disturbed to be.  
What cheerful looks this excellent Christian had,  
●s through the Streets he his last Journey made?  
To that in triumph he did seem to go  
To death, as if he certainly did know  
That Angels thence would carry him to bliss,  
And place him where no pain nor sorrow is,  
To be a Courtier to the King of Kings,  
●eeding on joy that from Christ Jesus springs.  
The Sun that Morning his bright Beams displays,  
And sends upon the Earth his Golden Rays;  
Smiling while those two Worthies here remain,  
But seemed to frown as soon as they were slain.  
The heavens their mourning Garments do put on  
As if they'd show, two Innocents' were gone.  
A Storm of Rain descends from that black Cloud  
With dreadful Lightning, and with Thunder loud,  
As if incensed Heaven were in a Flame,  
And Christ were coming to dissolve the same;  
Or that the Judge of Judges now was come  
(With all his Saints) to give the World its Doom  
And wronged Cornish should be tried again  
By upright Jurors of that blessed Train.  
And in white Robes of Righteousness appear  
Before heavens King, his innocence to clear.  
Jehovah's Trumpet sounding shaken the Earth,  
And to great Floods of Rain with Fire, gave Birth.  
Heaven groaned in Thunder, and did weep in Shower  
Which did continue fiercely many hours:  
Nor do I wonder that God thundered so  
When two such worthy Martyrs bled below;  
And since the heavens seem so apparently  
To justify their Cause, why may not I?  
But stay! no more of these, for I espy  
Another Hero just before mine Eye;  
Condemned a Prisoner ever to remain,  
Who lay as dead, but now's revived again:  
Brave Johnson, who can't be omitted here,  
A●●ious Churchman, valiant and sincere:  
A Man of Parts and Learning; a Divine  
Who sought his Country's good as well as mine.  
Ah! was he whipped? Must he too be a Taster  
Of the sharp Rod like to his Blessed Master?  
In vain would envious Clouds his Fame obscure,  
Reproach to him doth still more praise procure.  
His Lord and Master too, was scourged sore  
For bearing Witness to the Truth before;  
Why then do virulent Tongues attempt to slain  
The solid Glory which his Soul did gain.  
But yet 'tis strange the Mother should consent  
Her Sons should suffer such sad punishment.  
Wounds from a Friend strike deep; but when from Foes  
We disregard, slight, and contemn their blows.  
And since few others move in the defence  
Of wounded Honour, and wronged Innocence;  
I for the kindness which to thee I bear,  
At thy sad Sufferings must drop a tear.  
Had all come from a treacherous Enemy  
It had not been so great an injury;  
But to be wounded i'th' House of thy Friends,  
This, this all other cruelty transcends:  
And then great Soul! to be degraded too  
Was very hard to bear, but that you knew  
This ofttimes is the way to Dignity,  
And Honour doth succeed Humility.   

BUT now alas! new griefs do me surround,  
Groans from the North my mournful Soul confound,  
My Muse must now take wing and swiftly fly,  
To have a view of Scotland's misery.  
Be silent and attend; you soon will hear,  
Their dismal cries will penetrate your Ear.  
The Sufferings of my Children here were bad,  
But in that Nation they were far more sad;  
No place more like to France man ever saw,  
Where Arbitrary Power stood for Law.  
Men of all Ranks were seized, and did lie  
In noisome jails, yet knew no reason why;  
And to ensnare them, swarms of cursed Spies  
Abroad are sent under a false disguise,  
Who strove t' incense them to dislike, and hate  
The King, and all his Ministers of State:  
And to extort some words from them, that so  
They thereby might unwary Souls o'erthrow.  
If they found any pious, just and good,  
Then many snares were laid to suck their Blood,  
By those vile Emissaries, who were sent  
On purpose to entrap the Innocent,  
Suborned Witnesses employed were,  
Who for their wages any thing would Swear,  
Whereby M●●s Lives, Estates and Honours too  
Are all endangered; were they High or Low.  
The Chiefest Peers, and Worthiest Patriots  
Had many 〈◊〉 the most unhappy Lots;  
Unless they'd be Debauched, down they must go,  
And suffer as the meanest Rebels do.  
I● to God's Laws Men faithfully do stand,  
And won't be Subject to the King's command;  
Refusing what their Conscience offends  
Th' are judged, To Caesar then to be no Friends.  
Some Men they tried, and on that very day  
Condemned, and their Lives were ta'en away.  
No Prayers nor Intercessions will they hear  
A little time to grant them, to prepare  
For Death; nay, they did impiously say,  
Hell was too good for Rebels, such as they.  
Yea, they made Law● the thoughts of men to reach,  
Whom o● ill words or deeds none could impeach.  
If of the Government they evil think,  
They of Death's bitter Cup are sure to drink.  
Sometimes they wheedled them to a Confession,  
Promising Life upon the same condition.  
Come, come (say they) freely to us declare  
What your conceptions of the Government are,  
Speak what you think; sure you are not afraid,  
Nor will disown what you so lately said?  
Dissemble not in matters of your Faith,  
Since you remember what the Scripture saith,  
That they who won't confess Christ Jesus here,  
He will not own them when he does appear.  
Subscribe to your Profession; you shall see  
How very kind and merciful we'll be.  
Speak man! and let's your Testimony have,  
If you will both your Soul and Body save.  
Thus do they mock them with Expostulations,  
As Priests and Jesuits do in Popish Nations:  
But all the time they hide their cruel hate,  
While thus they craftily expostulate.  
For in the Council Men concealed stood  
To witness what they said, and shed their Blood;  
And thus with them they dealt most treacherously,  
And many of their Lives deprived thereby.  
And when they came to die they beat a Drum,  
Lest to the light their wickedness should come.  
A very bad Cause sure, that could not bear  
The dying words of those that Sufferers were;  
But those that wary are, and won't accuse  
Themselves of aught, they barbarously use  
With Engines of most horrid cruelty  
Tormenting them; they rather chose to die.  
The torturing Boot, and burning Matches too,  
They made these innocent Souls to undergo;  
And after all were Sentenced unto death,  
And villainously were deprived of Breath.  
Some that were guiltless, yet were Sentenced  
To lose their Ears, and then be Banished;  
And after this again Examined were  
Whether to their Opinions they adhere,  
If so; a second Sentence doth succeed,  
And they are instantly condemned to bleed.  
Thus multitudes of Men and Families  
Were ruined by such Barbarities,  
Extravagant Fines, and long Imprisonment,  
And all the Hellish ways Rome can invent  
Were exercised severely on all those  
Who Popery and Slavery durst oppose.  
Yea, they not only took their Lives away,  
But their good Name seek likewise to destroy,  
By representing them as Mortal Foes  
TO th' King, and that they did his Power oppose.  
Thus was our Saviour dealt with by the Jews,  
And thus did they his blessed Apostles use;  
Hoping, that by their heaping infamy  
Upon good men, they would obnoxious be  
Unto the Censure of the Mobile;  
And by this their Infernal Policy  
Induce them all Religion to decry;  
Especially if they be Men of Name,  
As many were whom they sought to defame;  
And hereby thought all Piety to root out,  
Their vile Intrigues with ease to bring about;  
For when Men all Religion do defy,  
They'll quickly suck in Rome's Idolatry.   

Their wicked Laws good Men must not transgress,  
Nay which is worse; they force them to profess,  
And to declare, They just and righteous are,  
And fit to be obeyed; yea they must Swear  
They will defend them, and that Power too  
That did Enact them; which was hard to do.  
There's one thing more that's grievous to relate,  
Which shows their cruel and malicious hate.  
That finding Legal Trials against them slow  
And troublesome, they grant a power to  
The rude ungoverned Soldiers; so that they  
Have power to challenge, and examine may  
Whom they think fit, and Oaths likewise impose,  
Scotland ne'er saw such Justices as those.  
Yea they commanded and enjoined were  
To put to death all such as would not Swear:  
Yea if they would not answer the demands  
Of these loud wretches; then into their hands  
They fell, who most severely them did use;  
The French Dragoons could them not worse abuse:  
And in few weeks no less than Fifty died  
Of those that their cursed Tyranny decried.  
No Judge these Martyred Christians did condemn,  
Neither did any Jury pass on them.  
The Soldiers without cause destroyed them all,  
Which doth aloud to Heaven for vengeance call:  
They kill and slay without respect to Age  
Or Sex; to gratify their brutish rage.  
They raise an Army like to that in France,  
Their Arbitrary Power to advance;  
And the Intrigues of Rome to carry on,  
And this for Scotland s sorrows makes me moan.  
Poor men Free Quarters must provide, or they  
Are plundered, and all is swept away;  
And many hundred sober Persons were  
Inhumanely destroyed year after year.  
No former Tyrant scarcely did invent  
More Tortures than good men there underwent;  
Which they must suffer, or must else defile  
Their Consciences with their Opinions vile.  
It seemed as if Inquisitors were come  
To Scotland now from Spain, or else from Rome.  
Ah! poor enslaved Land, Ah! must thou be  
The Scene of Popish Pride and Cruelty?  
Thy Magistrates are ravening Wolves become,  
Of Esau's Race, fit Instruments for Rome.  
Thy Noble Patriots mourn, thy Priests are sad;  
Thy Kirk has lost that Glory which she had.  
'Tis good for thee to weigh, and lay to Heart  
What caused these woes, under which thou dost smart.  
Hast thou not been too hot, and too severe,  
And hence are forced such miseries now to bear?  
Learn wisdom then, and mild and gentle be,  
Since God doth never love severity.  
If ever he return to thee again,  
Let not thy sharpness all thy glory stain.  
Let such who can't unite and join with thee  
Have equal Love, and Christian Liberty;  
Or else at length a fiercer Storm may come,  
Than what thou hast already had from Rome.  
Farewell, poor Scotland, for I must be gone;  
And now methinks I hear poor Ireland groan:  
With a sad Heart I take my leave of thee,  
And what is doing there resolve to see.   

AH dismal sight!— What! all in Popish hands,  
Not one good Protestant that here commands?  
Must Wolves be Keepers of my harmless Sheep?  
Take heed, poor Souls! take heed, and do not sleep.  
Ah! now I see what the King did intend;  
Is this the love and kindness of a Friend?  
Did he pretend, all should have equal share  
Of Trust and Honour? how does this appear?  
Yet let their Honour go; if that were all  
I should not care; but when to mind I call  
The sad and dismal year of Forty One;  
And what by Irish Papists then was done.  
I cannot think my Children safe to be,  
Whilst only such are in Authority.  
Is't fit such bloody Butchers should bear sway,  
Whose Hearts were never changed to this day.  
Here's not a Constable, even so mean a place,  
But what is of the Irish Popish Race.  
I fear (dear Children) if God don't appear,  
Your utter ruin now approaches near.  
I cannot but lament when I behold  
These hungry Lions compassing my Fold:  
If Heaven don't them deter, and soon prevent,  
You will ere long be all in pieces rend.   

But yet cheer up, I long expected have  
The Lion of the North will come to save  
Both me and mine, and will great Wonders do,  
Protecting of these Lands from overthrow.  
The Chicken of the Eagle will appear,  
And vanquish all my Foes both far and near;  
When you of him have Tidings, weep no more,  
For your Redemption then is at the door.  
I can't stay longer; here my Eye doth glance,  
To pity my poor Children too in France:  
But should I dive into their State, I fear  
I should want strength their miseries to bear.   

BUT other grounds of grief are in mine Eye,  
‛ Which cause my sorrows to advance so high,  
‛ That my o'reburthened Heart can scarce express  
‛ The nature of my inward heaviness.   Sion's Friend. 
Zion, thy sad and bitter lamentation,  
Does move my very Heart unto compassion;  
But say, what cause does aggravate your fears,  
And thus provokes to further cries and tears.  Zion. 
Oh if my Head were waters, and each Eye  
A Springing Fountain I could drain 'em dry.  
I'm steeped in brackish Floods, nay almost drowned  
To see how Sin does every where abound.  
This was my cry and moan Eight years ago,  
And worse since that I find these evils grow;  
therefore must repeat them o'er again,  
For these alas do England's Glory slain,  
And bring reproach likewise on my blessed name,  
The grief of Heaven, and my children's shame.  
` Where-e▪ re I am, I nought can see or hear,  
But that which doth my Soul in pieces tear.  
It breaks my Heart that England thus should be  
A Scene for th' Actors of Debauchery.  
What perpetrations of the blackest Crimes  
Appear not barefaced in our present times?  
Though God (incensed) has fearful Judgements sent  
To humble men, and move them to repent;  
Yet they proceed in foul impenitence,  
And aggravate their horrid insolence;  
Seeming to bid defiance unto Heaven,  
Scorning to take the dreadful warnings given▪  
‛ The sweeping Plague (that Messenger of wrath)  
‛ In such as scaped sm●ll Reformation hath  
‛ Produced! nor has the desolating Fire  
‛ (A perfect token of God's flaming Ire,)  
‛ Burnt up the City's Pride; 'twas great before,  
‛ And now it seems to multiply much more.  
‛ Fantastic Garbs and Antic Modes declare,  
‛ How much from Pride their Souls reform are.  
‛ Should any Women have such Children Born  
‛ With such Attire as on their Heads are worn,  
‛ Would it not them affright and terrify?  
‛ God may do so it you done't speedily  
‛ Reform your Lives, and cast your Fashions off,  
‛ Which make ill men at you revile and scoff.  
‛ Though Want, though Poverty, and loss of Trade  
‛ Do many Men and Families invade;  
‛ Yet do they vaunt in Pride and Luxury,  
‛ As they had Mines of Treasure lying by.  
‛ Some know not what to eat, nor how to go,  
‛ Yet on the Poor will no compassion show.  
‛ (Whose unregarded cries, unheeded moans,  
‛ Whose unrelieved distress, unpityed groans,  
‛ Can scarce extort a Mite) such do not grudge  
to purchase Hell at dearest rates and drudge  
to please their brutish Lusts, who void of measure,  
‛ Consume Estates to wantonise in pleasure;  
‛ Tumbling in Riot (as proud Dives sat)  
‛ Whilst Lazarus lies starving at the Gate.  

A Complaint against Oaths.  
VOlleys of Oaths with horrid Blasphemy,  
And dreadful Cursings in mine Ears do cry.  
Mark but our impious Gallants when they meet,  
Observe the Mode, how they each other greet;  
What new coined Oaths? what modish Execrations?  
What Damning, Sinking, horrid Imprecations  
Do they disgorge? the Serpent's flery hiss  
That belches Sulphur from the black Abyss  
Can scarce outdo this Ranting Tribe, who count  
The Man Genteel that is most Paramount  
In wickedness; he that Blasphemes aloud.  
Christ's Blood and Wounds, a Courtier's Alamode.  
How can th' abused Earth but gape again,  
To swallow quick, vile wretches so profane?  
How can Heavens great Artillery so long  
Forbear the Treasons of a Mortal Tongue?  
Jehovah's Attributes so vilely used,  
His Sacred Essence, and his Name abused.  
Fresh Blasphemies they mint, new Curses frame,  
And sins that never had before a name  
Graduates in Courtship are preferred, who have made  
Most quick proficience in the Hellish Trade:  
That Rant and Roar, Revel and Domineer,  
As if nor God, nor Devil they did fear.  
Approaching dangers can't disturb their pleasure,  
But still they sin until they fill their measure.  
Judgements deferred in evil makes them bold,  
Despising such by whom they are controlled;  
As if th' avenging hand their Lives did spare,  
Thus to provoke him without dread or fear.  
But poor Blasphemer, though thou art passed by,  
'Tis not t'indulge thee in iniquity.  
Think'st thou the God of purity does like  
Such ways, because he yet forbears to strike?  
Dost think a gloomy interposing Cloud,  
From God's All-searching Eye can be thy shroud?  
Or that because he is enthroned on high,  
Thy deeds of darkness he cannot espy?  
Or since his Judgements are so long delayed,  
Wilt thou proceed, and be no whit afraid?  
Wilt thou his patience without end abuse,  
'Slight true Repentance, and his Grace refuse?  
If so, thy Judgement hastens— for a Rod  
Will quickly reach thee from an angry God,  
Because of Oaths the Land does greatly mourn,  
For which my Soul much inward grief has born.   

A Complaint against Drunkenness.  
DOst thou not see how filthy Drunkenness  
Does reign in City, and in Villages?  
Some reel and wallow in the Streets like Swine,  
Whilst others boast their strength in drinking Wine;  
Although to such God doth denounce a curse,  
They mind it not, but still grow worse and worse:  
Dread not Examples of God's wrath at all,  
Nor what to Drunkards does so oft befall:  
Although God's Word has fearful warnings given,  
That Drunkards never shall inherit Heaven,  
But that their Lot shall with damned Spirits be  
In Chains of darkness to Eternity.  
They Drink, Carouse, and waste their jolly Breath  
Upon the brink of Everlasting death.  
Whate'er ensues, they are resolved they will  
Carouse full Goblets, and be filthy still.  
Thus men by Pride, by Oaths, by Worldliness,  
By daily swallowing Liquor to Excess  
Defile the Land, and do the Lord provoke,  
To cause his vengeance on the Land to smoke.  
Sin sets the door wide open, and makes way  
For all the sorrows of th' approaching day,  
These are in part the cause of England's woe,  
And will (if Grace prevents not) it undo:  
But there are other heinous Sins behind,  
Which pierce my Bowels, and perplex my Mind.   

A Complaint against Whoredom and Adultery.  
DID filthy Lust and Whoredom ever rage  
With more success than in the present Age?  
Abominations of so vile a name,  
That their bare mention is indeed a shame.  
What Sin more hateful in Jehovah's Eye,  
Than this of Whoredom and Adultery?  
'Tis ranked as chief, and marches in the Van  
Of all the gross Debaucheries of Man,  
In those black Muster-Rolls God does Record,  
Of grand offences in his holy Word;  
What more affronts the second Table? or  
Provokes the Lord? No fitter Metaphor  
Could be produced t' express Idolatry,  
Than that abhorred name Adultery.  
Besides the terrors of Gods fiery wrath,  
Which judges such to Everlasting death;  
On Earth amongst all sober men, they gain  
So vile a blot, so infamous a stain,  
That all the waters in the Sea can never  
Wipe off, nor can it be forgot for ever.  
The loud Embraces of Lascivious Dames  
Will rot their Bones, breed Cankers in their names,  
Beget consumption in Estate and Purse,  
Produce destruction, and a certain curse:  
The common ends that such arrive unto  
Are foul Diseases, Beggary and Woe.  
They're sottish Fools (says wise Demosthenes)  
That buy Repentance at such rates as these:  
Who S●n to please an Enemy, that strives  
To damn their Souls, and rob them of their Lives.  
God in his Sacred 
* Leu. 20▪ 10.  Ordinances hath  
Appointed such to an immediate Death.  
Would m●n but judge it as their greatest Foe,  
They'd never love nor hug it as they do.  
Each Sex is bad, but Women seem to be  
The very Brokers of Immodesty;  
Which makes that passage to be born in mind,  
A Wise and virtuous Woman who can find?  
Your City Dames and Ladies are on Fire  
With wanton Passion, and unchaste Desire,  
Providing Meats on purpose to inflame  
Their pampered Gallants to their wont shame.  
Bare Breasts and naked Necks a Harlot's Dress,  
Are strong Temptations unto wickedness.  
All other Sins (th' Apostle does declare)  
Which men commit without the Body are:  
But this abominable Act alone,  
Against his Body by a man is done.  
Marriage to all, the undefiled Bed,  
Is honourable; he that will may Wed,  
But Whoremongers God judges; and they shall  
Be cast into the Lake, both great and small,  
The Wiseman calls th' Adulterer a Fool,  
And well he may, for he destroys his Soul.  
No Fools like them; though branded still they show  
The marks of folly, wheresoever they go.  
O how th' unclean and brutish man exceeds  
In erior Sinners in reproachful deeds!  
My grievances are many, and my fear  
Is more than my distressed Soul can bear:  
My panting Breast and aching Heart is sad,  
To think of what I further have to add.   

