Caledons' complaint against infamous libels, &c.  

What raging fury, Guest of horrid night,  
Comes armed with flames and shaikes against the Light,  
Loosed, from the chains of darkness, to disturb  
The sons of unity, borne vice to curb?  
By Law, not force, we move, not tumult make,  
We Justice plead, Sedition do forsake:  
None with rebellion our attempts will brand  
But who themselves to crush Religion band  
By act, or by intent. Fair virtue shines,  
Reflecting everywhere from our designs;  
That whither forced, to arm, or to entreat,  
Our mildness, our Submission to be great  
None can deny. For, so with Truth, sweet peace  
(Which in our chief desires, hath chiefest place)  
Joined hands; and did from Heaven salute this Land,  
Who could the excess of his joy command?  
Who would not fall before his sacred feet,  
Whom royal virtues make a Prince compleete,  
And arms lay down, or at his will employ,  
Lift Him to honour, and his foes destroy:  
Who equal with his life his people's good,  
Would value, were they rightly understood?  
But, by religion's overthrow, to gain  
Dishonourable ease, with Conscience stain;  
That truth be undermined by policy,  
For Peace should we dispense; Who can deny  
This cursed peace, this ignominious ease,  
Were high rebellion, would the Lord displease.   

MOst sacred sovereign honour of this Age,  
Thy Justice we appeal, brought on the Stage  
By close chameleons; (foes who friends appear)  
Abusing our indulgence and thine ear,  
Deserving on the parchment of their back,  
The hangman's whips, should in characters black,  
Draw out each passage of those wicked arts,  
They used, to wound thy grievous Subjects hearts,  
And kindle in thy royal Breast a fire  
Which never can be quenched, till thy just ire  
Their blood do expiate, till vengeance fall  
And from the heavens confound those firebrands all.  
Lo! brainsick Cherelus dare brave our State,  
As at his fancy thy displeasures spaite  
Were ready to break forth. Dare he repine  
That Light, throughout this glorious isle doth shine,  
For which, too narrow Europe shall be found,  
Before the work be with the issue crowned.  
Base lies now vents he, now with malice stings  
Those honoured heralds of the King of Kings,  
Chaifes, that from 'mongst our honey-bees we drive,  
Those Wasps, whose venom had infected the hive.  
That we, those limbs of Antichrist abjure,  
Unmitring monsters that did court the Whorre  
Of Rome, this Land adventuring to defile,  
And make through their abominations vile.  
Now, to our charge disloyalty is laid,  
That (parricides) we dare the Throne invade,  
Rob Caesar of his due, disclaim our head,  
And limits of allegiance do exceed.  
O height of hate! O hellish impudence!  
To think, that men of honour could dispense  
With conscience, with their duty to a King,  
So good, so just, so wisely governing.  
Whose Love, as of a Fathers, found we have,  
As of a Master we his favour crave,  
His aid as of a Lord; since father's love,  
And Sons obedience, hand in hand do move  
To homage, and protection, mutually  
Since true relation Prince and people tye.   

THy country's heart doth bleed, her grieves art great  
Both fraud and force conspire against her State.  
Her native liberties encroached on are,  
Which, gained with honour, honourably were  
From time to time maintained, against the pride,  
And power, of all that durst against her side.  
Her violated laws,; the civil Right  
Of Subjects shaken; Justice, marred by might,  
Religion vexed and wronged; (that sacred Band  
Of amity, and Union of the Land,  
The solid Pillar which the State sustains,  
By which cemented, firm each piece remains;)  
Christ's cause, yea crown in question; by the bands  
Of duty, by the power put in thy hands  
(The regal sceptre, Diadem, and Sword,  
In Faith's defence, entrusted by thy LORD)  
Conjure Thee, while the lowering Skies portend  
A Tempest, to the danger to attend,  
And wisely to His interest advert,  
Who count will crave how acted is thy part.  
Those, whom eclipses, more than Sun-light please  
(The birds of prey, which gape for gain) Those flies  
Which feed upon infection and stink,  
Our Camels; which but troubled streams can drink,  
Divisions Cataracts would open keep,  
And kindle quarrels which lie buried deep,  
That Brethren, Pillars of the royal Throne,  
By GOD and Nature, under Thee, made one,  
One bundle of united shafts; a Band  
Not easy to be brashed by stranger's hand,  
May (thus) be weakened, and receive a wound,  
Endangering both, which shall not soon be sound.  
But ah! to think, that Thou whose aid we call,  
The people's Parent; watchman on our wall;  
The geometric point, with even Aspect,  
Bound all thy bounding Borders to respect;  
The Head, the Heart of the republic, made  
A God, a Judge, set over good and bade;  
That Thou thy royal Banners shouldst display,  
By Justice Sword, to make thy passion way,  
Against a Nation, from defection free,  
Who heavens dare face, for their integrity;  
O depth of woe! O height of passing grief!  
That Thine, who supplicate by Thee relief,  
Must arm: and at uncertain blood's expense,  
Be forced, unto an innocent defence.  
Dread sovereign, Son of Mars, if arm thou wilt,  
No drop of blood let be in Britain spilled.  
March, and all Europe shall be put in fray,  
The alps, the Perinees, shall make Thee way.  
Thy neighbouring state, with Olives shall attend,  
Thy rights decision while thou dost suspend.  
The Rhine, whose streams are swollen with tears, shall smile  
And fears of longer servitude exile.  
Rome's walls shall tremble, proud Madrid shall quaik,  
When with joint-forces thou the fields shall take,  
With warriors, more than men, thy Britanies bold  
Attended; who for fear nor force will fold.  
Thy sea-walled world, huge colonies shall spair  
For peopling kingdoms which usurped are,  
By tyrant's bold and blind, the foes of Truth.  
Yea, Thou shalt lead, with Albion's choicest youth.  
(The worthies and the wits of either land)  
Our Archimeds, who with industrious hand  
Reach nature's depths, reviving Dedals arts.  
Thy Scots, with giant's hands and lion's hearts  
Shall gallantly go on, who whiles they arm