Perkin's Passing-Bell, OR THE TRAITOR'S FUNERAL: BEING A New POEM on the REBEL'S Overthrow, on Monday July the 6th Three Miles from BRIDGWATER.  
This may be Printed, R. L. S.  
A Wake my Muse! great Fame Alarms my Ears,  
Bells, Trumpets, Drums, Affright the spacious Spheres;  
In gentle Strains assist me to repeat  
A Nobles Fall, (would he were Good as Great!)  
Oh Perkin! Perkin! how couldst thou Combine  
Thy own Destruction, in thy Ages Prime,  
By such ignoble ways, and forcing Fate  
To check thy Pride Fond and Degenerate;  
Shall Britain's Monarch's too to tender Love  
(Bestowed on thee) thus, undeserved prove.  
How couldst thou then in such an horrid Cause  
Turn Traitor, to divide, and humane Laws?  
How couldst thou thus then so unnatural be  
 
How couldst thou Plot 'gainst such a King as He?  
One who had heaped such Honours on thy Head,  
And yet couldst thou ungrateful wish him Dead,  
Not only wish him so, but in that Strife  
To Act a part that was to take his Life;  
Yet, cause thy Blood from Noble Springs do Flow,  
Would Error and not Malice make thee so!  
Would thou were't over reached that so the Sin  
Might be less thine, than theirs that drew thee in:  
Fain would I think it were with thee, as they  
An Ignis Fatuus leads out of the Way,  
So thou over swayed by ' th' Pious seeming Wits  
Of Hell's chief Agents, (Juggling Parasites)  
By specious Arguments and Pious Fraud,  
Such as Geneva Demons do Applaud,  
Were't by that Hellish Brood drawn in to be  
An Actor in that Dismal Tragedy  
That boldly aimed at Sacred Majesty  
Far worse than Witchcraft sure's Rebellious Sin,  
The first of Woes the Devil ushered in,  
Unhappy England famed for Civil Wars,  
PLOTS upon PLOTS, and everlasting Jars.  
Yet more Unhappy, those produce its Woe  
Invoke the Curses that attend it now,  
That basely strive to Undermine the Throne,  
When Heaven decreed it for Great JAMES alone;  
(A Princely abstract of a Glorious Hue,  
Descent of King and Priest and Prophet too;  
Whose grand Experience of a Quondam Age  
Invests him as the great'st Europian Sage)  
Not for a Graceless Wretch whose Actions Sing,  
Sing and declare a Traitor, not a King,  
Unworthy of his Prince, whose tender care  
For him did every Day and Hour appear;  
Brought him in Favour from a mean Degree  
Advanced him to a State of Dignity;  
Made him the Minion of the Court and King,  
And when from Court at last the Bird took Wing  
And soared with Icarus in too high a Sphere,  
Ungratefully Conspiring to Ensnare  
His Royal Father, and his Uncle too,  
In Cursed Cabals with though Fanatic Crew:  
Yet yet his great Indulgence still's so Great,  
On feigned Repentance he forgives the Cheat,  
Presents him to his King, whose tender Love  
Did once again his Royal Pity Move.  
But here (Tongue can't express) th' Ungratitude  
Of this Vile Wretch thus Barbarously Rude  
Unhappy State of Monarch's who do Good  
Even to those that strive to shed their Blood;  
Yet more unhappy those attempt the Fact,  
Heavens will revenge so Monstrous soul an Act;  
Protect our Royal King, Defend his Crown,  
Bring all fanatics with Rebellion Down;  
Add Luster to the Throne, dispel all Fears,  
Extirpate Faction, with the Fruit it Bares;  
Induce the Blessings of a Glorious Life,  
That all the Nation live as Man and Wife.  
By just Experience now the Rebels see  
The Effects of their Damned Disloyalty:  
The Royal Army Fleshed because that's Just,  
Upon the Traitors with great Courage Thrust,  
Beat off their Fury, force the Whiggish Rout  
With doughty Blows to wheal and tack about:  
Then happy those that with the greatest Speed  
Could by their Flight avoid the Martial Steed.   

LONDON, Printed by George Croom at the Sign of the Blue-Ball in Thames-street over against Baynard ' s-Castle, 1685.