A Complaint against Atheism.  
BUT O amazing Masterpiece of wonder!  
That's like to rend my very Heart asunder,  
When I consider that an Age of Light  
Produces Monsters blacker than the Night:  
A cursed Tribe of wretched Atheists dare  
Without all dread and reverential fear,  
Strike at the Essence of the Great Jehove,  
And all the Glories that reside Above,  
As if mere fancies of a cloudy Brain,  
And all Religion an Intrigue of Man:  
That dare pronounce all Evangelic Law.  
A trick of State to keep the World in awe,  
Creating Idols in their Brains; that even  
Make mocks of Hell, and a mere scorn of Heaven.  
But can such fancies challenge an abode  
Within your Heart to disbelieve a God?  
On th' Universal Fabric cast an Eye,  
The Sea, the Earth, and the expanded Sky:  
Can so sublime illustrious an Effect  
Be formed without a Glorious Architect?  
If Reason be your Rule, true Logicks Laws  
Pronounce Effects resulting from a Cause,  
Whose order leads us to Infinity,  
Sure Arguments of a Divinity.  
Created things must a Creator have;  
And that Begetter who first Being gave  
Unto all Essences can't be Begot;  
He's therefore God, and other else is not.  
This causa prima, without time or date,  
We do believe could not himself Create,  
And therefore hence we do conclude that he  
Must have his Essence from Eternity.  
Who can make Phoebus his swift course reverse?  
Or Balance in his Palm the Universe?  
Who can the Ocean in a Sieve confine?  
If none can do't then none can God define.  
First Principles are beyond definition;  
No Logic reaches at so high a Vision:  
'Tis unrevealed to Reason, for no strain  
Of lofty Metaphysics can contain  
Those Mysteries; true Wisdom therefore hath  
Commanded Reason to give room to Faith.  
If what we see had not a first Creator,  
Then 'tis its own immediate Operator;  
If so, it Acts before it had a Being:  
But such conclusions are too dis-agreeing  
With Reason's Maxims: For all things that be,  
May say they are their own Divinity,  
If each can make itself, and that which can  
Create itself, can so itself sustain  
In infinitum, and will ne'er dissolve  
Itself; for Nature's principal Resolve  
Is, that no Essence will forbear to be,  
If it can keep up its own Entity.  
This strain of Atheistick Sophistry  
Makes all of equal Independency  
Without Subordination: 'Tis a Theme,  
Without inferior, making all Supreme.  
First CAUSE supposes time, and time supposes  
Some second Acts which aftertime discloses.  
So view their Series, you may trace them all  
(As links in Chains) to their Original  
The Great JEHOVAH; whose unfathomed Glory  
Is Emblem'd in the Universe before ye.  
There is a thing in Man called CONSCIENCE,  
Which of his Actions gives clear Evidence,  
Whether he likes or not that's ready still  
To check the course of his disordered will:  
It is Eccentrick to his sensual part,  
Arraigns his words, his deeds, his very heart;  
And if it finds they be irregular,  
It does pursue them with continual War.  
What can this just, this inward witness be,  
But some bright Beam of a Divinity?  
In former times was not Jehovah known  
By Miracles which visibly were shown?  
Can Reason brag that Causes natural  
Could raise the dead? or that a Word can call  
An Entombed Carcase to behold the Light?  
Make sound a Cripple? give the Blind their sight?  
If not, then surely it will follow hence,  
That 'tis an Act of some Omnipotence:  
That such were done we have the common Vote  
Of Pagans, Jews, and all the Men of Note,  
Whose Works are Extant, whom we may believe,  
Because they had no interest to deceive.  
Whence come those Judgements which you daily hear,  
Of wrath and vengeance darted every where  
Against Prophaners of that Sacred Name?  
Whence come those Arrows, that consuming Flame  
Which terrifies the World? and whence the Breath  
That strikes Blasphemers with a sudden Death?  
Which of these rare Philosophers can show  
What makes the spacious deep to Ebb and Flow?  
Let them produce their Maxims, if they can,  
How scattered Atoms can compose a Man?  
Who brandishes those blazing Signs of wonder?  
Who frights the Earth with rapid peals of Thunder?  
Who did defeat the fatal Enterprise  
Which Rome by Devil's Council did devise?  
Who sets the Comets in the angry Sky,  
Those dismal Harbingers of misery?  
God does himself by many ways make known,  
Forewarning men of what's a coming on:  
Yet senseless Mortals falter more and more,  
Though hover vengeance threaten at the door,  
Deceit, Soul-killing-Errors, Perjury,  
Injustice, Murder, Theft, Hypocrisy,  
Do so abound through our enlightened Isle,  
That Sodom hardly e'er appeared more vile.   

