PACKINGTON'S POUND.  

I.  
WHen the Joy of all hearts, and desire of all eyes,  
In whom our chief Refuge, and Confidence lies,  
The Protestant Bulwark against all Despair,  
Has deprived us at once, of herself, and her Heir:  
That hopeful Young Thing  
Begot by a King,  
And a Queen, whose Perfections o'er all the world ring.  
A Father whose Courage no Mortal can daunt,  
And a Mother whose Virtue no Scandal can taint.   

II.  
When Jeffry's resigns up the Purse and the Mace,  
Whose impudent Arrogance gained him the place:  
When, like Lucifir, thrown from the height of his Pride,  
And the Knot of his Villany's strangely untied.  
From the Chancery Bawling,  
He turns a Tarpaulin,  
Men still catch at any thing when they are falling:  
But to hasten his Fate, before he could scour,  
Be was taken at Wapping, and sent to the Tower.   

III.  
When Confessor Petre's does yield up the Game,  
And proves to the worst of Religion a shame,  
When his cheating no more o'er our Reason prevails,  
But is blasted like that of his true Prince of Wales:  
Which was his Contrivance,  
And our wise K— s Connivance,  
To establish the Papists, and Protestants drive hence:  
But their Cobweb Conception is brought to the Test,  
And the coming of ORANGE has quite spoiled the Jest.   

IV.  
When Peterborough Noted for all that's ill,  
Was urged by his Wife to the making his Will;  
At the hearing which words, he did stare, foam and roar,  
Then broke out in Cursing, and calling her Whore.  
And for Two Hours at least  
His Tongue never ceased,  
He railed on Religion, and damned the poor Priest,  
And his Friends, who had hope to behold him expire,  
Are afraid by this Bout they shall lose their desire.   

V.  
Young Salisbury famed in this great Expedition,  
Not for going to War, but obtaining Commission;  
It's no Mystery to me, if his Courage did fail,  
When the Greatest of Monarches himself did turn Tail:  
So that if he took Flight,  
With his Betters by Night,  
I am apt to believe the pert Spark was i'th' right:  
For the Papists this Maxim do every where hold,  
To be forward in Boasting, in Courage less Bold.   

VI  
Nor should Bellasis, Powis, and Arundel throng,  
But each in due place have his Attributes sung.  
Yet since 'tis believed by the strange turn of Times,  
They'll be called to account for their Treasonable Crimes,  
While the Damned Popish Plot  
Is not yet quite forgot,  
For which the Lord Stafford went justly to Pot;  
And to their great comfort I'll make it appear,  
They that gave 'em their Freedom, themselves are not clear.   

VII.  
W. Ws. that Friend to the Bishops and Laws,  
As the Devil would have it, espoused the wrong Cause;  
Now loathed by the Commons, and scorned by the Peers,  
His Patent for Honour, in pieces he tears.  
Both our Britain's are Fooled,  
Who the Laws Over ruled,  
And next Parliament each, will be plagu'ly Schooled:  
Then try if your Cunning can find out a Flaw  
To preserve you from Judgement according to Law.   

VIII.  
Sir Edward Hale's Actions I shall not repeat,  
Till by Axe, or by Halter, his Life he complete;  
Pen's History shall be related by Lob,  
Who has ventured his Neck for a Snack in the job.  
All their Priests and Confessors,  
With their dumb Idol-Dressers,  
Shall meet that Reward which is due to Transgressor's.  
And no Papist henceforth shall these Kingdoms inherit,  
But ORANGE shall reap the Reward of his Merit.   
FINIS.