The Last and Truest Discovery OF THE POPISH-PLOT, By RUMSEY, WEST, and other great Patriots of their country.  

BUt Oh! This late Conspiracy, so Dire  
( By Providence prevented by a FIRE,)  
No Age can parallel; so Black Design  
The fiercest Furies,( could not place a Mine,)  
From their dark Caves, to give so great a blow,  
And at one Burst, Three Kingdoms overthow!  
Merciless Flames we'll now Innocent call,  
Since FIRES alarum hath preserved Us all;  
Thrice Happy Fire of Providence, whose Good  
Was Bon-fire for the saving Royal Blood;  
heaven forced their Safety, driven Them from that place,  
That They might Live to see a longer Race.  
What desperate, despairing damned Crew  
Would Fell the Royal Oaks, Plant cursed Yew?  
Did Shaft, bury descend into the Pit,  
And Pluto's President of War doth sit?  
Are Sheriffs, Juries, and his perjured Slaves,  
All silent Now, as They were in their Graves?  
No; Thou retain'st thy Counsel at the Bar,  
And [ Good-enough] to make a Civil War:  
Tho' thou canst not return, hast none to sand?  
Murder and Treason thou hast left thy Friend:  
Thy Breath, O British Scylla, still remains,  
Whose poison stagnates your ill Livers Veins;  
Thou, damned Achitophel, counsel'dst a Vote,  
If the KING died, to cut the Papists Throat;  
Nay, if a House by accident was fired,  
From Them must reparation be required.  
Impostor-Hypocrites! Invent a PLOT,  
Deceive the Mobile, and League the Scot,  
Then Loyal Innocents they Guilty bring;  
Reserve the Honour yet to Kill the KING.  
The Comets blaze, and the Portents, you know,  
Did signify the Nations Overthrow;  
And You the Ministers of Fate must be,  
The Hangmen-Murderers of ROYALTY.  
No, Paracides, though you pervert the sense,  
heaven is not pleased till you are hanged from hence:  
The Stars discover your dark PLOTS below,  
Your malice would make heaven Guilty too:  
Just like old Satan, when He did Rebel;  
He once was good, You never; mend in Hell,  
Since none but You could ever claim a Right  
By horrid Murder to eternal night:  
Had you succeeded, Oh what Seas of Blood  
Had drowned the World, and made a second Flood!  
The Horrible Events no Man can think,  
Blood-thirsty men, with drinking, thirst for drink.  
Nothing but Death can quench their Furious Zeal;  
No Plot nor Parliament his Acts repeal:  
Those Lies, confirmed by Oaths and Impudence,  
Were once believed by Men of soundest sense:  
This, the deciding PLOT 'twixt heaven and Hell,  
( Though you repent not,) shall confess you fell;  
Lucifer-like, you cursed ASSOCIATES  
Thought yourselves strong enough against the Fates.  
But Providence appears, the Fiends throws down,  
And once again the ROYAL OAK does Crown:  
How Guilt doth tremble now! How hid and fly!  
The Innocents stood still, un-call'd, to die:  
Down with your PILLAR, there in Rubbish lye,  
The Pyramid of Truth's above the sky:  
The Sacred Monuments of Wise and Good  
Are washed away from hence, like Noah's Flood;  
But true Tradition shall never die,  
But blooming still to all Eternity.  
Let all our Prayers, incensed by true Zeal,  
Defend Us from Fanatick-Commonweal.  
Devils believe, and( when compelled) confess,  
Yet Devils still; Our Criminals no less:  
Not like true Penitents, confess all sin,  
They hid the worst, the Devil's still within;  
What the Scotch-Whig dares not, these Rebels do,  
Both Will and Act into Damnation go,  
Whilst We with Prayers, Offerings of Praise,  
sand our Thanksgivings up for these past days:  

Our days were almost spent; One minute more  
Had made Three Kingdoms like a Common-Shoar,  
Run down with Royal Blood of Purple Gore.   
Infinite Mercy,( wonderfully shown,)  
Preserve the ROYAL BLOOD upon the Throne;  
And that we may have Blessings, when we sing  
Glory to GOD, Peace, Health unto the KING.    

Printed by N.T. at the Entrance into the Old-Spring-garden, 1683.