A Complaint against Hypocrites.  
I am not only Persecuted by  
My open Foes, but lurking Snakes do lie  
Within my Bosom, using all their Art  
To seize my Vitals, and corrode my Heart.  
Such seeming Friends, such Traitors in disguise,  
Are more malignant than known Enemies:  
For the Attaques of these, a man may Ward;  
Those unsuspected, stand within our Guard.  
How many seem to reverence my name,  
For worldly Ends, or to avoid the shame  
Of Irreligion? frequently they go  
To worship God, and so devout do show  
As if mere Saints; but Hypocrites in grain,  
Do all the while Intelligence maintain,  
With my declared Foes, who proudly join,  
And all their Politics in one combine,  
To root my name from off the very Earth,  
And make provision that no more get Birth;  
Betrayed by middle and by low degrees,  
But most of all by Capital Grandees.  
Such as my peace and safety should procure,  
Contribute most to make me unsecure:  
Such seem their purpose by soft words to smother;  
So Boatsmen look one way, but row another.  
Such perjured Statesmen have the Art to smile  
Upon my Face, but cut my Throat the while.  
But grant, dread Sovereign of the Universe,  
That whilst I weep my grievances in Verse,  
Thy Sion' s interest may not be betrayed  
To Rome, by Protestants in Masquerade.  
O let me hear the joyful Trumpet sounded,  
That does proclaim their Babylon confounded▪;  
Rome's black Militia is all up in Arms,  
Annoying Europe in unusual swarms.  
This critic moment they expect and hope,  
To thrust Me out, and introduce a Pope  
To plague this Noble Nation, that has been  
A Wall, a Fort, a Counterscarp between  
Their bawling Canons most impetuous shots,  
And Foreign States, that countermines their Plots.  
The desperate Archers are aware of this,  
They know that England the chief Bulwark is,  
To check their growth: If they could make it sup  
Th' envenomed dregs of th' Antichristian Cup,  
They judge it easy to subdue the rest  
Of my European Gospel-interest.  
But Oh! my melting, Soul-tormenting fears  
Burst into sighs, and bubble into tears.  
Observe the Heavens! view that dreadful mark  
Of flaming vengeance that precedes the dark  
Approach of night! can this vast Comet be  
Aught but the Prologue of calamity?  
Prodigious Meteors, blazing fiery Stars,  
Are Heralds sent to menace open Wars  
Against rebellious and polluted Coasts,  
By him who is the mighty Lord of Hosts.  
Awake O England! this Lethargic sleep  
Is out of Season, 'tis a time to weep;  
'Tis guilty Children tremble at the Rod,  
Can you be stupid when the angry God  
Sets up this dreadful Ensign of his wrath?  
Rouse up Repentance, let a lively Faith  
Now go to work; see how the preaching Air,  
Instead of sinning, does exhort to Prayer:  
For thy fantastic Garbs, Perfumes, and all  
Thy orhwe trash, it doth for Sackcloth call:  
From carnal sports it bids thee quickly get,  
Calls from the Taverns to the Mercy seat.  
From that accursed Randezvouz of Lust  
It bids thee hasten, and repent in dust.  
Have not th' experience of past Ages given  
Their sad remarks upon these Signs in Heaven?  
What followed still, but certain spoil of Nations,  
Plagues, Fire and Sword, and other devastations?  
The sure Eversion of some potent Crown;  
The death of Heroes, Monarches tumbled down.  
But thou Illustrious Architect of wonder,  
Remove the sorrows which I labour under.  
Does this amazing Prodigy betoken  
That Rampant Babel shall be quickly broken?  
Does it portend that Antichrist shall break  
In pieces, striving to destroy the weak  
Remains that on this blessed name do call?  
Or does't presage that (trembling) I shall fall?  
Lord canst thou see thy pleasant Vineyard tore,  
And rooted up, by this rapacious Boar?  
Or have my children's crying sins provoked  
That dismal sentence, not to be revoked.  
(Gods methods were to chasten, not destroy  
Those sinning Souls in whom he once took joy.)  
O give thy sinking Church a true discerning  
What thou dost mean by this prodigious warning:  
That by thy Spirits sacred Flame calcined,  
By Scourges mended, and by heat refined,  
We may find Grace, and all our ways amend,  
For some strange change this doubtless doth portend.   Sion's Friend. 
This was first published eight years ago,  
Just as God did that Fiery Meteor show;  
And when amazed at that astonishing sight,  
What you have read, I moved was to write,  
What in my judgement it might signify,  
Though I did ne'er pretend to Prophecy;  
But yet we see some things since come to pass,  
Of what so plainly then predicted was▪  
A dismal hour of darkness did appear,  
And from that time increased every year;  
Which England, nor God's Witnesses before  
Did ever see; nor I hope ne'er will more.  
Our Governments Foundation up was torn,  
Our famous City stripped, and left forlorn.  
Good men turned out of Office without cause,  
And those employed who violate those Laws  
Which only can the Subjects Right secure,  
And England did sad Slavery to endure.  
God's Witnesses have likewise since been slain,  
Though they are lately brought to Life again.  
Yea, what a wondrous strange Catastrophe  
Has since befallen Great Brittain's Monarchy  
And what a blow is thereby given to Rome?  
We may presage what further is to come;  
For I don't doubt ere its effects are o'er,  
The Church of Rome shall fall and rise no more.  
And though proud Lewis triumph, let him know  
It may foretell his final overthrow.  
The Turks have felt the sad effects, and shall  
(Unless they own the truth) entirely fall.  
No Comet (I believe) did e'er fore-show  
More good that unto Protestants should grow.  
But lest I should appear unkind to be  
In stopping Sion's groans in misery,  
I will forbear; that she may yet relate  
What for some years has been her direful state;  
And show what grief she now does labour under,  
Which seems to break her very Heart asunder.  
Dear Mother pray be pleased to proceed,  
For to your words I'll give attentive heed.  Zion. 
Your news is good; but Oh! my Spirits faint,  
Finding such doleful causes of complaint.  
My panting Soul renewed grief doth feel,  
My feeble knees beneath their burden reel.  
Such are the black enormities and crimes  
Which do attend these dark and gloomy times;  
Although I see a Parliament most just,  
Yet I alas lie covered in the dust.  
This was in Eighty when thou couldst not see  
The Saviour which God had prepared for thee.  
I am beset within, and round about,  
Nor can I see how God will bring about  
Deliverance; for my Enemies are strong,  
And snares have laid to ruin me ere long.  
And since my sins, and England's are so great,  
●t may God move to leave his Mercy-Seat,  
And give us up into Rome's Hellish power,  
To be destroyed in this most dismal hour▪  
And if at this time we preserved be,  
When Rome attacks us with such subtlety;  
Playing (with so much malice) her last Game,  
We ought to praise the great Jehovahs' Name.  
Since nothing but a Miracle can do this,  
So very dangerous our condition is.  Sion's Children. 
Ah Mother! who can disallow your moan,  
The Cause is just; for every one must own  
Our failing great, and that our sins provoke  
Impending Judgements, and a future stroke,  
If interceding Mercy step not in  
To Ward the blow, and Cancel all our sin.  
But since amazing Providence now gives light,  
And makes appear the dark Intrigues o'th' night.  
Since Heaven exposes the results of Rome  
To public notice; since the Traitors come  
To Legal Execution; since the Grand  
Contrivers of these mischiefs, dare not stand  
The Test of Law, or due Examination;  
1680. Since such brave Hero's represent the Nation,  
Whose Clear, Sagacious, penetrating Eyes,  
Dive into Rome's abhorred Mysteries.  
Whose Noble Souls, whose Loyal English Hearts,  
The closest sleights of Antichristian Arts  
Can ne'er deceive; whose brave resolves defeat  
Those cursed Delinquents, whether small or great.  
Whose Freeborn courages do scorn to stoop  
To be the Vassals of a doting Pope,  
An upstart Vicar whose Power ne'er was given,  
By binding Laws of either Earth or Heaven.  
We therefore, (Dearest Mother,) do conclude,  
That what has passed of Romish interlude,  
Is near an Exit; That the Scene will be  
Changed from a Tempest to Serenity.  
This was writ in 1680. respecting the Worthy English Parliament then Sitting. Such were our hopes then.  Zion. 
O that's a Cordial! but my grief does borrow  
Some fresh objections to renew my sorrow;  
For some that wish me well, do yet in spite  
Of Gospel-beamings, and the clearest Light  
Retain some Romish fragments which displeases  
The meek, the humble, selfdenying JESUS.  
His way of worship Scripture does express,  
No useless Pomp, no Artificial Dress  
Becomes Religion; Chastity abhors  
The Garb, the Painting, and the Gate of Whores.  
Why should my Friends a Virgin-Church pollute  
With any Relics of that Prostitute?  
Why gaudy things, that never had their name  
In Sacred Records, our Profession shame?  
Why are our Rites enammeled with their gloss?  
Why, must our Gold be mingled with their dross?  
Why, farther Reformation is suppressed,  
T' uphold a Grandeur that's Usurped at best?  
Why doors and windows must be shut up quite,  
To stop the radiance of its further Light?  
And why must such as disallow those tricks,  
Be branded as the vilest Schismatics?  
But that's not all; my Children (more refined  
From those corruptions,) do afflict my mind.  
Oh depths of sorrow that disturb my rest!  
Oh racking grief that rends my woeful Breast!  
Some are so carnal, some so swiftly hurled  
Into the Lab'●inths of th' enticing World,  
That in the hurries of that crowded Road,  
They find small leisure to attend their God;  
Preferring filthy gain, and illgot wealth,  
Before the means of their Eternal health.  
Some that in words respect me, I behold,  
In that sad posture, betwixt hot and cold:  
Sometimes they seem for sanctity; sometimes  
Slide with the current of prevailing crimes:  
Their Pulses beat with an alternate motion;  
Now fo● the world, then for some faint devotion:  
Some ●hat unto my Tabernacle were  
Admitted, left me for Egyptians fare:  
These not content with my Celestial Diet,  
Do run with others to excess of Riot.  
Some to be popular, away would give  
Those Gospel-duties that are positive:  
From such as these, my sorrows do increase,  
That sell God's order for a seeming peace;  
Allow such gaps as do pervert the Laws  
Of my just Right, and well-defended Cause,  
But O! how many easy Christians take  
Their rest in forms, and no distinction make  
'Twixt shell and kernel, that rely on Duty,  
As if it were the sole adorning Beauty.  
Such give the Lord the more invalid part,  
Present their Bodies, but deny their Heart.  
Are not some Pastor's careless to provide  
A Word in Season, for the Flocks they guide?  
Some are too backward to supply the need  
Of painful labourers, that their Souls do feed:  
Discouraged by close-fisted Avarice,  
Despised, neglected, through this Hellish Vice.  
My Workmen languish, and have cause of moan,  
To see their toil so ineffectual grown.  
The most pathetic Preaching scarce can move  
Some Rocky hearers to the Grace of Love.  
Must hag-faced Envy, and foul-tongued Detraction,  
Envenomed Malice, and unfaithful Action,  
Ill grounded Slander, and uncertain Rumours,  
Backbiting, Quarrels, and the worst of Humours  
Be practised thus? Ah grief of griefs to see  
Professing people act iniquity  
To such a pitch!— some Husbands and some Wives  
Do lead such shameful, such unsavoury Lives;  
Whilst mutually at strife, they do impeach  
That name that should be very dear to each.  
●uch pride, such churlish reprehension  
For every toy, such sharpness and contention,  
As does disgrace Religion, and does lay  
Blocks and offences in a Converts way.  
Ah! why can't we in Families eschew  
That which mere Heathens are ashamed to do?  
Their Houses are the Scene of Civil Wars,  
Of Brawls, of Discord, and Domestic Jars;  
In Grace or Comfort can they find increase,  
Or Heavenly Blessings, who are void of peace?  
How oft do Parents ill Example draw  
Their tender Children to infringe the Law,  
And Sanctions of the Everlasting God?  
Do they not spoil them when they spare the Rod?  
To strange Extremes some Parents do adhere,  
Check not at all, or else are too severe:  
On Back and Belly they bestow much cost,  
But care not if their precious Souls be lost:  
Are they not guilty of prodigious folly  
That teach them Courtship, and neglect what's holy?  
A Child untutored (a mere lump of sin,)  
May justly curse its cause of having been.  
Such as instruct, do doubly them beget,  
By timely Lessons labouring to defeat  
Their growth in ill; such cure their better part  
(By wise prevention) of a cankered Heart.  
Oh! then's the time to give 'em Form and Mold,  
For Trees admit no bending that are old;  
Who timely sow such Seed they would have grow,  
Will surely reap according as they sow.  
Some like the Ape, that does by hugging kill,  
Prompt on a Child to tip his Tongue with ill  
In his first prattle; but it is less pain,  
To form good habits, than reform the vain.  
On th' other hand, how many Children do  
Prove vain, rebellious, disobedient to  
Their godly Parents? slight their careful teaching,  
Make sport of Prayer, and a mock of Preaching?  
Contempt of Parents, of what kind so e'er,  
Contracts a bitter curse, which every where  
Will find them out. But Oh my aching Soul  
Beats sad Alarms of grief! I must condole  
The dismal Fate of Youth! alas how few  
The ways of God and holiness pursue!  
But very eager to obey the Devil,  
In quickly Learning every reigning evil;  
Here you may see if you survey the Nation,  
Our youth grown old in vile Abomination▪  
Such early Graduates in the Hellish Science,  
Setting both Heaven and Hell at loud defiance.  
Let Grace and Virtue grovel in the dust,  
Their Youth and Strength they'll Sacrifice to Lust▪  
That Sacred Precept in the Word of Truth,  
To mind their Maker in the days of Youth  
They scorn to heed: Ah Fools! that would begin  
Conversion, when they can no longer Sin;  
But know, preposterous Souls; the day of Doom  
(That dreadful Audit of Accounts) will come.  
How dare you run this vile career till Death,  
Like a grim Sergeant, comes t▪ arrest your Breath?  
When your Tongues falter, and your Eye strings crack,  
When stings of horror do your Conscience rack,  
When Hell's Abyss sets open its spacious Gate,  
And Troops of Devils round about you wait.  
When nought but horror and confusion seizes  
Upon your Senses? when those foul Diseases  
You got by vile Debauches have at length  
Destroyed your Persons, and subdued your Strength;  
●s this a Season to detest your Lewdness,  
To talk of Virtue, or pretend to Goodness?  
Egregious Fools! how dare you to delay  
Your Souls Affairs to that uncertain day?  
Oh! can you trust so grand a work to that  
Moment of anguish? when you know not what  
(When sound) your end will be, nor yet how soon,  
Though brisk at Morning, you may die ere Noon:  
And if unchanged, your certain doom will be  
To lie in Hell to all Eternity.  Sion's Children. 
O dismal state! O miserable case!  
Enough to daunt all that are void of grace!  
And crush the bragging of the stoutest mind!  
But are there still more grievances behind?  Zion. 
Still more behind! O that there were no more!  
Since they're too many that I've told before:  
Masters and Servants, Kings and Subjects err  
In their Relation: does not each prefer  
Base selfish Ends to gratify a Lust,  
Before what's honest, and supremely just.  Sion's Friend. 
Thus, thus I'm sure it was that year when I  
Published that Book of Sion's Misery;  
For King and People strangely were misled,  
And the cursed Popish Plot near smothered;  
And many other horrid shameless crimes  
I'th' Land were perpetrated in those times,  
But I'll have done; (Dread Matron) pray declare  
What th' other Motives of your sorrows are.  Zion. 
Ah! how much time by Christians is spent  
In fruitless idle talk? how negligent  
In holy conference? strange to each other!  
How dull is each to quicken up his Brother  
In Gospel-duties? O! how few do nourish  
That Love and Zeal which heretofore did flourish?  
A Love whose flaming heat and generous rays  
(replete with Spirit) famed the former days.  
Pious discourses may reclaim the vile;  
But they are hardened in their sins the while  
Christians converse like them, and rather learn  
Their vicious tricks, than teach them to discern  
The dismal snares and perils that do lurk  
In sinful words, and every evil work.  
Some are so covetous that they would grasp  
The World in Armfuls till their latest gasp.  
●ome full of Envy, others do express  
Their Lust on dainties, feeding to Excess:  
〈◊〉 nice and delicate in choice of Meat,  
Whilst their poor Brethren scarce have Bread to eat.  
Merchants and Traders have a nimble Art  
●o sum their Shop-books, but neglect the He art;  
●or that they think there's time enough, and look  
But seldom to the Reckon of that Book.  
How many come for fashion sake to hear?  
▪ What one receives, goes out at t'other Ear)  
How many loiter in their Christian Race,  
profusely squandering the day of Grace?  
Many like Drones on others toil do live,  
Though' 'tis less honour to receive than give.  
What Lying, Cheating, Cozening and Deceit  
Do Traders use? Oh! how they over-rate  
What they would sell? but if they be to buy,  
They undervalue each commodity.  
But why should Pride, that vile Abomination  
Be found in Christians? must each Apish Fashion  
Bewitch their Minds when God is so Express,  
In strict forbidding of so vile a Dress.  
Prayer that sacred Ordinance, that holds  
An intercourse with Heaven, which beholds  
The Father's Glory, and on high does mount,  
Is made by many but of small account.  
'Tis that which carries our desires to God,  
And comes down freighted with a blessed load  
Of sweet returns; yet 'tis much disrespected,  
And Closet Prayer too too much neglected.  
Scriptures themselves are slighted and disused,  
And oft, when read, perverted or abused:  
Helping the weak, is turned into its slighting,  
Gospel-reproofs perverted to Backbiting.  
Many that do of God his Mercy crave,  
Yet on the needy little Mercy have.  
They own they have Blessings from the God of Love,  
Yet too too many do unthankful prove.  
Some follow whimsies that do nearly border  
Upon confusion, and despise all order▪  
Such on all sacred Institutions trample,  
Though fortified by Precept and Example,  
As if 'twere low for an exalted mind,  
To be to Gods declared will confined;  
But can these men of Rapture make pretence  
That they have more Divine intelligence  
Than all th' illustrious Saints, as Prophets, Priests,  
Apostles, Martyrs and Evangelists,  
That were the Scribes and Messengers of Heaven,  
And strictly practised all the Duties given  
Unto the Church; which are without repeal?  
But if they're disannulled who did reveal  
Their Abrogation to these bold pretenders?  
God's Laws are sound, and need no humane menders,  
But Oh! that dismal evil that's behind,  
Disturbs my Reason, and distracts my Mind,  
It is Division; that unhappy word  
Has done more mischief than a Popish Sword  
Could ever do; Oh! that a sweet Communion  
(At least of Love) did but complete our Union.  
Why should licentious heat, my Children hurry  
To those Extremes? must they each other worry  
For trivial things? do they not all agree  
In fundamentals of Divinity?  
Is there no room for Love? or must that grace  
Among my Children have no proper place?  
Why is one Christian angry with his Brother  
If not so tall as he? or with another,  
Because his face is not so white as his?  
Or that his habit not so gaudy is?  
Alas! no folly can be more absurd,  
Nor more exploded in Gods holy word.  
All should to Gospel-purity adhere;  
But to calumniate, vilify and jeer  
All such as are not of their very pitch,  
Is Anti-gospel, and a practice which  
The Lord abhors; If causes of Dissent  
Evert not Truth, nor shake the Fundament  
Of true Religion, why such angry bawling?  
Suck odious nicknames, and such vile miscalling.  
Who dares intrude into the Judgment-seat  
Of God Almighty who is only great,  
And only judgement gives; to him belongs  
To pass the sentence, and to punish wrongs.  
Why cannot Christians with each other bear?  
Among Apostles some dissensions were;  
But did they therefore Persecute each other?  
These Mortal conflicts, Brother against Brother,  
Destroy our safety, for they set a gap  
Open for Rome, that would us all entrap  
In fatal snares: their Maxim is we know,  
Divide and rule, distract and overthrow.  
Their crafty Agents do creep in among  
Our heedless parties, and divide the throng,  
That with more ease they may us all devour,  
Destroy our Nation, and subvert our Power.  
Why therefore do not Protestants agree  
As one, against the common Enemy?  
Who waits with bloody hand t' involve 'em all,  
In one destruction Epidemical.  Sion's Children. 
Ah Mother! who can remedy your grief?  
For this Disease admits of no relief.  Zion. 
Of no relief? O than my Heart must break!  
Unless my Sons their Mother's counsel take,  
Which will those fatal flaming heats allay,  
Obstruct their growth, and take 'em clear away.  
Oh! can a Mother's tears and woeful cries  
Be disregarded in her children's Eyes?  
Can English Protestants, who do profess  
To serve one God in truth and holiness,  
'Slight all my wishes, and requests despise?  
Oh! harken to my counsel and be wise:  
Let wrathful Pride, and foolish Self-conceit;  
Let Quibbles and Sophistical Deceit  
Be quite exploded: let a cool debate  
All Fundamentals of Religion state:  
〈◊〉 such you all will certainly agree:  
Oh happy Model of sweet Unity!  
Let none that to those Principles do stick,  
Be branded with the name of Heretic;  
It glads my Heart to hear 'em treat each other,  
By that sweet title of a Christian Brother.  
Next if you would not Charity explode,  
Abuse the guiltless, and affront your God,  
Judge not your Brethren at a distance; neither.  
Give easy Credit to the Tales of either  
hotheaded Scribblers, or Licentious tongues  
That often load the Innocent with wrongs:  
So hellish Monks did serve Wald ensian Saints  
With horrid Clamour, and unjust Complaints.  
So Popish Impudence spews out its Gall  
To make us odious, and bespatter all  
The Reformation; Sure that cause is bad  
Whose chief support from Railing must be had;  
If giddy Rumour, or uncertain Fame  
Should raise a slander on your brother's name,  
Repair to him, and in converse you'll see  
Whether he guilty or not guilty be:  
If he be faulty, tell him of his sin;  
Be Mild and Secret, and you may him win.  
Admonish Gently, let your whole discourse,  
Be full of Savour, love and Scripture force.  
This is the way to bring him to a sense,  
And Gods prescribed Method, to convince;  
But if you fail, then leave him to his God,  
Who can reform, or punish with a Rod.  
Your work is done, you have discharged the part  
Of Friend of Brother, of a Christian heart  
Before Belief examine what is vented  
Good men by Malice may be represented  
In Monstrous Shapes: Some that to God are dear,  
Hatred will paint like a misshapen Bear;  
Believe not therefore distant imputation,  
No censure's just before Examination,  
In all Debate's be sure to lay aside  
All prejudice, and let the Scriptures guide  
Your calm, sedate disputes, let truth be scanned  
With cool resolves: O! Let that great Command  
Of Love take place! for that should moderate  
All Eager Sallies in a warm debate.  
Who loses Error, truly gains the field,  
And he is Victor, that to truth does yield;  
Where e'er you find it, though in mean array,  
Subscribe and win the glory of the day.  
O: what's the world, but Shackles to the mind  
what's Reputation, but a fleeting▪ wind.  
Why should those baubles which the Lord abhors  
Become the Sacred Truth's Competitors?  
Away with all such rubs let truth take place  
And then the Springs of Everlasting grace  
Will drop down blessings, Unity, increase  
Among my Children as the Fruits of peace.  Sion's Children. 
Our common danger, and the Real sense,  
Which we have got by dear experience  
Of those advantages our cruel Foe  
Gets by our Factions, will unite us so,  
As that our Enemies shall ne'er prevail  
To break our League, or make our courage fail.  
But speak (Dear Mother,) has some new affright  
So discomposed you, that you fear our Light  
Is near Extinction? Tell your Sons, we pray;  
What are the Symptoms of th' expiring day.  
Why do you Judge, that England's day of grace  
Draws to an Evening, and declines apace?  
Show some prognostics of that dismal night,  
That threatens to succeed our Gospel Light.  Zion. 
When Sol once touches our Meridian Line,  
It strait descends, does by degrees decline;  
Its heat grows less, its dis-appearing Light  
Yields to the Sable of approaching night:  
Just so the Gospel in its Altitude,  
Once shot such beams, that in this Isle ensued  
So great conversion, that those former days  
Did feel its blessed and universal Rays.  
A general heat did warm this happy Nation,  
From its benign and powerful operation  
But now it falls and from our Horizon  
It's vigorous influence is almost gone.  
Thousands of Sermons lately have been preached,  
But very few (if any) sinners reached.  
How ineffectual is the quickening word!  
It shines, but warms not, 'tis but like a Sword  
That's fair to sight, but has not Edge at all,  
Few pricked at heart, and scarce do any fall  
At Jesus feet; Or have a sense of sin,  
Confessing how Rebellious they have been!  
It is a dismal and apparent sign  
That night comes on, when Phoebus does decline,  
When heat and fervour fail, our hemisphere  
Will quickly see its glory disappear.  
The evening of the natural day is come  
When harvest-work-men are repairing home:  
So when quick Summons of Omnipotence,  
Removes the Dressers of his Vineyard hence,  
We may conclude the Gospel-morning past,  
Because God's Servants disappear so fast.  
Can I when Gap-defenders fall asleep,  
But (like old Israel) for my Prophets weep?  
How can the naked and unguarded Flock,  
Against devouring Wolves sustain the shock,  
When of the Shepherds it is thus bereft,  
When scarce a Moses or a Joshua's left  
How many active Guides, most dearly loved  
By me, have been, in little time removed,  
Scarce can I dry mine Eyes for loss of one,  
But news arrives of many others gone:  
Ah if my head were waters, and each Eye  
A well of tears, I could distil 'em dry;  
Bright Lamps extinguished! and no other Lights  
Appear to chase the horror of our nights!  
Shaken by concussions of my Foes, I stand  
Whilst few are raised to hold my trembling hand,  
If thus my Horsemen and Commanders die  
What will become of the poor Infantry?  
Who can support the burden of the day,  
When such brave Hero's daily drop away?  
Is summer past, or is the harvest done?  
That such Presages of a Storm come on!  
Sure God (as Monarches do) intendeth Wars,  
When he recals his choice Ambassadors.  
Ah too Licentious world! Come look about,  
Before the Lord the bloody Flag puts out,  
When God, from Sodom righteous Lot did call,  
Sulphurous flashes did consume them all.  
Another ground of my prevailing fear,  
That England's black Catastrophe is near,  
Is that, as in the closure of the day,  
The Evening-wolves do range abroad to prey.  
So Romish Beasts in monstrous swarms do peep  
From their black Caverns to destroy my Sheep:  
Such hate the tell tale-Light, and therefore hide  
Themselves in Dens, until the Evening tied  
Their cursed products are resolves of night,  
Like silent Curs, that in the dark do bite.  
Another Symptom of the days declension,  
Is when the Shadows do increase dimension.  
So when I look about I plainly see  
Our Evening Shadows very long to be;  
In humane bodies when the head grows hoary,  
It notes decay of vigour, strength, and glory,  
Grey hairs are thick upon our Ephraim's head  
His Strength decays, his Face is withered,  
When Joints grow palsied, and the blood's congealed,  
Into a J●lly, can the man be healed?  
When limbs grow Stiff, and feeble Age does plow  
Its wrinkled furrows on the Patient's brow,  
When heat gives place to a benumbing cold,  
When doting fancy cares not to be told  
Of its approaches to a certain Grave,  
When it rejects the Physic that would save;  
The case is desperate, for the Patient's just  
Upon the point to be entombed in dust:  
Even so (Alas!) This gasping Nation lies  
Under the pressure of sad Maladies!  
'Tis sick at heart yet seems averse to take  
That Sacred Physic whose Ingredients make  
Diseases vanish, and would ward the blow  
Which will I fear produce its overthrow:  
Ah! must our glory, (like a brittle Glass  
Reduced to fractions) into Atoms pass  
So Rude a Chaos! An unformed confusion  
Threatening the whole with utter dissolution.  
Once happy Isle, I grieve at thy condition  
Where's thy Repentance? Where is thy contrition?  
Thou hast been counted our Emanuel's Land  
The Gospel seems on Tiptoe now to stand  
To bid thee farewel: Must thy Sun so soon  
Be set! before it did approach to noon!  
Must that illustrious Morning-light be gone  
That spread its beams through all our Horizon!  
Must wretched Malice and prodigious Lust  
Must barefaced pride, and impudent distrust▪;  
Rob thee of this inestimable Jewel?  
How canst thou be so pittyless, so cruel  
Unto thyself? Sin is the flaming dart  
That cuts thy Veins, and Wounds thy very heart,  
Can Zion choose but send out mournful cries  
And weep thy downfall in sad Elegies?  
Within thy bounds my tabernacles were  
Built up, and I did long inhabit here  
Thy Gospel-glory, and Renown's gone forth  
Into all parts and▪ corners of the Earth,  
Thou mayst be Justly styled the place of Vision  
(Though made by foes an Object of derision)  
The Joy of Saints, the Protestants delight,  
The Mark and Butt of Antichristian spite.  
But if the Crown be ravished from thy head,  
And Romish Clouds thy Lustre overspread,  
What heart's so brawny but my doleful cry  
Must move to pity? What relentless Eye  
Can see thy fall and not dissolve to drops?  
Oh fleeting Joys; Oh disappearing hopes!  
Oh hastening horror, Oh invading fears!  
Had I a sea of never emptied tears,  
My boundless, helpless grief wide open sets  
The Sluices for its Streaming Rivulets  
The very Air, dressed in prodigious Forms,  
Must groan in Thunder, and must weep in Storms;  
Nature of strong convulsions sickened is,  
To see this horrid Metamorphosis:  
Where Gospel Pastors did some Millions feed  
Must Blind and Sottish ignorance succeed?  
Must all their throats be cut that won't adore  
The hateful carcase of a filthy Whore?  
Must all that execrate Rome's Superstition,  
Be Murdered by a bloody Inquisition?  
Must such as won't to Idols bow, be broke?  
Must flaming Smithfield belch out Fire and Smoke  
Of Martyred Saints? Must all that will not turn,  
With Bibles and good Books together burn?  
Must Monkish Tories, mere incarnate Devils  
Possess our Land, and pester it with Evils  
Of such an odious and abhorred grain,  
That but to name 'em is a lasting stain?  
Must our Renowned Ministers give place  
To Romish Blockheads? Oh the vile disgrace  
Of such a change? Must an adulterous Priest  
Belch our his Mass, where they have preached Christ.  
Must that absurd and irreligious Tribe,  
Who fetter conscience, and regard a bribe  
Beyond their Souls, be leaders to our Flocks  
Must Paltry nonsense, and those Apish Mocks  
Miscalled devotion, fill the house of prayer?  
Must Pestilence infect our purer Air?  
Must Sodom be translated to our Isle,  
And filthy Priests our chastity defile?  
Must Satan's factors in a humane Shape  
On modest Virgins perpetrate a Rape?  
Must all our painful Ministers be driven  
To Fiery Stakes, if they renounce not heaven?  
Must our dear Infants lose their harmless lives  
In flaming Faggots, or with Popish Knives?  
Must guiltless blood through all our Streets rebound  
A mournful Echo? Must the horrid sound  
Of Axes, Whips, and dreadful Scourges tear  
Our aching hearts and pierce the yielding Air?  
All this will be, if Rome can but prevail!  
Amazement stops my Speech! My Spirits fail!  
I only can in interjections cry,  
I sink in trances! O I die, I die!  Zions' Children. 
Ah! How can we with any patience bear  
This sad Complaint? Ah! How can Children hear  
Their Mother deluged in a Sea of grief,  
And not step in to give her some relief?  
Cheer up, Illustrious Zion, be not cast  
Into despair by this impending blast;  
Christ is our Captain, and we may be bold.  
For in all Storms he is our Anchor hold  
But what's that Beast where of thou dost complain  
From whence came he? And of what date's his Reign?  
Give us his marks, that we thereby may know him,  
And then abate his pride, and overthrow him  
With Universal, and United force,  
Our Armed Legions shall impede his course,  
I'th' cause of God who does all Sceptres wield  
We'll fight his battles, and dispute i'th' Field,  
In Martial Syllogisms our Arms shall speak  
We'll storm his Walls, and make his Butwarks quake  
Revenge and Anger in our bosom burns  
Patience too much provoke to fury turns.  Zion. 
See! That's the Beast upon whose back the great  
jaticing Strumpet rides in pomp and State  
By him she was supported all along  
By his Impostures she was rendered strong  
He's not content to be Supreme below,  
And make all Sceptres to his Crozier bow,  
But th' Impious wretch is grown so bold that even  
He dares affront the Majesty of Heaven  
What God Commands this Antichrist controls  
Condemns the Saved, and saves Condemned Souls.  
Himself he places in jehovahs Throne,  
As Principal, and Second unto none;  
A brace of Keys he carries in his hand  
To shut and open at his own Command;  
He curses and absolves; He binds, releases,  
Puts down, advances, whom so e'er he pleases  
This is th' Apocalyptick Beast that claims  
Sublimest Titles, and Blasphemous names,  
With matchless Pride, and monstrous Impudence,  
He does for money with God's Laws dispense;  
Yea, such is his unheard of avarice,  
Upon the worst of crimes he set a price.  Sion's Children. 
These Marks are so notorious that we can  
Clearly discern the Pope of Rome's the Man,  
This raging Monster▪ and this Beast of prey;  
Shall we arise, and take his strength away,  
That hath so long time tyrannised thus  
With Hellish fury over thee and us?  
Self preservation is by every creature  
Esteemed a Sacred Principle in Nature;  
Each Freeborn Soul must at those Tyrants spurn  
That would infect their Souls; Their bodies burn  
Why should this Beast still rage and domineer  
As he hath done without control or fear.  Zion. 
God's time is best, and in due season he  
Will bring this Beast to his Catastrophe.  
He sits in Heaven, and there beholds with scorn  
This Rebel's Pride; His glorious Son that's born  
Heir of the World, and Prince of Kingdoms too,  
Shall surely reign because it is his due  
For all to him the Sovereign Rule must yield;  
His is the Crown; He shall the Sceptre wield;  
To Jesus all shall bow; He shall be King,  
And to poor Zion shall Redemption bring.  
Forty two months unto this Beast is given  
So long shall he tread down the Host of Heaven;  
And now I hope the end thereof draws nigh,  
And that some will be spirited from on high,  
Who in the Great Jehovahs' name shall sound  
Such an Alarm as shall his power confound.  
Another Enemy, his Confederate  
There is likewise, that my forlorn Estate  
Hath much occasioned, and of whom before  
I made complaint; The proud insulting Whore,  
Who with lascivious looks and wanton eyes  
Incites to Lust and all Debaucheries.  
By her provoking and bewitching charms  
Grandees she doth entice into her arms,  
Corrupting Princes by her incantations,  
And ruining the Nobles of the Nations.  
Great God Assist me, lest my Spirits fail,  
That I the State of Monarches may bewail,  
Who to her Yoke yield their Illustrious necks  
And move like Vassals at her haughty becks;  
Ah! they that should my nursing Fathers be  
Are Executioners of her Cruelty,  
And by her influence the Civil Power  
Is made a dreadful Engine to devour  
The Saints of God, and kick at their Creator,  
But let them know the Sovereign Arbitrator  
Of all their destinies, is Great and Just,  
And can at pleasure crumble them to dust  
Thus hath she made the Greatest Kings and Peers  
Submit to her Dominion many years,  
Exhaust their treasures, ruinated their fame,  
And at the last gain nought but loss and shame;  
For by engaging in her Hellish Plots  
They to their names have gained Eternal Blots;  
Nay of their Kingdoms some deprived have been  
As it in divers Nations has been seen;  
Impudent Strumpet! Whose cursed wiles defile  
men's Consciences, and do their Souls beguile  
And when involved in the deepest guilt  
She then pretends to wash away the filth  
By impious Pardons; Yea to such a height  
Of folly does bewitch them, that the sight  
Of Death approaching won't make them confess  
Apparent guilt and horrid wickedness;  
And by her Arts, when they are parting hence  
Their Fronts Steels with such hardened impudence  
That though brought to a most deserved death,  
With lies and falsehoods they resign their breath,  
Her Agents buzzing in their doubting ears  
False hopes, whereby they may forget their fears,  
Who like ill Angels round about them hover,  
Doubting they should their Villainies discover.  
When some are stretched upon the fatal block,  
And Justice ready to discharge the stroke,  
Such is the strength of her inebriation,  
That they, (Oh! horrible) on their Salvation  
Protest they're innocent, when all the while  
No Treason ever did appear more vile  
Than that for which Impartial Justice them  
To a just death as Traitors did condemn;  
For Rome, by downright impudence even would  
Outface the Sun, and baffle if she could  
The clearest proofs, and Solid'st evidence  
Produced by Heaven's unerring Providence.  
Ah cruel Mistress of deluded Souls!  
That's not content to make them arrant fools,  
To lose Estates and Lives, but must thereby  
Make them stab conscience when they come to die  
She to encourage Treasons does prefer  
Those Traitor's Martyrs in her Calendar  
But will this recompense the loss of Thrones,  
Or ease the Soul in hell of its sad groans.  Zions' Children. 
Shall we (endangered by her Plots) arise,  
And curb this Harlot who our God defies?  
Why should her Treasons any more annoy  
Thy precious Saints, and Nations thus destroy?  
Let's make her drink of that envenomed Cup  
She fiilled for us; Shall she not drink it up?  
Will none fall on, provoked by just ire  
To eat her flesh, and burn her in the Fire?  Zion. 
Dear Children! as to what you have required,  
At present you must keep yourselves retired,  
Make no attempts until God from on high  
Affords you strength this Babel to defy;  
At present you are even like Persons dead  
And seem unable to erect your head,  
But than you shall appear to be alive,  
God's Spirit shall your fainting Souls revive,  
Who to the fixed time will be exact  
When he'll begin this strange and dreadful Act,  
To the confusion of your Enemies,  
Then God will cause his Witnesses to rise,  
And you will have a clear and gracious Call  
To join with those that on the Whore shall fall.  Sion's Friend. 
These lines were writ eight years ago or more  
In the book which I mentioned before  
We then had hopes of what was drawing near;  
But stay my Muse! To Zion lend an Ear,  
To what she at that time was heard to say  
About the Dispensations of that day.  Zion. 
With patience (Children) wait upon the Lord,  
Until his saving Strength he does afford;  
To him you all must make your Supplication,  
For from him only is my expectation.  
Oh! sigh with me, and in your Spirits groan,  
Send up strong cries to the Almighty's Throne,  
Give him no rest until those happy days  
I shall exalted be, and made the praise  
Of all the Earth; And I will likewise cry  
And mount my voice to Him who sits on High.  

The Church's Prayer.  
O Lord of Hosts consider my Estate,  
Let me remain no longer desolate.  
Have I not been most precious in thy sight?  
Lord therefore do not my Petition slight.  
But let thy bowels to thy Children move,  
In token of parental, tender love;  
Shall Zion totter, and the Beast be steady  
In his proud Seat? Hast thou not seen already  
What they have done, who evil good do call,  
From whom we can expect no good at all;  
Will they make Judgement i'th' right Channel go  
Extirpate vice? make righteousness to flow  
Like mighty Streams; Will they a blessing be?  
To me or mine who haters are of thee?  
Can men of thorns expect sweet grapes to find?  
Will ravenous Wolves to innocent Lambs be kind  
Will such as have thy children's blood let out,  
Striving to bring their black designs about,  
And with mine Enemies daily still combine  
To root out and destroy both me and mine;  
Will these be now chief Friends and me relieve?  
Sure none but mad men would such things believe.  
If Thanks and Praises will on Earth be given  
If Hallelujahs will be sung in Heaven  
To thy great name for rasing Babylon.  
If placing of a Papist on the Throne  
Be for our good, by opening a door  
For men's Salvation readier than before;  
If the access of sinners easier be  
In their approaches (Blessed God) to thee,  
By Romanists having the Sovereignty,  
Oh! then exalt them; Let all others fall  
And Rome usurp Dominion over all.  
But if in thy just and all seeing Eye,  
Their monstrous crimes are of a crimson dye;  
If they from their Original have been  
The vilest wretches and the worst of men;  
If for the future they intent to be  
The Perpetrators of all Villainy;  
If their dark Heathenish Idolatry  
Pride, horrid murders and base Perjury  
Mount up to Heavens High Imperial Throne;  
If their Oppressions make thy Churches gone,  
If they will burn the Scriptures, and suppress  
All Books that treat of Gospel Holiness;  
If guiltless Souls without respect to age  
Or Sex, must be the objects of their rage;  
If they are Enemies to thy Covenants,  
If they would trample under foot thy Saints,  
If 'cause thou dost not seem to hear, and save  
Thy Zion, or to grant what she doth crave,  
They Scoff at, and deride thy glorious name,  
And put thy Faithful ones to open shame:  
Then hear, O Lord? Thou see'st my power's gone:  
In thee I trust; Besides thee there is none 
Deut. 32. 36.   
That can thy Church from her Stern Foes deliver.  
Oh draw thy flaming Arrows from thy Quiver,  
To quell the Pride of this Insulting Crew;  
Thy mighty Arm alone can them subdue:  
On thee I have my absolute reliance;  
Do thou assist, I'll bid them all defiance:  
Hear, O my God, and for thy mercy Sake,  
On Gasping Zion some compassion take;  
I have been Ransomed by the precious blood  
Of thy Dear Son, and fed with heavenly food;  
Thy Church's sins O pardon and forgive  
And in sweet concord let thy Children live  
Teach them true saving knowledge from thy Word,  
That they may worship thee with one accord;  
My breach thou canst repair, and cure my wound,  
Nothing too difficult for thee is found:  
Thou knowest my grief (O Lord) incline thine ear,  
Revive my hope, and chase away my fear,  
In Achors Valley open thou a door,  
Make me rejoice as I did heretofore;  
I pray thee, break my bonds, ease my distress,  
Bring me out of this dolesom wilderness,  
Oh let me Shine like Sols illustrious light,  
Make me an Army terrible in fight;  
Rend off that Veil which does thy Zion cover,  
Scatter the Clouds, whereby I may discover  
What thou designest by this thy Dispensation  
And what my work is in this generation.  
'Tis time for thee to plead thy righteous cause  
When wicked men make void thy righteous Laws,  
Thou canst cause them to drink of their own cup,  
And loftiest Cedars by the roots pluck up.  
But Lord, remember Zion, spare thy Vine,  
That spreading Plant which thou hast chose for thine,  
Make that to flourish, and be ever green,  
And full of Clusters as before 't has been  
From Egypt thou hast brought it heretofore;  
O God, I pray, bring it out thence once more,  
Let thy hand plant, and water so the Root,  
That all the Land may feast upon the fruit;  
O let its cordial juice the Nation fill,  
And let its boughs o'er shadow every Hill,  
From Sea to Sea do thou her branches send,  
From all her Enemies always her defend:  
Preserve her Fence, be unto her a Wall,  
And keep her from the violence of all  
Wild Beasts, and from that Boars malicious power,  
That would destroy her, and her fruit devour.  
Lord from on high thy Lovely Vine behold,  
'Tis thine own Plant, of greater price than Gold;  
Canst thou deny her thy assistance, while  
These Ravenous Creatures do thy Vineyard spoil?  
Take notice how her bulwarks are thrown down,  
And more heart-breaking evils coming on;  
Breach upon breach, Alas! I daily see,  
And doubtless I shall quickly ruined be,  
Unless by some unknown and Glorious hand,  
Thou speedily dost save me, and the Land.  
I am Christ's Spouse: His undefiled one;  
Wilt thou permit me to be trod upon?  
'Tis by thy grace I am entitled so,  
Great God relieve me and divert my woe;  
Who am surrounded every way with grief,  
Oh let thy lovely smiles bring me relief;  
Thou hast withdraw the beamings of thy grace,  
And wrapped in Clouds the Splendour of thy face,  
Which has upon me brought such anxious smart,  
As tears my Soul, and makes my very heart:  
Drop tears of blood: For if the glorious Sun  
Of Righteousness be hid, where shall I run,  
For joy or comfort in this dismal hour,  
Who only to bemoan myself have power?  
More she had spoke, but that her Passion ties  
Her mournful Tongue; The Floodgates of her eyes,  
In Crystal Streams, do represent such anguish,  
As makes her vital operations languish  
Sunk in despairing Swoons, she scarce appears  
To breathe or live, but by her Sighs and Tears.   Sion's Children. 
Mourn, Mourn, Oh Heavens! And thou Oh earth bewail,  
Weep ye blest Saints, until your Spirits fail,  
For she that is the glory of the Earth,  
Of the most Noble and Illustrious birth,  
Lies sadly groaning in a deep despair  
Whose grievous sorrows no tongue can declare  
Oh! that our brethren would but hasten hither,  
That in Gods fear we might confer together.  
Sure you must grieve when her complaints you hear  
You cannot certainly but shed a tear;  
Do not your Eyes even like a Fountain stream,  
And all your joys turn to a mourning Theme?  
Does not your nightly rest from you depart?  
Are you not pierced to the very heart,  
And fallen into the depth of bitterness,  
Because of Zions Trouble and distress?  
How can our heart's delight in things below?  
How can we rest secure, as sinners do?  
How can we comfort take, or pleasure find,  
Or how can we the World's concernments mind?  
Or with Terrene enjoyments be content,  
And not poor Zions miseries lament?  
〈◊〉 can we hear our Mother's doleful cries?  
〈◊〉 Sighs, she Sobs, she Languishes, she lies  
〈◊〉 dreadful Agonies, in bitter pain,  
〈◊〉 can we bear her Enemy's disdain?  
〈◊〉 wickedly reproach her every day,  
And like a broken pot she's thrown away,  
Despised and trod upon even like the dung  
The Drunkard on her makes his daily Song  
But Christ will come, and look on her sad State,  
End with poor Zion he'll Expostulate.  
‛ Why art thou sometimes high, then low again  
‛ Sometimes at ease and then in bitter pain?  
‛ Doubtless th' are Throws; Cheer up and do not fear,  
‛ For thy deliverance is very near;  
‛ These labouring pangs will speedily be o'er,  
‛ Take heart, thou shall not die; One or two more  
‛ Will bring that Child into the World which thou  
‛ Hast travelled with in bitter pangs till now;  
‛ Address thyself to God, for surely he  
‛ From these thy tortures will deliver thee;  
' 'Tis he alone that brings unto the birth,  
‛ And giveth strength and vigour to bring forth;  
‛ Then stay thyself upon th' Almighty Lord,  
‛ His gracious help he to thee will afford  
‛ Upon his promises do thou depend  
‛ And thou shalt see deliverance in the end.  
These words of Comfort, like a Cordial wrought  
And to her senses, mourning Zion brought,  
With fainting looks, and with a weeping Eye  
Unto her Children she renews her cry.  Zion. 
How am I spoiled? How do I sit forlorn?  
How long wilt be e'er I shall cease to mourn?  
I'm like a Ship by raging Tempests tossed  
'Midst Rocks and Sands, just ready to be lost.  
Where every billow does present a grave,  
And Death in Triumph rides on every Wave.  
But yet, I am engraven on his hand,  
And in his sight for ever I do stand.  
Awake, O arm of God Oh come away!  
My woes are very great! Ah do not Stay!  
Hear me, Dear Jesus; unto thee I cry,  
Unless thou save me I must surely die;  

Christ.  
In Glorious Regions of approachless Light,  
Where Joys unmixed with perfect Love unite;  
There do I sit; There do I see and hear  
What Kings and Potentates consulting are;  
But in mine Ears methinks I hear the cry  
Of some distressed Soul in misery;  
My Bowels in me with compassion move,  
Oh!— 'tis the voice of her I dearly love;  
She whom I purchased with my dearest blood,  
Seems drenched, yea drowned in tears, as in a Flood;  
Some mighty Sorrow sure, and Tribulation,  
Extorts from her this doleful Lamentation,  
Enough to pierce my tender heart again,  
And make the Temple once more rend in twain  
Alas, poor Zion, thy Complaints I hear,  
And I will rescue thee; Oh do not fear,  
I know thy sorrows, and I hear thy cries,  
And from what apprehensions they arise:  
Know! I can still the blustering Winds and Seas,  
And in the greatest anguish can give case;  
I can both wound and cure; Build up and break▪  
I kill, I make alive, I give, I take!  
The Greatest Monarches I can soon pull down,  
I can make void, and then fill up the Throne;  
When I think fit, I make the Nations shake,  
And haughty Princes at my presence quake,  
Kingdoms to totter, and reel to and fro;  
All this and greater things for thee I'll do:  
Although thy Foes do thee environ now,  
All power and wisdom's mine, and I know how  
Thee to support and make them all to bow,  
I will arise, and Show my Sovereignty,  
And make them to the Rocks and Mountains fly;  
Though with the Powers of Hell they have combined,  
I will pursue them, and they shall not find  
A hiding place my vengeance to avoid,  
Till by my fury they are all destroyed;  
I'll soon bring down the most Exalted head,  
The Mighty Ones I into dust will tread;  
Thy cause I'll plead; Though I have silent stood,  
I'll be revenged for all the righteous blood  
That has run down, even like a mighty Flood;  
The day of vengeance shall no longer stay,  
what's due to Justice they shall surely pay.  
Besides the cruel wrongs thou dost repeat,  
The blood of former Martyrs does entreat  
Me to avenge their cause; I therefore will  
Come down in fury and those Monsters kill,  
For though I seemed to have forsaken thee,  
Yet from all bondage I will set thee free;  
Though I have thee afflicted heretofore,  
I'll turn my hand upon the Bloody Whore  
Shortly, her place shall never know her more.  
Because thou dost my Holy name profess,  
I'll break in pieces such as thee oppress;  
Armed with Commission from the Great Jehove,  
I will come down, and all thy griefs remove,  
All weapons formed against my Churches shall  
Unprosperous prove, for I will break them all,  
All Kingdoms of the Earth shall now be mine,  
And thou in beauty like a Queen shalt Shine,  
And with thy Children in sweet consort sing,  
Triumphant Hallelujahs to your King.   Zion. 
Thy voice is to my ravished Soul so sweet,  
I am revived, and set upon my feet;  
I'll speak thy Praise in Songs, because I see  
That Glory near, which thou hast promised me;  
And now, Great Babylon, who art my Foe,  
My time's at hand, and thou shalt quickly know  
My God has not forsaken me, for now  
He will advance me, and make thee to bow;  
●hen shalt thou hide for shame thy wretched head,  
Whilst I in triumph will upon thee tread?  
●●cause thou upon me so long hast trod,  
〈◊〉 in contempt hast said; Where is that God?  
〈◊〉 therefore will rightly retaliate,  
●nd bring just vengeance on thy cursed pate,  

The Insolent Triumph of the Romish Strumpet over the Protestant Church.  
Why do these Heretics so brisk appear,  
And their false Church such jollity declare?  
●●r silly Souls! 'Tis now but Eighty seven,  
●nd soon you'll find I with you will be even:  
● smile to think how much thou art mistaken,  
'Tis I am mounted high; Thou art forsaken;  
●ure thou are frantic, and thy senses fail,  
To think that over me thou canst prevail,  
● final Conquest I shall make o'er thee;  
●nd swift destruction shall thy portion be.  
〈◊〉 all my wounds I now have got a cure,  
●nd from your fiery darts I am secure:  
●ow am raised to the height of bliss,  
●nd all my Glory in its Zenith is,  
● am a Queen, and so shall still remain,  
●nd as Supreme I o'er the Earth will reign,  
● Pomp and Glory I must govern all,  
The Mightiest Monarches me their Mistress call.  
How can I fall when such a Holy prop  
●oes me support as, My Lord God the Pope.  
The Great men of the Earth his Vassals are,  
Who sits in grandeur in St. Peter's Chair;  
The Glorious Empire of the World he hath,  
And he retains the keys of Heaven, and Death;  
Think not that he regards the little tricks  
Of the weak, ignorant, and damned Heretics,  
Alas! He can make use, when e'er he please,  
Of Peter's Sword, as well as Peter's Keys.  
He'll make his Canons roar louder than Guns,  
To ruin those thou call'st, Thy Protestant Son's;  
If once his roaring Bulls give the Alarm,  
He'll make all Christendom forthwith to arm  
Themselves in my defence, who soon will work,  
Thy overthrow; Alas! didst thou not lurk,  
Hundreds of years in holes where none could see  
Or understand what was become of thee?  
He that then broke thy feeble force asunder,  
Has still sufficient strength to hold thee under,  
And in such strict Subjection thee will keep,  
That thou e'er long shalt not even dare to peep;  
Am I not armed with the Stupendious power  
Of all the Earth? Can't I with ease devour  
Thy whole Concernments at one single mess?  
Have not Skilful Cooks such meals to dress?  
〈…〉 Imperial and the Royal Sword,  
〈…〉 to be brandished at my word;  
Great Britain's King, and Catholic Nobleses will  
My Interest to promote, use all their Skill,  
Oh! happy hour; Oh long desired day,  
Great James doth now the Royal Sceptre sway;  
Ah! What a night of darkness has been here,  
On me and mine, when nothing did appear,  
But black despair, until this happy Reign;  
And dost thou think e'er to prevail again?  
Is not the Sovereign Power in my hand?  
I'll make thee now submit to my command,  
The Sacred Sword is once more given to me,  
And all shall now obey the Holy See.  
Heaven has beheld my sorrows, and therefore  
In favour, me hath visited once more;  
Nor can I now miscarry; For you see,  
How wise our King, and's Secret Council be;  
What e'er you hope, 'tis certain I can't fail,  
When over Crowned Heads I thus prevail;  
When Reverend Jesuits sit at the Helm,  
They'll quickly raise up my Jerusalem.  
The former Governments for many years,  
Ruined the Monarchy, and increased my fears;  
The Old Foundations we will raze up quite,  
And new ones raise, either by force or right;  
Impudent Varlets question Royal pleasure,  
Though from the Power Divine he takes his measure;  
Why may not Gods Vicegerent justly claim,  
The same Dominion? And why not aim,  
At such an absolute Sovereignty, that none  
Shall contradict whatever he'll have done?  
If th' People rule, what use is there of Kings,  
When Subjects may at pleasure clip their wings?  
This with my Doctrine never will agree,  
Where Will is Law, there's the best Monarchy.  
This is the Government I approve of too,  
'Twill strengthen me, and work thy overthrow;  
A Parliament shall do what ere they please,  
That so disturbed minds we may appease;  
But if they fail; We have already seen,  
That none of them for many years have been  
Fit to be trusted; And their name I hate,  
For they Eclipse the glory of the State;  
They make the Crown seem but an Airy thing;  
As good be nothing as not Absolute King.  
Why may not Kings be as they were of old,  
Why should they be in any thing controlled?  
I'll have it here e'er long as 'tis in France,  
'Tis only that my Glory will advance;  
I now perceive what made us lose the Game,  
It was our slow proceedings caused the same;  
Our timorous Spirits; But to my Joy I know,  
We now have one who fast enough will go,  
Delays are dangerous; The Sword is ours;  
By Law declared; what need we other powers?  
We may be counted Fools indeed, or worse,  
If we can't make the Sword command the Purse;  
And though the Nation be enslaved thereby,  
Who shall contend with Just Authority?  
For Monarchy is so Divine a thing,  
None dares gainsay what e'er's done by the King.  
He surely is accountable to none,  
But God alone who set him on the Throne.  
Your Protestant's will to Providence impute  
Their thraldom, and will presently grow mute,  
For they poor pious Fools think the Decree,  
Of Heaven falls on them, though from Hell it be;  
And when their Reason is abused by it,  
Religion then will teach them to submit,  
For Nonresistance is a truth so clear,  
Your Reverend Churchmen preach it every where,  
And well they may; Does not the Apostle Paul,  
Declare what doom will on Resisters fall?  
For all who do resist Authority,  
Are doubtless damned to all Eternity.  
But seeing Tyranny does so odious look  
To catch you Heretics we must hide the hook,  
And of your Burdens give you present ease,  
That afterward we may do what we please;  
For since the Nation is returned back,  
Dear Mother Church will never see them lack  
Money nor Men, so that they all shall see,  
My Purse as open as my arms now be;  
Besides Great Sums the Catholics in France  
Have offered my Interest to advance,  
Lewis the Great vast Treasures will bestow,  
If he thereby can work your overthrow:  
The Pope will likewise drain his Treasures dry,  
Before he'll lose this opportunity  
You to depress and me to set on high;  
No Aid from Parliaments we need to crave  
Without Demand money enough we have,  
And thus the Commons we shall gratify,  
By taking off the pressures which did lie  
So heavy on them in the former Reign,  
Whereby we hope their very hearts to gain.  
Some others of thy Children we will please,  
By giving of their Consciences some ease;  
we'll give them Conventicle room that they  
May let us steal the Englishman away,  
And though the greatest part of them I see,  
Are crafty Foxes and discover me,  
Yet divers of them us do magnify,  
Since we declared for their Liberty;  
That Declaration hath great Service done,  
And many discontented minds has won.  
I odious strove to make the former Reign,  
That of our Actings they might not complain;  
So that they now confess, a Popish King  
Is no such dangerous or frightful thing:  
We managed all at such a subtle Rate,  
One heretic we made another hate,  
And their destruction we contrived so,  
That blindfold they might utterly undo,  
And ruin one another; Yet not see,  
How subtly things were carried on by me.  
And you'll perceive within a little while,  
We only did design you to beguile,  
That you might quietly the halter take,  
Or else be burnt in Smithfield at the Stake.  
I laugh to see some of your Children join  
With us, to bring about our blessed Design,  
These Mighty Statesmen, like unwary Fools,  
To serve a present turn become my Tools;  
I knew what they from Penal Laws did fear,  
And did foresee how ease would them ensnare.  
Look on the Army, and you'll soon espy,  
Not mine, but your destruction's drawing nigh;  
What though you grin? No matter for your hate,  
To rule by Law becomes a Sneaking State;  
We value not what ere you prate or say  
Regard to you will our Intrigues betray;  
When you canted bite, what hurt will barking do?  
Nay in a while we'll spoil your barking too.  
My Holy Mass begins now to go down,  
Is boldly said in City and in Town,  
For even in London, there two Chapels are,  
To which without control all may repair,  
And in the middle of that City stand,  
With divers more in several Parts o'th' Land.  
This, I assure you, fills my Soul with joy,  
Nor do I matter though it some annoy.  
Since I observe them guarded carefully,  
By Protestants now in Authority.  
Thou silly Wretch, do I not all command?  
Is not the Kingdom's strength all in my hand?  
The Sword and Sceptre too, even all the power;  
Such blessings Heaven upon my head does shower.  
But yet our Claws and Teeth must not appear  
Until more firmly all things settled are.  
Yea, what doth further to my glory add,  
Comes from the joyful news I lately had,  
The Turk our Pagan Enemy, is o'ercome,  
And forced to fly before all-conquering Rome?  
Hungary whose reduction cost so dear,  
And who toth' Heretics closely did adhere,  
Is now recovered, and in tears returns,  
And for her former deviations mourns:  
The Transilvanians likewise, do comply,  
And now submit to my authority;  
With many other Protestants I could name,  
Who in those Countries my Protection claim.  
Ah! What a face of things does now appear,  
This is my Jubilee; A glorious year;  
England and Scotland both returned are  
Unto their Mother, and th' Apostolic Chair  
Tho' Ireland still is unto me most Dear;  
Yet all are mine; They all themselves submit,  
And prostrate lie at Mother Churches feet;  
Into my bosom they again are come,  
And like the Prodigal are returned home.  
What mighty favours are bestowed on me?  
No Widowhood, nor sorrow shall I see,  
Ever hereafter I shall sit as Queen,  
Though almost desolate I have lately been;  
We sing Te Deum, and Great Gifts we send  
For joy that now thy Power's at an end,  
Thou art subdued; Thy witnesses are slain,  
They never more shall me torment again;  
My Children now under their Mother's wings,  
Are safe; Which Joy to Holy Father brings;  
There's little more for me, or mine to do,  
But since we have contrived thy overthrow,  
That we now root thy name from off the Earth;  
And this Design is almost at the birth,  
And cannot fail, Vengeance will you or'ethrow,  
The Plot is laid so strong and secret too;  
And such great men therein concerned are,  
That of success we never need despair,  
My Chancellor and Loyal Judges will,  
Spare for no Cost, no Pains, no Time, no Skill;  
Nay they resolve their very Lives to spend,  
Rather than not perform what I intent,  
My brisk Monsieurs, and losty Spanish Dons,  
Will overmatch thy Weak and Silly Sons;  
Of murdering Villains I great numbers have,  
As pliable as any Turkish slave,  
Who at my beck will with their bloody Knives,  
Massacre Fathers, Infants, Virgins, Wives.  
Kill any but themselves; I'm sure they'll do't,  
And quickly lay them sprawling at my foot;  
I've Irish Teagues and Tories still at hand,  
To act the greatest mischiefs I command;  
Bold hardened Miscreants who will never start,  
If bid to tear out their own Mother's heart.  
Faint hearted Rogues may melt with qualms and fears,  
At Father's groans, or Mother's bitter tears,  
But mine, as little pity have, as sense,  
And ne'er are plagued with gripes of Conscience,  
Many of these I have in constant pay,  
For they can hunt and live upon the Prey;  
Thy tender Infants that like Carp were stewed,  
In their own blood, their Teeth have often chewed,  
With humane Fat, Candles they made, to light  
Them in those horrid Banquets of the night.  
Whatever 'tis my greedy Stomach craves,  
Let me but nod, 'tis done by these my slaves.  
They know no Scruples, Scorning to dispute,  
But always act just like a Turkish Mute;  
Nor need you wonder they do thus, since I  
Endeavour to persuade them certainly  
That ●●ey do well, and will gain Heaven thereby.  
For what will Holy Church, advance, is right,  
Though ne'er so hateful in Jehovahs' sight.  
Therefore besides those I did now describe,  
I have vast numbers of my Sacred Tribe,  
My Clergy make a very numerous Host,  
And wait but for my Word, in every Coast;  
Nay in these Northern, and Heretical Regions,  
I have in secret, many armed Legions,  
The Priest, the Mon●, the Friar my Ensign carry,  
The Jesuits are still my Janissaries;  
Having such Troops as these to guard my Chair,  
Sure it will make your Protestants despair,  
That so invincible I now should be!  
And that thy God hath quite forsaken thee.  
Since he to me discovers so much favour,  
My deeds sure to him are a pleasant savour,  
Therefore th' Apocaly ptick Prophecy,  
You very foolishly to me apply,  
Who from pollution, and all Stains am clean;  
Thou art that filthy Harlot he doth mean:  
I am his Holy Church, and it is I  
Thy threatenings, Thy God, and Thee defy.   
BUT what approaches? Hark! methinks I hear,  
A dreadful noise! What is it? Ah! I fear,  
All is not well; A Lion seems to Roar,  
The Echo comes too from the Eastern shore;  
Dear Children wake! Rouse up and look about,  
Guard all the Coasts with speed the Land throughout;  
My very heart does tremble, Ah! I quake,  
What shall I do! Ah! what course shall I take?  
The Lion of the North; I doubt 'tis he,  
That is foretold in ancient Prophecy,  
What! in the midst of all my Jollities,  
Must I meet with this terrible surprise,  
And into such amazement now be thrown,  
Just when I thought that all had been my own?  
Oh blessed Virgin help! Ah pity show,  
Scatter my fears, my enemy's overthrow;  
St. Patrick, and St. Andrew, George and all,  
Unite your strength! Oh now prevent my fall,  
Oh haste, make haste, or I am quite undone,  
What shall I do? Oh whither shall I run?  
Rome's Angel Guardian, I do thee invoke,  
To save our Church, and to divert this stroke;  
You Saints and Martyrs who at Tyburn died,  
Pray the blessed Virgin to be on our side;  
O mighty Neptune, with an angry brow,  
Upon my Foes thy utmost vengeance show,  
That this proud Pharaoh, whose ambitious mind  
To ruin Mother Church hath now designed,  
May ne'er prevail; From landing, oh! him keep,  
Let all his hopes be buried in the deep.  
Why are the Sea's so calm? will they consent,  
Him to preserve, to my sad detriment?  
Ah! raise yourboistrous winds and swelling waves,  
And in your bowels let them have, their graves,  
Break all their Ships, let them sink down like lead,  
And in the raging Seas be buried.  
Look out you English Heroes, hoist your Sails,  
Cursed be he whose heart or courage fails;  
Fight valiantly, and then I need not fear,  
That Eighty Eight will be a fatal year.  
Ah! hark; He's landed, that's bad news if true,  
And in the West. I dread what will ensue,  
What cursed Star bears Rule? Ah! cruel Fate,  
The Sea, and Seamen both now show their hate,  
What! none t' oppose, none that will them withstand?  
What! suffer such an Enemy to land?  
Are all the Gods asleep on whom I call?  
No they have heard me; and on him will fall.  
Though he has seaped the Seas you'll soon perceive,  
Vengeance much longer will not let him live.  
Cheer up my gallant Soldiers; you I trust,  
Will never fly; Therefore with speed you must,  
Be all in readiness, and do not fear,  
But fierce as Lions, against your foes appear;  
Though he pass passed the Seas, yet let yourrage  
Declare, he greater dangers must engage,  
In glittering Armour now march bravely on,  
Fight but like men, and then the day's our own;  
You'll be Invincible, none can you oppose,  
For you in Number, Courage, Skill, your Foes,  
Do far exceed, I likewise do depend  
Much on my Foreign Allies who will lend  
Both Money, Men and Council, for the Cause;  
Then down go all the Heretics and their Laws,  
Their Houses, Lands, their Gold and Silver too,  
We'll Seize, and then distribute them to you.  
Ha! What's the matter; What bad news again!  
How are things carried pray, at Salisbury Plain  
We hear the Enemy is coming on,  
With mighty force, and is opposed by none,  
Our damned Heretical Army do declare,  
That they to Popery sworn Enemies are;  
Some to our Foes are gone, and more will go,  
heaven pity us; Alas! What shall we do?  
●●y more than that, the worst is still behind,  
●ost of the Greatest Peers with them are joined.  
●e hear they are an hundred thousand strong,  
●nd we much doubt they will be here ere long,  
●ll things against us now seem to combine,  
●s if our ruin all men did design  
Such panic fears our senses do affright,  
We neither strength nor courage have to fight,  
Such Giants, as we hear, our Enemies are,  
Whose Men and Horses both do armour wear  
Their frightful whiskers and two handed Swords  
No little terror to our men affords,  
One of these Brandenburghers sure will be  
Able to cut off many such as we.  
But silence! Hark! Another Post! What now?  
Bad Tidings still?— Alas I scarce know how,  
Or what to tell you, but most certainly  
Our Army does before the Enemy fly;  
All, All is lost, Ah! Where now shall we run?  
Shift for yourselves, sad times are coming on,  
Sure so unfortunate none ever were,  
Oh see how th' Heretics do laugh and jeer!  
So great an Army scattered and gone,  
Who soon might have a glorious Conquest now!  
Had they resolved to face the enemy,  
We quickly should have got the Victory.  
But Stay! Stay! Stay! Here's more ill news I fear,  
A Post from Reading I see drawing near,  
Well what's done there— Alas the Town is taken,  
I doubt that all our Saints have us forsaken:  
Some were there slain, and other● put to flight;  
The Teagues are killed; The Scots refuse to fight,  
Nay which is worse, The King this night is gone,  
Ah now my heart fails quite! w▪ are all undone:  
Alas! must I be tamely forced to yield,  
Must I thus cowardly forsake the Field,  
 
Must all my hopes be blasted in a day?  
Let Vengeance fall on those, who did betray  
The cause I've carried on from age to age,  
With deepest policy, and fiercest rage.  
Fly Children for your lives; Oh! search about,  
And strive to find some place of refuge out.  A Protestant. 
See how they look, and with what dread and fear  
These guilty wretches now fly here and there,  
To hide their Heads? and skulk in holes alone,  
And dare not now themselves for Papists own;  
They post away, and hurry to and fro,  
To Dover, Portsmouth, and Gravesend they go,  
Their Priests and Jesuits are in great despair,  
Throw off their Gowns, and run they scarce know where▪  
Their Judges too that lately gave their Votes,  
So learnedly from their dispensing Throats,  
Who, what Rome would have done, durst ne`re deny,  
But to all Arbitrary Power did comply,  
Are routed now, and forced in haste to trudge,  
Each wishing he had never been a Judge:  
The Chancellor, that Mighty Man of sense,  
Is nonplussed now, how to escape from hence;  
That Loyal Soul, that zealous Slave to Rome,  
The Wappingers on him pronounce his doom:  
He that to them did always malice bear,  
By providence, at last was taken there,  
Others were seized that strove themselves to save,  
Who in short time may their demerits have.  
Great Nassaw, like the rising Sun, appears,  
Whose warming influence dries up all our tears,  
Marching to London with his Noble train,  
Whereby our dying hopes revive again:  
But let us hear what Zion now does say,  
Who seemed overwhelmed with grief the other day.  Zion. 
" Ah! I am still perplexed; although I stand  
" Amazed to see these wonders in the Land,  
" I know not yet how things with me may go,  
" Nor what my gracious God intends to do:  
" Whether my Foes are absolutely slain,  
" Or whether yet they may not rise again,  
" Whether my Children shall have equal share  
" Of favour and protection, without fear,  
" And whether those who did our Rights betray,  
" And for a mess of Pottage, sold away  
" Our dear bought Freedoms, shall now trusted be,  
" As Conservators of our Liberty.  
" Yet let things go as the great God shall please,  
" (ay must rejoice in this my present ease,)  
" Who by his Glorious and Almighty Power  
" Sent us relief in a most needful hour,  
" Whereby my dreadful and most cruel Foe  
" Received an amazing overthrow.  
" But yet I find some struggling in my Womb,  
" Another Birth I do expect to come,  
" That God who hath this gracious work begun,  
" Will greater things effect ere he has done,  
" I intermissions have, now ease, than pain,  
" Sometimes I soar aloft, then down again.  
Having thus spoke she bowed, and with her tears  
Bedewed the parched Earth; when strait appears  
A comforter by pitying Heaven then sent,  
To raise her drooping Spirits almost spent,  
And his approach unto her having made,  
In most obliging terms thus to her said.  
" Distressed Church, I fully know thy grief,  
" And as thou hast received some relief,  
" So God will hear thy sighs and fervent Prayers,  
" And suddenly will wipe away all tears  
" From thy wet Eyes, and all thy griefs expel,  
And in sweet peace and safety thou shalt dwell,  
" My Grand Design I've publicly made known,  
" Each part whereof in time thou shalt see done,  
" Wait but with patience; I, for England's good,  
" Think nought too much; No not my dearest blood  
" I equally my favour will extend  
" To all whose Faithfulness shall them commend,  
" Unto my service; and appear to be  
" Lovers of England's Ancient Liberty.  
" All Protestants I jointly will respect,  
" And equally my People will protect.  
" But yet the best deserving Men I will  
" Employ; and chiefly them encourage still.  
" My subjects Hearts I would unite together,  
" That nothing might divide them more for ever.  
" I none but treacherous Papists will disown,  
" Or such as are sowrn Enemies to my Crown.  
" To such (they must expect) I shall appear,  
" (As Justice leads me to it) most severe.  
" The Good and Virtuous I shall always cherish,  
" That Truth and Goodness in my reign may flourish.  
" My coming was designed to cover all,  
" That Persecution upon none should fall  
" In these poor Kingdoms; But that now at last  
" Forgetting all the mischiefs which are past,  
" Whereby ill men contrived, to bring about  
" their Plots, and root the true Religion out,  
" Not only here, but likewise in each Land,  
" Where it established is by Christ's right hand;  
" I now resolve, if God will prosper me,  
" All Protestants shall safe and happy be,  
" And live in perfect Love and Unity.  Protestant Church. 
GReat Sir! your Speeches to your Parliament  
Sufficiently discover your intent.  
Yea they revive our Souls; neither do we  
See cause to doubt of your Integrity.  
But hope that God who such great things hath wrought,  
And by your hand this strange Deliverance brought,  
Will so endear you to the hearts of all  
True Englishmen, especially those that call  
Sincerely upon Heaven; That they may cry  
With Prayers and Tears for you continually,  
And never to the Throne of Grace draw near,  
But you upon their tender Hearts may bear.  
Your last most gracious offer, That you'll ease  
Your Subjects of so great a Tax, doth please,  
And them obliges to that high degree,  
They all will strive who shall most Loyal be.  
Your Justice in asserting each man's right,  
To worship God according to that Light  
He hath received, will multitudes procure,  
To own your Interest, and your Rights secure.  
For who will not to Caesar's Cause be true,  
When Caesar unto God doth give his due?  
And the Almighty's Government will maintain,  
Who over Conscience is sole Sovereign,  
If any do the Civil State disturb,  
On such you justly aught to put a curb,  
But if like Men, and Christians they do live,  
Doubtless just Liberty to them you'll give.  
Nor will our Parliament this Right deny,  
Whose Protestant zeal, hath raised their Fame so high  
For you we ought to praise the God of Heaven,  
Who by your means such blessings hath us given,  
When all our Liberties were near infringed,  
And England's Fundamental Laws unhinged,  
When all things both in Church and State did run  
To ruin; and we judged ourselves undone,  
You under God, have now restored our Laws,  
And likewise have defended Zions Cause.  
The Mighty God (Dread Prince) chose you to be  
Our only help in great extremity.  
With double blessings may you both be Crowned,  
Who in compassion to us did abound.  
My Children resolve unanimously  
With you to stand and fall; To'live and die:  
With hazard of your life their Chains you broke,  
And off their necks removed the Romish Yoke;  
With vast expense you this great act have done,  
And of your Person have much danger run.  
Shall I not then with all my Children cry,  
We with our King and Queen will live and die?  
Our lives we, under God, to you do owe,  
And therefore whatsoever we can do,  
Can't be too much; And in a grateful way  
We ought to strive your goodness to repay;  
We find our rising proves our Enemies fall,  
Where are they now that did us then enthral?  
They digged a Pit, and in it fallen are,  
Yea wonderfully catcht in their own snare.  
This is God's doing, and is marvellous,  
Even to our Enemies as well as us.  
And therefore now myself I must address,  
Unto the God of Truth and Righteousness,  
I'll lift my Soul to him in Thanks and Praise,  
And ne'er forget his Wonders in these days.  

The Church's Song of Praise and Thanksgiving to God for her late Gracious deliverance.  
OH matchless Grace; Oh Love beyond degree,  
Now I am certain there is none like thee,  
In Heaven or Earth; I will Praise thee therefore,  
For thou a Salve hast now found for my sore,  
Transported by thy Love, with Joy I cry,  
My ravished Spirit must exalt the High  
And Mighty God, by whose unbounded grace,  
My heart's enlarged to run the blessed race.  
Thou shalt conduct me to the Living Springs,  
From thence I'll rise up as with Eagles Wings  
Unto that heavenly Mount of Faith's desire,  
Where thy Transcendent Glory I'll admire;  
And in those happy Seats of Bliss above  
I'll be embraced in thy Arms of Love.  
I'll hold thee fast, and never let thee go,  
For by thy loss, Oh what a depth of woe  
Did I fall into? What a dreadful case  
Was I in, when thou Lord didst hide thy face?  
If I have thee, I nothing else need trave,  
Without thee (if all else) I nothing have;  
Nothing without thee is of worth to me,  
All things are vanity, compared to thee.  
To be thy Portion, Lord, thou didst me choose,  
And sure so great a grace I'll ne'er refuse,  
Thou art my Saviour, and my Heritage,  
My Sanctuary too, from Age to Age;  
I therefore evermore will dwell with thee,  
And thou alone my hiding place shalt be.  
When I was fallen, thou raisedst me on High  
For which thy blessed name I'll magnify,  
Thou didst in mercy look on my distress,  
When I, Lord, was in woeful heaviness,  
Beset with cruel Foes, and could not s●●  
The many dangers that encompassed me;  
Thou didst observe my ruin very near,  
And thou didst suddenly for me appear,  
Didst send thy Servant speedily away  
To save me from the ravenous Beasts of Prey;  
Thou, like a tender Father, couldst not see  
Thy Children fail by Romish Cruelty;  
Thy special favours may I ne'er forget,  
Let them with Power on my heart be set.  
Ah! how unworthy was this sinful Land,  
For whom thou didst stretch forth thy mighty hand,  
To save and help them in that dreadful hour,  
When all their hope was lost, and all their power?  
Though thy own Children too unworthy were,  
This did not hinder thy Parental care;  
How earthly, unbelieving, Ah! how vain?  
How did their Lives their Holy Calling stain?  
Cold, Carnal, Senseless, dead; They seemed to be  
A People laden with iniquity.  
Deserving nothing at thy hands O Lord,  
When thou this great deliverance didst afford,  
I then did much bewail their faults and crimes,  
Both those of old, and those of latter times;  
Yet thou o'relookedst than unworthiness,  
And camest down to save them nevertheless.  
Thou wonderfully didst make it appear,  
That these strange works' which thou hast showed here,  
Were like to those in Egypt long ago,  
When thou didst Pharaoh utterly o'erthrow.  
For when we thought we should have been destroyed,  
And their dire vengeance never could avoid,  
We saw them suddenly before us fall,  
And could not do us any hurt at all.  
A raging sea we seemed, before, to see,  
Behind us was a raging Enemy,  
But when thy chosen Servant did draw near,  
The threatening waters soon divided were,  
A sure presage God's presence too was there,  
Who saved us from what we so much did fear;  
These are thy doings, Lord, and Marvellous  
Are all thy Dispensations unto us.  
Nay let us not forget, this one thing more,  
As worthy notice, as those named before,  
The People of the Land divided were,  
Nay to each other did much hatred bear,  
Yet thou no sooner sentest thy Servant hither  
But they united, and were joined together  
All as One man against their common Foe,  
In prayers, in wishes and in Arms also,  
Which gave me hopes that the set time was come,  
Of thy great wrath against the Whore of Rome.  
Our Nobles and our Gentry did their part,  
Assisting both with counsel, hand and heart,  
Like our Old English Heroes they did rise,  
And cheerfully espouse this enterprise.  
Undauntedly they undertook the Cause  
Of our Religion, Liberties, and Laws,  
Their freeborn Souls contemned the Romish Yoke,  
And to a just revenge it did provoke  
These Gallant Spirits who could not endure  
The Jesuits should our slavery procure,  
With so much impudence; that they seemed to laugh  
At all our Laws, and at our Parliaments Scoff.  
A great Convention, Lord, thou didst convene,  
And didst unite them so that like brave men,  
The Throne they did declare Vacant to be,  
And it to fill again, did soon agree,  
To the great Satisfaction of the Land,  
And with their Lives they did engage to stand  
By William thy Servant and our King,  
Whom for our safety thou didst hither bring.  
All this we saw performed by thee alone  
Who dost abase and set upon the Throne,  
To every man dost measure what is right,  
And actest still what seems good in thy sight;  
Ah! how didst thou confound, even in an hour,  
Those dark Intrigues, contrived by the Power  
Of bloody Rome, and carried on so long,  
And by such Aids, that they grew mighty strong  
Here and abroad; So that they durst to say,  
All was their own, and they should have the day;  
When in her heart she said; I fit a Queen,  
And ne'er shall loss of Children see again:  
Yet then, Oh blessed Lord, thou heardst our cries,  
And suddenly our Enemies didst surprise.  
As soon as thy poor Protestants abroad  
Herd these Strange wonders of our Gracious God.  
It did their Spirits raise, and them enliven,  
To sing the Praises of the God of Heaven;  
Poor Holland that was so much threatened,  
And to effect the work, all ventured,  
Began thereat again to raise its head.  
Then we were sore distressed, it was they  
That to relieve us hastened away;  
They against our Foes for our defence did stand,  
Let them be dear to thee, and to this Land,  
How were thy People strengthened thereby,  
Who did before like withered branches lie,  
Expecting mischief would upon them fall,  
And Popery would overwhelm us all.  
All Praise and Glory therefore now be given  
Unto the Lord of Lords, and King of Heaven;  
O let the Throne surely established be  
In righteousness; which will Establish me:  
And let the King so wisely all dispose,  
To please ●●s God, and disappoint his Foes:  
Let his Court still with Virtuous Men abound,  
And let no vicious Persons there be found;  
This will most happy days to him procure,  
And cause his Government long to endure.  
Let Scotland to his Crown united be,  
That we may live in peace and amity,  
Incline their minds their Interest to discern,  
And that our Union is their great Concern.  
Do not forget poor Ireland's sad fate,  
Destroy those Rebels who disturb that State,  
O give our Army's Victory and Success,  
Thy People save; Their Enemy's distress:  
This is my Prayer, and when this is done,  
I'll sing the Praises of the Three in One.  
Mean while let us our best Affections raise  
To celebrate, in grateful Songs, his praise  
Who has been our deliverer in these days.   

An Hymn of Gratitude▪ and Thankfulness.  

I do not in a lofty strain  
Strive to revive Great Hector's Glory;  
Nor the all-conquering Pagan Train,  
Whose acts recorded are in Story;  
Nor is it our Great William's Fame,  
Who came, and saw, and overcame.   

Nor any of those Worthy Nine,  
Nor Alexander's Great renown,  
Whose Deeds were thought almost Divine,  
When Victory did his Temple's Crown;  
But 'tis the Praise of God I sing,  
Who hath wrought Wonders by our King.   

My Heart and Tongue, shall both rejoice,  
Whilst England sings Triumphantly,  
And with a loud melodious voice,  
Doth laud the name of God most High;  
O'tis his praise; That Holy One  
That I must magnify alone.   

My Heart is warmed whilst I proclaim,  
The praises of the God of wonder,  
My lips shall glorify his name  
Whose voice is like a mighty Thunder;  
I'll bless him, for 'tis he alone  
Has vacated, and filled the Throne,   

Whose Feet are like to burning Brass,  
Whose Eyes are like a flaming Fire,  
Who bringeth wondrous things to pass,  
Him I adore, him I admire;  
What changes hath he suddenly,  
Made in Great Britain's Monarchy?   

My Soul and Pen shall both express  
The Praises of Great Judah's Lion,  
The sweet and fragrant Flower of Jess,  
The Holy Lamb; The King of Zion;  
For He it is, and he alone  
Has vacated and filled the Throne,   

Whose Head is Whiter than the Snow,  
That's driven with the Eastern Wind,  
Whose Visage like a Flame doth show,  
Confining all, yet unconfined.  
●is He who Marvels wrought of late,  
●o save a sinking, bleeding State.   

●e praise his name, who hath made known  
The Man to us, he fixed upon,  
●o save us from the envious frown  
O'th' bloody Whore of Babylon,  
●● Righteousness, Oh! let him Reign,  
That nothing may his Glory stain.   

●or this great subject of my Verse,  
Though discontented subjects should  
Refuse God's praises to rehearse,  
The Hills, the Rocks, and Mountains would  
Make his deserved Praises known  
For Wonders here so lately shown.   

You twinkling Stars, which day and night,  
Do your appointed circuit run,  
●weet Cynthia in thy monthly flight,  
Also thou bright and flaming Sun,  
Who to the Earth God's blessing bring;  
Do you Great Britain's mercies sing.   

That all Gods Foes both far and near,  
Who Tyrannize and haughty be,  
May all be smitten with great fear,  
And meet the like Catastrophe,  
As those who lately in this Land  
Declared, Their will should us command.   

Let all men know; The Power Divine  
Is absolute, and that alone,  
None ever against him did combine,  
But they were surely overthrown.  
'Tis He pulls down, and sets up too,  
And who dares say, What dost thou do?    

To the Discontented Subject.  

COme Sir, let us a while debate  
About great Britain's Present State,  
What is it you would have?  
Is't Liberty as Englishmen,  
Or had you rather be again  
A fettered Romish slave?   

Are you so fond of Tyranny,  
That you fain back again would fly  
To Egypt's former fare?  
Do you not know their Garlicks strong?  
Their Flesh Pots have been poisoned long;  
For shame come no more there.   

Hath God Wrought wonders in our Land,  
Even by another Moses's hand,  
And yet when all is done,  
Will you to Egypt show your love;  
And slight the works of God above,  
And back again be gone?   

What Humour's this of Discontent,  
That such a King and Parliament  
You will not cleave unto,  
By whom God hath such wonders done,  
Who have such mighty hazards run,  
To save the Land and you?   

You lately seemed full of grief,  
And greatly did desire relief,  
And now 'tis come will ye  
With sullen minds repine and say;  
Things are not carried that same way  
Which we did hope to see?   

Ah! be not like Haman of old,  
Who though exalted, yet b'ing told,  
That M●●decai also  
●s in the favour of the King,  
●id much sorrow to him bring,  
Ah! no such hatred show   

● those who have an equal right  
● favour in their Prince's sight,  
And faithful Subjects are;  
●ho are Freeborn as well as you,  
●hy may not they of Honour too  
Expect an equal share?   

● that which pleaseth all the Land,  
●ith yourself Interest will not stand  
How can it helped be?  
●all England wholly be undone,  
●nd be by Popery overrun,  
To humour such as ye?   

● do not show yourselves again  
Of the vile race of Cursed Cain;  
Must Abel have no Friend  
But be observed with envious Eyes,  
And by you made a Sacrifice  
Until the World shall end?   

O be not guilty of such pride,  
Not to be on your Sovereign's side,  
Unless he please to show  
His indignation, and suppress  
Those that love Truth and Righteousness,  
And better are than you.   

Can none be Loyal to the King,  
But only those that roar and sing,  
And drink his health each day?  
Come don't mistake, for certainly  
He shows the greatest Loyalty,  
Who for him most doth Pray.   

Let all good Protestants agree,  
And live in love and unity,  
For 'tis the only thing  
That's pleasing unto God above,  
And will procure to us his Love,  
And other blessings bring.   

Since God designs good unto all,  
Why should we on each other fall,  
Or show so ill a mind,  
As by unjust, and evil ways,  
To hinder that by our delays,  
Which good men long to find.   

Shall any Christian be so vain  
To plead for Laws, that do profane  
The Holy Sacrament?  
Which Christ did never institute,  
Nor any aught to prostitute  
To such a low intent.   

To that design and only end,  
It was ordained let us attend,  
Lest God offended be,  
And bring his dreadful Judgements forth,  
To cut us down in his great wrath  
For such iniquity.   

It's neither righteous, just, nor good,  
And has too long already stood,  
Oh! let it fall for ever,  
The King will stronger be hereby,  
His subjects serve him cheerfully,  
And all cement together.    

An Hymn of Praise.  

INstead of Grief Joy now appears,  
And scattered are our dismal fears,  
The Northern Lion's come;  
See how our haughty Foes do cry,  
And a● 〈◊〉 ●●oks see how they fly,  
〈…〉 it sad doom.   

●f men refuse, and will not speak,  
The Rocks and Stones will silence break,  
For Heaven and Earth resolve  
To Judge great Babel's bloody Whore,  
And she ere long shall be no more,  
Her power shall dissolve.   

The Star we did expect t' appear  
●s risen in our Hemisphere,  
And warning gives to all,  
Of wonders which will suddenly;  
Amaze the World far off, and nigh,  
For Rome must surely fall.   

Strange and amazing Tragedies,  
Kept secret long from all men's Eyes,  
To light will all now come,  
Such Viilanies as were never known,  
Which Devils are ashamed to own,  
Yet acted were by Rome.   

She that did say, I sit a Queen,  
And hoped no sorrow to have seen,  
Now strangely is brought under;  
Which sure could never have been done  
By any hand but his alone  
Who is the God of wonder.   

And he who hath such Marvels wrought,  
And with just vengeence down hath brought  
England's and Sions Foe;  
Will greater things effect e'er long,  
And cause his Saints another Song  
To sing, than now they do.   

For there are none stand in his way  
But they must fall or him obey,  
For God is risen up;  
Those who have ruined good men,  
Unless Repentance they obtain,  
Must drink that very Cup:   

For God a Righteous Judge will be,  
For wicked men a scourge has he,  
Let them be who they will;  
He is a God that cannot lie,  
And therefore will Impartially  
On all, his Word fulfil.   

Come therefore, and loud praise proclaim  
Unto Jehovahs' Glorious Name,  
All you his People Dear;  
Who long time have desired to see  
An end of Zions misery,  
For her Salvation's near.    

The Trial and Condemnation of Mystery Babylon, the Great Whore.  
BUT what approaches! Hark! Methinks I hear  
The Sound of dreadful Trumpets in mine ear,  
To usher in God's day of wrath and Ire  
On those who did against his Saints conspire;  
The Great Assize, that happy day is come,  
To Judge, and give the Whore her Fatal Doom,  
She's charged with Treason against God's Holy Laws,  
Impartial Justice now will try the Cause,  
She's seized upon, and in the Jailor's hand,  
Who will produce her when he has command;  
Jehovah bids, that Babylon the Great  
Be forthwith brought before the Judgement Seat.  Justice. 
Most Sovereign Lord, who is it dares gain say▪  
What thou command'st? I must and will obey;  
Lo, here I bring the Scarlet Strumpet forth,  
〈…〉 createdst Heaven and Earth;  
Thy Judgement Seat she seems to slight and scorn,  
Says ●he sa● guiltless as the Child unborn.  Jehovah. 
" Her crimes lay open, and her facts declare,  
" Turn up her ●●irts and let her faults appear,  
" Let th'Universe by her indictment see  
" The cause of my most Just severity.  Justice. 
Dread Sovereign of the World! I will proceed,  
And will her black ●ndictment loudly read,  
Come forth great Whore! & hear thy dismal charge  
W●●●n s●al● by proofs be evidenced at large;  
By th'name of Babylon thou art hither Cited,  
And by the name of Whore thou standest Indicted  
Thou void of Grace and Gods most holy Fear,  
To Satan's Machi●ations didst adhere;  
With him to Plot against thy Sovereign Prince,  
To whom thou oughtest to yield Pre-eminence  
In Ancient times he was thine only Spouse,  
(Our Holy Law no Bigamy allows,)  
Yet thou base him perfidiously forsaken,  
And to thy ●elf another Husband took,  
And with a graceless Impudence art led,  
By thy lewd train, to an Adulterous Bed;  
Thou hast dethroned him, and thy Whorish face,  
Sets up a monstrous Traitor in his place,  
To whom thou hast blasphemous Titles given,  
Exa●ting him above the God of Heaven;  
Thou hast not only played th' Adulteress,  
But plain Idolatry thou dost profess;  
Of T●●●son, Murder Theft, abhorred things,  
Of burning Cities, poisoning of Kings,  
Of undermining States, and furthermore,  
Of Spoiling Trade and making Kingdoms Poor,  
Of horrid Plots of causeless bloody Wars,  
And of contriving cruel Massacres,  
Thou guilty art; Thy bloody rage has hurled,  
Millions of Innocens out of the World,  
Prodigious numbers have in divers Lands  
Been sacrificed by thy bloodthirsty hands;  
Insatiate Butcheries that know no end,  
Thou stab'dst men when thou pity didst pretend;  
In times of Peace thy horrid rage has shed  
Blood without Measure, thou hast murdered;  
(Perfidious wretch) thy nearest Neighbours when  
They thought themselves the most secure of men,  
Thou hast made currents of their guiltless blood  
To run like waters of a mighty flood;  
Yea void of pity your inhuman Rage  
Destroyed the Saints and spared no Sex nor Age,  
Speak bloody Whore, hold up thy graceless head▪  
Guilty or not? By Law thou art to plead.  Babylon. 
Look down▪ blessed Virgin, and bid Justice stay,  
Speak to thy Son to drive my foes away;  
You glorious Saints who near St. Mary stand,  
In my ●istress lend me your helping hand;  
All Angels and Arch-Angels I invoke,  
To strengthen me, and to divert the stroke;  
These Heretics will work my overthrow,  
I am amazed I know not what to do!  Beelzebub 
What needs my Darling thus to stand and pause?  
Thou knowst the Custom of our Romish Laws,  
Though black as hell, yet be not so forlorn,  
Swear that thou'rt guiltless, as the Child unborn;  
What violence to Heretics you do,  
Is Lawful, honest and your duty too.  Justice. 
Plead, vile Delinquent! or thou shalt receive,  
The fatal sentence which I am to give.  Babylon. 
I do affirm the Charge is false, and I  
All Points of this Indictment do deny;  
Produce your Proofs, I'll stand in just Defence  
Of my apparent spotless Innocence.  Justice. 
THat like a Harlot, of thine own accord,  
Thou hast forsaken thine espoused Lord,  
Will be made evident to thy disgrace,  
●y clear Probation in its proper place.  
●ou say that you your God can daily make,  
Which is an Idol of a Wafer-cake.  
●f thou dost Shrines and Images adore,  
And proved art th' Apocalyptick Whore;  
●f thou upon the Scarlet Beast dost sit,  
And lewdness with so many Kings commit,  
●t clearly follows from these Marks, that thou  
Art a mere Strumpet, and hast broke thy Vow,  
●f thou art by the Papal Edict led,  
●is-owning Christ, and making that thy Head,  
The consequence is clear, for thou must be  
Guilty of Whoredom and Idolatry.  
And to examine thy notorious deeds,  
This great Tribunal out of hand proceeds:  
Call in the Witnesses,—  Waldenses, Albingenses, Protestants of Piedmont, Savoy, etc. 
DRead Lord▪ We're here,  
And with our Just complaint do now appear,  
That Bloody Whore, the Prisoner at the Bar  
Has followed us with a perpetual War,  
Because we would not to her Idols bow,  
Nor her cursed Edicts, and vile Laws allow.  
About the dismal year of fifty five,  
A dreadful Massacre she did contrive  
Within the territories of Savoy,  
Where thirty thousand Souls she did destroy  
In three days time; Cursed Edicts bid them turn,  
To Popery, or they must Hang, or Burn.  
Which when those Innocents' refused to do;  
Most horrid Execution did ensue,  
Our brethren's brains out of their Heads were beaten  
And by cursed Villains fried and after eaten;  
Our Children rend to pieces; Thrown to Dogs,  
And our dear Pastors flung as Meat to Hogs,  
Others on Pikes into the Air were tossed,  
And many Others they alive did roast;  
Some tied with Ropes they pierced unto the Hearts,  
And hung up Others by their secret parts;  
Houses and Barns▪ full they have burnt, so that  
Our sufferings are beyond an Estimat.  Bohemia, Germany, Poland, Lithuania, etc. 
TO satisfy this cruel Strumpet's Lust,  
Some thousands have been turned unto dust,  
Our Towns, and famous Cities of renown  
She hath dis-peopled, burnt, or broken down;  
The ruins still appear, and desolations,  
In many places of our spoilt Nations;  
Great multitudes unnumbered she hath slain,  
Which in the Field unburied did remain.  
Our Brethren they have hung upon a Beam▪  
And then consumed them in a lingering Flame,  
Some she has into boiling Cauldrons put,  
And many others into pieces cut,  
Without respect unto the Hoary Head,  
Into their Throats they poured down melted Lead,  
And many other deaths she did contrive,  
Some burned were, and others flayed alive.  
Into deep Mines, three thousand Souls and more,  
At several times were tumbled by this Whore,  
Because they would not their Religion leave,  
And unto Romish superstitions cleave.  
That worthy man John Huss was burned to death,  
For owning of the Apostolic Faith;  
Jerom of Prague, to fill her Measure up,  
She made soon after drink that woeful cup,  
'twere endless to enumerate our grief;  
From thee, Just Judge, we do expect relief.  France. 
AH! How shall I my inward grief disclose?  
What Tongue is able to recount my woes?  
Prodigious numbers of my natives have,  
By this Whore's means, found an untimely grave,  
The Barbarous Harlot, would not be content  
To Kill, or drive them into Banishment;  
But with unheard of Cruelty she must  
Their bodies mangle, to assuage her Lust;  
Some hanged in Water, yield their strangled breath,  
Some brained on Anvils, some were starved to death,  
Some hall'd with Pulleys till the top they meet,  
With heavy weights, and loads upon their Feet,  
Raped Maidens stabbed, poor Infants yet unborn  
From Mother's Wombs, by bloody hands were torn;  
How many thousand guiltless Christians were  
Butchered in the Parisian Massacre?  
Some broke on Crosses, some were cut in twain,  
Whilst others languished in lingering pain;  
Our worthy Kings have lost their noble lives,  
By Jesuits Poison, and by Monkish Knives.  
I can produce an uncontrolled record  
Of many thousands murdered by her Sword,  
It would require whole volumes to transcribe  
The bloody acts of this infernal Tribe.  
Deep dolour hinders what I would say more,  
O glorious Judge! Avenge me on this Whore.  Italy, Spain, Portugal, Low Countries, etc. 
REnowned Judge! those Witnesses that have  
Their grief presented, and do Judgement crave,  
Save us much labour, for we heretofore  
Have felt the same from this bloodthirsty Whore.  
Besides, being next her seat, and near her power,  
Her greedy Jaws our Brethren did devour;  
With cruel spite, and without intermission,  
We have been tortured in her Inquisition;  
No Tongue can speak, the unexampled terror  
Of that cursed Pattern of Infernal Horror;  
They count it mild when they our persons burn  
And Wives and Children into Ashes turn,  
They say they're courteous, when our Throats they cut,  
Or when in Dungeons (dark as Hell) we are put,  
They say they favour us, when they'll employ  
Their Daggers, Pistols, Axes to destroy;  
In lingering flames they did our Brethren roast,  
On Halberds tops we saw our Infants tossed.  
This we have suffered, and abundance more,  
And all by means of this Infernal Whore.  Ireland. 
COuld deepest grief receive additions, I  
Would give examples of her cruelty,  
I can her in more monstrous colours draw,  
Than bloody Nero or Caligula.  
Those horrid tortures, which my Brethren say  
She exercised on them, the same I may  
Affirm t' have suffered, by the instigation  
Of this vile Strumpet, whose abomination  
Stinks in the Nostrils of each civil Nation,  
Her cursed Priests, when first they did begin  
Our Massacre, proclaimed, it was a sin  
Unpardonable, if they durst to give  
Quarter, or our necessities relieve;  
Some they stripped naked, and then made them go  
Through Bogs and Mountains, in the Frost and Snow,  
Men, Women, Children, than were butchered,  
And all that spoke our Language punished;  
The very cattle, if of English breed,  
They ●lasht and mangled that they could not feed.  
With joy that Romish and Rebellious brood  
Have washed their hands in English Martyr's blood,  
Thousands of naked Protestants, that fled  
From these cursed Villains, have been famished,  
Their Faithless Gentry that pretended love.  
Persuaded th' English, that they would remove  
Their goods to them, but when possession got,  
They like perfidious Wretches cut their throat,  
Numbers of naked Women, they did drive  
Into a Barn, and Burnt them all alive,  
Each Sex and Age that could not from them fly,  
Did by these blood Hounds without mercy die.  
Once at the fatal Bridge of Portladown,  
A thousand Souls these Miscreants did drown,  
A Couple (with five Children) first they hung,  
And in a hole th' expiring bodies fling,  
The youngest on the Mother's Breast did stick,  
Cries, Mammy, Mammy, yet is buried quick,  
Some hacked to pieces: travelling Women stripped,  
And half born Infants from their bellies ripped,  
Which (with their Mothers) hungry Dogs did eat,  
And Swine fed on them as on common meat.  
When some poor Souls in burning houses cry,  
The Villains said, How sweetly do they fry?  
When Holy Scripture in the Flames were cast,  
They cry, 'tis Hell Fire, and a lovely blast,  
That blessed Book when some have trampled on,  
They cry, Plague on't! that has the mischief done;  
They made poor Wives their Husband's blood to spill,  
And trembling Youth their aged Parents kill,  
They forced the Son to stab his dearest Mother,  
And caused one Brother to destroy another;  
Some they put fast in stocks, then teach a Brat  
To rip them, and make Candles of their Fat,  
How many Virgins did they ravish first?  
Then with their Heartsblood quench their eager thirst;  
Some they did bury just unto the head,  
And left them on surrounding grass to feed.  
Stuck fast on tender-●o●●● grave Matrons were,  
And Virgins hanged up in their Mother's hair,  
Some with their ●nali gu●s out, were forced to run,  
About a tree until their ●●e was gone;  
The Mouths o● W●●th● Ministers they c●t,  
Unto their Ears. betwixt their jaws they put,  
A monstrous g●g, than 〈◊〉 Romish coff,  
Bid them go Preach their Mouths were large enough.  
And now thou ●eem●● the same thing to design,  
All their Just Liberties to undermine,  
By great Tyr●o●n●ls power, yet once again,  
By whom so many Protestants were slain,  
And barbarous Acts to●merly done by him,  
To fill thy measure up unto the brim.  
Alas! who n●w can cast an eye on me,  
But must lament to see my misery,  
And what a sad condition I am in,  
By this v●●e Strumpets wicked Plots again?  
Who hopes her craving appetite once more,  
To fill and glut with Protestant blood and gore,  
By those cu●●t Furies. Who did boast w●●h Joy,  
They once two hundred thousand did destroy,  
We therefore pray as others did before,  
For a Just Sentence on this bloody Where.  Scotland. 
OH! Monstrous horror! Oh abhorred sink,  
Of villainy! O bloody thr at's that drink  
The bloods of innocents'! which oft they quaffed,  
As freely as a common Morning's ●raught!  
Thousands of mine were butchered by this Whore,  
In that poor Nation that has spoke before,  
The sufferings of my guiltless Nauves were  
Equal with theirs in every title there,  
Yet this blood-thirty Courtesan of Rome  
Was not content, but tortured me at home,  
Some burnt, some hanged, some scourged, some banished,  
Some drowned, and some in dungeons murdered,  
A sinking grief forbids me to enlarge,  
Or else with ease I'd aggravate her Charge,  
Since Gospel Light did in my borders shine,  
She thirsted to destroy both me and mine,  
Her Imps all parts, Like filthy Locusts, fill,  
And such as they cannot delude they kill;  
Her Wolves put on the habit of my sheep,  
And in their folds destroy them as they Sheep;  
They have an Art to work upon the weak,  
That they Gods order should in pieces break,  
Under pretences of Reformed Devotion,  
They instigate the Ra●ble to Commotion;  
That in those troubled waters they may fish,  
And bring about their long expected wish;  
Their cursed Politics have been employed  
To ruin those that they have so decoyed.  
A thousand Forgeries they do invent,  
To charge their Plots upon the Innocent,  
That (whilst they Act the Rogues in Masquerade)  
Poor guiltless Saints their Victims may be made,  
Thus have I opened something of my grief,  
And from the Judge expect a quick relief.  England. 
HAD I as many Tongues at my command,  
As Argus' Eyes or as Briareus hands,  
scarce could in a Century express  
One half of my unspeakable distress!  
In every age I had some Sons of Light,  
That would discover Rome's Egyptian night,  
Yet they no sooner on the Stage appear,  
But that her setting Dogs like Bloodhounds were  
Upon the scent, and never le●t pursuit,  
Until to death they did them persecute,  
My Royal Edicts this bold Whore has broke,  
And on my neck clapped her tyrannic Yoke;  
Vast treasures from my Natives were extorted,  
And her Exchequer to enrich transported.  
Prodigious Sums she yearly squeezed hence,  
For Pardons, Obits, Annals, Peter pence)  
And through each Land where she her triumphs led  
Whole swarms of Locusts Priests and Friars bred,  
These (as the Janissaries to the Turk  
Were faithful Slaves still to promote her work,  
Whilst to maintain these Drones, she swept away  
The Fat and Wealth of Nations for their prey.  
Such as would not be by her witchcraft led,  
Were Tortured, Murdered, Burnt or Massacred,  
The Papal Beast could in a frolic tell,  
I was his Fountain inexhaustible.  
She planted Priests and Ganymeds' she rooted  
Within my Bowels, which the Land polluted  
With such a Pest of vile debaucheries,  
As Pagans. Turks, and Infideis, outvies,  
She crushes any that her acts opposes,  
My Kings she Poisons, Murders, or Deposes;  
Some she deludes her Sovereignty to own,  
And does instruct them to betray the Crown,  
Her Lurking Vipers menace me with Storms,  
Like Egypt's Frogs in pestilential swarms;  
She is so greedy nothing will suffice,  
Unless I'm made a general sacrifice.  
'Tis known to all the Earth how many ways,  
She martyred Protestants in Marian days.  
Then was I made a dismal fiell of Blood,  
Which run like currents of a swelling Flood,  
She stirs the Spaniard in a great bravado,  
For to invade me with his proud Armado;  
The Hellish Power Treason she prepares,  
At once to blow up Commons, Kings and Peers;  
Her hellish brands (without a spark of pity)  
Consumed to Ashes my Imperial City.  
My Justices she does assassinate,  
For many years she has been carrying on  
A Damned intrigue for my destruction,  
And all the ways that Satan prompts her to  
Contrive my fall, she's ready still to do,  
Her spite and malice nothing will abate,  
It's still more deadly and inveterate,  
Dread Providence shall ever have my thanks,  
That has discovered her Infernal ●ranks;  
Yea lately she much innocent blood hath shed,  
And divers worthy men hath Murdered,  
Nay so insinuating too was she,  
That she persuaded his late Majesty  
To taste of her intoxicating Cup,  
Which he unto his detriment drank up,  
Whereby the Church and State were ne'er o'erthrown  
Only to humour Cruel Babylon:  
These with her other Crimes, considered,  
I beg she justly may be Sentenced.  The Evidence summed up. 
O Gulf of horror! O profound Abiss,  
Was ever mischief half so black as this?  
Thou monstrous Whore, what language can express  
The boundless measure of thy wickedness?  
Throughout the earth thou hast such mischief wrought,  
As is amazing to a humane thought;  
It would compel a heart of Stone to melt,  
When it revolves what Protestants have felt.  
Thy bloody fury and Infernal rage,  
Has persecuted them in every age,  
Thou mad'st the Magistrates their Enemies,  
And all the tortures that thou couldst devise,  
Thou didst inflict, as History to us shows,  
Some thou didst hang by th'head, some by the toes,  
Yea Millions thou didst burn and broil on coals,  
And others Starve to death in stinking holes.  
Some of them thou didst cut in pieces small,  
And Infants brains didst dash against the wall.  
Upon their bodies thou didst tread like dung,  
Thou hadst no mercy upon Old or Young;  
By thy cursed Crew were Women ravished,  
Who then (like Butchers) knocked 'em on the head,  
Some had their Eyes and tongues by thee pulled out,  
Some were made harborless and forced about  
To wander, till in Woods and dismal Caves,  
They found their woeful and untimely Graves,  
What rocky heart but justly may admire,  
Thy rage that made poor Children to set fire,  
To fatal Piles in which their Parents dear,  
In cruel flames consumed to ashes were;  
Thy wicked Agents have some Millions slain,  
Who did endure the most inhuman pain  
Thy Bishops, Monks, and Friars, could devise,  
Whose blood to me for speedy vengeance cries.  
The ways thou took'st to free a Soul from error,  
Was unexampled flesh-amazing terror  
Of horrid Racks, whereon a man must lie,  
Tortured to death, and dying cannot die;  
Accursed Wretch! didst thou not give Commission,  
For to erect thy bloody Inquisition,  
That loathsome Dungeon and most nasty Cell,  
A place of horror representing Hell?  
Where nothing is so plentiful as tears,  
Where Martyred Protestant's can find no ears  
To hear their cries and lamentable moans,  
Nor hearts to pity their extorted groans,  
Where Saints in torment all their days must spend  
Not knowing when their sufferings will have end,  
Thousands by thee were in Bohemia slain,  
Whose Carcases unburied did remain.  
Thou mad'st thy Vassals fall upon that Nation,  
On no less penalty than their damnation,  
Didst thou not promise upon that condition,  
To give them full and absolute remission?  
The vilest Wretch that on the Earth has stood,  
You fully pardoned if he'd shed the blood,  
Of one Bohemian. O stupendious rage!  
Not to be paralleled in any Age;  
But by thyself, 'twas judged De Alva's crime,  
That he destroyed no more in six years' time  
Than eighteen Thousand Souls; were they so few  
In the account of this blood-thristy Crew?  
But if the Wretch, (De Alva's) bloody Bill  
Come short in numbers, yet his hand did fill  
It up with Torments; dreadful to re●erse,  
The very mention cannot choose but pierce  
A Marble Heart, Make Infidels relent  
Torments that none, but Devils could invent  
But if all this was over little still,  
His Predecessers did enlarge the Bill:  
For from the time thy Hellish Inquisition  
Did from the Devil first receive Commission,  
By cruel torments (which they still retain)  
There were a hundred fifty thousand slain,  
From that black season, when the hellish rage  
Of Jesuits acted on the European Stage,  
In England, France, in Italy, and Spain,  
By thy accursed bloody hands were slain,  
Nine hundred thousand Souls or thereabout,  
Ere many years had run their circuits out;  
Of poor Americans by Cruel Spain.  
In fifty years were many Millions slain;  
The poor Waldenses whose enlightened Eye,  
Thy filthy Whoredoms quickly did espy,  
Thou hast with raging Persecutions rend,  
And murdered Parents with their Innocent  
And harmless Babes. Thy more than barbarous Crew,  
Their cursed hands did in their blood imbrue,  
At once were Eighty Infants famished,  
And many thousands basely murdered.  
When some have fled into obscurest Caves,  
Thy Villains made their hiding place their Graves,  
What part of Europe, now can make their boast,  
And say they have not tasted (to their cost)  
Of thy malignity? What shall I say  
Of Germany, whose martyed Spirits pray  
For speedy vengeance on thy cursed head?  
That Sea of Blood thou hast in Ireland shed,  
Cries night and day for Justice; now I fix  
My serious thoughts upon black sixty six;  
Thou bloody Strumpet, How canst thou repair  
The loss of England's great Imperial Chair?  
How many Rich men were to Beggars turned.  
When that brave Isle's Metropolis was burned  
By thy accursed firebrands of Hell,  
Incarnate Devils without parallel?  
Brave Merchants of their great estates bereft,  
To day Rich men, to morrow nothing left;  
Their Wives and Children quite forlorn became,  
Their substance all consumed in the Flame.  
But to conclude; I have not yet forgot  
Thy Powder Treason, nor thy modern Plot  
Nor all thy dismal Villainies that were  
Done in the Meri●dolian Massacre,  
Should I but recapitulate thy charge,  
And speak of all thy Villainies at Large,  
'T would fill vast Volumes; Often did I see  
The Lord of Life was crucified by thee,  
When his dear members Blood by thee was shed,  
Numberless numbers basely murdered:  
Yet still thou hast the Impudence to say,  
That thou art Innocent even to this day,  
Yea thou proceedest as thou hast begun,  
And lately a great Monarch hast undone,  
Whom thou didst so delude, that he did try  
T'inslave us under Romish Tyranny,  
And probably thou hadst attained thy end,  
But that God did to us deliverance send:  
And did defeat thy Hellish Enterprise,  
Throwing thee down, that Zion might arise;  
Yea thy Espousals thou didst often break,  
Canst thou deny it? Shameless, Strumpet speak.  Babylon. 
" I am the Mother Church, and hence deny  
" That filthy name I am indicted by,  
" The odious Epithet of Scarlet Whore  
" Is daily laid unjustly at my door;  
" I am Christ's Church, his Spouse, and only Love,  
" His undefiled one, and spotless Dove:  
" Pray then forbear the Sentence, look about  
" To find that Whore, and grand Delinquent out,  
" Bold Heretics who never would adhear  
" To the true Faith and Apostolic Chair,  
" Have born my just rebukes, some more, some less,  
" As was their Pride, Rebellion, Wickedness.  Judge. 
Thou graceless Wretch thou art bereavest of shame  
How dar'st thou thus deny thy proper name?  
Christ's Church his Members never did annoy;  
Nor Persecute, and Millions thus destroy.  
'Tis to no purpose for thee to dispute,  
For all thy Forgeries I can confute,  
I am thy Judge, and never will pass by  
Thy horrid acts and Bloody Villainy.  
The time's at hand when I'll fulfil my word,  
And in just fury draw my glittering Sword,  
My frown shall make thy proud foundation quake,  
And all the Pillars of thy House I'll shake.  
Dost think because I did forbear so long,  
That I will not revenge my children's wrong?  
What I resolve to do, or will command,  
No Pope, nor Devil ever can withstand,  
He that presumed great Monarches to depose,  
Shall soon be tumbled down by some of those  
Whom he so crushed; from Hell he did ascend,  
And thither shall be flung down in the end,  
He'll surely fall and never rise again;  
The hope thou hast of him is therefore vain,  
There's no recalling of the Sentence gone,  
Thy Execution day approaches on.  Truth. 
Most glorious Judge since this bold Whore denies  
Her filthy lewdness, and Adulteries,  
Let me but prove it, and proclaim her shame,  
'Tis known that I a faithful Witness am,  
It has been Evidenced by Vision clear,  
That some strange Monster should on Earth appear;  
Which by imperfect views did first amaze  
Sagacious minds, when they on it did gaze,  
Which made men's Judgements to divide asunder,  
To see an object of unusual wonder.  
A Woman! City! And a Scarlet Whore!  
The like on Earth was never seen before;  
A Woman in her pompous glory dressed,  
And sitting on a monstrous horned B●ast,  
Who is deciphered by Prodigious things,  
His very Horns (explained) are Crowned Kings;  
And then this mighty Wonder to complete,  
She's placed on a seven hilled Seat,  
She's styled a Woman and a Whore, because,  
She once submitted to Enacted Laws,  
As other Women do, when they do wed  
A Husband, and enjoy a Marriage Bed;  
And who this Woman is▪ shall now be known,  
Her proper title is (Great Babylon)  
Who in great Pomp and Royal State doth ride,  
Excelling haughty Jezebel in pride,  
Who in our Modern times hath boasting been,  
That she rules all Men as a Mighty Queen,  
Trampling on Kings and Crowned Potentates,  
Commanding Kingdoms, Commonwealths, and States,  
Requiring Subjects blindly to obey,  
Pressing the Beast, and Horns to Kill and Slay,  
At such a rate, as that all Christendom,  
Like Butcher's bloody Shambles are become.  
If by this mark she is not understood,  
Neither by Garb, Beast, Actions, or by Blood,  
To other ways of proof, I'll quickly come,  
And show this Whore to be the Church of Rome.  
The Woman which th' Apostle John beheld,  
Arrayed in Purple, and in Pomp upheld,  
By that Blasphemous, Scarlet-coloured Beast,  
That was with Gold, and Stones of value dressed,  
Holding a cup full of abominations,  
And black pollutions of her fornications,  
That with great King's Adultery commits,  
And on a sev'n-hilled Habitation sits;  

* Rev. 17. 18.  The holy Angel of the Lord explains,  
That 'tis the City which so proudly reigns  
Over the Kings of th' Earth; but all these notes,  
(And what besides the blessed Spirit quotes)  
With Papal Rome exactly do agree,  
She therefore must this bloody Strumpet be;  
If all the marks of this great Whore are given,  
Will not meet any where so plain and even,  
As on the Church and People I did name,  
Then certainly she is the very same;  
For it is evident that there is none,  
May be so fitly styled Babylon.  
'Twas she that took the Word of God away,  
And by a string of Beads taught men to pray;  
She robbed the Laity of the blessed Cup,  
And spoiled the Feast where Children came to sup,  
At the Lord's Table, where they used to mind  
The blessed things their Saviour left behind,  
She did set up her superstitious Mass,  
As rank an Idol as yet ever was,  
Commanding adoration to be given,  
Of equal honour with the God of Heaven;  
Imposing Vows, unwarranted Traditions,  
Implicit Faith and thousand superstitions;  
Pretended Miracles, apparent Lies,  
Damnable Errors, and fond Fopperies;  
She clogs the Conscience, and to make all well,  
Boasts all her dictates are infallible.  
Did Babylon the burning work begin,  
Make a hot furnace? Thrust God's Worthies in?  
This Church herein hath driven such a trade,  
That thousands, broiling Martyrs she hath made,  
She sets the Pope above the Holy One,  
The great Jehovah and his blessed Son.  
'tis she declares him Universal Head,  
'Tis she forbids the Bible to be read.  
'Tis she that first did from the Faith depart,  
'Tis she that wounded Zion to the Heart,  
'Tis she hath been the occasion of all evil,  
'Tis she advanced the Doctrine of the Devil,  
'Tis she that taught her Sons to swear and lie,  
To vouch▪ great falsehoods, and plain truths deny,  
'Tis she that did forbid the Marriage Bed,  
Whilst her vile Clergy such ill Lives have led;  
Was it not she that Canon did create,  
Commanding People to abstain from Meat,  
Which God gave licence unto all to eat?  
That all may know we do to Rome no wrong,  
A little Book will published be ere long,  
That will make it most evident and clear,  
That only Papal Rome's intended here;  
If from this charge she can herself defend,  
Then may she make the Judge and Law her friend,  
Or if she can produce another Tribe,  
To whom we may this Character ascribe,  
With greater clearness than we do to her,  
We will consent her sentence to defer.  Judge. 
Rome, since thou canst not make a fair Defence,  
And show to all the World thine Innocence.  
'Tis very evident that all these things,  
Have been fulfilled, on Kingdoms and their Kings,  
And now if there no other people be,  
That did the like, than thou alone art she;  
Let thy denials trouble men no more,  
Thou only art the bloody Scarlet Whore,  
Therefore in Justice I at length am come,  
(Being Long provoked) to pass thy final Doom.  The Sentence. 
ROME! Thou hast been indicted by the Name of Mystery Babylon, Mother of Harlots, Scarlet-coloured Whore, False Church, and Pretended Spouse of Jesus Christ; and thou art found Guilty of all the Horrid and Prodigious Crimes following: That thou didst Apostatise from the Holy Religion of God and his Son Jesus Christ; and didst advance the Pope or Man of Sin, and hast Sacrilegiously attributed and given to him those Names and Titles which belong only to God, and the Great Er●a●●el, magnifying his Decrees in wicked Council, above the Laws of God, and hast made void the Laws and Constitutions of the Gospel; making the Church National, and forming whole Kingdoms into one Universal Church. Thou hast insinuated thyself into the Courts of the Emperors, Kings, and Princes of the Earth, persuading them to comm●t Fornication and Idolatry with th●e, to the utter R●in and Destruction of many of them, as well as of several Peers, Noblemen▪ & others, of all Ranks and Degrees. Thou hast contrived innumerable Treasons, Rebellions and S●ditions; thereby endeavouring to betray Kingdoms a●d States, and to subject them to the Pope and See of Rome. Thou hast laboured to Corrupt and Debauch all Nations by countenancing and allowing Stews and ●othel-houses, where filthy and abominable Sodomy, and Adulteries are pra●ti●●d; Hast murdered the best of Men, even the Saints of Jesus, putting them to all manner of cruel Tortures and Deaths, that with the Devil's assistance could be invented; Ripping up Women with Child, causing thy villainous Sons to ravish chaste Women and Virgins, and then barbarously Murdering them. Thou hast Burned Thousands alive, Roasted many on Sp●●s, Thrown worthy Christians into Furnaces of boiling Oil; Blown their Heads in pieces with Gunpowder; Flaying off their Skins alive; Starving several to Death, and exercising on them abundance of other hideous Torments. Thou hast made Wives to be Widows, and Children E●therleis, Towns and Cities to be without Inhabitant; Hast burned famous Cities, and destroyed dive●s Countries by Fire, Sword, and other lamentable Devastations, and hast endeavoured to enslave others, by depriving them of their Just and Good Laws, Liberties, and Properties. Thou hast not only murdered the Bodies, but likewise the Souls of multitudes of People. In short, Thou hast been guilty of shedding a mighty mass of innocent Blood, by cutting off Millions of Men, Women and Children without cause, and many other unspeakable Enormities hast thou committed. For all which horrid Crimes thou hast been Legally Indicted and Tried, and against which thou hast made no defence: And therefore by the Laws of God, Nature and Nations, thou oughtest to be Punished according to the following Sentence. Thou shalt be thrown off the Ten Horned Beast in every Kingdom whereon thou hast sat, and all the 7 Vials of God's Wrath shall successively be poured out upon thee, by the Angel, out of the Temple, till thou art utterly consumed from off the face of the Earth— The Horns or Powers of the Nations which thou hast deceived (with the Swords of good men) shall destroy thee, Death, Mourning and Famine shall come upon thee in one day, and thou shalt be utterly burnt with Fire. Amen, Hallelujah.  

An Hymn of Praise upon Babylon's Fall, grounded upon, Revel. 19 1, 2, 3, 4.  

ROuse up, my Muse, attend and hear  
What Melody is in mine ear,  
For Zions Joy is at the door.  
Great Babel howls, and is in pain,  
Now falling is that Bloody Whore;  
And never more shall rise again,  
The Saints and all that dwell on high,  
Sing Allelujahs constantly,   

That haughty City called Great,  
Which boasted of her lofty Seat,  
Is on a sudden now brought under.  
She prostrate in the dust does lie,  
Harken; I hear a mighty Thunder,  
Which no good man doth terrify,  
For Babel's fallen; and Saints now sing,  
Sweet Allelujahs to their King.   

Out of the Throne, voices descend,  
As if they would the Heavens rend,  
With Praises unto God on High,  
For he's come forth in dreadful ire,  
And hath the Whore Judged righteously,  
To be consumed in flaming Fire,  
They Hallelujahs sing amain.  
Nay hark! They double them again.   

See! How her Smoke does fill the air,  
Whilst Harpers sing and merry are,  
And with one voice loud Praise proclaim,  
To God the Lord Ornnipotent,  
Ah! how they magnify his name,  
With th' highest strains they can invent,  
Again they Hallelujahs sing  
To God and Christ their Glorious King.   

Yet this Joys only in One Isle,  
Which Babel lately strove to spoil,  
Scituate in the Northern Sea.  
That Heaven has saved from Bloody Rome.  
Could Ireland too asjoyful be,  
Would God in Mercy to them come,  
How would it add unto our Joys,  
Our Hallelujahs, and our Praise.   

A Happy Land thou seem'st to be,  
And greater Glory shalt thou see.  
If by Repentance thou dost fly  
To God in Christ by Faith and Prayer,  
And cast off all Iniquity.  
For God will then remove thy fear,  
And then thou shalt have cause to sing  
Sweet Allelujahs to thy King.   

Poor Ireland and France also,  
ere long shall triumph as we do;  
For God will quickly crush his Foes.  
Their Blood like water out he'll pour,  
Their Flesh shall feeding be for Crows.  
And the Great Whore shall be no more;  
That Allelujahs may be sung  
Throughout the Earth by old and young.   

Now God Omnipotent will Reign,  
Who will the Pride of Nations slain,  
And make his Power and Glory known;  
His Son he'll set on Zion Hill;  
His Enemies shall be overthrown,  
He will the Earth with Glory fill;  
In th' heights of Zion we shall sing  
Sweet Allelujahs to our King.    

Sighs for Ireland.  

O Lord who hast such wonders wrought  
Of late as well as formerly!  
And down with vengeance now hast brought  
Thy Churches bloody Enemy;  
Oh! look upon poor Ireland,  
And save them with thine own right hand.   

Lord Bless our King; and as he's great,  
Let him be likewise just and good;  
His Enemies, O Lord defeat!  
Who greedily thirst for his blood:  
Oh! be his guard continually,  
From workers of Iniquity.   

Shall England thus triumph and sing,  
Whilst Ireland still does bleeding lie?  
Ah! this is an afflicting thing,  
It wounds our Souls, and makes us cry,  
To Ireland, Lord, send help we pray,  
Ah! secure them without delay.   

Unite us here, and make us one,  
And let our mutual Love appear,  
Let's never into fractions run,  
And then our Foes we need not fear,  
Whilst Protestants united be,  
No dread of Rome or Popery.   

The Sun on us begins to shine,  
Lord! let it break forth more and more,  
And by that mighty power of thine,  
Confound our Foes as heretofore;  
Arise O Lord, Let Ireland be,  
Relieved with speed and saved by thee.   

These days in England seem to us,  
As pleasant as the flourishing spring,  
Oh' let them still continue thus!  
Prevent our Foes; Preserve our King;  
Thy People, Lord, in Ireland  
Redeem with thy outstretched hand.   

When we for Darkness looked, and Night,  
At Evening side we did behold  
The Sun broke forth with Glorious Light,  
As in the Scripture 'tis foretold.  
O'er Ireland, Lord, thy beams display,  
Like to the dawning of the day.   

Let not our Sun Eclipsed be,  
Nor Clouds of Darkness, interpose  
Between Great Britain, Lord, and thee.  
Since thus in Mercy thou art rose:  
From Ireland let's good Tidings here,  
That thou likewise art risen there.   

Let not thy Glorious Sun appear  
To lighten only these dark Parts;  
But let the Nations, far and near,  
Thy Gospel-Light have in their hearts:  
From Ireland, Lord, all Clouds expel,  
Oh, pity there thy Israel.   

Let Light and Glory there break forth,  
And Popish darkness thence be gone;  
That all good Protestants on Earth  
In the Truth, may be joined in one:  
On Ireland, Lord, Compassion take.  
Their Sorrows we our own would make.   

Let the French Tyrant, thy Great Foe,  
The Scourge and Plague of Christendom,  
Receive an utter Overthrow;  
Ah! quickly let his downfall come;  
Those vile Usurpers, Lord, abase,  
And pity there, thy children's case.   

Let France, and Spain, and Germany  
Enlightened be; and let them see  
The folly of Idolatry:  
From Babylon, Lord, make them flee,  
Because her Judgement now is come,  
And they thereby may escape her doom.   

Let Christendom new Christened be,  
(why should they still believe a Lie?)  
And not on Names depend; But see  
The great Deceits of Popery:  
Christ's Name no good at all will do,  
Unless they have his Nature too.   

Let thy blessed Gospel grow and work  
Victoriously in every place;  
Let Tartars, and the ignorant Turk  
Enlightened be with Heavenly Grace:  
Poor Ireland, Lord, relieve with speed,  
For whom our Hearts do almost bleed.   

Send forth thy Light even like the Morn,  
That it o'er all the Earth may fly,  
From Cancer unto Capricorn;  
That all Lands, which in darkness lie,  
May see how they have gone astray,  
And be reduced to the Right way.   

The fullness of the Gentiles now  
Bring in; and give them all a Call,  
That they may unto Jesus bow,  
And under his Dominion fall:  
That Popish Power, which does annoy  
Poor Ireland, Lord, do thou destroy   

The Gospel-Tydings, and good News  
Of Jesus Christ the Saviour,  
Declare to the hardhearted Jews,  
And their strong Unbelief o're-power:  
Oh let the Gospel on them shine,  
For Abraham's sake, that Friend of thine.   

The Saints being many Members joined,  
One Body make; the Head thou art;  
Lord, let them have One Will, One Mind,  
Let this One Body have One Heart:  
Then shall I see a blessed increase  
Of Sion's Glory; Israel's Peace.   

Out of all Nations under Heaven  
Expel thick Darkness, Lord, away;  
Let Power to thy Saints be given,  
That all may thee and them obey:  
Mean while, let these three Northern Lands  
United be in Sacred Bands.  
Let Holland likewise Happy be,  
〈◊〉 those Great seven; Preserve these Three.    
FINIS.